Chapter 16: Meeting

[Seal Eat My Spear]: Are you saying the small country has already started mining a massive silver deposit? Wasn’t that supposed to be exploited five years from now?

[Mu Xiaoqi]: Most likely yes.

[Mu Xiaoqi]: From the moment I crossed over, I’ve been keeping an eye on news about the silver mines in the Wa kingdom. Based on historical records, the discovery of this massive silver mine had a profound impact on global trade between the East and the West, so it’s something that must be brought under control. 

However, I heard nothing for years—until yesterday, when it hit me. Japan has always been a fragmented land with shallow foundations but plenty of chaos. 

The historical records are also a mess. It’s entirely possible that local forces have already started mining silver, but the shogunate remains unaware, and the history books have no way of documenting it yet.

[Mu Xiaoqi]: This would explain the sudden wealth of the Japanese envoys and the subtle change in attitude from the Goryeo. The old Taoist typically despises dealing with the Japanese and only gives them perfunctory rewards during tributes. Most likely, these Japanese used a large sum of silver to bribe influential Goryeo to secure a place in the diplomatic delegation and open up negotiation channels.

[Seal Eat My Spear]: No way… They bribed the Goryeo? How much money could they possibly have?

[Mu Xiaoqi]: Not an overwhelming amount—probably twice as much as the silver currently mined in the Central Plains. They also have gold and copper mines, which are fairly significant. I gathered some information earlier while preparing to counter Japanese pirates.

[Seal Eat My Spear]: …Wait, what does this have to do with pirates?

[Mu Xiaoqi]: Gold and silver can’t be eaten or worn. With Japan’s weak productivity, they can only satisfy tson consumer desires through trade with the Central Plains. But here’s the issue—twenty years ago, Japanese envoys caused trouble along the coast, and the old Taoist retaliated harshly, severely restricting the tribute trade. 

With such sanctions in place, they’re left begging for leniency from the superior state. But knowing the Japanese, if tson pleas fail, they’ll resort to more unsavory methods, as you can imagine.

[Seal Eat My Spear]: …Smuggling?

[Mu Xiaoqi]: Most likely.

Typing out those two words, Mu Qi couldn’t help but sigh. According to history, the Japanese pirate rebellions a decade later were fueled by smuggling, though the exact cause remained murky. From his current perspective, however, it seemed clear that the chaos was closely tied to the exploitation of Japan’s silver mines. 

The profits from silver were so immense that they could easily drive pirates and smugglers to madness.

For the past three or four years since crossing over, Mu Qi had poured most of his energy into preventing the future Japanese pirate rebellions, even feigning madness and acting like a fool to achieve his goals. Now, seeing the faint signs of the crisis’s trigger, his heart tightened.

Liu Li evidently understood his concerns:

[Seal Eat My Spear]: Holy crap, does this mean the key moment for the Japanese pirate crisis is approaching? Are you ready for this? I remember you even specifically protected a few scholars for this purpose, the so-called “Seven Exhortations,” right?

That was hitting a sore spot. Mu Qi’s mouth twitched. Back when the Yan Dang attacked the “Seven of Wu,” the assault was intense but had nothing to do with him. Yet the Yan Dang, like rabid dogs, seized the opportunity to escalate, threatening to purge the students associated with the seven scholars. 

That immediately struck Mu Qi’s nerve—not because of the seven themselves, but because one of tson students bore the surname Qi!

For the sake of the larger anti-piracy efforts, Mu Qi had no choice but to shamelessly throw tantrums, rolling on the ground and acting absurd in public to divert attention. 

At the time, he had even resolved that if Yan Fenyi insisted on pressing the issue, he would charge forward, kick him in the chest hard enough to rupture his organs, and trade his family’s royal immunity medallion for a final showdown with the Yan Dang.

Although things didn’t escalate to the worst possible outcome, his reputation was still utterly ruined, drawing scorn of all. 

Even though the son of prince Mu didn’t care much for fame and fortune, recalling the incident still made him gnash his teeth and cringe with embarrassment—if Lao Deng weren’t so clueless, would he have had to disgrace himself like that?

