Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

The boy paused, unable to answer.

Another person stood up and said, "The cabinet should be the guiding principle. If the crown prince oversteps the rules, then we should remonstrate with him."

Qian Shi sneered: "The cabinet council is a supplementary body, not a supervisory body. If the crown prince is above all officials but below the emperor, where does this responsibility come from?"

The room was completely silent.

Zhu Biao suddenly spoke up: "If the Crown Prince gains power and no one holds him accountable for his dereliction of duty, chaos will ensue. If the Crown Prince is questioned but has no real responsibility, it will be in vain. Therefore, the fundamental solution is to 'pair power with responsibility'."

All the students looked at the unfamiliar man, and someone stood up and asked, "May I ask who you are?"

Zhu Han replied, "This is my nephew, a scholar."

Laughter erupted in the room, but no one dared to underestimate them.

Master Qian gazed at Zhu Biao, cupped his hands in a gesture of respect, and said with a smile, "May I ask, Your Excellency, would you be willing to debate with the students?"

Zhu Biao replied, "If you do not mind, I am willing to discuss with you the 'fundamentals of governance'."

The shadows of the trees slanted across the village entrance, and three old men sat around a small stone temple, brewing tea by the fire.

Seeing the car parked beside the tree, one of the men squinted at it for a moment, then suddenly called out, "If you need shelter from the rain, please come in and sit down. This desolate temple has no Buddha, but warm tea will comfort you."

Zhu Biao smiled and agreed, then led Zhu Han out of the car and into the temple to sit down, where teacups were already served.

The tea, made from rough, old pottery, has a slightly astringent taste, yet it is surprisingly warming when you put it in your mouth.

Zhu Biao bowed and thanked them, asking, "May I ask, gentlemen, is the village safe and secure?"

The old man chuckled: "It's peaceful, but this year there's been a lot of rain and vegetable prices are a bit high, which is making life a bit tough for small households."

Another old man chimed in: "If you had come two days earlier, you would have witnessed an interesting thing."

"Oh?" Zhu Han raised an eyebrow.

The old man put down his teacup, patted his knee, and said, "Old Chen, who sells tofu at the east end of the village, and Li Er, who weaves baskets at the west end of the village, have been at odds for two years. Even the dogs know they don't get along. As a result, the other day the county came to post a public notice saying that 'the tribute register has been updated and the household list needs to be checked.' These two actually went to the county government office together, insisting that they were not 'sole households' but 'partners.'"

Zhu Biao was taken aback and blurted out, "Why?"

The old man laughed heartily: "I heard that the tax is heavier for single households, but can be shared among multiple households. Poor Li Er, that old bachelor, was laughed at for two days after returning to the village, with people saying that he 'married' Old Chen."

The crowd erupted in laughter.

Zhu Han chuckled, "These two are probably even more knowledgeable than the tribute book."

Zhu Biao stopped laughing and said in a deep voice, "Then how should the village respond after the notice is posted?"

The three men looked at each other, and the eldest sighed: "They say they're checking the registers, but people don't know what to report. We ask around, but no one can answer. Small households are afraid of being penalized for filling in too much information, while large households always say 'I don't remember.' We old folks just think the officials are up to some trick again. Who still believes that register is really useful?"

Zhu Biao lowered his gaze slightly and remained silent for a long time.

The rain outside the temple hadn't stopped when suddenly a boy came running down the slope, barefoot in the mud, panting heavily: "Grandpa! My sister-in-law fell! She's rolling on the ground in a stomachache!"

The three elders were startled, and Zhu Biao immediately frowned and asked, "How many months pregnant are you?"

The boy choked up, "Eight months! Just now, the path was slippery while carrying water, and... and I fell over."

Zhu Han stepped out the door in an instant: "Zhu Biao, come with me."

The two hurried to a mud house in the village, where they saw a woman lying on her side on the bed, her lips as white as paper, her hand tightly clutching her abdomen.

There was no one in the house who knew medicine; only crying and panic remained.

Zhu Biao dared not delay, so he knelt down and placed his hand on the other man's wrist. Although he could not feel the pulse, he could sense that the man's fingertips were cold.

