Qian Qianyi and Cheng Jiasui thanked the soldier, then continued their journey toward Tianjin, though the closer they got, the more the road began to feel… strange in a way that made a seasoned scholar's heart itch with unease.
Because the deeper they went, the more soldiers they saw, yet instead of the usual sight of men in armor bullying civilians, barking orders, or looting carts like hungry wolves in human skin, these troops moved with a discipline that felt almost… unnatural, as if someone had taken the idea of "soldiers" and rewritten it from the ground up.
Cheng Jiasui could not help but sigh as he walked, watching a group of soldiers helping an old farmer fix a broken cart wheel as casually as if they were doing their own household chores.
"These Shared Governance troops are truly different," he said slowly, his tone half admiration, half disbelief, "not only do they refrain from harming the people, they even give things away. Compared to the soldiers we've seen before, it's like heaven and earth."
Qian Qianyi snorted softly, folding his hands behind his back in that classic literati pose that carried both pride and stubbornness in equal measure.
"All of this is just theater," he said, his voice calm but firm, like a man clinging to the last plank of a sinking ship, "buying hearts with cheap tricks. I, Qian Qianyi, remain loyal to the Great Ming and His Majesty. I will not abandon my principles for a few sacks of grain."
Cheng Jiasui glanced at him, lips twitching, though he wisely chose not to argue, because some men could be persuaded with logic, while others needed history itself to slap them across the face before they would reconsider.
And so, the two continued forward in silence.
Not long after, Tianjin Port finally appeared before them.
The moment they stepped onto the docks, both men instinctively sucked in a breath, not out of politeness, but pure shock.
Ships.
Ships everywhere.
The harbor was packed so densely that the water itself seemed to disappear beneath hulls of wood and iron, while further out at sea floated massive vessels so large that they made the ships at the dock look like toys left behind by careless children.
Some of those giant ships stretched sixty, seventy meters long, towering over the waves like floating fortresses, their silhouettes cutting into the sky with an authority that no traditional junk could ever hope to match.
Qian Qianyi's voice dropped into a whisper.
"The Shared Governance faction… is this powerful?"
Cheng Jiasui did not answer immediately, because his eyes had already locked onto a familiar figure standing atop one of the larger ships.
"Look over there," he said quietly, "that is General Commander Cao Wenzhao."
Qian Qianyi followed his gaze and saw the man clearly, standing alongside Cao Bianjiao, both of them calm, composed, as if the storm shaking the entire empire was nothing more than a passing breeze.
Beside them stood a young man dressed in an almost theatrical outfit, something like a wandering hero from a stage play, handsome to the point of being slightly suspicious, as if he had stepped out of fiction rather than reality.
Qian Qianyi's expression hardened slightly.
"A traitor to the Emperor," he muttered.
Cheng Jiasui sighed.
"Try not to say that too loudly," he said dryly, "we still need to hitch a ride on their ships."
That practical reminder was enough to silence even Qian Qianyi's righteous indignation, because principles were important, but getting out alive was even more so.
After scanning the dock for a while, Cheng Jiasui quickly spotted what they were looking for.
"There," he pointed, "that's one of their transport ships. It delivers grain for the army, and once it's done, it returns south empty. We should be able to board it if we pay."
They approached.
The ship was in the middle of unloading cargo, with sacks of grain being carried down one after another, forming a small mountain on the dock in what felt like no time at all.
Cheng Jiasui watched, his merchant instincts kicking in immediately.
"Their logistics are terrifying," he murmured, "far stronger than the court's."
And that was not speculation.
Everyone knew Emperor Chongzhen was broke.
Not just "a little short on funds" broke, but the kind of broke where even officials whispered about it over tea, shaking their heads while pretending not to notice.
Taxes could not be collected, corruption had hollowed out the system, and the entire structure was like a rotten beam waiting to collapse.
Now, standing here and watching the Shared Governance faction unload endless grain like it was nothing, the contrast became painfully obvious.
The court was starving.
These people were overflowing.
Cheng Jiasui stepped forward and called out politely.
"Brother, a moment please."
The man in charge turned, revealing himself to be Zhuge Wangchan, the logistics officer, his expression relaxed, almost friendly.
"Good day, gentlemen. What can I help you with?"
Cheng Jiasui bowed slightly.
"We are from Jiangnan, hoping to return south due to… recent circumstances. We were told your transport ships return empty after delivery. Would it be possible for us to purchase passage?"
Zhuge Wangchan waved his hand lightly, as if brushing away the idea.
"No need to pay," he said with a smile, "Dao Xuan Tianzun instructed us that our mobilization would surely disturb many people. Those who wish to leave are simply trying to avoid chaos. Helping you is our responsibility."
Cheng Jiasui blinked.
"...We couldn't possibly accept that without paying."
"Then consider it compensation," Zhuge Wangchan replied, still smiling.
At that point, refusing further would only be awkward, so the two boarded the ship.
Once on deck, the scale of the vessel became even more overwhelming.
The flat expanse could carry unimaginable amounts of cargo, while below deck were cabins comfortable enough for long journeys, far surpassing anything Qian Qianyi had ever seen.
Even he, stubborn as he was, had to admit in silence that this was… impressive.
Very impressive.
And more terrifying than the ship itself was the realization that there wasn't just one.
There were dozens.
Cheng Jiasui, unable to hold back his curiosity, asked, "Are all these supplies provided by Jiangnan merchants and Zheng Zhilong?"
Zhuge Wangchan laughed.
"They can only contribute a small portion," he said, shaking his head, "most of this is produced by ourselves."
He casually picked up a cob of corn and tossed it lightly in his hand.
"With fertilizers, yields have doubled in many regions. Add land reclamation, new crops, livestock development… Shaanxi and Shanxi now produce more grain than Jiangnan."
That sentence hit like a thunderclap.
"More… than Jiangnan?" Cheng Jiasui repeated, stunned.
Zhuge Wangchan nodded as if it were nothing special.
"And it's spreading. Henan, Sichuan, Yunyang, Anlu… soon the whole realm will have enough food."
Cheng Jiasui frowned slightly.
"But the drought…"
Zhuge Wangchan grinned.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun already said the drought won't last long. Better days are coming."
That was the moment something finally clicked in Cheng Jiasui's mind.
This "Dao Xuan Tianzun" was not just a religious figure.
He was the core.
The anchor.
The invisible hand holding all of this together.
But before he could ask further, the ship gave a sudden, deep vibration.
It moved.
Without sails.
Without warning.
Qian Qianyi, who had been standing at the railing trying to look composed and scholarly, had absolutely no mental preparation for this.
The ship lurched forward.
He slipped.
And in one elegant, tragic motion, he flipped straight over the side and plunged into the sea.
Splash.
The water swallowed him whole.
Several sailors rushed to pull him out, dragging the soaked scholar back onto the deck like a fish that had just reconsidered its life choices.
Qian Qianyi lay there, drenched, shivering, dignity shattered beyond repair.
He opened his mouth, trembling.
"The water… is too cold…"