In the capital, the nobles and high officials had recently become obsessed with a single topic, and that topic had nothing to do with war, borders, or court intrigue, but everything to do with one thing.
Factories.
More specifically, how to build them, how to run them, and how to make absurd amounts of money from them.
Liang Shixian's fertilizer plant had already become a legend.
It did not merely make money, it printed money in a way that made even seasoned officials feel their hearts itch with greed, and what shocked everyone even more was that Liang Shixian had chosen to withdraw at the peak and sell the entire operation.
The buyer who took over continued to earn at the same explosive rate, which only proved that the system itself worked, not just the man.
That was when the capital truly lost its composure.
Everyone wanted in.
Soon after, Liang Shixian released the technical knowledge behind the fertilizer process. Most officials could not understand a single line of the chemistry involved, but they did not need to, because understanding was not required to profit.
All they needed to do was invest money and hire the right people.
Specifically, a blue-hatted technician.
What followed was not recruitment, but plunder.
Officials began offering absurdly high salaries, pulling technicians out of the original factory one by one until the place was practically emptied. With those technicians in hand, new fertilizer plants began appearing across the region.
Each official naturally built within their own sphere of influence.
Those rooted in Tianjin established factories in Tianjin, those based in Baoding expanded into Baoding, and so on, each carving out territory like cautious predators who understood that stepping into another's domain would trigger unnecessary conflict.
Most respected this invisible boundary, because cooperation brought stable profit, and stability was far more valuable than reckless expansion.
Of course, there were always exceptions.
When territories overlapped, the marketplace turned into a battlefield, and those clashes were just as brutal as any military engagement, only fought with silver instead of steel.
Fertilizer plants began to sprout everywhere, spreading like spring grass after rain.
Just when the first wave stabilized, Liang Shixian made another move.
He introduced a steam engine factory.
At first, the officials had no idea what a steam engine even was, and they treated it as some strange curiosity, but that ignorance did not last long. As steam-powered textile machines began rolling out of the factory in large numbers, and as new-style textile workshops started appearing, realization hit them all at once.
This was not just another product.
This was a foundation.
Officials from the south, especially those with Jiangnan backgrounds, reacted first. Their commercial instincts were sharper, their experience deeper, and they immediately purchased large quantities of steam textile machines, loaded them onto ships, and transported them back south to establish full-scale textile operations.
By the time northern officials finally understood what was happening, the supply had already been exhausted.
They could not buy machines anymore.
So they adapted.
If producing textiles made money, then producing the machines that produced textiles would make even more money, and it would also eliminate the need to deal with distribution and retail.
That realization shifted the battlefield upstream.
Soon, the same ruthless hiring frenzy that had emptied the fertilizer plants swept into the steam engine factories. Blue-hatted technicians from Gao Family Village became the most valuable resource in the entire system.
A technician might barely settle into a workshop before another offer arrived with even higher pay, pulling him away again.
Factories modeled after Gao Family Village began spreading into every industry imaginable, each one reinforcing the system, each one expanding its reach.
And through all of this, one rule remained untouched.
Taxes.
Every factory paid the value-added tax.
The rule had been established at the very beginning, and once it existed, anyone who entered the system had no choice but to accept it. Refusing to pay meant being excluded entirely.
At this moment, inside a restaurant in the Eight Great Alleys of the capital, a group of officials gathered around a large table, and at the head of that table sat He Fengsheng.
They raised their cups one after another, offering him toasts with exaggerated respect.
Finally, one official set his cup down and smiled.
"Lord He, we invited you here today because we wish to discuss something with you."
He Fengsheng blinked slowly.
"If it is a major matter, I cannot help. If it is a minor matter, you do not need my help."
The officials quickly waved their hands.
"Please do not refuse yet. At least hear us out first."
He Fengsheng sighed.
"Fine, what is it?"
One of them leaned in slightly and lowered his voice.
"All of us here have recently established new factories, and as you know, these factories are extremely profitable. However, there is a problem with the rules governing them."
He Fengsheng raised an eyebrow.
"What problem?"
"The problem," the official said with a bitter smile, "is that these factories require us to pay value-added tax. You understand our situation. When have people like us ever paid taxes before? Now that we have entered this new system, we are forced to hand over a portion of our profits. It is rather unpleasant."
He Fengsheng immediately understood.
They wanted to abolish the tax.
He leaned back slightly.
"And what do you expect me to do?"
The officials smiled.
"You are the Grand Secretary. If you take the lead and revise the rules, this tax can be removed. After all, you also own a steam engine factory. You must find this tax equally frustrating."
He Fengsheng did indeed own such a factory, transferred to him by Liang Shixian, and he was indeed paying the tax, and yes, it did sting a little.
But none of that mattered.
He knew exactly how dangerous his position was.
During this reign, Grand Secretaries were replaced as frequently as lanterns in a festival. Some were merely dismissed, while others ended up in prison, and the line between the two outcomes was thinner than anyone liked to admit.
Sitting in that seat felt like sitting over a burning brazier.
One careless move, and he would be finished.
He Fengsheng shook his head vigorously.
"I cannot handle this. Absolutely cannot."
The officials pressed him.
"You are the Grand Secretary. What could possibly be beyond your authority?"
He Fengsheng did not bother arguing further. He simply stood up and fled, abandoning the table, the food, and the wine, leaving behind a group of stunned officials.
They stared at each other in disbelief.
They had never seen a Grand Secretary run away from responsibility so decisively.
After a moment, they began whispering among themselves.
"He may not help us, but he clearly will not oppose us either."
"That is right. He is practically a decoration."
"In that case, we proceed without him."
"Yes. We take this to court."
"Tomorrow's morning assembly. We present the issue forcefully."
"I already have the argument prepared. We say that the court must not compete with the people for profit, and that excessive taxation will ultimately burden the commoners."
"That sounds convincing."
"We overwhelm the Emperor with numbers."
"As long as enough voices speak at once, he will yield."
The plan solidified quickly.
They would attack together.
---
The next morning arrived.
Zhu Youjian had spent most of the night reviewing memorials, sleeping barely two hours before taking his seat on the throne. His posture slumped slightly, his energy drained, his voice lacking strength.
"If there are matters to report, speak. If not, the court is dismissed."
Immediately, an official stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, regarding the recent fertilizer and steam textile factories, I have something to report."
Another voice followed.
"And I as well."
"And I."
One after another, officials stepped out, filling the hall with momentum before the Emperor could even react.
Then the main speaker began.
He laid out the argument in full, speaking of burdens on the people, of the dangers of excessive taxation, of the principle that the state should not compete with its citizens for profit.
Others followed, reinforcing the narrative, layering pressure with every sentence.
Within moments, Zhu Youjian felt his head swell with confusion.
He turned instinctively toward He Fengsheng.
These factories had originated under the Grand Secretary's influence. Surely he would step forward to defend them.
But when Zhu Youjian looked, he found He Fengsheng standing there with eyes half-closed, posture calm, as if he had entered a state of meditation, completely detached from the chaos around him.
Zhu Youjian froze.
Then panic flickered.
He quickly shifted his gaze.
Liang Shixian.
Their eyes met.
Liang Shixian smiled faintly, adjusted his robes with deliberate calm, and stepped forward into the storm.