Chapter 21: Haigang Peak

To arrange the grand plan of exchanging individuals, Mu Qi spent the entire day combing through historical records and checking lists. 

He worked tirelessly until midnight but remained clueless. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he collapsed onto the soft couch, falling into a deep sleep that lasted until the sun was high in the sky. 

When he finally roused himself and called for a servant to bring water for washing, he looked up and was startled to see the housekeeper standing before him with an uneasy expression.

Caught off guard, Mu Qi asked, “What are you doing here?”

The housekeeper, bracing himself, said, “Forgive me for disturbing you, prince, but a guest has arrived at the residence with our house’s invitation card. They’ve requested to see you and have been waiting in the side room for quite some time…”

Still groggy from sleep, Mu Qi took a moment to process this information. To be honest, his reputation as an eccentric was widely known and beyond redemption among the upper circles. 
Rarely would anyone bother to interact with him, let alone wait for an audience. Surprised, he blurted out:

“Who is it?”

The housekeeper bowed slightly and replied, “It is a gentleman by the surname of Gui, and he has brought along a friend.”

The housekeeper, accustomed to dealing with nobles as part of his duties, didn’t think much of this unknown Mr. Gui. Were it not for the prince’s prior instructions, he might not have bothered to disturb his master’s pleasant dreams. 

However, the housekeeper remained loyal to the Duke Mu Mansion, so he ensured the guests were treated well, providing a steady flow of fine food and wine while claiming that the prince was too busy to be seen. All this was done to avoid letting the guests discover that the son was, in fact, napping the day away like a dead pig.

As Confucius once criticized Zai Yu for sleeping during the day, calling him a “rotted log unfit for carving,” so too had the reputation of the son to Duke Mu fallen irreparably among the upper echelons. Yet perhaps, among lesser scholars, it could still be hidden.
The housekeeper bent down, intending to remind his master not to let anything slip. However, to his surprise, the prince suddenly jumped up in excitement:

“Is it really Mr. Gui? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Quickly, fetch my clothes!”

“Not this one—bring my formal attire for meeting guests! Hurry!”

A quarter of an hour later, the son was dressed neatly and strode quickly into the side room. 

Entering with a bright smile, he even took the initiative to clasp his hands in greeting.

“I have long admired your reputation, Mr. Gui. To meet you today is truly a great pleasure!”

The man in blue sitting at the zitan wood table immediately stood up, repeatedly expressing his humility and returning the greeting with a bow. The son eagerly helped him up, secretly elated:

—To think I’m sitting face-to-face and chatting with someone I once read about in my literature textbooks! Oh my god, I must be so accomplished!

Sure, those surnamed Liu and Zhao are born with SSR-level privileges due to tson lineage. But honestly, so what? I’ve personally sought out and befriended this renowned individual myself—doesn’t that put me on par with them?

He exchanged a few polite words with Mr. Gui, then turned to the thin, dark-skinned man standing nearby.

“And this gentleman is…?” 

Gui Zhenchuan hurriedly introduced him: “This is my friend, Mr. Hai Gangfeng, from Qiongshan, Guangdong. He has also come to the Beijing for the imperial examination.”

The son: ………

The son gasped audibly, immediately retracting his earlier remarks. Not only was this man not inferior to Zhao Fei or Liu Li, but this “buy one, get one free” opportunity clearly outclassed those two pompous fools entirely!

Well, damn it! You might be lucky, but so am I! If we’re both blessed by fortune, who’s afraid of whom?

Excitement rendered him nearly speechless. Once he regained his composure, he promptly began undoing his belt.

The housekeeper of the Mu Mansion, following close behind, was stunned at the sight. Could the son’s condition have flared up again, compelling him to act out in public? This was broad daylight, with two outsiders as witnesses—no way could this be concealed. 

Should he charge forward and knock the son out with the nearest inkstone?