Zhu Han asked in a deep voice, "Is there a doctor nearby?"

The boy shook his head: "I usually only ask Old Li from the town's pharmacy for help, but he's been to the prefecture these past few days."

Zhu Han turned his head and suddenly asked Zhu Biao, "Do you know any herbs?"

Zhu Biao was taken aback, then shook his head.

Zhu Han sighed, lifted the curtain, and called to the elder outside: "Quickly brew ginger soup, apply a hot compress to the abdomen, and warm up as soon as possible! Tell someone to rush to town!"

His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable force. The old man responded and several village women busied themselves.

For the first time, Zhu Biao seemed at a loss, and whispered, "What if something happens to her?"

Zhu Han replied calmly, "Then I'll teach you that not everything in this world can be written down or commented on."

A moment later, the room warmed up, the woman's lips improved slightly, and the fetal movements in her womb gradually subsided.

Zhu Biao's heart finally settled down.

He stood in the room, looking down at the already exhausted face on the straw bed, and asked softly, "What's your name?"

The woman slightly opened her eyes: "Xiao...Xiao Wan."

How many pregnancies have you had?

"First child."

Zhu Biao nodded slightly, his gaze calm.

As evening fell and the rain subsided, the woman was able to eat. Villagers came to express their gratitude, offering eggs, coarse cloth, or sugar and rice, but Zhu Biao refused them all, only allowing Zhu Han to stop them.

At the dilapidated wooden pavilion at the village entrance, the old men handed out bowls of tofu pudding, and one of them said, "If the official hadn't been looking for a job, he probably wouldn't have come to such a remote place."

Zhu Biao smiled without saying a word, while Zhu Han replied, "My nephew has been reading a lot lately and wants to see what's happening in the world beyond the pages."

The old man sighed, "Human affairs are things you can't write about, can't control, and can't change. But if someone is truly willing to listen—then they should leave their name."

Zhu Biao slowly stood up, gazing at the distant mountains in the twilight after the rain: "I cannot leave my name."

“But I will remember this day—you said it, you laughed it, you cried it, and the woman’s hand.”

"If I am ever in charge in the future, I will remember that she should have survived, not by fate, but by the system."

The old man was taken aback by what he heard, then said in a low voice, "You are a person who can remember things... I hope you can also do things."

On the way back, Zhu Biao remained silent for a long time. Zhu Han finally spoke: "How was your trip today?"

“I once thought that clear division of powers and responsibilities and a well-defined legal system were all that was needed to establish a government,” Zhu Biao said.

"But today I see that a piece of paper is no match for a muddy road; a question of strategy is no match for a bowl of ginger soup."

“I can no longer just ‘devise strategies’ in the palace—I need to ask people.”

Zhu Han looked at him: "Ask someone?"

Zhu Biao nodded: "Ask them how they live, how they suffer, how they laugh, how they get through every unrecorded morning."

In the afternoon, a gentle breeze blew, and the temple street beneath the gray tiles and black walls was already bustling with activity.

Zhu Han rolled up his sleeves, revealing an ordinary cloth shirt and a seemingly blunt short knife at his waist.

He walked side by side with Zhu Biao into the depths of Temple Street, like two scholars from out of town seeking lodging.

The sounds of vendors hawking their wares filled the air, and in front of the thriving local temple, an old woman was burning incense and praying for a child.

"Is this the 'Sanhe Lane' that the innkeeper mentioned last night?" Zhu Biao asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I heard that the new grain was only distributed here in March, but the villagers say they haven't seen a single grain of rice."

Zhu Han glanced at the "Yicang Xiepu" sign hanging high in front of him, and a smile appeared on his lips. "Let's go in and take a look."

The shop wasn't big, but it was surprisingly clean. The shopkeeper was a man in his fifties with narrow eyes, a humble smile, but a scrutinizing look in his eyes.

"Gentlemen, do you need to borrow rice?"

Zhu Han feigned hesitation and replied in a low voice, "The roads in the countryside are difficult to travel. What's the price of rice at the shop?"

