The Ming Dynasty: My sister, Empress Ma

When I got home, it was completely dark.

Ma Wenyuan placed the rice and noodles in the bedroom, then took some firewood and put it into the brazier to light it.

Thick smoke filled the room, and Ma Wenyuan had to open the window again to let in the cold air, which made him feel more comfortable.

There's no other way; we can't afford smokeless coal, so we have to use firewood.

As for firewood, the one we have at home won't last long.

With a sigh, Ma Wenyuan lit another oil lamp, preparing to begin his work by the dim light.

Now that he's halfway to becoming an official, he can no longer do business, as he's not allowed to compete with the people for profit.

If you want to make money, you have to find other ways.

These days, most scholars earn money by copying books for others, taking exams for others, or writing poems.

Ma Wenyuan was unwilling to earn such meager wages; after all, he was a dignified transmigrator.

But according to the typical time-travel novel formula, he should plagiarize novels to become famous and make a lot of money.

For example, things like Dream of the Red Chamber, Ye Fan, Xiao Yan, and so on.

However, Ma Wenyuan was no ordinary person; he could plagiarize if asked.

He had read many famous works such as Dream of the Red Chamber in his previous life, and had also been exposed to online novels written by young people. With the added memory of his time travel, copying them directly was no problem at all.

It just won't work.

An official should seek stability.

Especially in ancient feudal dynasties, stability was paramount.

These days are not the time to speak freely. What if, one day, a political enemy seizes on a certain passage in your novel and insists that you are satirizing a certain important person?

Wouldn't it explode?

After thinking for a while, Ma Wenyuan had an idea – a comic.

Ma Wenyuan studied traditional Chinese painting when he was young in his previous life.

Novels cannot be written because they require the author to create them, and any subsequent problems will be the author's responsibility.

But comics are different; there are ready-made scripts, and these days there's no such thing as copyright.

They don't even need to pay copyright fees, and they don't have to bear any responsibility.

It is clearly much more stable than the former.

Of course, not those manga like One Piece from my past life.

Ma Wenyuan wanted to draw comics that blended the styles of the new century with those of the present day.

Thinking this way.

Ma Wenyuan quickly began writing.

It wasn't until the third watch of the night, when the first draft was almost finished, that he put down his pen and prepared to rest.

Ma Wenyuan estimated that the next step would be the review process, followed by revisions if the manuscript was rejected.

Tomorrow is just a trial run; there's no need to put too much effort into it.

……

The next day.

Early morning.

The sound of drums on the city wall announced that the city gates were open and people could enter.

Ma Wenyuan then opened his eyes.

After washing up, it's time to think about breakfast.

Most people in this era eat two meals a day, one for breakfast and one for lunch.

This applies to both commoners and royalty.

The Imperial College was slightly better. Ma Wenyuan had heard from his classmates that students at the Imperial College ate three meals a day in summer and autumn, but only in winter and spring did they eat two meals a day.

...The rich are not included; they have the money to eat as many meals as they want.

Although Ma Wenyuan was not the latter, he could not stand the former's eating habits.

He is only eighteen years old now, which is the time when he is growing. In the previous life, a boy of this age would eat five meals a day, and each meal would be a bowl of rice.

Wouldn't they starve to death if they only ate two meals a day?

Entering the kitchen, Ma Wenyuan took out the flour he had bought yesterday and began kneading the dough.

This thing is really expensive.

It's a bit more expensive than polished rice, and Ma Wenyuan was just thinking of treating himself, so he bought a little over two jin (1 kg) of it.

It cost more than twenty coins.

The taste is just so-so.

Since it wasn't modern refined flour, the flour at that time contained bran and germ, and was yellowish in color and had a rougher texture.

Steamed buns made with this stuff are so rough they hurt your throat.

If you ate this in your past life, it would be considered a meal to remember the hardships of the past.

That would be considered a luxury nowadays.

……

While I was making breakfast, an unexpected guest arrived in the courtyard.

That's not quite right; after all, Old Deng gave him a string of cash yesterday.

"Eating?"

Zhu Yuanzhang, dressed as a wealthy man, looked at the noodles laid out on the table in the courtyard.

"Want to grab something to eat together?"

Since they were guests, Ma Wenyuan invited them to sit down.

Old Deng wasn't the only one visiting today; Little Deng came with him.

She was about sixteen years old.