Fortunately, the son acted swiftly, removing his belt with practiced ease and placing it before Hai Gangfeng, gesturing for him to accept it. In a sonorous voice, he declared:

“I see extraordinary potential in Mr. Hai. In the future, you will undoubtedly achieve great prominence, becoming a pillar of the court. When that day comes, you’ll find good use for this belt!”

The son of the Mu Mansion was dressed in sumptuous, regal attire adorned with gold and jade.
 The belt he had just removed sparkled brilliantly, exuding an air of extraordinary wealth. Hai Gangfeng froze in place, utterly bewildered. Meanwhile, Mu Qi turned to Gui Zhenchuan and presented him with a jade brush.

“I see in you, Mr. Gui, the visage of a true scholar. Your future shall shine as a literary beacon for our dynasty; your writings will forever be celebrated. 

This brush is the very one used by Scholar Su Dongpo when drafting his memorials. In the hands of anyone else, it would be misplaced, but it finds its rightful owner in you.”

Thankfully, he’d recently acquired some treasures from Zhao Fei, allowing him to maintain his composure. Otherwise, how could he gracefully navigate this moment? As for the belt gifted to Hai Gangfeng, its unique craftsmanship and symbolism were beyond ordinary understanding.

Predictably, Gui Zhenchuan’s eyes nearly glazed over the moment he saw the jade brush. 

Though he repeatedly declined, claiming he was unworthy, his gaze kept drifting toward the “Su Residence” inscription on the brush’s cap. 

As a scholar, Gui Zhenchuan could resist neither fame nor fortune. If Mu Qi had offered gold, silver, or ancient artifacts, Gui might have managed to refuse. But this was Su Dongpo’s brush! Gui Zhenchuan had studied Su Dongpo’s masterpieces when composing his own poems and essays.

Under heaven, could any literati resist the allure of Su Dongpo’s relics? Well, perhaps Li Yi’an could, but Gui Zhenchuan was no Li Yi’an. 

He was merely guilty of the same flaw shared by all scholars!

So, after a moment’s hesitation, Gui ultimately accepted the generous gift.

With Gui accepting, Hai Gangfeng had little choice but to follow suit, albeit with some hesitation.

“This is far too precious, and I’m unworthy of the son’s praise.”

The Mu Mansion was already one of the most prestigious families in the nation. Compared to them, what could be considered “prominence”? Hai Gangfeng was merely a newly appointed juren (provincial graduate), hardly qualified to bear such honor.

But the son was brimming with confidence. “Mr. Hai, you’re too modest. My skill in physiognomy is never wrong. You’ll see for yourself in the future.”

Historically speaking, Hai Gangfeng failed the exams multiple times, only achieving the rank of juren at the age of forty-eight. Disheartened, he took a humble teaching position in a remote county. 

By the time he passed away at seventy-three, he had risen to the position of Minister of Personnel and Vice Censor-in-Chief in Nanjing. In other words, within 25 years, he ascended from a struggling county teacher to a high-ranking official—a meteoric rise!

Oh, and during this period, he also authored a memorial that became famous, enraging a certain Taoist to the point of nearly transcending mortality on the spot. Hai himself was thrown into prison for two years due to this incident.

To defy fate? Child’s play! I, Hai Qingtian, shall defy the heavens themselves!

With such a character, Mu Qi was supremely confident. This wasn’t blind faith in history—it was grounded in hard evidence. Hai Gangfeng rose to prominence despite making countless enemies. Even when that Taoist personally intervened, he couldn’t find fault in Hai’s conduct. 
Hai’s brilliance was undeniable, his reputation well-earned.

Though still hesitant, Hai Gangfeng ultimately accepted the belt, expressing his gratitude repeatedly.

·
Having accepted the jade brush, Gui Zhenchuan essentially agreed to serve the Mu Mansion. As he conversed with his future benefactor, he found Mu Qi surprisingly different from other aristocrats. 

