Chapter 45: The Directorate of Ordnance is No Easy Post

Eh?

What Li Rang said was the honest truth. That so-called Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Clansmen was, to put it bluntly, merely a nominal rank; directing the Imperial Armory was the actual scope of responsibility. Going to work at the armory right now was hardly a desirable post.

When Zhang Xun previously wrote to Shi Nengzhi, his hope was for Shi Nengzhi to pull strings so that Lu Xiufu would be put in charge of the ordnance warehouses, not appointed to ordnance manufacturing.

Besides, how many days had it been since that letter was sent off? Zhang Xi had departed just moments before, carrying gold and white silk. Factoring in the time spent entertaining Wang Linxin over the past couple of days, he must have only just arrived in Hangzhou. How could the appointment possibly have come down already?

Spotting Wang Linxin's boat heading eastward, Zhang Xun abruptly dragged Lu Xiufu away from the crowd of well-wishers and asked whether he had any idea why he had been promoted. After all, he had not even been serving as Vice Director of the Court of Agricultural Affairs for very long; Li Tingzhi had submitted the recommendation table for him right before being demoted to Tanzhou in Hunan.

This question left Lu Xiufu stumped. He explained that after shipping fifty thousand bushels of grain from Runzhou and his hometown in Runzhou to the granary, he had merely submitted a memorial to the imperial court stating that he had faced extreme difficulties in procuring that grain. If the shortage was to be made up, the court would have to issue further decrees, and the autumn grain would also need to be brought into the granary.

He had simply thrown out three casts in hopes of hitting a fish, regardless of whether there were dates on the branches. Only with an official imperial directive could he continue wrangling with the local government offices. If he could fill the Agricultural Affairs granaries in Runzhou and Jiankang to one hundred thousand bushels, that would be enough to feed two or three hundred thousand passing troops all the way to Jiangxi.

Feed them all the way to Jiangxi? That would be the business of the Pacification Commissioner of Jiangxi, or rather, Lü Shikui's affair, which had nothing to do with Lu Xiufu.

Then what was the reason? It truly defied understanding.

Utterly baffled, Zhang Xun had no choice but to head back. Although preparations were underway inside the city to host a banquet for Lu Xiufu, Zhang Xun did not attend. He was my own dear brother-in-law, and one meal wouldn't make or break things—I had to go haul grain for my brother-in-law instead!

Yes, indeed. Who could possibly argue otherwise? If Lu Xiufu hadn't been effective in levying grain, he wouldn't have been promoted in the first place. Regardless of where he was assigned, a promotion was a brilliant thing.

Upon returning home, Zhang Xun prepared to pick up his brush and write a letter to his eldest brother, Zhang Cheng, to inquire whether something unusual was going on behind the scenes. Just then, the page boy Chu Jiu ushered in one of Zhang Cheng's personal attendants, announcing that a letter had arrived from the eldest brother for the Second Young Master to receive personally.

After rewarding the attendant with a bolt of silk, Zhang Xun opened the letter and immediately understood. Clearly, when this letter was written, Zhang Xi had not yet reached Hangzhou. Zhang Cheng must have heard rumors of Lu Xiufu's promotion within the Imperial City and immediately drafted a letter for Zhang Xun, instructing him to persuade Lu Xiufu to linger in Changzhou for a few extra days.

What on earth was the imperial court up to?

They were searching for firefighters!

What else did you think? How many capable officials were left in the imperial court now? It was just like the imperial court in Beijing in the fourteenth year of Chongzhen—out of such a vast court, how many officials were left who could actually get things done? Having finally laid hands on an official who could genuinely accomplish tasks for the state, they were going to fleece him to the bone, refusing to stop until he was worked to death.

Was that not the exact fate of Lu Xiangsheng, who was sent everywhere to put out fires, yet lacked the slickness of Hong Chengchou, ultimately being wrung dry and worked to death? Of course, Hong Chengchou did not fare much way better either, being relentlessly driven off to Jinzhou to meet his doom.

Was the Southern Song not playing the exact same tune right now? Grab whoever you could, and if you were capable, you had to step up.

Upon receiving Lu Xiufu's memorial reporting that the fifty thousand bushels of summer grain had already been "dispatched," the imperial court could not even wait for the summer grain to be "actually collected and received" before piling extra burdens and duties onto him.

