Li Daoxuan watched the news unfold and thought, So he went to Luochuan County… well, the people of Luochuan are about to suffer a new round of misery.
He could only sigh. He couldn't fix that mess even if he wanted to.
Meanwhile, Liang Shixian's adviser had already linked up with Shansier's adviser, Tan Liwen. The two strategists immediately began ordering their men to haul all five hundred plastic composite longbows back to the watchtower.
With the work crew busy, the two bosses had time to chat. Liang Shixian steered the topic to something that had been bothering him since he arrived:
"Third Steward, I noticed outside your fortress gate… that gray road stretching outwards. Smooth as a palace floor, wagons glide over it like clouds. How did you build such a marvel? Don't tell me you carved a single giant boulder flat and laid it across the countryside?"
Shansier shook his head. "Who on earth could do something that insane? That's cement. It's a kind of heavenly slurry—mix it, pour it on the ground, let it dry, and boom: that's your new road."
"Heavenly… slurry?"
Liang Shixian went blank.
Shansier originally wanted to brag about Dao Xuan Tianzun—as usual—but quickly remembered: Liang Shixian was an official, and the government was still enthusiastically trying to wipe out the White Lotus religion. Under such circumstances, dropping the name of Dao Xuan Tianzun would be asking for trouble.
So he smoothly changed course: "Ahem… actually, it's a special slurry Old Master Li happened to acquire."
Ah, that explanation made sense to Liang Shixian.
"This slurry—where can I obtain some? I would very much like…"
Shansier shook his head. "Lord Liang, there is something I don't know if I should say."
Liang Shixian sighed. "Whenever someone starts with that line, it means you will absolutely say it regardless of whether you should. Go on."
Shansier said, "Shaanxi has suffered drought after drought. The people are barely alive. With how things are in Chengcheng now… if you add another labor draft and force hungry people to build cement roads… I fear…"
Liang Shixian froze.
Then he quickly bowed deeply. "Third Steward speaks the truth. I have been taught."
He glanced back at the cement road leading toward Zhengjia Village. A quiet envy tugged at him.
To build bridges and roads was one of the great, legacy-making deeds praised for generations. Somewhere inside, he wanted—truly wanted—to give his county at least a few decent roads. But… given the current state of things, he simply couldn't.
When will this damned drought end…?
Beijing — Imperial Palace — Imperial Study
The Chongzhen Emperor, Zhu Youjian, was flipping through memorials.
The Shaanxi reports were now reaching new depths of despair.
One message worse than the last.
The Governor of Shaanxi reported that the frontier provisions at Linggong had been delayed for five or six years—over two hundred thousand taels of silver owed. Jinglu Fortress was behind by two to three years. Guzhen's capital transport had been unpaid since the 47th year of Wanli until the 6th year of Tianqi—more than 159,000 taels…
Every line of every memorial screamed the same thing:
"Your Majesty, give me money."
But Zhu Youjian didn't have any to give.
He opened the next report:
"Luochuan's 'Not-Touching-Mud' bandit plunders rich households. Officials pursue him urgently, but this only swells his numbers into a mob."
Next one:
"Left-Gua-zi of Qingjian gathers ten thousand rebels, acting at Long'er Gorge near Yichuan."
Next:
"Wang Daliang of Hannan rises in rebellion with four hundred followers, calling himself King Daliang."
Shaanxi was basically blooming like a spring garden—but with rebellions.
Zhu Youjian slammed the stack of memorials onto the floor. The eunuchs scrambled to pick them up.
"Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!"
His temper burned like a bonfire.
"Is there no normal memorial from Shaanxi?! I want good news! GOOD NEWS! Bring me one—now!"
A trembling eunuch slid an eight-hundred-li-urgent military report onto his table.
Zhu Youjian opened it.
"From Chengcheng… a ninth-ranked military officer? This kind of small—"
He was mid-complaint when his eyes caught the contents.
He froze.
Then his face lit up.
"Cheng Xu killed Bai Shui Wang-er? Suppressed the Chengcheng bandits? Defeated Not-Touching-Mud and Left-Gua-zi as well?!"
His mood launched like a rocket.
"Reward! Generous reward!"
But his chief eunuch, Du Xun, whispered,
"Your Majesty… Cheng Xu is… one of Wei Zhongxian's people."
Zhu Youjian's joy crashed faster than a man stepping off a roof.
Wei Zhongxian had already hanged himself on November 6, in Fucheng County, but Zhu Youjian had suppressed the news. Few knew.
He hadn't yet moved against the eunuch faction, but everything was prepared. He simply waited for the perfect moment to let the scholar-officials fire the first shot. At a time like this, even seeing a eunuch-faction official irritated him.
"Investigate this Cheng Xu. If there is anything—a lie, an exaggeration, even one incorrect detail—write it down. When I purge the eunuch faction, he goes with them."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Back in Gaoxia Village
Mister Wang was back.
And he was very pleased with himself.
His trip to Chengcheng had been one long parade of showing off—marching around with Zheng Daniu and a pack of "house guards," lugging a big sack of silver like he owned half the province.
The moment they walked into town, he stormed straight into the local bookshop.
The poor bookshop had been dying slowly for three years—printing books no one bought, novels no one read, the owner wondering daily if bankruptcy or starvation would arrive first.
Then Mister Wang arrived with a giant bag of silver, like a god descending from heaven.
The shopkeeper didn't even haggle.
"Sold!"
Mister Wang indulged in the fantasy of being a "rich patron," bought the entire shop, then marched into the warehouse and swept every last piece of movable type and printing equipment into bags. And while he was at it, he casually abducted—ahem, "hired"—two printing workers.
By the time they returned to Gaoxia Village, every young man carried a huge bundle filled with wooden type blocks.
"We're back!" Zheng Daniu grinned. "I carried so many characters I think I've never been this educated in my life!"
A villager replied,
"Carrying the characters isn't the same as understanding them. You have to read them first."
Everyone laughed.
Gao Sanwa rushed over.
"Let me see what characters you brought!"
He opened Daniu's pack, grabbed a wood block, dabbed it with charcoal, and stamped it straight onto Daniu's face.
A big, dark character appeared on the big guy's forehead.
Everyone leaned in.
Left, right…
Nope.
No one recognized it.
"Sanwa, haven't you been learning characters? What is it?"
Gao Sanwa shook his head. "Haven't learned anything this complicated yet."
Then Young Master Bai suddenly slid in like a fox.
"That's the character for 'dumb.'"
Everyone: "…"
Zheng Daniu's face turned crimson. He started rubbing desperately, smearing half his face black but erasing the character.
"You did that on purpose! You stamped 'dumb' on me! You're calling me dumb!"
Gao Sanwa shrieked and ran.
"Nooo! I grabbed it at random!"
Footnotes
Shaanxi droughts: The late Ming era dealt with constant agricultural collapse; one extra labor levy could mean death for poor households.
Cement roads: In reality, zero chance for Ming-era tech—but the joke riffs on how villagers interpret modern objects as "heavenly treasures."
Chongzhen's memorials: His reign is infamous for being flooded with bad news; he truly begged for "one good report."
Eight-hundred-li express: A real Ming military fast-report system; equivalent to "express emergency cable."
Movable type printing: Though historically invented earlier, rural Ming counties rarely used it—hence the "divine treasure" reaction from villagers.