While his handwriting was rather poor, his grasp of Gui’s writings was impressive, with insights that were unexpectedly profound. Some comments, however, left Gui utterly perplexed:

“May I ask,” Mu Qi inquired earnestly, “in your essay, Xiangzhi Xuanzhi, when you wrote, ‘So much joy, yet so much sorrow,’ were you expressing homesickness?”

Gui hesitated. “… Perhaps?”

How could he possibly remember his emotions from decades ago? And who scrutinizes essays for the author’s homesickness? What did his personal feelings have to do with the reader?

Mu Qi, brimming with enthusiasm, pressed on:

“In Xiangzhi Xuanzhi, your description of the scene, ‘The moonlight spills over half the wall, the shadows of cassia branches dappled, swaying with the breeze, enchanting and lovely,’ seems inspired by Su Dongpo’s Night Walk in the Ji Chengtiansi Temple: ‘The court is like a luminous pool, algae and duckweed intertwining, reflecting the shadows of bamboo and cypress.’ Did you employ parallel prose techniques here?”

Gui: ………

“Well, honestly, I just wrote it casually,” he said diplomatically.
·
Though the conversation topics were peculiar, the meeting ended on a cheerful note. Gui Zhenchuan agreed to move his belongings to the Mu Mansion within five days. Hai Gangfeng lingered a moment longer to bow respectfully to Mu Qi.

“Would the prince care to speak in private?”
Mu Qi naturally could not have hoped for more. He personally invited the guest into the adjacent study and instructed the steward to serve tea. 

Hai Gangfeng solemnly expressed his gratitude. Only after the servants withdrew did he quietly speak:

“I thought it proper to inform you, prince. In my audacity, I ventured to the Ministry of war and reviewed the archives of dispatches from recent years.”

Mu Qi was mildly surprised. Dispatches were official documents used to convey court announcements, originally printed and distributed by the Six Ministries. 

However, with the rise of the Grand Secretariat, which encroached on the outer court’s authority, the source of these dispatches had shifted to the central government. 

The announcements printed by the Six Ministries had mostly become routine administrative records that few paid attention to.

Still, however mundane and tedious, these were official documents, and it was no small matter for a mere licentiate to gain access to them. For Hai Gangfeng to accomplish this, he must have gone to considerable lengths. Mu Qi sincerely remarked:

“You’ve worked hard, my lord.”

“I hardly deserve such praise,” Hai Gangfeng replied. “The officials at the Ministry of war were rather haughty. 

It was only through the intervention of a scholar surnamed Zhang, who happened to pass by and kindly explained on my behalf, that I was able to access the dispatches.”

Mu Qi: “…Wait, surnamed Zhang?”

No way! No way! Could it really be…?!

Hai Gangfeng nodded. “Indeed. I heard that this scholar Zhang hails from Jiangling and is highly regarded by Governor Gu Lin of Huguang. 

He also enjoys a stellar reputation among scholars in the Beijing, which is why the Ministry of war made an exception.”

It seemed Hai Gangfeng mentioned this intentionally, likely hoping to recommend the illustrious Zhang scholar to the Duke of Mu’s household. 

But Mu Qi stood there dumbfounded. His thoughts raced from “No way, it’s actually Zhang Taiyue!” to “How is this possible? SSR characters keep showing up!” until the mention of Governor Gu Lin made him shudder on the spot.

Who could understand his predicament? Just earlier, he had reenacted a scene of Zhang Taiyue being favored by Gu Lin in his youth as part of a cosplay act!

What a disaster—he had been playing with references and now stumbled right into the real person’s domain!

But surely Hai Gangfeng wasn’t familiar with the youthful anecdotes of Zhang Taiyue, was he? If he were, would it be wise to book a ship immediately and live out the rest of his days on another continent?

With countless expletives flashing through his mind, Mu Qi forced a stiff smile onto his face.

“Is that so? I must admit, I am quite intrigued by this Zhang scholar… By the way, sir, what prompted you to review the Ministry of war’s dispatches?”