Mu Qi gritted his teeth and changed the subject:

【”Is the Deposed Emperor playing mahjong? Didn’t she say she was visiting the clan house today to try and get us a picture of Lord Zong?”】

【”Seal Eating My Spear: Zhao Fei? I heard she’s run into some trouble again. She might be a bit late.”】

Although Mu Qi was doing his utmost to prepare for the fight against the Wokou (Japanese pirates), in his heart, he was reluctant to be dragged into the chaos of war. 

The pirates were indeed despicable; however, considering the current state of the empire’s weak and disorganized coastal defenses, suddenly provoking a conflict would be extremely risky. If they could genuinely stall the enemy with trade to buy time, it wasn’t entirely out of the question.

But such grand matters as tributary trade were not within the control of a mere son. The Ministry of Rites clung stubbornly to tradition, and only an imperial decree could overturn the situation. 

Given the empire’s current productive capacity, maritime trade undoubtedly brought countless benefits, but persuading someone like Old Wall Lamp, who had a rigid and self-righteous temperament, seemed like an impossible task. Mu Qi could only take it one step at a time and do his best.

The next day, as usual, they met with the delegation, but on the way, they encountered an imperial eunuch delivering a decree to the posthouse. 

Huang Shanggang, the head eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, specially ordered the carriage to stop and greeted the two with a cheerful smile, warmly congratulating them:

“You two handled the matter with the Ministry of Rites exceptionally well. His Majesty is very pleased and has said he will reward you handsomely!”

They hurriedly expressed tson humility but couldn’t help exchanging a glance. If it were any other eunuch delivering the decree, it might not be worth noting, but Huang Shanggang’s position was especially significant. 

As the emperor’s close servant since childhood and a trusted confidant from his hometown in Hubei, Huang oversaw all critical matters involving imperial factories and royal businesses.

 Nicknamed “Treasure Eunuch,” he managed the emperor’s personal coffers. Why would someone of his stature suddenly take an interest in Ministry of Rites affairs?

Would he even know which way the Ministry’s doors opened?

After a moment of bewilderment, the younger cabinet member reacted quickly. He briefly reported the progress of the previous day’s meeting to Huang, emphasizing a key observation: during the meeting, the delegates posed as paragons of integrity, claiming to have lived ascetically during tson mission. 

Yet, after the meeting, they swarmed the markets, buying up all the tribute tea and silk at the posthouse.

Such hypocrisy was nothing new to them, having seen it often enough among tson own so-called scholars of virtue. But Huang immediately grasped the key point:

“They bought tribute tea?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Huang was momentarily stunned but quickly smiled. Tribute tea, despite its prestigious name, was essentially second-rate goods rejected by the emperor and top eunuchs after meticulous selection. Because of its “tribute” branding, it was sold at prices three to four times higher than better-quality tea. Who would willingly pay such a premium?

The Ministry of Rites oversaw these sales, but its scholarly officials knew little of the actual accounts, leaving room for petty officials to profit. 

It was only after the younger cabinet member took over and meticulously reviewed the accounts that the discrepancies became apparent.

After all, how else could he ensure his own cut from the tribute trade if the records weren’t clear?

Talking to someone sharp like Huang was effortless. With just a few words, Huang understood the cabinet member’s implication and broke into a broad grin:

“These foreigners are true fools with money to burn. Why not take advantage of them?”

But Huang’s smile lasted only a moment before vanishing. After all, even if the emperor only had eight seasonal robes, as servants, they couldn’t appear too mercenary. Adopting a serious tone, Huang solemnly reminded the two:

“Remember, this mission is solely to demonstrate imperial grace. It has nothing to do with money. The emperor’s decree is purely for appeasing the foreign vassals, unrelated to money. 

The Ministry of Rites’ role is to coordinate matters above and below, also unrelated to money.”

Huang’s visit to the posthouse was mainly to honor the Goryeo. As a vassal state with a name bestowed by the imperial ancestors, tson dignity couldn’t be ignored. After theatrically reading the decree prepared by the Hanlin Academy, he presented the emperor’s gifts: a box of gold pills for each delegate.

“I hear you all enjoy the imperial writings of devotional prayers. His Majesty was greatly pleased to learn of this,” Huang explained with a warm smile to the dumbfounded delegates. 

