Rise of the Poor

Chapter 428: Li Mo Inspects the Post

Morning Light Bears the Sun’s Radiance, and All Things Are Laid BareWhen Zhu Ping’an entered the Library Pavilion, the sky outside had only just begun to pale. Dawn was still tentative, as if testing the world with a cautious breath. Soft morning light filtered through the pavilion’s doors and latticed windows, threading thin strands of brightness into the dim interior. Outside the windows, a faint mist lingered in the air, clinging to the tender leaves just beginning to unfurl, beads of moisture gathering along their edges like tiny, crystalline diamonds delicately set in green.

Upon entering the pavilion, Zhu Ping’an first went outside to the large water jar, drawing a pot of water and placing it atop the charcoal stove. While the water slowly heated, he took advantage of the time to tidy the room. He swept the floor, wiped down the desks, and carefully arranged his brushes, inkstone, paper, and official documents, aligning everything with a quiet, almost ritualistic precision. Each item returned to its place, as though order itself were a form of respect paid to the coming day.

By the time he finished, the water had come to a gentle boil. He poured himself a cup of hot tea and carried it up to the third floor. The third floor was brighter than the rest, better suited for reading by the early light. Zhu Ping’an planned to spend the morning immersed in the Yongle Encyclopedia. Moreover, with his return home by sea approaching in a few days’ time, he selected two volumes related to maritime matters from the third-floor shelves and seated himself by the window, the cup of tea warming his hands as he began to read.

Once he opened the volumes, he could not help but click his tongue in mild astonishment. Even the Classic of Mountains and Seas and the Great Wilderness: Eastern Canon had been included among the maritime entries of the Yongle Encyclopedia. The Classic of Mountains and Seas itself amounted to only a bit more than twenty thousand characters, and Zhu Ping’an was a fast reader. In just over twenty minutes, he had already turned the final page. Though the text was filled with fantastical and absurd elements, it also contained the wild, imaginative speculations of ancient peoples about the oceans. In that sense, it could be considered a foundational work of maritime culture.

That said—useful in theory, useless in practice.

After finishing the Classic of Mountains and Seas, Zhu Ping’an skipped over the remaining compilations of gods, monsters, and strange phenomena. Instead, he went straight for the more realistic maritime texts—works on marine life, hydrology, islands, and, most importantly, nautical records and travelogues. These ship logs and voyage accounts offered practical insights into ancient seafaring: sailing speeds, prevailing winds, routes, and the countless small details that could mean the difference between safe passage and disaster.

Better prepared than caught unawares. One could never have too many skills or too much knowledge. At the very least, when a certain scheming young lady decided to interrogate him, he could trade these hard-earned insights for a few decent meals. After all, given her pampered upbringing, Lady Li Shu would surely bring the Li family’s chef along on the voyage.

While Zhu Ping’an was deeply engrossed in the Yongle Encyclopedia, Li Mo—Grand Secretary and Director of the Hanlin Academy—made a rare appearance at the Academy. Li Mo had arrived unusually early; most officials had not yet reported for duty when he stepped through the gates.

Remove AdsHis purpose was inspection. Although his primary responsibilities lay with the Ministry of Personnel, the Hanlin Academy still fell under his jurisdiction, and he could not shirk his duty. Li Mo was known as a diligent official. His temperament was somewhat stubborn, but when it came to his work, he was meticulous and conscientious. No matter which ministry he visited—the Ministry of Punishments, the Hanlin Academy, or any other office—he invariably arrived half an hour early. Today was no exception.

Yet Li Mo’s mood was dark. At court the previous day, the Emperor had been misled once again by Yan Song and his son, issuing an edict to temporarily relax the maritime ban despite the looming threat of Japanese pirates. Was this not placing the very foundations of the Great Ming in peril? The Yan faction, in pursuit of private gain, cared nothing for the state or its people—truly infuriating, truly despicable.

Worse still, a poisonous weed named Zhu Ping’an had sprouted within the very academy Li Mo oversaw. This man had openly echoed the arguments of Yan Song and Yan Shifan, even using a preposterous scheme to “multiply the national treasury” to bewitch His Majesty. The Emperor’s decision to relax the maritime ban could not be entirely separated from the influence of this poisonous weed.

And last night, that very same weed had chatted and laughed freely with Yan Shifan!

The Hanlin Academy was the cradle of the state’s future chancellors. How could one allow a single rat dropping to spoil an entire pot of soup?

Burdened by these worries, Li Mo had not slept a wink through the night. At first light, he made his way to the Hanlin Academy. Upon arrival, he conducted a round of inspections, only to find that the vast majority of officials had yet to report for duty. He sat for a short while as people gradually trickled in, but throughout it all, he did not see Zhu Ping’an—the so-called “Little Yan partisan.”

The Library Pavilion was also inspected. The first floor was empty.