“Just some lingering doubts I wished to investigate,” Hai Gangfeng replied. “As I reviewed the Ministry’s records, I discovered that you, prince, had frequently examined archives related to the japanese people pirates. The number of instances exceeded all others combined. 

Furthermore, you once issued official documents directing the military command to seek out a certain commander surnamed Qi…”

Mu Qi: …

Well, those were indeed his actions. In his urgency to prepare against the japanese people threat, he had been rather direct and had no time to cover his tracks. 

He had assumed no one would bother with the Ministry’s endless piles of paperwork, yet Hai Gangfeng, with his sharp insight, had unearthed the truth.

An SSR character indeed—regardless of his licentiate status, his vision was razor-sharp and unstoppable.

Mu Qi sighed. “I never expected you to uncover this.”

“I apologize for my impertinence,” Hai Gangfeng said with a solemn bow. “I had heard that while the prince’s reputation in the Beijing might be open to criticism, ever since your appointment at the Ministry of war, you’ve been unfailingly punctual and dutiful, quite at odds with the rumors. Unable to reconcile this, I decided to investigate the dispatches.”

At this point, further concealment was pointless. After a moment of silence, Mu Qi suddenly asked:

“Has Mr. Gangfeng ever considered his career aspirations?”

Hai Gangfeng was taken aback.

For most scholars, having the Duke’s heir inquire about their future would have been overwhelming. Yet Hai Gangfeng remained composed and replied thoughtfully:

“I wouldn’t dare speak of aspirations. I’m getting older and am not particularly skilled with the brush. If I could return to my hometown as a county magistrate and serve the local people, I would consider it a life well spent.”

Hai Gangfeng was self-aware, knowing that his essays were unlikely to please the examiners. 

Even if he made the honor roll, his ranking would be low. Without connections or patrons, a low-ranking scholar could hardly expect much of a career.

But Mu Qi merely smiled. “As they say, to cultivate oneself and govern the state for the sake of the world—certainly, a local official can bring prosperity to a region. But to truly implement one’s vision, wouldn’t it be necessary to hold a position in the central administration?”

Hai Gangfeng: … Is this man out of his mind?

Do you think I don’t aspire to the central administration because I don’t want to?

Politely, he replied, “You jest, prince.”

“Am I joking? I’ve said before that my method of face-reading is infallible—never once mistaken. And my belts, gifts though they may be, are never given without purpose. 

This one, even being an imperial gift, would be wasted if not worn in the Forbidden City someday.”

Mu Qi casually delivered this outrageous statement, paused briefly, and added:

“Of course, I understand your curiosity about why I reviewed the Ministry’s archives. It’s difficult to explain at the moment, but I’d like to make a pact with you.”

“Pray, speak your mind, prince.”

“The metropolitan examination is scheduled to take place in a month or two, as per the Ministry of Rites. No one can predict the results, as they are decreed by fate. 

But I propose this: should you make the honor roll, I would like you to take up a post at the Ministry of war. Review the coastal reports of recent years, and you will naturally understand the intent behind my actions. If, however, the outcome is unfavorable, I am willing to help secure a position for you.”

Hai Gangfeng frowned slightly but said nothing.

“Do you think I’m abusing my position to trade official posts for favors?” Mu Qi chuckled. “I’m not that kind-hearted… The position I’d secure for you is county magistrate of Shangyu in Zhejiang, with the additional responsibility of managing foreign tribute ships. And let me assure you, it’s no cushy job.”

Zhejiang, famed for its wealth, was always a coveted post for officials. But Shangyu County was the exception. 

Seven or eight years ago, a small band of japanese people pirates raided Shangyu, sacking the county seat and slaughtering every official. 

Now, with renewed unrest along the coast, anyone with connections would avoid Shangyu at all costs. The magistrate position had remained vacant for over a year.

