As a Director of the Imperial Household, he had long been qualified to establish his own residence outside the palace. However, since Hou Suo had risen from within the palace, he retained his quarters inside. When the palace gates were locked at nightfall, he should have gone home to reunite with his family. But the two children he had adopted years ago – one had been sent by the Emperor to serve as an official in the south, and the other was studying at the Imperial Academy – left him with little inclination to return home. Instead, he often stayed within the palace, ready to carry out the Emperor’s orders at any time.
Wen Yanran summoned him today to inquire about the circumstances of the late emperor’s alchemy practices back in the day.
Emperor Li’s alchemy site had actually been located within Jingyuan as well, equipped with a vast array of instruments. Unfortunately, by the end of the Changxing era, most of them had been directly destroyed by loyal and upright ministers, with only a few sealed away in storage.
Wen Yanran said, “In that case, Minister Hou, have the old items inventoried and present a list to me.”
Hou Suo replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
A trace of emotion stirred within him. If the Emperor had shown such interest in the late emperor’s alchemy practices right after her ascension, the ministers who caught wind of it would surely have come to admonish her, perhaps even triggering turmoil within the palace. But now, even if the Sovereign truly sought to emulate the late emperor’s ways, no one at court could stand in her way.
Seeing that the Emperor had no further instructions, Hou Suo was about to bow and take his leave when Wen Yanran called him back.
Wen Yanran said with a smile, “It’s getting late. If you haven’t dined yet, stay and eat with me before you go.”
For the main course of this evening’s meal, there were noodles in broth. Influenced by the Emperor, most seasonal vegetables in the palace were now stir-fried. As for meats, due to the value of plowing oxen, they were not to be slaughtered without reason. Thus, even at banquets hosted by high-ranking officials and nobles, beef was rarely seen. Mutton, however, was commonly consumed. The imperial chefs would roast slices of mutton, season them with pepper, and present them at the emperor’s table. The cost of the spices used in this dish alone exceeded that of the meat itself.
Hou Suo had long known that the current emperor did not care for raw fish but was quite fond of fish chowder, partaking of it almost daily. Presented today was perch chowder, a delicacy made by simmering shredded fish with wild mushrooms and bamboo shoots.
In truth, Wen Yanran was not particularly passionate about fish. However, given the limited variety of meats she could safely consume in the Great Zhou, she had little choice but to have the chefs prepare fish in diverse ways.
Following the main meal, several desserts were served. A popular confection in the palace at the time was a horn-shaped pastry made from red Jiangmi, also known as glutinous rice. As for fruits, peaches, pears, and watermelons were the staples.
Perhaps due to a penchant for elegance, watermelons were more commonly referred to in the palace as “Green Sink Melons.”
If Wen Yanran were to offer her assessment, the watermelons of this era had thick rinds, an abundance of seeds, and a sweetness that fell short of those she had enjoyed before her transmigration. However, due to the insufficient number of people reclaiming land in the south, watermelon yields were low, making this fruit a delicacy reserved only for the nobility.
The meal concluded, and Hou Suo once again rose to take his leave. Wen Yanran gave a slight nod and added, “The weather is gradually turning hot. Before the arrival of September, I intend to reside in the Yao Palace. I must trouble you with the preparations.”
Hou Suo bowed in acknowledgment of the imperial command.
In truth, retreating to escape the summer heat was something of a tradition. Since the late emperor had spent most of his time residing in the Gui Palace and the Yao Palace, the central officials naturally had to follow him there. Both palaces were originally located in the suburbs, but thanks to the Emperor’s favor, the surrounding areas gradually became more populated. Many ministers established private residences nearby for the convenience of commuting to work.
Within the Yao Palace stood the Hidden Splendor Pavilion, which housed the late emperor’s collection of various gemstones.
Wen Yanran had previously paid little attention to these treasures. It was only after deciding to dedicate herself to becoming a professional heedless sovereign with a penchant for alchemy that she, for once, diligently went to study them for an entire day.
In the eyes of the palace attendants, the Emperor was likely just looking to select some decorative items.
Hou Suo gave the matter even deeper thought. It had long been said in the Great Zhou that a gentleman cherishes jade. Given the Emperor’s character, she would surely express a fondness for it as well.
The inner court officials speculated for quite some time, only to discover that what the Emperor had actually selected was a black, cloud-shaped sculpture.
“…”
It couldn’t be called unsightly, but it certainly had no outstanding features either.
Hou Suo was initially puzzled. Black auspicious clouds – were those not simply storm clouds? But upon second thought, he understood. After storm clouds come rain, and rain nourishes the land. The Emperor’s choice, of course, signified her hope for abundant rainfall in the Great Zhou!
Wen Yanran paid no attention to the inner court officials’ mental deliberations. A faint smile on her face, she studied the black, cloud-shaped sculpture intently. When she first discovered it, she had been somewhat astonished – she never imagined that among Emperor Li’s collection, there would actually be a piece of coal gangue.
