Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Stirring Up Trouble in the Ming Dynasty (8)
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Wang Pal, the kingpin of the slums who had heard they were looking for shipbuilders, first gave Hwang Su-sin and the interpreter a thorough once-over from head to toe.
By closely examining what fine clothes the men wore and their overall bearing, he could roughly gauge whether they were the type you could mess with or the kind who'd bring disaster if you poked them the wrong way.
The outfits they sported were made of the finest, most luxurious nandan silk, embroidered with real gold thread. Just that alone told him these guys were loaded beyond measure. Their confident postures and easygoing smiles only confirmed it...
'These are not the types to mess with.'
"Why are you looking for shipbuilders?"
In response, the interpreter—who had once racked up a massive debt to Hwang Su-sin—replied with utter confidence.
"Do you think the imperial family, high ministers, or scholar-officials will stop using rare goods from beyond Ming borders just because of the sea ban? Let the ban be the ban, but luxuries will still be luxuries."
Even prostitutes only get busted if they serve the riffraff. Cater to the real elites, and you're safe from crackdowns nine times out of ten.
The reason was simple.
Lowlifes carousing wildly was an eyesore, but nobles enjoying refined entertainment? That was the height of sophistication.
So even the authorities couldn't dare crack down on the exalted ones' elevated amusements.
The sea ban changed nothing.
The upper crust, who had always been closest to luxuries, craved the indulgences they'd enjoyed before the ban. Smuggled goods would keep flowing to meet that demand.
Of course, the trade and transport would get far riskier and tougher, driving prices through the roof.
"Ever since Emperor Yongle passed, the court has enforced the sea ban with iron fists, so every shipyard in the land shut its doors. The shipwrights are either rotting their skills away on odd jobs in Beijing or doing dirty work like us. Finding them won't be hard."
Wang Pal stuck out his right hand and wiggled his fingers.
The interpreter handed over a box containing a few roots of ginseng.
Wang Pal peeked inside, his eyes bulging like they might pop out.
Goryeo ginseng was one of Ming's most prized medicines, and the top-grade stuff was produced almost exclusively in Joseon—a true rarity.
Anyone casually handing out treasure like this...
...had to be someone backed by Ming high officials, dealing with the Joseon envoy delegation—or at bare minimum, a heavyweight with the cash to bribe border garrison commanders.
"Introduce us to the right people, and I'll throw in half a catty more of ginseng."
"Half a catty?!"
"Just make proper introductions. I might even sweeten the pot further."
Wang Pal rubbed his palms together eagerly and nodded.
"I'll pull every connection I have and round up every shipwright in Beijing for you. With that crew, building dozens of ships will be child's play. No worries."
"We trust you with it."
And before long, a horde of unregistered slum-dwellers in Beijing found jobs with some no-name merchant outfit.
Hwang Su-sin led them leisurely toward Hanyang.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ While holed up in the Forbidden City, I fleeced the Ming bastards for all they were worth—guts, gall, and all.
I got summoned to the homes of ministers dying to see the "loyal vassal from the east" and spent endless hours flattering them to their hearts' content.
I acted just like a 21st-century nationalist TV host.
When eating Ming food, I'd rave that Ming cuisine was unrivaled under heaven. I'd sigh deeply, fretting how primitive Joseon had to strive just to catch up to Ming's heels.
Ming folk, perpetually pickled in Sinocentrism and chronic superiority complexes, ate up my reactions like candy.
Their own echo chambers mumbling "Chinese stuff is the best, Chinese food is the best" only tickled their egos a bit. But when I—a visitor from Joseon—shouted "Ming is amazing! Ming is the greatest!"?
It sent them into delusions of grandeur.
'See? Even objectively, Ming is tops in everything.'
Well, by early Joseon standards, Ming was the world's tech superpower, scientific powerhouse, and economic giant, so it wasn't entirely wrong.
But hearing foreigners say it made them feel their greatness anew.
That's why every nationalist show trots out "foreigners."