The chief officer had been vacant for over a year, and the chaos in Shangyu could easily be imagined. At this time, sending someone to take the position was not an act of promotion but rather throwing them directly into a pit of fire.

Hai Gangfeng flipped through the Ministry of war’s gazette and was well aware of the near-disastrous situation along the southeastern coast. After a moment of silence, he cupped his hands toward the heir:

“…I have noted the words of the heir apparent, but forgive my rudeness—I must ask a few impertinent questions.”

Mu Qi smiled. “Please speak, sir. I will answer truthfully.”

Hai Gangfeng asked, “May I ask when the heir began to focus on Shangyu County?”

Mu Qi replied, “Two years ago.”

Over the past two years, he had gathered intelligence, planted personnel, and simulated various plans, but still could not find the breakthrough he sought—until today, when a game-changing solution emerged, like a thunderclap.

Hai Gangfeng continued, “For a small county magistrate, the Duke Mu household should have had no difficulty appointing someone. Why has the heir waited until now?”

“Of course, because there were difficulties.”

“May I ask what difficulties?”

“Though the japanese rebilion of years past have subsided, their aftershocks linger, and the Jiangsu region has never truly been at peace,” Mu Qi said slowly. 

“Due to constraints between the court and local authorities, countless spies, smugglers, and corrupt officials have infiltrated the coastal areas, sheltering and collaborating with each other. 

Some japanese people operatives, cunning as they are, have even bought their way into our bureaucracy, brandishing official badges as they parade openly. 

In such a tangled web of corruption, ordinary officials either collude with the rot or find themselves powerless, suspended in limbo. Digging too deep might even cost them their lives.”

This statement, clear and logical, showed none of the rumored incompetence associated with Mu Qi. Hai Gangfeng fell silent for a moment, his attention not on personal safety but on the coastal region’s near-total collapse as described by the heir apparent.

If Mu Qi claimed to have prepared for two years, it was no empty boast. Such harrowing truths could not be gleaned from the Ministry of war’s gazettes alone.

Hai Gangfeng remained silent.

“In his treatise on governance, Jia Yi noted that even when the nation is teetering on the brink, few recognize the danger. Most people, either ignorant or sycophantic, sing songs atop a sinking ship. The current state of Jiangnan is much the same,” Mu Qi said. 

“Corruption reigns at the top; ignorance festers below. The situation is rotten to the core. Those with connections go with the flow, indulging in smuggling with the japanese people. 

Those without connections retreat into obscurity, seeking only to scrape by. The whole scene is a stagnant pool of decay, heading toward inevitable ruin and suffering. In such circumstances, someone must stand firm with unyielding resolve and break the deadlock in Jiangsu.”

Historically, the japanese rebilion devastated the southeast for years, defying suppression. This was not only due to weak leadership and disorganized defenses but also because local officials fled at the first sign of trouble, as timid as chickens. 

This emboldened the japanese people, making them unstoppable. The suffering of the coastal people was beyond words—one could hardly expect mercy from the japanese people, and the victims’ plight was unimaginable.

Faced with such an outcome, saving one place was better than saving none. Preserving even one county would be a small but vital contribution. 

Moreover, the rapid expansion of japanese people invasions later was undoubtedly fueled by the cowardice of coastal officials. “One hard punch prevents a hundred,” as the saying goes. If no hard punch is delivered and instead the officials kneel in surrender, wagging their tails in plea, what then? 

The catastrophic collapse of the coast under japanese people assaults was a nightmarish vision.

He needed someone of unshakable determination, someone who could stand firm like a nail against the surging tide.

Such a significant task required absolute candor and alignment of purpose. Thus, Mu Qi laid his cards on the table without pretense.

Hai Gangfeng was slightly moved but sighed deeply.

“…If the southeast is truly in such dire straits,” he said slowly, “my meager abilities may be insufficient to turn the tide. I fear I may instead jeopardize the greater cause.”