He was quite handsome, and always had a smile on his face, making people want to get close to him.

For some reason, Ma Wenyuan always felt that Xiao Deng was somewhat similar to himself.

Besides Deng, there was also Zhong Deng, who always had a stern face and no expression.

Ma Wenyuan thought that Zhongdeng was probably Laodeng's bodyguard, while Xiaodeng was probably Laodeng's son.

The facts are indeed correct.

"Alright."

After Zhu Yuanzhang sat down, he casually introduced the two men, confirming Ma Wenyuan's suspicions.

This also confirms Ma Wenyuan's guess yesterday that this old man is a big shot.

The guards around him had calluses on their hands and knife wounds, clearly indicating they were soldiers.

Furthermore, judging from his demeanor and physique, he did not appear to be an ordinary soldier.

With such guards, Lao Dengbao is no ordinary wealthy landowner.

Without time to think further, Ma Wenyuan turned and went to the kitchen to continue making noodles.

After Zhu Biao and Ma Wenyuan left, he looked around.

"So poor?"

This was the first time he had ever seen a scholar so impoverished, so he couldn't help but feel somewhat surprised and suspicious.

"It would be strange if an orphan didn't lack money and food." Zhu Yuanzhang chuckled, paused for a moment, looked at Zhongdeng behind him, and continued,

"Mao Xiang, have someone keep a close watch on this place at all times and report back to me immediately."

"Here you are."

Zhu Biao gradually shifted his gaze away from the kitchen door, without offering any comment.

He certainly wouldn't ask why they were being so cautious.

At this time, the Ming Dynasty had just been established and was far from peaceful.

Besides, there are the Northern Yuan forces that have retreated to the northern deserts, and Ming Yuzhen and Ming Sheng, who are entrenched in Sichuan.

Inside, there are the remnants of the former warlords, as well as many scholars and merchants who yearn for the former dynasty.

How could we not be cautious when a Ming Dynasty imperial brother-in-law suddenly appears at this moment?

Zhu Biao just didn't understand why his busy father would personally come to visit him.

Why bother with all this trouble when you could just have someone else check it?

Zhu Yuanzhang seemed to have seen through his eldest son's thoughts.

"I just came to visit since I had nothing else to do. If he's not your uncle, then that's fine. But if he really is your uncle, then I have to show him more concern for your mother."

Soon, Ma Wenyuan brought out three bowls of noodles.

"Thank you, young man."

Zhu Yuanzhang showed no politeness whatsoever, but paused for a moment after seeing the noodles in the bowl.

"What is this?"

"Scallion oil noodles".

Ma Wenyuan smiled and sat down opposite him before answering.

Zhu Yuanzhang loved noodles, and the imperial chefs in the palace would often prepare fresh noodle dishes.

Like mung bean noodles, bamboo shoot noodles, and the like.

But Zhu Yuanzhang had never seen such a practice before.

"Something new."

Old Zhu's smile grew wider, but he didn't start eating immediately. Instead, he first gave some noodles to Mao Xiang.

Zhu Biao did the same thing.

The father and son were surprisingly in agreement, and even after rushing to finish their meal, they still didn't eat it.

Zhu Yuanzhang's explanation for this was that the child was too old (or too young) to eat that much.

Ma Wenyuan expressed his understanding.

Zhu Biao was worried that Ma Wenyuan would become suspicious, so he quickly changed the subject and took the opportunity of not speaking while eating to stop eating.

"I read your article yesterday, but there's something I don't understand. I'd like to come here today to ask you about it."

"Speak freely," Ma Wenyuan replied casually.

"Regarding education and punishment, my elder brother quoted the words of the sages: 'If you govern them by laws and regulate them by punishments, the people will avoid punishment but have no sense of shame; if you govern them by virtue and regulate them by rites, they will have a sense of shame and moreover become good.'"

Zhu Biao paused here, swallowed hard, and continued asking questions.

"But I'm a little confused. There are more people in this world who are afraid of being punished than those who are afraid of losing face. Can this concept of 'having a sense of shame and integrity' really work?"

These words were spoken.

Zhu Yuanzhang and Ma Wenyuan were both stunned.

Ma Wenyuan glanced at the Mao Xiang that was still inhaling.

He glanced again at Zhu Biao, whose face was full of seriousness.

He glanced at Zhu Yuanzhang, who was equally stunned, and said nothing.