Was the post at the armory something a normal human being could handle right now? The supply of military provisions for Xiangyang had all fallen into the hands of the Mongols. Repeated attempts to reinforce Xiangyang had failed, squandering hundreds of millions in ordnance. With troops being conscripted everywhere and hands reaching out in all directions, the Ministry of Works and the Armory simply could not keep up. Taking the post of Armory Director was equivalent to jumping into a pit of boiling water and blazing fire.

In any case, the imperial decree ordered Lu Xiufu to assume his post with all haste. Since the summer grain in Runzhou and Jiankang had not yet been "actually received" and stored in the granaries, it was entirely justified to delay by a month.

It was completely reasonable because the summer grain naturally required about another month to be harvested, and storing it properly afterward was the right course of action. The imperial court certainly could not let the armory idle for a full month; if it did, the memorials pouring in from all sides would crush the dragon desk in the Xiangxi Hall.

Even if the ordnance for Li Tingzhi and Gao Da went unreplenished, what about Fan Wenhu's? What about Xia Gui's?

One of the major reasons Jia Sidao was still able to sit in the Chancellor's seat was precisely because, with him there, the imperial court could still keep turning. It was just like Yan Song in *The Tape of Ming Dynasty 1566*: as long as Yan Song was around, the court could scrape together silver to manage from left to right. If you couldn't even procure silver, even Emperor Jiajing would not bother stepping down to protect Yan Song.

Understood, fully understood. Zhang Xun immediately wrote a reply to Zhang Cheng, asking him to lobby on Lu Xiufu's behalf in the capital and find a way to shift his position so that he would only have to manage the warehouses.

In addition, Zhang Xun asked Zhang Cheng whether the imperial court intended to launch a counteroffensive against Xiangyang or hold Ezhou to the death in place. If they counter-attacked Xiangyang, what was the operational plan? If they defended Ezhou to the death, what was the plan then?

A counteroffensive would require mobilizing two to three hundred thousand troops, whereas defending to the death would require no more than fifty or eighty thousand. Ma Yong had just recruited five or six hundred men, and Zhang Xun was still hoping to keep them firmly in his own grasp.

Having finished writing the letter, Zhang Xun slipped it into an envelope and sealed it with red wax, only to suddenly realize he should also ask whether the imperial court had appointed a commander-in-chief for the Jinghu theater. Although an appointment or lack thereof no longer mattered much, pure curiosity got the better of him.

He instructed the attendant—who was currently in the kitchen sharing steamed goose with Xie La—that aside from delivering the letter back, he also had to pose a question for him. Goose meat was relatively tough, and the attendant was likely right in the middle of gnawing on a goose leg, causing some meat to get stuck in his teeth as he gave a vague assent.

Zhang Xun asked him again if he had traveled alone. The man replied that he had come along on an official boat heading to Jiankang. That was unsafe; the contents of Zhang Xun's letter were best kept unseen by others. Just then, he caught sight of Xie La standing nearby.

He asked Xie La if there was anything going on at the Taoist temple over the past few days. If not, he could do him a favor and escort his older brother's attendant back to Hangzhou. Xie La quickly put down the other half of his goose and declared that the task was entirely on him. He swore to deliver the young fellow back to Hangzhou safe and sound, down to the very last hair.

Alright, alright, stop bragging. Eat your fill, sleep for a night, and set off tomorrow.

Muttering that setting out tomorrow meant he had to make preparations overnight, Xie La mumbled that he had better steam two trays of jujube flower pastries first. This made Zhang Xun's vision go dark—this brat truly didn't treat himself as an outsider.

Fortunately, Zhang Xun's mental state was decent and he knew how to regulate his mood. At least with such a ferocious warrior like Xie La by his side, nothing untoward could possibly happen to the attendant. Earlier, Li Da and Ma Yong had both wanted to exchange blows with Xie La, but after seeing him wield a heavy courtyard door-bolt as if he were swatting flies, they wisely gave him a wide berth.

Ma Yong called him "Brother Xie" every single day, stopping just short of going through a formal sworn-brotherhood ritual. As for Li Da, he simply told little Li to eat more, believing that eating enough gave one a fighting chance to grow robust; Li Da himself knew he would never have a chance to throw punches with Xie La in this lifetime.

The two set off making haste by double marches. Li Rang and Lu Xiufu, who had hosted the banquet in the city the day before, had also returned. Without pulling out the letter, Zhang Xun directly spoke up to advise Lu Xiufu against rushing off to assume his new post, urging him to stay at home until the summer grain harvest was fully gathered.