This so-called coal gangue is a type of rock with low coal content found around coal mines. It can be used to create coal carvings, as its texture is fine and smooth. After careful polishing, it can even resemble jade. However, this particular cloud sculpture had merely been left casually in a corner, suggesting its value was not particularly high.
Wen Yanran silently criticized the late emperor’s taste for a moment before ordering someone to retrieve the sculpture’s archival records.
For Wen Yanran, since coal gangue existed in the Yao Palace, she could naturally follow the trail and determine the location of the coal mine.
Fortunately, Emperor Li cared little for state affairs but was exceedingly meticulous about his personal treasury. The inflow and outflow of various items were recorded in great detail. Moreover, the Great Zhou had no shortage of coal carvings. Although the late emperor was not particularly fond of this type of ore, he did not slacken in his collection of it. Furthermore, to ensure a continuous supply of tributes in the future, he would have his ministers clearly mark the origins of the items.
Wen Yanran now felt that, in truth, even a heedless sovereign had his merits.
According to the archival records, the origins of these coal carvings varied. Most came from the northwestern region, making transportation troublesome. Fortunately, however, there were also sources of coal gangue near Jianping.
Wen Yanran immediately summoned Zhang Luo and assigned him personal responsibility for the matter. He was to directly dispatch personnel from the imperial guards to first secure the local mining area and excavate the black stone. The minerals extracted were, for now, to be transported to Jingyuan. As for the northwestern region, officials would be sent later to supervise operations there.
Since she intended to cultivate the image of a heedless sovereign immersed in alchemy, it was only natural that she should prepare all the necessary equipment for the practice.
To conduct chemical experiments, the first thing needed was glass.
The raw materials for glassmaking were easy to obtain – silicon dioxide. However, the reason ancient people had been unable to produce usable glass for so long was largely due to the high melting point of silicon dioxide, which required a full 1723 degrees Celsius.
Wen Yanran understood that the primary fuel in the Great Zhou was still firewood. The combustion temperature of firewood could reach around eight to nine hundred degrees Celsius, and with higher density, it might even reach a thousand degrees. The craftsmen of the Great Zhou had already learned to build large furnaces for iron production, but Wen Yanran was not particularly optimistic about the temperatures those furnaces could achieve.
There was an old saying: “The three hardships in life are forging iron, punting a boat, and grinding tofu.” In the minds of the craftsmen of this era, iron was something that needed to be forged.
What needed forging was, naturally, a solid.
Perhaps influenced by her own field of expertise, Wen Yanran grasped the implication in an instant.
The temperatures inside the ancient furnaces had not yet reached the melting point of iron.
Wen Yanran’s memory wasn’t too poor. Although she had graduated years ago, she hadn’t forgotten that the melting point of pure iron was 1535°C. As for pig iron used in smelting – iron containing impurities – its melting point was even lower.
If even iron couldn’t be smelted, then silica was entirely out of the question.
Wen Yanran didn’t know how other transmigrators managed to achieve the high temperatures needed for glass production. But as a process control engineer who had once followed her teacher on a visit to a steel plant during summer break, she certainly knew how to solve this problem.
First was the selection of combustible materials.
She currently had two viable options. One was to search for natural gas in the Tai Province region. There were fire wells in Tai Province, from which the local inhabitants extracted gas to boil salt. Wen Yanran recalled that the combustion temperature of natural gas could exceed two thousand degrees Celsius. However, Tai Province was too far from Jianping, making control and management inconvenient. Even if glass were successfully produced, the transportation back and forth would be excessively troublesome. For now, she regarded this as a secondary option, to be considered only if all else failed.
The second option was the coal mines she had located through the coal carvings.
The combustion temperature of coal itself was far higher than that of charcoal. If the furnace’s heat retention were decent, reaching 1500°C was possible. Moreover, she could also produce coke from coal through dry distillation – the combustion temperature of coke could reach three thousand degrees Celsius.
Dry distillation involved heating fuel in an air-isolated environment. Unfortunately, she currently lacked a coking furnace and could only opt for a crude method: igniting the coal and then burying it in soil. The end product would be coke.
In addition, she could also lower the melting point of silica by using fluxes.
Alkali is an excellent flux for glassmaking. Naturally occurring pure alkali is mainly found in various saline lakes. As emperor, Wen Yanran naturally had the means to seek it out. However, relatively speaking, plant ash was even easier to obtain – its main component being potassium carbonate.
Potassium carbonate, quicklime, and silica – these were the primary materials for glass production.
With the plan settled, what remained was continuous trial and error. Given her knowledge base, Wen Yanran could also help her subordinates avoid some detours – for instance, suggesting that they soak the plant ash for a couple of extra days to allow the alkaline substances to fully dissolve in water.
Besides glass, she also needed rubber.
