Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 362 Keeping Pace with the Times - Tian Ergeng

As the emperor's carriage emerged from Desheng Gate, it was like a drop of black ink, quietly merging into the torrent of the official road flowing eastward.

It traveled for eight days, covering a distance of 1,400 li.

There was no procession with gongs and drums, no imposing yellow parasols, and no local officials kneeling along the post road to fawn over them.

There were only nearly a thousand elite soldiers from Andu Prefecture silently guarding the area, amidst the dust kicked up by their horses' hooves as they traveled day and night.

Men are as strong as iron, horses as powerful as dragons, their clothes flutter in the wind, and the hilts of their swords are covered in frost.

They ate dry rations, drank cold water, waited for dawn in desolate post stations, and discerned their direction while galloping through the starry night.

The prefectures and counties along the way regarded this as an elite messenger escorting important military equipment, and dared not delay for even a moment.

The emperor's dignified bearing, which belonged to the inner palace, was being honed into the coldness of a soldier. His face was etched with sharp features by the wind and frost, and his eyes became increasingly deep and unfathomable as he continued to ponder.

On the evening of the eighth day, everything changed when the procession turned from the dusty official road onto a country dirt road leading to Weixian County.

It was as if an invisible boundary separated two completely different worlds.

The rapid clatter of the horse's hooves on the soft soil instantly turned into a dull and gentle sound.

The pungent, dry, dusty smell of horse manure and sweat in the air was replaced by the fragrance of freshly turned soil and fresh plant scents.

A scout galloped back from the front, reined in his horse in front of Tian Ergeng, and whispered a few words of report.

Tian Ergeng urged his horse to catch up and came to the carriage with its curtains always drawn. He lowered his voice and said, "Your Majesty, three miles ahead is Tianzitun on the banks of the Bailang River."

The carriage curtain was gently lifted by a hand with distinct knuckles.

The first thing that catches the eye is a vast expanse of green.

It wasn't the lush green of summer, but the tender green that tenaciously took root in the bleakness of early winter.

The winter wheat sown in September has now grown to several inches tall, like a huge and flat green carpet, covering every inch of land as far as the eye can see.

In the golden glow of the setting sun, the tips of each wheat seedling seemed to shimmer with tiny sparkles of hope.

Accompanying this vibrant green landscape are wisps of smoke rising from chimneys.

One by one, wisps and strands rose from the neatly arranged houses of the village in the distance.

The smoke from the chimneys carried no tension or ferocity, but instead gently swirled and intertwined in the breeze, finally dissipating into the magnificent sunset.

New life can be born from decay, and life can also exist amidst slaughter.

Zhu Youjian's gaze lingered on that scene for a long time.

In those deep eyes, the weariness accumulated along the way seemed to melt away like ice and snow meeting the warm spring sun.

“Pass on the order,” his voice was a little hoarse, but unusually steady, “the whole team slows down.”

"As ordered."

Tian Ergeng waved his hand, and the team slowed down again, deliberately concealing the invisible aura of killing intent.

When they arrived at Tunkou, they looked no different from an ordinary, exhausted caravan.

At the entrance of the village stands a simple wooden archway with three powerful characters in clerical script: “Tianzitun”.

Beneath the archway, a burly, dark-skinned middle-aged man was already waiting.

He wore a clean, coarse cloth shirt that had been washed until it was almost white, his back was straight as a spear, and his eyes were sharp and bright. Even though he was dressed in coarse cloth, his fierce and valiant air as a soldier was not diminished in the slightest.

This man was Liu Chengzong, the head of Tianzitun.

A veteran who survived the Battle of Sarhu after losing a finger.

"This humble servant, Liu Chengzong, greets his superior!" Upon seeing Tian Ergeng and his entourage, he gave a standard military salute with clasped hands, his voice booming like a bell.

Tian Ergeng dismounted, took out a black iron waist token from his pocket, and flashed it in front of him: "On business in Andu Prefecture. I am ordered to escort confidential documents and need to rest here for the night. Please grant me this favor."

Liu Chengzong carefully examined the waist token, his expression becoming even more respectful, yet without a trace of the obsequiousness of a local official, only absolute obedience to his superior: "You flatter me, sir! We are all here today because of His Majesty's grace. Serving the court is our duty! Men, quickly lead all the officials to the garrison's public quarters to rest, and prepare fodder, hot water, and food!"

At his command, several equally strong young men immediately ran forward, skillfully took the reins, and guided the horses to the designated stable.