Avoiding personal glory or disgrace and focusing solely on the greater struggle against the japanese people—his meaning was clear.

“Since I have recommended you, naturally, I will see this through to the end,” Mu Qi said, pointing to a belt on the table. “As long as you carry this belt, all the resources of the Duke Mu household in Jiangnan are at your disposal. 

It may be hard for even a powerful outsider to defeat entrenched locals, but it will at least give them pause. Furthermore, there will soon be a significant upheaval at court. If you can leverage this change, unexpected opportunities may arise. At the very least, you can root out the japanese people spies entirely, leaving no trace.”

Hai Gangfeng was stunned. “What upheaval?”

If the japanese people spies were as entrenched as Mu Qi described, it would be nearly impossible to eradicate them entirely. 

Even a noble house like the Duke Mu’s would struggle to achieve this. Unless… unless the emperor himself resolved to upend the court and strike with overwhelming force.

But would the current emperor, known as Qingmiao the Sublime, care enough for the coastal people to act?

As someone who had served close to the emperor for years, the heir apparent of Duke Mu’s household could confidently tell you: no.

Yet, in the face of Hai Gangfeng’s doubt, Mu Qi only smiled faintly.

“That, sir, is a heavenly secret I cannot reveal.”

Perhaps recalling the Duke Mu household’s influence, Hai Gangfeng seemed finally convinced by Mu Qi’s “I have powerful backing” demeanor. After a moment’s contemplation, he cupped his hands in salute:

“If the heir’s words hold true, I am willing to do my utmost.”
·
With the Duke Mu household’s influence, appointing a vice magistrate in Shangyu was effortless. Shangyu, a frequent target of japanese rebilion, should have been prioritized for management. 

However, the dire state of the region made any appointment a perilous gamble, resulting in long delays.

Now, with the rare acquisition of Hai Gangfeng, a figurative SSR card, Mu Qi could finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

The tangled complexities of Jiangsu’s situation required Hai Gangfeng’s sharp mind and unyielding character to stabilize the region and prepare its defenses. Historically, Hai Gangfeng had wasted years repeatedly attempting to pass the imperial exam, a sheer waste of talent. 
With his brilliance, he shone wherever he went, his brilliance impossible to conceal. If he had entered officialdom earlier, he would not have been limited to the modest positions of censor or vice minister.

—That’s right. For someone like Hai Gangfeng, even the position of censor-in-chief is merely a stepping stone.

Although the dynasty’s tradition dictates that only Hanlin scholars may enter the Grand Secretariat, securing a position as Minister of the Six Ministries is still highly achievable. 

By the timeline’s estimation, when Hai Gangfeng ascends to the Cabinet to assist with state affairs, it will coincide perfectly with Zhang Taiyue achieving his ultimate goal and officially transforming into the “Protector of the Faith.” 

The thought of two top-tier figures clashing in the Forbidden City one day—a heavenly thunder igniting an earthly fire, a momentous turning point in history—thrilled the heir so much that he trembled with excitement.

“Damn, this is one drama I won’t miss!”

·
This enthusiasm lasted a long while. After personally escorting Hai Gangfeng out, Mu Qi eagerly stepped into his study. 

Looking around with satisfaction, he both admired his own ingenuity and contemplated deeply. He then ordered ink to be prepared, picked up a long-unused calligraphy brush from the wooden rack, and set to work.

At Mu Guogong’s level, drafting memorials or official documents was usually delegated to hired scholars, sparing him the need to deliberate over words and phrases. When he personally took up the brush, it was always for something significant.

Indeed, this was a major move. After a prolonged moment of concentration, Mu Qi finally penned the first character:

[Secret]

Yes, it was a secret memorial.

While the old Taoist priest indulged in alchemy, he never forgot to consolidate his power. To maintain control over the court, he had granted trusted confidants the privilege of submitting secret memorials, allowing them to report on hearsay or unusual matters unrestricted by standard protocol. 

