Chapter Forty-Seven: The Western Invaders Threaten the Border

Chapter Forty-Six: Coal, Part Four

In this way, much time was consumed, and many inconveniences arose. Of course, as the Grand Empress Dowager was already the most honored person in the land, she could enjoy every conceivable comfort. These inconveniences fell more upon the servants.

An ordinary person might not understand the merits of such conveniences. Yet the Grand Empress Dowager was no ordinary old woman; one could say she understood the hardships of the common people well.

The Grand Empress Dowager looked carefully and said, “Indeed. But the imperial household lacks for nothing; if your argument rests on this alone, it falls short.”

Zhu Qizhen replied with a humble smile, “Naturally, Grandmother. I see two key points: first, it saves effort; second, it would reduce the number of trees the common people must fell.”

He then explained the workings of this stove in detail: a few lumps of coal a day, compared to the bundles of firewood needed for cooking every day or two—this alone would save a great deal of trouble.

As for reducing tree cutting among the populace, that was a straightforward benefit. If one lived in the south, this might be a lesser concern. But in the capital, such matters could not be ignored. Did people imagine sandstorms were unique to modern Beijing?

The Grand Empress Dowager asked, “But the people cannot afford such things. Not to mention the coal, how much does this stove alone cost?”

Zhu Qizhen answered, “Many of the palace craftsmen have their old habits, and I can do little about that. But in my opinion, this stove can be fashioned from clay and mud. In that case, it would cost nothing at all.”

In ancient times, many farmers were jacks-of-all-trades—they tilled the land, but were also carpenters and masons. Much could be managed by their own hands. Women too could weave and sew their own clothes.

Money was scarce in many households. Apart from selling a few necessities like salt or farming tools and paying taxes, they seldom used cash at all. Such was the self-sufficient, smallholder economy.

So, if this method spread, most farmers could build their own stoves without spending a single coin.

The Grand Empress Dowager said, “Well reasoned. How do you plan to promote it?”

Zhu Qizhen replied, “This cannot be forced. I wish for the palace to take the lead—if coal stoves are widely used here, then officials and nobles will follow suit, and once the people see the convenience, they too will adopt it.”

Hearing this, the Grand Empress Dowager was pleased. “Good. It is better to proceed slowly, step by step, and never by force.”

She had been worried Zhu Qizhen might issue an imperial edict demanding everyone use these stoves, which could only lead to chaos.

“It is all thanks to Grandmother’s teaching,” Zhu Qizhen said.

“You have done well today,” she replied. “You may make a request.”

Zhu Qizhen was startled. “Truly?”

She smiled, “When have I ever spoken falsely? One day, this realm must fall into your hands. I only worry you are not yet ready, so I help you for now. If you prove capable, I would hand over the reins to you at once. Do you dare accept?”

A surge of emotion rose in Zhu Qizhen’s heart, and he almost agreed on the spot. But, after considering carefully, he said, “Your grandson is not yet ready. I ask Grandmother to continue guiding me.”

He spoke thus partly because he truly felt he could not manage the Ming dynasty on his own. Though he studied daily—classics in the morning, statecraft in the afternoon, and palace affairs at night—the more he learned, the more he realized how difficult it was to be a good emperor.

A peaceful realm did not mean there were no great matters, only that the Grand Empress Dowager had already settled them all. There were two capitals, thirteen provinces, hundreds of prefectures, and over a thousand counties; countless matters arose every day. How could anyone claim there was nothing of importance?

Zhu Qizhen deeply admired the Grand Empress Dowager’s effortless mastery in arranging all affairs. He knew himself well enough to realize he was not yet capable of such things.

Her skill came from many years of political experience. Any memorial submitted to her, and she could immediately discern the petitioner’s intentions. She could feign ignorance when necessary, act decisively when required, delay when prudent, and wield thunderous force if needed. Such judgment of urgency and gravity could only be acquired through decades of practice.

At least for now, Zhu Qizhen could not match her.

