Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

The ninety boxes before them resembled ninety gaping mouths, silently mocking the Ming Dynasty's canal transport system.

The box still had a tattered mulberry paper seal with the vermilion seal of the Ministry of Revenue and Finance.

Zhu Cilang crouched down and picked up a piece of bluestone. The moment the stone dust touched his hand, he suddenly stared intently—

The pebbles were of random shapes, some round like eggs, some angular like blades, and there were also a few riverbed stones covered with moss.

This was by no means a carefully prepared substitute, but rather something hastily looted.

No fabric was found in the rubble pile, and no direct clues were discovered.

The replacement may involve a conspiracy by multiple people and was carried out hastily.

With some disappointment, Zhu Cilang and his party walked out of the warehouse and onto the dock.

A large cargo ship was moored on the right side of the dock, with a thick mast standing in the middle of the ship and a slightly faded flag hanging at the top of the mast.

Practice state affairs and lightly tap the deck:

"This is a well-made official ship with a cargo capacity of 400 shi (24 tons). Although it does not look impressive, its keel is made of a single piece of ironwood."

Zhu Cilang squinted and examined:

The boat is over 30 feet long and 7 feet wide. The planks are joined with ironwood tenons, and the joints are as thick as a child's arm.

Such regulations are indeed incomparable to those of ordinary cargo ships.

The group boarded the cargo boat and descended the moldy wooden ladder to the bottom of the cabin. In the dim light, the musty smell mixed with the fishy smell of the river filled their nostrils.

The hazy sunlight slanted down through the hatch, illuminating the floating dust.

The sun's shadow quietly climbed up the third sail knot on the mast, and Zhu Cilang's palms were also sweating.

When the third search yielded no results, Lian Guoshi stumbled against the bulkhead and slowly slid down into a seat.

"Ten thousand taels of silver have turned into stone right under my nose... This time, I'm afraid it will even implicate the hitching post in front of the old residence in Yingtian Prefecture."

"Young Commander, Heaven's will has not yet ended. There must be something fishy about this cabin. How can you so easily lose heart!"

Zhu Cilang suddenly slammed one knee on the deck, startling Lian Guoshi, who looked up.

He used a thin wooden stick to pry open the gap in the warped plank, and the tip of the stick brought out half a piece of yellowed scrap of paper.

There were also a few small, brownish-yellow seeds that had rolled into the pile of hemp rope.

Oat seeds?

Oat is a dryland crop in the north, and no one grows it in the water-rich areas of southern China.

How could oat seeds from the north be scattered on this official ship that departed from Nanjing?

"Young Commander, take a look! This strange object may hold the key to solving the case!"

Lian Guoshi rushed forward and almost tripped.

By the light filtering in from the window, the two could see seven characters written in ink on a half-finished piece of paper—

"...April of the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen reign..."

In reality, the fragment was no more than three fingers wide, the first half of which was long gone, and the second half was also covered in mold.

Although the seven characters are clearly discernible amidst the mold, the date of the month has become blurred and difficult to find.

Lian Guoshi's withered fingers trembled as they hovered above the tattered paper, finally falling limply to the ground.

"These fragmentary words, lacking coherence, are hardly sufficient to corroborate military intelligence."

His gaze then swept suspiciously over the few shriveled seeds in Zhu Cilang's other hand:

"What is this...? A few shriveled grass seeds, perhaps even brought in by rats and sparrows at the dock..."

Zhu Cilang's gaze remained fixed on the tattered paper, unwavering.

The inscription "April of the seventeenth year of Chongzhen" and the oat grains gleamed with a cold, eerie light in the dim light, like icicles piercing the pupils.

He repeatedly pondered the origin of the note and the meaning of the oat seeds, but he could not find a direct connection between them and the theft of military funds.

However, he still carefully wrapped the scraps of paper and oat seeds in a silk handkerchief and put them into his sleeve.

The crashing waves outside the ship's side were a daunting sound, and the two men, their boots covered in rotten wood chips, turned back to the yamen.

Seagulls skimmed across the canal surface, and ninety chests of official silver seemed to evaporate into the sultry waves out of thin air.

The iron saddles on the eaves of the government office chimed monotonously in the sweltering air, as if tolling a death knell for the countdown to its end.

The sundial needle had already reached the third quarter of the hour of Si (9-11 AM), and Gao Jinzhong's personal guards were sharpening their knives under the eaves.

The sound of the blade scraping against the whetstone formed a deadly noose.

A torture rack had appeared in front of the screen wall, its chains stained with dark red blood.

Inside the government office, the "Hundred Eyes and Hundred Ears Investigation" is proceeding intensively.

The temporary requisitioned rooms and corridors were packed with people, the clamor like a boiling pot of porridge.

The shouts of the bailiffs, the sobs of the people trying to explain themselves, and the rustling of the scribes recording confessions were all mixed together.

Someone in the crowd muttered something under their breath:

"Silver turned to stone...it must have been taken by the River God!"

With Lu Zhenfei's tacit approval, Zhu Cilang was able to join the interrogation.