Li Mo’s face darkened immediately. Young people these days—did they truly believe that clinging to someone’s coattails guaranteed a boundless future? That it granted them license to act without restraint? He clearly remembered personally reprimanding this man not long ago, and yet in just a few short days he had already forgotten. Not only had he arrived late—he was outright tardy!

If this was the case today, then it was likely the same in days past.

Such laziness—how could a man like this gain a foothold in the Hanlin Academy? This trend absolutely could not be allowed to spread. He would be punished, and punished severely.

Since the time of the Taizu Emperor, the rules had been clear: one day of unexcused tardiness merited twenty lashes; three accumulated days meant an escalation in punishment; twenty days resulted in a hundred strokes of the court cane.

Today, Li Mo resolved to make an example of this “Little Yan partisan” and restore discipline to the Academy.

Returning from the Library Pavilion with a thunderous expression, Li Mo headed straight to the main hall to inspect the attendance register. He intended to see exactly when this man had signed in, how many times he had arrived late, and to mete out punishment in strict accordance with the rules.

“This subordinate pays his respects to Your Excellency.”

Li Chunfang, Yuan Wei, and the others in the hall rose to greet Li Mo as he entered, his face dark with displeasure.

“Spare the formalities. Where is the attendance register? Bring it to me,” Li Mo said, waving them off as he addressed Li Chunfang and Yuan Wei.

Remove Ads“Please examine it, Your Excellency.” Li Chunfang presented the register with both hands, then attentively poured a cup of hot tea and set it on the table beside Li Mo.

Li Mo nodded and sat down, opening the register.

He flipped from the back toward the front, first checking today’s entries. Starting from the final page, he saw no sign of Zhu Ping’an. Turning another page—still nothing. His expression darkened further.

Yuan Wei stood to the side, uneasy. He could not fathom why the Director was suddenly checking the attendance. Having drunk heavily with Yan Shifan the previous night, Yuan Wei himself had arrived late that morning, still suffering from a hangover. What eased his nerves slightly was that Li Mo said nothing upon reviewing the final page for today and continued flipping through.

“Hm?”

When Li Mo reached the first page for the day, a line of flowing brushwork leapt out at him with an air of upright righteousness: “Zhu Ping’an — early first quarter of the Mao hour.” Caught completely off guard, Li Mo let out a startled exclamation.

By modern reckoning, the early first quarter of the Mao hour corresponded to roughly five fifteen in the morning.

The Great Ming did not begin official work until six.

“Your Excellency?” Li Chunfang and the others looked on in confusion.

“It is nothing… Zishi,” Li Mo shook his head, then looked up at Li Chunfang and asked, “Has there ever been any falsification or proxy signing with the attendance register?” Zishi was Li Chunfang’s courtesy name.

“Your Excellency, absolutely not,” Li Chunfang replied firmly, shaking his head. “The attendance register is of utmost importance. The duty officers oversee it personally, and imperial agents of the Embroidered Uniform Guard keep watch as well. None of the Hanlin officials would dare act improperly. All sign in strictly according to the water clock’s markings.”

As he spoke, Li Chunfang gestured respectfully toward the clepsydra standing nearby.

“Mm.”

Li Mo nodded. He knew this well enough. In the Ming dynasty, the imperial secret police served as the Emperor’s eyes and ears. What one ate for dinner could reach the throne that very night—how much more so the attendance of an office? Who was to say whether the servant sweeping the courtyard might be an Embroidered Guard in disguise? The Emperor had no tolerance for deception. Those who dared falsify records were dealt with severely. Who would still dare try?

Li Mo continued flipping backward through the register. The previous day showed Zhu Ping’an once again among the earliest arrivals. Day after day, he had been one of the first to sign in. Li Mo recognized the handwriting as Zhu Ping’an’s own—there was no doubt he had personally signed each time.

Remove AdsAnd yet, if he arrived so early, why had Zhu Ping’an not been seen in the Library Pavilion?

Could it be that this young man maintained one face in public and another in private—arriving early to sign in, then slipping away somewhere to sleep?

Li Mo rose and searched the Academy once more, even checking the duty rooms. Zhu Ping’an was nowhere to be found.

So Li Mo returned to the Library Pavilion again. The first floor was still empty, save for a single elderly servant sweeping the floor—a familiar face, though Li Mo did not know his name.

“You there,” Li Mo called to him. “Come here. Tell me—have you seen Zhu Ping’an, who works here?”

“Reporting to Lord Li, Lord Zhu is reading on the third floor,” the old sweeper replied, broom in hand, bending at the waist. “If Your Excellency wishes, I can go up and call him down at once.”

“No need. I will go up myself. You may return to your work.”

With a wave of his hand, Li Mo dismissed the servant and quietly ascended the stairs. On the third floor, he saw Zhu Ping’an seated by the window, bathed in the pale glow of dawn, holding the Yongle Encyclopedia and reading with rapt attention. Zhu Ping’an was so absorbed that he did not notice Li Mo’s arrival at all.

After watching for a moment, Li Mo’s expression grew complicated. Then, without a word, he turned and descended the stairs as quietly as he had come.