Of course, there was another reason. Even if his relationship with the Grand Empress Dowager was close, when power and kinship were intermingled, one could never be too cautious.

The Grand Empress Dowager said, “So, you may make a request—one that concerns the outer court.”

Zhu Qizhen pondered in silence. His mind raced, and at last he settled on a choice: Beijing, and placing trusted people within the capital.

He knew his own limitations; to ask for anything more distant would be useless. The capital was the only sphere he could hope to influence.

If nothing else, he wanted to promote coal over firewood in the capital. With the support of the Shuntian Prefecture, it would be far easier.

“Since you permit it, Grandmother,” Zhu Qizhen said, “I shall not refuse. Whatever I wish to do in the capital must involve the Shuntian Prefecture. I would like Yu Qian to serve as Prefect of Shuntian.”

The Grand Empress Dowager considered this. “That is reasonable. But there is no need to rush. The drought in Henan has passed, but the damage was great, and Yu Qian is well regarded there. Let him remain a while longer before transferring him to the capital.”

Yu Qian, outside the capital, held the post of Right Vice Minister of War, acting as a circuit inspector. During the early Ming, when the system of inspectors was not yet formalized, his rank was similar to that of Prefect of Shuntian.

However, the Prefect of Shuntian was stationed in the capital—a metropolitan official, higher in status than a provincial one. For Yu Qian, it would be a promotion.

The Grand Empress Dowager also knew Yu Qian well. Though she did not know the history that would be written in later ages, to her he was a promising young official. With more experience, he might one day join the cabinet and succeed the Three Yangs.

For the Emperor to have a trusted Prefect of Shuntian, and for Yu Qian to interact more with him, was no bad thing.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Zhu Qizhen replied, overjoyed.

In the Grand Empress Dowager’s heart, Yu Qian and Zhu Qizhen did not hold the same place. She said, “Go now. Scholar Wang’s lessons are not to be taken lightly. If you wish to see this matter through, do it well, and you will be rewarded. Fail, and I shall call upon Mr. Li to be your tutor again—how about that?”

Zhu Qizhen hurriedly promised, “I will see this matter done properly.”

Thus, throughout the oppressive heat of midsummer, Zhu Qizhen devoted most of his energy to the matter of coal.

He was unable to conduct field investigations himself, nor did he know how backward the mining techniques were in Mentougou. Yet one thing he did realize: the real determinant of coal’s price was not the coal itself, but the cost of transport. In Mentougou, when locals took coal for their own use, it was generally free of charge.

This meant that coal was worth little in the place it was mined.

The best way to lower the price was to improve the transport route from Mentougou to Beijing.

This route consisted of two main sections. The first was the Yongding River. In earlier times, Guo Shoujing had specifically improved a stretch of it for coal transport.

However, the old capital of the Yuan dynasty was located south of Ming Beijing. Thus, once the coal reached the south, it had to be unloaded and brought north overland, entering the city through the southern gate.

Here lay the crux of the second section.

Water transport was the cheapest option of this era; no method was more economical.

But once the coal left the river and was carried into the capital by pack animals—even though it was only a few miles—the expense was considerable.

Naturally, those involved in the transport increased their charges.

It was impossible for Zhu Qizhen to dig a new canal just for coal transport. Instead, he could only look for ways to improve the existing route.

He remotely directed Cao Jixiang to first reorganize the Mentougou coal mines, placing many under the Bureau of Firewood Conservation. He then ordered the river docks to be improved, increasing their capacity.

Efforts were made to rebuild the roads from the docks to Beijing, laying out a dedicated coal transport route.

However, this meant many tasks fell to the Shuntian Prefecture.

The current Prefect of Shuntian was not well acquainted with Zhu Qizhen and was difficult to work with. Thus, Zhu Qizhen began looking forward to Yu Qian’s transfer to Beijing.

But before Yu Qian could be transferred from his post as inspector in Henan and Hebei, a great event occurred.