“These are celestial pills crafted by His Majesty himself, following the ‘Essentials of External Alchemy,’ and are unparalleled treasures, specially bestowed upon your king.”

The delegates froze for a moment before bowing in thanks. Standing nearby, Yan Donglou couldn’t help but admire: the emperor’s eyes and ears were clearly fixed on the Ministry of Rites, catching even the smallest flattery from the prince’s son. 

This subtle, offhanded maneuver was truly masterful, far more refined than tson father-and-son duo’s crude attempts at alchemy.

Huang was about to leave when a Japanese envoy, Nan Yexiren, stepped forward and delivered a long, obsequious speech in broken Chinese. Mu Qi frowned after just a few sentences. Yeren’s fluency suggested he had been feigning ignorance earlier to stage this ambush.

The envoy clearly understood the imperial court’s power dynamics. By flattering a trusted eunuch like Huang, whose word carried imperial weight, they hoped to bypass regular officials entirely. The lavish praise flowed endlessly, revealing tson cunning intent.

The eunuch liked flattery the most, especially when it came from rare foreigners. Huang Shanggang smiled so broadly that his eyes nearly squinted with joy, feeling a bit smug. 

However, when he heard the envoy cautiously ask, “Our country has been loyal to your great kingdom for a long time; may we open the doors for greater tribute?” he quickly regained his composure.

He didn’t understand the nuances of tribute, but he clearly remembered the emperor’s discussion the day before when he was calculating with his abacus for half a day after reviewing Japan’s archives. 

Who would dare interrupt the emperor when he was calculating with his abacus? Didn’t they see how his eyes were red by the end of it?

Besides, the matter of tribute was now handled by the small cabinet and noble officials. This was one thing, but the heir to the prince of Mu’s estate was well-known in the Beijing as someone you didn’t want to mess with. Why would he bother with such a crazy lunatic?

Eunuch Huang decisively spoke up: “These matters are handled by the proper officials, and we cannot respond on behalf of the envoy.”

Having heard this from the Court of Ceremonial, Mu Qi, who had been watching coldly, immediately added his words. He smiled at the envoy.

“You, Your Excellency, are quite skilled in human language!”

The envoy, Nan Yexiren, was stunned. “What?”

“I was simply complimenting the envoy’s mastery of Chinese studies,” Mu Qi said with a straight face. “But why is the envoy so eager to expand tribute? What is the reason behind it?”

Nan Yexiren replied, “Our country is sincere in following the Chinese way; our desire to emulate it is no less than that of Goryeo or Ryukyu. Why does your kingdom treat them generously but nitpick when it comes to us, always finding fault?”

Mu Qi silently rolled his eyes. He had countless criticisms of Lao Deng and could rant for three days and nights about them, but he had to admit, he appreciated Lao Deng’s attitude toward the Japanese.

“Your Excellency says that Japan emulates China, but as of now, the pirates who have been terrorizing the Jiangsu and Zhejiang areas are mostly Japanese and not related to Goryeo or Ryukyu.”

Though Goryeo often used tribute to extort benefits and occasionally insulted the emperor, when compared to Japan’s deplorable actions, Goryeo could proudly claim to be a filial nation, even though it sometimes irritated the court. 

Even the old Taoists had nothing more to say about it. In fact, in some ways, Goryeo’s “loyalty” was highlighted by Japan’s behavior. No matter how dissatisfied the court was with Goryeo, a glance to the east at another tributary nation would usually make them back off.

The envoy’s response was sharp but clearly prepared: “Our people are a mix of good and bad, and we cannot control every action. Surely your kingdom has its own thieves and miscreants. To punish without teaching is against the teachings of the sage.”

If there had been scholars from the Ministry of Rites present, they would likely have become more alert, immediately preparing counterarguments and focusing on debating the teachings of the sage. 

But Mu Qi, the heir to the prince of Mu’s estate, was not interested in that. With a neutral expression, he responded directly:

“So, Your Excellency is saying that Japan’s officials can’t even control thieves? If they are this weak and incompetent, with frequent exchanges of tribute, wouldn’t the sea merchants in the Central Plains be greatly harmed? A country that is in chaos and full of lawlessness—how can the sage’s government allow its people to trade with such a barbaric land?”