He slowly swept his gaze across the faces, some filled with fear and others with numbness.

"Wang Fugui,"

Following Zhu Cilang's instructions, the registrar called out in a deep voice.

A man dressed in coarse cloth and shorts was brought up, his shoulders slightly hunched from years of carrying goods.

"Describe in detail what you saw this morning, without omitting anything!"

Wang Fugui hunched his shoulders, his straw sandals rubbing nervously against the blue bricks:

"Reporting to Your Excellency, I...I was indeed at the dock this morning and saw with my own eyes that the canal was blocked."

"When there's a traffic jam, how many ships are blocking the way? What kinds of ships are they?"

Zhu Cilang interrupted gently and asked.

"After the canal was blocked, two identical official boats were trapped at the front, while dozens of smaller cargo boats behind them were caught in a dilemma..."

"Workers quickly dealt with the sunken ship, and the canal was reopened to navigation in about half an hour..."

The preliminary summary of testimonies was submitted:

"Grain carrier Zhang San said: Around 3:45 AM, a thick fog rolled in, and he personally witnessed two grain transport boats collide and capsize, blocking the waterway..."

"The peddler Li Si heard: Soldiers were shouting, 'Get ashore quickly, don't delay!'..."

"The old scholar Wang Wu caught a glimpse of something resembling oilcloth floating into the river..."

At this point, a sallow-faced and emaciated canal worker mentioned a key point in his confession:

"Reporting to...Reporting to Your Excellency, the chief of the expedition is Li Xianggui..."

He insisted that we all go to that newly opened teahouse on the shore for "free" tea, saying that "with him watching the boat, nothing will go wrong"...

"Is he keeping an eye on things on the ship?"

Zhu Cilang's eyes narrowed, and he suddenly looked up at the registrar and said:

"Quickly check the outline for Lee Hsiang-kuei!"

The registrar hurriedly brought over the roster and flipped through it, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"This person is not on the list!"

Zhu Cilang's heart sank.

The fact that his name was not on the roster meant that he had not been taken to the yamen. The captain, a key figure on the entire ship, had simply vanished into thin air.

This is no coincidence!

With a jumble of clues, Zhu Cilang calmed himself down and re-examined Zheng Xuan's compiled confession, attempting to uncover the cracks between the lines.

The scene described in the confession gradually became clearer:

At dawn, thick fog shrouded the river. On the south side of the dock, two cargo ships collided and capsized, blocking the canal.

The official ships escorting military supplies were stuck at the front, and small boats from both the north and south were unable to move.

As the floating cargo scattered across the water, the workers quickly dealt with the sunken ship and cleared the river in just half an hour.

The supply ships carrying provisions for the national campaign docked, and Gao Jinzhong's troops opened a passage.

Ninety boxes of military pay were transported to a granary a hundred meters away for handover, with soldiers from both sides guarding the entire process.

However, when Lian Guoshi and Gao Jinzhong opened the warehouse to inspect the goods, all 180,000 taels of silver had turned into stone!

But what flaws are hidden in this seemingly airtight process?

Zhu Cilang disassembled and reassembled every detail in his mind.

Inside the temporary "investigation area" set up by the Canal Transport Office.

After intensive questioning and comparison, the scattered testimonies were finally linked together by the "hundred eyes and hundred ears" method.

He turned to Lu Zhenfei and Zheng Xuan, his gaze intense:

"Based on various pieces of evidence, including those from Lu Caotai and Zheng Canzheng, I have identified four key clues!"

Firstly,

He took out a piece of yellowed, fragile mulberry paper.

"This item was found in the crevices of the hold of an official ship docked at the shore; its material and ink marks are unique."

He handed the fragment to Zheng Xuan.

Zheng Xuan immediately took it, brought it closer to examine it, and repeatedly stroked the back of the paper with his fingertips, a glint of light flashing in his eyes:

"This paper...this ink...I seem to have seen similar regulations in the old archives of the Ministry of Revenue! Please allow me to go to the archives immediately to verify and compare!"

Speaking rapidly, before Lu Zhenfei could give any further instructions, he hastily bowed, clutched the shards, and hurried away.

"Secondly, oat seeds from the cargo ships. These were also found in a pile of moldy hemp ropes at the bottom of the hold."

Zhu Cilang opened his palm, and a few shriveled, brownish-yellow seeds with fine vertical lines lay quietly on the silk handkerchief.

"These are the seeds of oats, a dryland crop from the north, not from the south. It is very strange that they appeared in the hold of an official ship coming from Nanjing."

These words immediately sparked a low murmur of discussion within the hall.

The officials exchanged puzzled glances.

The Imperial Censor, stroking his beard, pondered and said:

"Oat seeds? Although this is produced in the north, it is traded by peddlers and merchants traveling between the north and south."

"It is common for some grass seeds and other miscellaneous items to be mixed in... Judging a case based on this would hardly convince the public."

Lu Zhenfei nodded slightly, his gaze scrutinizing, clearly believing that this item was not strong enough to serve as irrefutable evidence.