To this end, Wen Yanran made a special trip to the Gui Palace but ultimately returned empty-handed. The late emperor had cherished both gemstones and flora. During his reign, he had not only transplanted distinctive trees from various regions but also compiled detailed records of many plants unsuitable for relocation to the Central Plains. This allowed Wen Yanran, after reviewing the archives, to quickly ascertain that rubber trees indeed did not exist on the land under her rule.
However, there were alternatives.
Wen Yanran thought back carefully. She recalled that the Eucommia tree and the rubber dandelion could also be used for rubber extraction.
The rubber dandelion closely resembled the common dandelion and was mainly distributed in the northwestern region. It just so happened that He Tingyun and the others were conducting business with the Western Regions, so they could conveniently help search for some of these materials.
Wen Yanran had never been lacking in execution ability. She immediately composed a letter to be sent to Tai Province and also issued an explicit imperial edict, instructing He Tingyun and the others to spare no expense in the upcoming period to purchase large quantities of such plants.
Spending lavishly and having her ministers handle personal affairs – by any measure, these were the hallmark behaviors of a heedless sovereign. Wen Yanran was rather pleased with her own approach.
After the pacification of the conflict with the Western Tribes, the court extended the courier relay system all the way to the hinterlands of Tai Province. Even though the weather had been unfavorable lately, with much rain in the western regions, it now took only about twenty days for a letter sent from the Yao Palace to reach recipients like He Tingyun and Lu Liangcheng.
He Tingyun’s expertise lay primarily in legal matters. Since the content of the Emperor’s letter pertained to commerce, he invited Cui Xinjing along to seek out Lu Liangcheng. According to the Zhou Code, local chief administrators were not permitted to leave their jurisdictions without cause. As Lu Liangcheng held the position of county magistrate, the lowest official rank among them, if they wished to confer in person, they would have to gather on his turf.
Inside the government office.
Lu Liangcheng and the others pondered silently. Given the Emperor’s usual style of conduct, the large-scale procurement of “herbs resembling dandelions” must surely have some underlying purpose. However, being dull-witted, they were unable to immediately discern the sovereign’s intent.
Cui Xinjing spoke up, “I do have some thoughts, though I know not if they are right or wrong.”
He Tingyun promptly replied, “I would be glad to hear them in detail.”
Cui Xinjing said, “The region of Qiuche Kingdom is primarily grassland, unsuitable for cultivation. Its inhabitants mostly subsist on herding and commerce. When trade routes are obstructed, many within that country descend into banditry.”
She briefly described the situation in Qiuche Kingdom. Unlike the agrarian civilization of the Central Plains, the inhabitants of the Western Regions lived a nomadic life, constantly moving in search of water and pasture. Even where cities existed, they were small in scale. The overall state of dispersion made governance exceedingly difficult.
Upon hearing this, the other two gradually came to understand – while the land in the Qiuche region was unsuitable for planting many trees, it was perfectly adequate for growing grass.
Once they began to sustain themselves by cultivating grass, their urban centers would expand, naturally making them more susceptible to the Great Zhou’s surveillance. Those who made a living through plunder would gradually transition into laborers engaged in grass cultivation.
Moreover, the Qiuche region was unsuitable for grain cultivation. If too many people congregated there, they would be compelled to purchase grain from the Great Zhou.
In this way, should countries like Qiuche harbor disloyal intentions, Tai Province would only need to cut off their food supply to cause their collapse without a single battle.
At this moment, Cui Xinjing was still unaware of the Emperor’s plans for the Southern Coastlands. Otherwise, she would have been even more convinced of her original line of thinking.
Lu Liangcheng clasped his hands and said solemnly, “I am grateful to you for enlightening me.”
He Tingyun remarked with a smile, “Ah-Jing truly lives up to being a talented member of the Cui clan.”
Cui Xinjing hurriedly disclaimed, “I dare not accept such praise. I merely once served as a secretary in the central government and have a slight understanding of the Emperor’s intentions.”
He Tingyun made the decision. “In that case, let each of us dispatch people to search for items resembling dandelions in this region and send them to the capital for the Emperor’s selection.”
Whether in Jianzhou or Tai Province, the focus of most officials remained fixed on the Emperor.
Subtle rumors had begun circulating within the palace, suggesting that the Emperor had recently resumed the practice of alchemy. Given the Great Zhou’s history of several emperors who had pursued longevity, Wen Yanran’s actions were causing considerable concern.
Many loyal ministers, such as Grand Tutor Yuan, had already submitted memorials offering remonstrance, but they failed to deter the Emperor. He sighed in resignation at home a few times and ultimately did not persist. The Emperor was different from her predecessors; she had not allowed alchemy to interfere with state affairs. Moreover, the Inspector of Tai Province was He Tingyun, known for her integrity. Since she had not submitted any opposing memorials, perhaps the matter was not as they had imagined.