Their swift action and seamless coordination made them resemble a well-trained team.

The emperor had already dismounted and left the group, walking towards the endless wheat field at the edge of the village.

This action instantly made the guards tense, but Tian Ergeng stopped them with a look.

The emperor walked to the edge of the field and slowly bent down amidst the astonished gazes of countless people.

He reached out and plucked a handful of soil from the furrow, still carrying the coolness of the evening.

The soil felt moist yet firm to the touch, its texture fine, and when held in the palm of my hand, I could feel the vibrant life within it.

This is clear evidence that the wheat seedlings were watered before the ground froze at the beginning of winter, ensuring that their roots would safely survive the winter and they would vigorously turn green again in the spring.

He brought the clump of soil to his nose and took a gentle sniff.

It has a faint, fermented smell that isn't pleasant, but is full of hope.

Zhu Youjian's gaze passed over the wheat field and landed on several huge mounds of earth covered with soil downwind of the village.

That's a composting pit.

Human and animal excrement, harvested straw, fallen leaves, and river mud are mixed and fermented to create the most valuable farmyard manure.

Do not wait for what Heaven bestows, but do your best!
Zhu Youjian took a few more steps forward, pointed to a group of men working by the river in the distance, wielding shovels and shouting work chants, and asked Tian Ergeng, who was following closely behind, "It's already winter, are they still repairing the ditches?"

“Your Majesty,” Tian Ergeng replied in a low voice, “this is precisely the new law promoted by Grand Secretary Xu. Winter is the best time to build water conservancy projects and reinforce dikes because the water is shallow and it is not the flood season. As the saying goes, ‘A drop of sweat in winter will bring more grain to the granaries next year.’”

Upon hearing this, the emperor turned his head and glanced at Tian Ergeng with some surprise.

"I remember you were completely ignorant of these agricultural intricacies before." Tian Ergeng's usually stern face showed a rare hint of unease. He bowed and said, "The knowledge Your Majesty has created is all about practical application to the world. As the Governor-General of Andu Prefecture, in charge of the Imperial Guards and inspecting the realm, if I only know about criminal law and killing, but not about Your Majesty's fundamental principles of governing the world, then I am merely occupying a position without fulfilling my duties and failing Your Majesty's grace. Therefore, I have dared to ask the instructors of the Agricultural Academy for some basic knowledge."

"Very good." The emperor nodded, his tone full of approval. "A general who is ignorant of astronomy, geography, and human nature is not a good general. A minister of mine who only buries himself in his own little corner of the world is also not a capable minister. You have this mindset, and I have not wasted my trust in you."

The emperor's gaze returned to the distance, where, not far away, the village blacksmith's furnace roared, and the rhythmic clanging of hammering echoed through the air, as if providing accompaniment to the tranquil twilight.

A shirtless blacksmith is swinging a sledgehammer to forge a red-hot iron billet into the shape of a plowshare.

The grain harvested in autumn is used for planting next year; the work done during the winter rest period is used for preparation for the coming spring.

It is connected end to end, like a ring without end; its life is endless, like a spring that never runs dry.

The emperor remained silent for a long time, simply watching quietly.

His face remained indifferent, but Tian Ergeng could read an almost overflowing satisfaction in his slightly narrowed eyes.

"Tian Ergeng," the emperor finally spoke, his voice deep and powerful.

"The minister is here."

"Did you see that?" The emperor's gaze did not fall on him, but remained fixed on the fields and distant villages. "My people can live a good life even without those empty-talking censors in the court."

He paused, his tone sharp with self-confidence: "This is not a scene from a single village or hamlet, but the blueprint for the nation in my heart. Today it can be seen here, and tomorrow it will bloom all over Shandong, all of Beizhili, and all of my vast empire!"

Tian Ergeng bowed his head: "Your Majesty is wise. Heaven rewards diligence, which is no exaggeration; and there is also a reason why man can overcome nature."

As they were talking, a warm, fragrant aroma, mixed with the smell of firewood, drifted into everyone's nostrils on the evening breeze.

It tastes like roasted sweet potato.

The emperor followed the scent and looked in that direction.

Not far away, in front of a clean brick house, a child of about seven or eight years old ran happily out of the yard, holding a steaming hot object in his hands, and calling out indistinctly, "Grandpa! Grandpa! It's ready!"

Beside the low wall at the entrance of the courtyard, an elderly man with white hair and beard sat on a small stool, carefully mending a tattered fishing net with a bamboo shuttle in the afterglow of the setting sun.