"You jest, sir. Nowadays, the granary operates on a voluntary basis, not charging market prices, but distributing seeds solely based on the village seal." The shopkeeper's voice grew even lower. "If you don't have the seal, it's not that you can't buy some, but you'll have to—'find another way.'"

"There's another way?" Zhu Biao feigned surprise. "Aren't you breaking the court's rules?"

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes, seemingly realizing he had said too much, and quickly waved his hand, "Hey, hey, I was talking nonsense, I was confused."

Zhu Han's gaze remained unmoved as he calmly replied, "May I ask who is in charge of this 'charitable granary cooperative'?"

"Sir, this is Steward Zhao, who lives in that house over there."

The shopkeeper pointed to a black brick house at the west corner of the alley, "It's not usually seen by people, but..."

Zhu Han waved his hand: "No need to say more."

After the two left the shop, they turned into a secluded alley. Zhu Biao said in a low voice, "Just as you guessed, there's something fishy going on at the granary. But this Manager Zhao must have someone backing him up, so it might not be easy to expose him."

"We must reveal it, no matter what," Zhu Han said slowly. "Some people in the court only know how to wage war on the desk for three days, but they don't know that a peck of rice in the countryside is the life of an entire family."

Zhu Biao remained silent for a long time, then suddenly asked, "If you weren't a prince, but just an ordinary commoner—what would you do?"

Zhu Han stopped in his tracks, remained silent for a long while, then suddenly smiled: "Me? I'd probably have already picked up a hoe and smashed down the door of that Zhao steward's house."

Zhu Biao smiled, a hint of youthful exuberance in his voice: "But you can't bang on the door now."

“Hmm.” Zhu Han looked at the crowd in the distance. “So we can only walk step by step to his door.”

As evening fell, the "Heyi Tea House" at the south end of Temple Street was bustling with activity, with most of the tea drinkers being long-time locals.

Zhu Biao and Zhu Han chose a corner to sit down, the smell of the stove fire making their eyes sting.

"Have you heard? Steward Zhao is hosting a banquet tonight, and I heard it's for a high-ranking official from out of town!"

A man in the teahouse whispered, "He also said that if that man agrees, our village's new register of tribute students can be filled out according to his instructions!"

"It's the tribute list again..." another man sighed. "I have three sons, two of whom don't own land and can't be included in the list, and the other, at fifteen, has already been chosen by the village officials to do hard labor. When did the imperial court ever say such a thing?"

“You make it sound so easy. Who would dare to file a complaint? Last year, the Chen family’s son went to the county to file a complaint, and he came back with a limp.”

For a moment, the people in the teahouse fell silent.

Zhu Biao's eyes flickered upon hearing this, and he suddenly stood up and walked towards the table where those people were sitting.

"Brother," he said gently, "I am new here and do not know much about this tribute system. Could you please explain it to me in more detail?"

The group was taken aback. Seeing his scholarly appearance and gentle demeanor, one of them briefly explained the facts.

A man surnamed Li, a long-term laborer in the village, sighed, “In the past, our village had an old policy: if a family had a son who was fifteen and had no land, he wouldn’t be registered or have to perform corvée labor. But with this new rule, regardless of whether they have land or not, the burden is reduced based on the number of people in the household. The larger the family, the heavier the burden. Zhao, the head steward, calls it the ‘New Law for the Crown Prince,’ how dare we disobey it?”

Zhu Biao's face was grim, and he gritted his teeth and whispered, "I have never promulgated this law..."

Zhu Han pressed down on his arm and whispered a reminder: "You are not the crown prince, you are a scholar."

At this moment, a seven or eight-year-old child ran over and sat on the man surnamed Li's lap: "Dad, my mom said she won't cook dinner tonight, she's going to send a ladle of rice to Third Aunt's house."

"Have they run out of food again?"

"I went to the charity shop the day before yesterday, but they said they didn't have any printed copies, so I came back empty-handed..."

Zhu Han's gaze turned cold: "How could this granary system be so rotten?"

“It’s the person who’s rotten,” Zhu Biao replied in a low voice.

As night fell, Zhu Biao gazed for a long time at the temple street outside the teahouse, then suddenly stood up: "Let's go to the Zhao family's."

