Chapter Seven: Revealing One's True Colors

With a light chuckle in his heart, Zhu Cilang put on an expression of heartfelt empathy and said, “Life in the countryside is hard. If it weren’t, who would willingly leave their home? I suppose I’m better off than those destitute refugees, for even if I fail to gain an official title, I’ve at least mastered some abacus skills. My elders exhausted themselves, going to great lengths to ask a prominent fellow townsman in the capital to introduce me to a position in the Ministry of Revenue. But that favor has now been spent. I wonder, after going to the Ministry and presenting this letter, whether it will actually do me any good.”

As he spoke, Zhu Cilang produced the letter and handed it to Yan Lu. “You are a man of broad experience, Master Yan. Would you take a look?”

Left Commander of the Five Armies Commandery, Cao Huayu.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Yan Lu, his face frozen in astonishment. Instantly, he recalled the travel document mentioning Wang Qingtun of Wuqing—wasn’t that the hometown of Cao Huachun! To think he had secured such a direct connection to a palace heavyweight. Even though this patron had retired to his hometown, he was no ordinary figure. Unlike Wei Zhongxian, Cao Huachun was still favored by the current emperor, and his political protégé Wang Cheng’en remained in high standing. This letter was worth its weight in gold!

“You truly are a man who hides his talents,” Yan Lu exclaimed, his face breaking into a broad smile. “With this letter in hand, there’s nowhere you can’t go! Among the six ministries—Personnel, Revenue, Rites, War, Justice, and Works—none are more lucrative than the Ministry of Revenue. And a post as a clerk? Why, it’s a plum job that even a bureau chief would envy! In our Great Ming, such posts can be passed from father to son, inherited by descendants. The fortune earned from such a post is worth more than a thousand pieces of gold. Brother Qin, though I’m older by a few years, if you don’t mind, call me Brother Yan. No need for formality. And if you can’t find suitable lodgings today, you’re welcome to stay with me—a temporary shelter until you get settled. Once you have your own place, I’ll even help you host a housewarming feast!”

Yan Lu showered him with kindness, and Zhu Cilang offered a grateful bow. “You are too generous, Brother Yan. I am deeply indebted.”

“It’s nothing at all,” Yan Lu replied, pounding his chest. “If there’s anything else you need, just say the word.”

Zhu Cilang hesitated, a little embarrassed. “Actually, there is something I must trouble you with.”

Yan Lu paused, cleared his throat, and said, “Go on, Brother Qin.”

“I wish to find some skilled craftsmen to make a few items as gifts for my patron,” Zhu Cilang explained. “If I don’t keep up this connection, I fear even my post may not be secure.”

Yan Lu relaxed, smiling. Beijing was swarming with artisans, especially with so many refugees pouring in—countless starving craftsmen with rare talents, unable to find work. Providing them with an opportunity was no trouble at all. Yan Lu, a native of the capital with extensive connections, would find it easy to locate skilled hands.

He nodded vigorously. “You’re a shrewd one, Brother. In the world of favors, only reciprocity keeps the relationship alive. I’ll help you find the craftsmen. But I must warn you, commissioning skilled work that could impress such a patron won’t be cheap.”

“I’m well aware,” replied Zhu Cilang, bowing again.

Yan Lu inclined his head. “Then I’m relieved. Just write me a list of the artisans you need, and I’ll track them down.”

“Carpenters, blacksmiths, silversmiths. And especially, Brother Yan, please pay close attention to anyone capable of crafting a south-pointing carriage. Here’s a diagram of the gear mechanism. Anyone who can make this, I’m willing to offer a monthly wage of five taels! For those with outstanding skills, I’ll give you a tael of silver for each one you find—a token for your trouble, the more the merrier.”

A single tael of silver was worth just over seven hundred modern yuan, and five taels a month came to nearly thirty-five hundred—a solid middle-class income, especially in an era when daily expenses were modest and most of the money could be saved. Twenty artisans at a tael each would be twenty taels—enough to buy five or six acres of good land!

Yan Lu’s heart burned with excitement as he nodded repeatedly. “Rest assured, I’ll remember everything and make sure the job is done well for you!”

Zhu Cilang smiled, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and soon saw Si En return, having found a house.

Si En had worked efficiently, finding a quiet, spacious residence with an excellent layout in just an hour and a half. The transaction was straightforward: for seventy-nine taels of silver—including the agent’s fee and some modest furnishings left by the previous owner—he bought a courtyard house covering nearly an acre, with two wings and seven rooms.

Seventy-nine taels, equivalent to about fifty thousand modern yuan, had bought over six hundred square meters of property—right in Chengqing Ward, near the Imperial City, the equivalent of a second ring road location in Beijing!

With a sigh at his good fortune, Zhu Cilang began to arrange his household, settling in by evening. That night, he took out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, and painted until late, only retiring to bed in the deepest night.

The night passed uneventfully.

At the break of dawn, Zhu Cilang carried Cao Huayu’s personal letter to the residence of Nan Yunjie, Director of Yunnan Affairs in the Ministry of Revenue. After presenting his card at the gate, the doorkeeper made himself comfortable, sipping his tea and ignoring Zhu Cilang, leaving him to cool his heels.

Had Si En witnessed this, he would have been furious—a prince, left waiting by a mere gatekeeper! Such disrespect was intolerable.

But Zhu Cilang was unperturbed. If Nan Yunjie had made a grand show of greeting him, word of the crown prince disguising himself as a lowly clerk would have spread through the city by the next day.

After a quarter of an hour, a servant led Zhu Cilang into Nan Yunjie’s study. The director was dabbing at a landscape painting, barely glancing at his visitor before waving him off with irritation. “A scholar, yet you stoop to a clerk’s post! What a waste of your education. Take your badge and uniform and be gone!”

It was over in less than ten seconds.

Cradling his uniform and hat, Zhu Cilang sneered quietly, “Books by the sages—neither the pen nor the sword can enrich the nation or its people. Not even fit for wiping one’s rear. Upright officials ruin the state, and pedants are useless.”

He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and, clutching the Yunnan Department’s badge and black official garb, fixed his gaze with resolve.

Ministry of Revenue, here I come!

The heart of the Ming Empire was Beijing, the heart of Beijing was the Forbidden City, and the very core of the Forbidden City had two centers: the Qianqing Palace, where the emperor resided, and, outside the Chengtian Gate, the government offices.

Here were housed all the empire’s key agencies—Personnel, Revenue, Rites, War, Justice, and Works, the Central Military Command, the Court of Judicial Review, the Five Armies Commandery, the Office of the Imperial Clan, the Court of State Ceremonies, and many more.

Heading south from the foot of the Imperial City, the first was the Office of the Imperial Clan, followed by the Ministry of Personnel, and then the Ministry of Revenue—Zhu Cilang’s destination.

Clad in his black official robes, Zhu Cilang arrived at the Ministry of Revenue, only to be stopped at the gate. The doorkeeper, Old Zhang, scrutinized his official badge and his face, over and over, yet still refused him entry. Even when Zhu Cilang tried to slip him some silver, the doorkeeper declined—an unusual response.