And now, it was finally time to leave.
Dirty water, plenty of fine goods but even more counterfeits, these arrogant pricks who deemed everyone barbarians...
Just one more edict, and we'd part ways.
Before reading the edict, Emperor Xuande scanned the Joseon envoys and smiled warmly.
"Hear ye, envoys of Joseon. Since your kingdom's founding, Great Ming and Joseon have maintained close ties like father and son, despite minor misunderstandings. This time, your king Yi Do mourned my father—late Emperor Hongxi—and celebrated my ascension."
We only came groveling with tribute because we knew you'd throw a fit if we didn't play along properly, you scum!
You rotten emperor, pinnacle of Ming centralism—drop dead from some plague already.
Tell your son to leave politics to the eunuchs and live like a fool.
"Great Yue rejected the world order led by Ming and Japan, but not you—so I hold Joseon all the dearer. In reward for King Yi Do's loyalty, I shall bestow lavish gifts."
"Your benevolence overwhelms us."
No sooner had the emperor promised generous gifts than the attending eunuch rattled off the inventory.
Silks by the bolt, jewels by the chest, medicines by the crate, books by the stack—the list dragged on tediously.
Too many items, too vast the quantities; we'd need the edict's written roster later for the full picture...
'But even skimming this, it's double what we budgeted for the trip...?'
Worth every bit of pride I flushed down the toilet.
"I've heard Joseon is a small kingdom short on warhorses, without native gold or silver. Yet until now, whenever Ming needed them, we've demanded horses, gold, and silver as tribute from you."
Just thinking about it ground my teeth to dust.
Joseon had bled itself dry procuring them.
Gold and silver barely existed here, let alone mined—so to dodge further demands, we banned mining altogether.
"Joseon is a kingdom of propriety, Ming's foremost vassal. Your people are practically Ming subjects—how could I burden them? Great Ming has ample horses, gold, and silver aplenty. Strain no more. Henceforth, horse tribute drops from 10,000 yearly to 3,000. Gold and silver tribute is specially abolished."
I barely stifled a cheer from bursting out.
Even if I had shouted it in the moment, it probably wouldn't have caused a fuss.
With the emperor granting such magnanimity, a vassal's cheer would be fitting.
'Still, interrupting the emperor is bad form.'
"Joseon serves Great Ming with true loyalty, so I grant you grace in return. Continue upholding Great Ming with devoted hearts."
Why the hell should I serve you with "sincere loyalty" from the heart?
Think a few favors now erase your past atrocities?
Do you know the agony of Pyongan folk, hiding every penny and possession before your envoys swept through, lest their homes be wrecked?
Because of your demands for tribute princesses, girls' marriage age plunged as low as eleven. You knew that?
Families had no choice if they wanted to keep their daughters.
I'd sooner bite my tongue and die than serve scum like you from the depths of my soul.
I renewed my vow of vengeance inwardly—but for now, I had to smile and sheath the blade.
Even Confucius said it:
A gentleman's revenge is never too late, even after ten years.
"Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Eternal reign!"
"Return home safely, envoys of Joseon."
With the emperor's leave, Maeng Sa-seong, the deputy envoy, and I—scribe—departed the Forbidden City.
Maeng Sa-seong and the deputy envoy wore broad smiles.
"Gold and silver tribute abolished, horses cut... His Highness will be overjoyed."
"Indeed. Joseon suffered so much for those..."
"At last, a weight off our shoulders—we can return with heads high."
"Ming's delicacies are tasty but greasy and oversweet. Nothing beats Joseon fare. I crave soybean paste stew the second we get home."
As the two chatted happily, Maeng Sa-seong turned to me.
"Aren't you pleased, scribe? Thanks to your enduring the ultimate humiliation, Joseon's burdens are greatly lightened."
"I am pleased, milord. But..."
I spoke softly, for Maeng Sa-seong's ears only.
"We can't live off their graces forever, can we?"
I'd tear you Ming bastards limb from limb if it killed me.