Chapter 15: The Silver Mine

The joy of victory in Bianjing lasted into the second day, only to be followed by even better news. 

After receiving reliable political assurances, the junior grand secretary acted swiftly and resolutely. The very next day, he dispatched his subordinates to firmly reject the Goryeo envoys’ request to move to a different residence. 

The grand secretary stated that the accommodations provided by the major merchants were of the highest quality and that the imperial court had already shown the utmost benevolence. 

“What more could you possibly demand?”

Caught off guard, the Goryeo envoys pleaded repeatedly to no avail and eventually stationed themselves in the suburbs of the Beijing, refusing to present themselves at court. 

They then sent their most eloquent subordinate to the Ministry of Rites to cry and plead for pity. In the past, officials from the Ministry of Rites, prioritizing the dignity of a great nation, often made concessions to smaller states in the name of diplomacy.

However, the junior grand secretary was not someone to be trifled with. He had one of his trusted aides intercept the Goryeo envoys midway and handed them a detailed list—documenting every instance of smuggling and profiteering the envoys had engaged in since their arrival.

Goryeo, known as the “Land of Zhuzi’s Teachings,” enforced Confucian morality so strictly that even the most conservative scholars in the Ministry of Rites would find it extreme. 

For an envoy from a noble yangban family to secretly engage in the “despicable” business of smuggling was scandalous enough to ruin his family’s reputation a hundred times over.

The envoy, who had been putting on a pitiful act and weeping loudly, fell silent as soon as he caught a glimpse of the list.

It was, after all, a laughable affair. Did the Goryeo envoy seriously think his clumsy methods of smuggling and accepting bribes could fool someone like the junior grand secretary, who was practically born with a knack for making money? 

It was like an ant trying to shake a tree—utterly ridiculous. Without even conducting a detailed investigation, the grand secretary merely analyzed the accounts of nearby businesses to unearth the envoy’s entire scheme.

This overwhelming show of force was beyond the imagination of minor envoys from a small nation. After circulating the list among themselves, the Goryeo envoys were drenched in cold sweat and finally abandoned their shameless “helpless victim” act, obediently following the grand secretary’s rules.

While the Goryeos were subdued, the Japanese delegation began causing trouble. Claiming to be official envoys from Japan, they had traveled alongside the Goryeos. Observing the Ministry of Rites’ sudden shift in attitude, they grumbled incessantly along the way. 

Unfortunately, the junior grand secretary was not well-versed in Japanese affairs, making the situation rather tricky. Although he could dig up the Japanese envoys’ financial misdeeds, who could say whether they would even care?

At this awkward juncture, it was the prince of Mu’s heir who stepped forward to resolve the issue. On the third afternoon, he accompanied the junior grand secretary to meet the foreign envoys. After the formal introductions, he immediately tossed a few shiny copper coins in front of a Japanese envoy dressed in green robes.

The Japanese envoy, Nan Yexiren, looked slightly puzzled and instructed an interpreter to ask, “What does the young lord mean by this?”

“I am merely fulfilling a request,” Mu Qi replied with a smile. “The vendor selling marinated meat buns near the post station, Chen Laosi, asked me to return this change to Your Excellency. 

He said that when you purchased ten catties of marinated meat last time, you forgot to take your change. He runs an honest business and asked me to ensure you receive it.”

Nan Yexiren’s expression shifted slightly, and he immediately retorted, “The young lord must be mistaken. When have we ever purchased meat?”

“Surely the esteemed envoy wouldn’t be so forgetful, would he?” Mu Qi said with a faint smile. “Chen Laosi mentioned that when the envoy made the purchase, it was already evening. 

He accidentally spilled a bit of marinade onto your clothes. The scent of this marinade is distinctive and notoriously hard to remove. He is willing to compensate with a new set of clothes and hopes the envoy won’t take offense.”

As these words fell, Nan Yexiren could no longer maintain his grief-stricken expression, which resembled that of someone mourning a great loss. His face immediately changed. The people of Japan weren’t particularly fond of the teachings of Confucius and Mencius but were fanatically devoted to Buddhist doctrines. 