The wrinkles on his face were as deep as if carved by a knife and axe, marks left by time and hardship. But his eyes were gentle and clear, carrying the calm that comes after weathering storms.

Hearing his grandson's call, he put down his work, took the scalding hot sweet potato with his calloused, rough hands, and carefully broke it in half.

The golden flesh was exposed, and a sweet steam rose from it. He carefully blew on it, handed the larger half to his grandson, and took the remaining smaller half for himself, eating it in small bites.

His satisfied and serene expression made it seem as if what he was chewing was not an ordinary sweet potato, but the rarest delicacy in the world.

The emperor strode over.

"Old man," he said in as calm a tone as possible, so as not to disturb the tranquility.

The old man looked up and saw a soldier, covered in dust but with an extraordinary air, standing in front of him. He quickly put down the sweet potato and tried to get up to salute, his body trembling.

"No need for formalities, sir." The emperor waved his hand, gesturing for him to sit down. "We are just officials passing through and taking a break. We came here simply because of the aroma."

His gaze fell on the fishing net, and he asked casually, "Can you still catch fish in the Bailang River these days?"

"Yes, yes!" Upon hearing this, the old man grinned, revealing a few yellowed teeth, his accent carrying a harsh Henan accent, different from that of the local Shandong people.

"Judging from your accent, you don't seem to be a local?" the emperor asked, following up on the conversation.

Mentioning this, the old man's gentle eyes dimmed for a moment, as if he were lost in distant and painful memories.

“I am from Guide Prefecture, Henan.” A layer of water slowly welled up in his cloudy eyes. “A few years ago, there were natural disasters, locust plagues, and a severe drought... The land yielded no harvest, but the government’s taxes could not be reduced by a single penny. There was no other way but to sell the house and land, and take my daughter-in-law and this only child to escape the famine.”

His voice became hoarse and choked with emotion, as if he were telling a story from another world: "Sir, those days... were truly inhuman. Exchanging children to eat, cannibalism, those were all true! We traveled eastward, gnawing on tree bark and eating clay, and we were practically as dead as the roadside... Just when the three of us thought we were going to starve to death outside Qingzhou City, Tianzitun came to recruit people."

He stretched out his hand, calloused from years of hard labor, pointed to the brick house behind him, then to the allocated farmland in the distance, his voice trembling more and more violently: "They gave us shelter, food, and even ten acres of land, saying it would be tax-free for the first five years! Sir, can you believe such good fortune exists in this world? We crawled out of piles of corpses, thinking we'd be nothing but wandering ghosts for the rest of our lives, but we never imagined we could live like human beings again!"

Tian Ergeng and his guards held their breath. Watching this scene unfold, they felt a surge of indescribable emotion and sorrow.

for a long time.

The emperor gave the child, who was holding a sweet potato and looking at him with a blank expression, a deep look, then resolutely turned around and strode away without saying a word.

……

Night has fallen completely.

Outside Tianzitun, the Andu Prefecture camp was neatly set up in the open fields, with bonfires burning and soldiers sharing the hot food they had replenished from the camp.

Inside the heavily guarded royal tent in the center, candlelight flickered.

The emperor shed his disguise and sat alone at his desk.

There was a simple meal laid out on the table, but he didn't touch it at all.

He opened his palm and quietly looked at the object in his hand.

It was a handful of still-warm soil brought from the ridge of Tianzitun fields.

Zhu Youjian could feel its weight and smell its aroma.

This handful of soil is heavier than nine tripods.

In this handful of soil, there is the vitality of winter wheat breaking through the soil, the magical power of decay in the compost pit, the blood and tears of that old man from Henan who escaped death, and the sweet aroma of roasted sweet potatoes in that child's mouth.

For more than two years, one question has lingered in Zhu Youjian's mind, repeatedly questioning his conscience:
Why is he in such a hurry?
From the day he ascended the throne, he was like a tireless traveler, urging himself and the aging empire forward with an almost obsessive will.

Why was he so eager to train a new army, open up maritime trade, and change the system, so willing to pay any price to solve the problem of the Jurchens once and for all?

He once thought it stemmed from the regrets of his ancestors or even his past self before he transmigrated, from the responsibilities of an emperor, or from the fear of the impending crisis.

Only now, standing on this vibrant land, looking at the faces of those who wore simple, honest smiles because they owned their own fields, did the answer that had been troubling him for so long finally emerge clearly before his eyes.

(End of this chapter)