Nan Yexiren was about to refute, but Mu Qi continued uninterrupted:

“A barbarian with a ruler is worse than having none at all! Japan cannot even control its thieves. 

This shows the wild nature of the people, their insufficient rule, and their tendency to stir trouble and commit transgressions. 

I must ask, does Japan have a mad monk named Zhou Feng who claims that the Land of the Rising Sun is a divine nation and refuses to acknowledge the rightful emperor of our great kingdom? Phrases like ‘Eastern Emperor, Western Emperor,’ and ‘China and Japan are equally revered’—such blatant rebellion! Is this not the nature of barbarians, full of cunning and deceit?”

Nan Yexiren was stunned, his body covered in a cold sweat. He could barely control his expression. It was true that there was a growing movement in Japan, with some elites secretly espousing such ideas, but until now, it had been mostly confined to the upper echelons with little impact. How had such secretive whispers crossed the sea and reached here?

Zhou Feng was indeed a well-known advisor to the Shogunate, and though he preached these ideas to his disciples in private, how could the officials in the great kingdom know these details so clearly?

Nan Yexiren became more nervous the more he thought about it, and his lips involuntarily twitched. Before his visit, he had thoroughly researched Mu Qi, knowing that he was a famous scoundrel in the Beijing, known for his unreasonable behavior, and so he had prepared carefully for encounters with Yan Ge’s son, Yan Donglou. 

But now, with just a few words, he felt like he had been doused with cold water. The other party’s knowledge was so deep and detailed that it was far beyond the ignorance of a mere wastrel!

Was Mu Qi pretending to be a fool, or was the intelligence of the great kingdom so sharp that even the scoundrel could gather such information about Japan?

Nan Yexiren forced his gaze away and looked at the other officials present. But he saw that both the small cabinet minister and Eunuch Huang had expressions of indifference, watching with an air of calm detachment. Everyone present was an experienced player. 

Just looking at the envoy’s stunned expression was enough to confirm that Mu Qi’s words were true. While private discussions were one thing, to face such rebellious words from the Japanese monk publicly was a matter of defending the emperor’s honor with righteous indignation.

Of course, despite his calm outward demeanor, Eunuch Huang was overjoyed inside. Yesterday afternoon, the Emperor had sent him to inspect tribute matters, and though his words were vague and cryptic, Huang understood the Emperor’s subtle hint:

He might need to deal with the Japanese, and the eunuchs would have to act, quietly finding a reason to challenge them.

As the head of the Eastern Depot, Huang was duty-bound. But this was a tricky task. They were adept at dealing with officials; if not for a living sage, their spies could usually fabricate any dirt on anyone. But the Japanese envoys had just arrived, and there were few in the Eastern Depot who understood Japanese. Gathering any blackmail material was no easy task.

Would the eunuchs have to bring translators to find the Japanese envoys’ subordinates and threaten them in secret, saying, “If you don’t confess, you will die”?

At a loss for what to do, an unexpected opportunity seemed to fall from the sky. Listen, listen, “Equal respect for China and Japan,” “Eastern Emperor, Western Emperor”—can anyone really say such things? If these words are reported, wouldn’t that be a huge scandal?

Of course, although the Eastern Depot is ruthless in its actions, it usually requires evidence. At the moment, relying solely on the sharp tongue of the Crown Prince of the Lord of Mu’s family and a few expressions from the Japanese envoy, It’s still not enough to convict them. Someone would need to investigate further. 

However, after hesitating for a moment, Eunuch Huang, unable to withstand the pressure from the higher-ups, decided to report immediately, without bothering to verify.

But it didn’t matter. Even if the facts were wrong, he had ways to handle it. Eunuch Huang had already checked the archives and knew that Japanese customs were peculiar—no matter how serious the mistake, a public bow would clear things up. 

Eunuch Huang, ever adaptable, decided to go along with the local customs. Even if the Japanese were wronged, he could always practice Japanese for a few days, bow before them, and say something like, “Red bean paste, damn your mother,” and that would be enough!

This was an apology from the Grand Eunuch of the Eastern Depot. He suggested the Japanese not be ungrateful.