Zhu Han raised an eyebrow: "Not until it's late?"

"No, we can't wait." Zhu Biao said in a very calm tone, "If we wait any longer, others will go hungry for a whole night."

At the alley entrance, the Zhao family's house was brightly lit, and the sound of string and wind instruments could be heard.

Zhu Biao stepped forward and slammed his hand on the door knocker. The doorman lifted the curtain and came out: "Where are you from?"

Zhu Biao pulled out a waist token from his sleeve—it was an old seal he had brought from the palace, and it was obvious at a glance that it was extraordinary.

The doorman's expression immediately changed: "Distinguished guest, please come in!"

Zhu Biao walked straight into the hall without waiting for a guide. Zhao Guantou was pouring wine in front of the banquet. When he saw the newcomer, he was stunned.

"Who are you?" Zhao Guantou stood up, already on guard.

"Me?" Zhu Biao said slowly, "I've only come to ask you—where did you hear about the 'Crown Prince's New Laws'?"

Zhao Guantou's face changed: "I, I was just..."

Zhu Han also stepped into the hall and said coldly, "Why did you set up a private seal for the granary register? Why did you falsify the population records in the tribute register? You can sell rice privately, where did you get the audacity...?"

Zhao Guantou gritted his teeth and was about to kneel down when Zhu Biao stopped him, saying, "Don't kneel."

"We're not here to collect your charges."

Zhu Biao looked at him, his voice calm yet sharp, "We've come to tell you—if you don't take back those words today, tomorrow the people will come and push down your door on my behalf."

Zhao Guantou was sweating profusely and trembling all over: "I...I'll accept it! I'll accept it! I'll post a notice tomorrow to correct it—the grain in the public granary will be based solely on actual need, and will not be accepted based on official seals or personal favors! All errors in the tribute register will be thoroughly investigated!"

Zhu Biao nodded: "Okay."

“Remember this.” He looked into Zhao Guantou’s eyes. “I am the Crown Prince, but I don’t need you to establish my authority.”

"I rely on you—you did the right thing."

That night, Zhu Biao and Zhu Han returned to the inn and sat silently by the window for a long time.

As midnight approached, the echoes of the temple street had faded into the distance. Zhu Biao and Zhu Han avoided the hustle and bustle of the Zhao residence and traveled through the night to the southern countryside—a remote old village called "Jingkou".

“Jingkou Village? The name sounds dry and unappealing.” Zhu Han parted the grass, revealing a few scattered lights on the hillside.

“Yesterday, the man surnamed Li said that he had been refused registration because he had no land, and that he was from Jingkou.”

Zhu Biao kept walking, saying, "If a village has no land or registers, but still needs to provide manpower, then it is the most miserable place in the world."

The two walked to the village entrance at night without disturbing anyone, and instead stayed overnight in a corner of the ancestral hall.

Before dawn the next day, the rooster crowed three times, and the sound of chopping wood could be heard in the distance.

Zhu Biao lifted the curtain and went out, and saw a boy carrying a basket on his back, bending down to pick up firewood.

Zhu Han then stood up, yawning, and said, "Your Highness, can't you get a good night's sleep while traveling incognito?"

Zhu Biao turned his head: "Didn't you say that you should be ahead of others?"

"There's no need to be so serious about it."

Before he could finish his teasing, the boy had already noticed the two of them.

He approached cautiously, but his eyes revealed a shrewdness: "You... stayed in the ancestral hall last night?"

Zhu Han smiled and said, "What? You have to pay taxes on this too?"

"There are no taxes." The boy grinned. "It's just that you're dressed neatly, you don't look like you're doing hard labor. Outsiders don't often come to our village."

"What's your name?" Zhu Biao asked.

"Lu Xiaobao." The boy blinked. "My parents said I have a lowly fate, so they named me 'Xiaobao' just for good luck."

Zhu Biao's eyes flickered: "How old are you?"

“After the Mid-Autumn Festival on the fourteenth, it’s the fifteenth.” He paused, “but I’ve been carrying grain for three years, and last year I was even sent to repair an old well.”

Zhu Han squatted down and looked at him: "But you have no land or property registration in the village?" (End of Chapter)