From top to bottom, they adhered strictly to a vegetarian diet, shunning meat and fish as a source of shame. Historically, decades later, the shogunate would even issue the so-called Edict of Compassion for All Living Things, wherein the act of killing animals for food could result in exile or penal servitude. 

This law created a climate of fear, effectively transforming the country into a nation of vegetarians.

Although such draconian laws had not yet been implemented, the influence of this ethos had already taken root deeply. 

If news of an envoy consuming meat were to spread back home, it would undoubtedly be a political bombshell, enough to cause the entire delegation significant trouble.

Seeing Nan Yexiren’s evasive gaze and his hesitation to speak, Mu Qi’s smile deepened as he leisurely sat down. Chen Laosi, the vendor of marinated meat, was someone Mu Qi had painstakingly sought out, a culinary master of the Beijing’s hidden delights. After spending days preparing spices, selecting prime cuts of meat, and perfecting the recipe, the resulting marinated broth was so divine it could make even gods unsteady on their feet. 

After a few rounds of selling near the envoy’s lodging, it finally succeeded in luring in the “big fish.”

This kind of tactic was tailored for specific targets and was a deliberate countermeasure against the Wa envoy. Yet it was peculiar indeed—two neighboring regions, each with its eccentricities: one obsessively revering Confucian ideals, the other consumed by Buddhist fervor. 

It seemed they were adept at discarding the essence of these philosophies while wholeheartedly embracing their flaws.

The japanese delegation, visibly deflated, could only sit quietly without protest. Mu Qi, the son of the prince of the Nation, and the young cabinet minister were merely tasked with overseeing the delegation and, without explicit directives, could only exchange pleasantries, engage in polite conversation, and exchange gifts to strengthen ties.

The ritual of exchanging gifts was, according to the Ministry of Rites, an opportunity ripe for exploitation. As the superior nation, even when the foreign delegation presented trifling items like ginseng roots, dried fish, or wood carvings, the empire’s return gifts were always extravagant: 

Shu brocades, fine porcelain, gems, and gold—items of immense value. Such exchanges often inspired greed among envoys.

Today’s gift exchange followed the usual routine. The japan envoys arranged their simple offerings and eagerly watched the two representatives across from them, hopeful that Mu Qi, being of noble lineage, would be especially generous.

Mu Qi smiled calmly, clapped his hands, and a line of clerks entered, each carrying a lacquered tray. On the trays were stacks of exquisitely bound books with crisp pages—clearly top-quality goods.

Standing solemnly, Mu Qi straightened his sleeves and respectfully picked up one book, presenting it to the envoys. On the cover, gilded characters gleamed:

Complete Collection of Imperial Essays on Qingci

“With your long journey here, your deep sentiment is truly beyond words,” Mu Qi said. “As neighboring nations separated only by a strip of water, the weight of our diplomatic relations cannot be sullied by mundane objects. 

After much thought, I have decided that the only fitting gift is the collection of Qingci essays personally composed by His Majesty, our most sagacious and enlightened Emperor. 

May you ponder and comprehend these profound works, which encapsulate the truths of the universe. Please do not take this lightly.”

The envoys, so moved by the “deep sentiment,” were collectively stunned into silence.

For a moment, the room was filled with blank expressions. The envoys were caught off guard, not knowing how to react, while the young cabinet minister was utterly floored, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

Using imperial essays as a diplomatic gift? Flattery for the Emperor had reached an entirely new level!

The Xiao Ge Lao prided himself on his unparalleled eloquence and skill in currying favor with the Emperor. Yet here was a demonstration of cunning and precision that surpassed anything he’d imagined.

A master! To encounter such a master in this vast world! It was no wonder the prince of the Nation’s family had maintained their favor for so long.

With a smile, Mu Qi asked, “What do you think, gentlemen?”

The envoys’ lips quivered, but they couldn’t utter a single word. Should they tell a high-ranking official of the empire to his face that the Emperor’s essays were utterly incomprehensible and only good for starting fires or wiping one’s backside?

Some things were trivial when left unexamined but became insurmountable under scrutiny. After a long, awkward silence, the envoys had no choice but to accept the Complete Collection of Imperial Essays on Qingci, bowing deeply toward the west and thanking the Emperor’s divine benevolence.