The contents of these memorials often strayed far from conventional logic. As a staunch loyalist to the emperor, Mu Guogong’s estate held one of these silver seals for secret memorials. 

However, noble families like his rarely used it, preferring to keep a low profile.

But now, with circumstances pressing him to the limit, Mu Qi abandoned usual decorum. He meticulously recorded his recent negotiations with the Japanese, focusing on their proposals of “equal sovereignty between China and Japan,” the idea of “Eastern Emperor and Western Emperor,” and Goryeo’s “Jingnan Rebellion.” 

Of course, the eunuch Huang from the Dongchang would also relay similar information to the emperor, but how the intelligence was interpreted would depend on the skill of the person submitting the memorial.

For instance, after detailing the Japanese envoy’s outrageous remarks, Mu Qi did not denounce their disloyalty as an ordinary official might. Instead, he shifted his focus to the rumors of a “descendant of Emperor Jianwen” in Japan.

First, the “descendant of Emperor Jianwen,” and now, “equal sovereignty between China and Japan.” Don’t you think this coincidence is too striking, Your Majesty?

Of course, this was speculative and merely planted a seed for future developments. But Mu Qi’s background made him uniquely suited to plant such a seed—his ancestors had followed Emperor Taizong in the “Jingnan Campaign” and marched south. 

Because of this legacy, no one understood the remnants of Emperor Jianwen better than the heir of Mu Guogong.

As for why a descendant of Emperor Jianwen might be in Japan, it wasn’t difficult to explain. Back then, Emperor Taizong had sent missions to the South Seas six times, hoping to locate traces of his nephew. 

The idea that Jianwen had fled overseas was already a consensus in the dynasty.

Everyone knew Emperor Taizu was thorough in his planning, providing escape routes for his descendants. 

Even if Jianwen had fled by sea, his sanctuary wouldn’t have been limited to the South Seas alone. 

Constantly on the move and staying hidden would have been the wisest strategy. Emperor Taizong’s fruitless search was precisely because he hadn’t deciphered his father’s tactics.

Having pondered this for a long time, Mu Qi’s creativity burst forth. In no time, he wrote several hundred to a thousand characters, pouring out his thoughts. 

While he couldn’t match Hanlin scholars in literary elegance or classical references, his abundance of historical knowledge and vivid imagination made him peerless. Citing evidence from Japan, Goryeo, Annam, and Burma, he meticulously analyzed and compared, allowing his thoughts to soar freely. In the end, he reached a compelling conclusion:

Judging by the evidence, Emperor Jianwen and his descendants must have prepared a plan to flee overseas and disperse widely, intending to leverage foreign powers to launch a counterattack on the mainland and restore their dynasty.

This was the “Wandering Jianwen Plan,” spanning 200 years and nearly ten generations. Can the bureaucrats grasp this?

If they couldn’t, it didn’t matter. The sharp-eyed heir of Mu Guogong had already seen through their schemes. He even boldly speculated that Japan was a critical base for the Jianwen remnants’ plans to reclaim the mainland. 

The Japanese, driven by untamed ambitions, had become this arrogant and rebellious because of it!

You say Japan has no such intentions? Then let me ask you—if they aren’t planning a counterattack on the Central Plains, why have they planted spies along the coast, sent pirates, and bribed officials in the Beijing?

— See? All the clues connect, don’t they? Ironclad facts lie before us. Who would dare accuse the heir of rambling nonsense? Such meticulous reasoning and foresight—what else could it be but patriotic devotion?

As he concluded, Mu Qi shifted his tone, setting the final direction for his secret memorial:

[…Therefore, it is imperative to strengthen the navy and prepare coastal defenses to honor Emperor Taizong’s spirit in heaven. 

After all, the friendship between China and Japan is profound and long-standing, and we cannot allow a handful of Jianwen remnants to undermine the greater cause of Sino-Japanese relations!]