Having enjoyed the envoys’ reluctant performance, Mu Qi reclined comfortably in his chair, feeling years of pent-up frustration from writing Qingci finally dissipate. He once again affirmed his belief that garbage, when put in the right place, could indeed be a valuable resource.

After suffering two major blows, the envoys no longer dared to speak out of turn and instead focused on official matters. Mu Qi, though largely unfamiliar with the complex rituals of submitting documents and arranging audiences, sat through the meeting and even activated a recording device to capture every detail of their interactions.

Under normal circumstances, Mu Qi wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to needle the envoys. But given historical indications, this mission was likely tied to the japanese pirate crisis that would erupt years later, leaving him no choice but to approach it with vigilance—and, if necessary, sharp wit.

The preliminary talks lasted until late afternoon, after which the Ministry of Rites hosted a banquet. When the day’s business concluded and Mu Qi turned into a quiet alley, Yan Donglou caught up on horseback and whispered, “Brother Mu, I suspect these foreign envoys are not what they seem!”

Mu Qi paused, intrigued. “Pray, enlighten me, Xiao Ge.”

“During the downtime of the discussions, I chatted with a few envoys who spoke fluent Chinese, but the more we talked, the stranger it became,” Yan Donglou said in a low voice. “Brother Mu, you might not know, but according to the old records of the Ministry of Rites, both Goryeo and Wa Kingdom (Japan) are described as impoverished nations. Even the prominent figures in those countries supposedly lived modestly in terms of food, clothing, and shelter. 

But looking at these envoys with a critical eye, their attire and lifestyle appear quite extravagant—completely inconsistent with the archives.”

Mu Qi blinks. While Yan Donglou could only rely on the archives, Mu Qi was well aware of the true conditions in those two nations. 

He knew precisely how desolate those lands were during the agricultural era. Using such criteria to detect abnormalities seemed overly presumptive.

“Maybe these envoys come from wealthy families?” Mu Qi suggested tactfully. “Even in the poorest places, there are always a few rich people, right?”

“If they were born into wealth, that would make sense,” the Xiao Ge Lao (Little Grand Secretary) said. 

“But these people’s mannerisms are unmistakably that of those who’ve suddenly become rich—a newfound fortune they can’t hide, dripping with the aura of nouveau riche.”

It’s said that true wealth requires three generations to refine one’s taste. Sudden fortunes, on the other hand, struggle to match the sophistication of old money. Keen observers could often discern the difference through subtle behavior. 

And for Yan Donglou, who was practically a natural-born “money detector,” his sharp eyes immediately saw through the façade of these foreign upstarts.

Of course, merely identifying their background wasn’t enough to showcase Yan Donglou’s skills. He proceeded to explain his deductions to Mu Qi, breaking down everything from the envoys’ dressing habits to their taste in tea and alcohol. 

He even correlated it with the prevailing trends in foreign trade with China, accurately pinpointing the timing of their newfound wealth—within the last two or three years at most. 

Moreover, their sudden wealth likely had no clear source, which explained their reckless extravagance and lack of restraint.

Mu Qi, hearing such professional and thorough analysis, was completely convinced and full of admiration. However he was still perplexed.

“Where could such a sudden windfall come from?”

“That’s hard to say.” Yan Donglou shook his head. “Hmph, these people are so indulgent that even their toothpicks are made of silver. If they continue this kind of excess, trouble is bound to follow.”

Strictly speaking, Yan Donglou had no right to criticize others for extravagance, but the word “silver” caught Mu Qi’s attention, sparking a thought in his mind. Silently, he spurred his horse forward, lost in contemplation, forgetting to voice his critique of the situation.

That evening, the Feixuan Zhenjun, the Qingmiao Emperor, and the Wanshou Emperor finished their ritual purification and, as usual, opened the Heavenly Book to study the secrets of transcendence and, incidentally, munch on some juicy gossip unearthed from who knows where. 

But instead, they were greeted by a single line of text:

“The Wa Kingdom must have discovered a massive silver mine.”
Feixuan Zhenjun: ???!!!