Chapter 39: Prince Heng's Transaction

"The Han Dynasty's world." Prince Heng's once unfocused eyes seemed to be reawakened, sparkling with light once more. He repeated these four words over and over, yet before long, that gleam faded away. Who hadn't once possessed such grand ambitions—he himself, even the Emperor in his youth? But what did it all come to in the end? Merely recovering the Hebei Circuit had exhausted the entire strength of the Imperial house. The great aristocratic clans cared only for their own interests; they would not put forth any effort even when supposedly sending troops, and some even openly advocated for abandoning the Hebei Circuit entirely.

The once spirited youth had long since withered into old age, his heart no longer burning with the fervor of the past. Prince Heng gazed at the Prince of Yan before him, seeing his former self, yet simultaneously seeing his present self. It felt as if he were seeing the future Prince of Yan, who might not even be as carefree as he was now. Setting aside the looming threat of the Jie tribe attacking Yan City on the northern frontier, there was the current Crown Prince, who might not tolerate him in the future. Even if the Crown Prince could, what about the aristocratic clans? Zhao Bin had developed a method for refining salt, which was tantamount to forging a blood feud with them. To deprive a man of his wealth is like killing his parents; those clans would never let him go. Unless—unless he could ascend to the supreme throne. But how could that ever be possible? A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, resulting only in a soft sigh: "Alas, if only the old General Ding were still here..."

Zhao Bin did not know what internal changes Prince Heng had undergone in such a short time, but how could he not understand everything the Prince was thinking? Having traveled from the modern world, he knew all too well the cruelty of the struggle for imperial power. Sons killing fathers, brothers killing brothers, the dictatorship of eunuchs, the usurpation of power by maternal relatives—few who were drawn into these vortexes met a good end. Monarchs fought for the world, vassals for territory, and scholar-officials for power. Once you stepped into this position, whether you fought or not, you became a threat or an obstacle to others. Being a threat meant being eliminated; it was not a matter of right or wrong. Thus, even if he had not invented the salt refining process, he would not have had a good ending regardless.

Zhao Bin raised his wine cup and drained it in one gulp, then laughed heartily: "Haha, Uncle, there is no need to worry about me. As long as my father the Emperor is alive, they will not dare to do anything to me openly. Come, Uncle, let us drink."

Prince Heng was not a man of weak, womanly kindness. Hearing Zhao Bin’s words of comfort, he felt a measure of relief. As the saying goes, children and grandchildren have their own fortunes.

The drinking continued at the table until late into the night. Prince Heng had drunk the most and did not wake from his slumber until noon the following day. In the front hall of the Prince's mansion, people were already at work. After receiving instructions from Zhao Bin, He Miao had gone to organize the loading of the goods; one hundred carts could not be loaded in a moment, and even once finished, they would not be able to depart until the next morning.

Prince Heng walked through the courtyard to the front hall. Seeing him enter, Zhao Bin stood up from his chair and said, "Fourth Uncle, you are awake?"

"Oh, I am old. I drank a few too many cups yesterday and didn't wake until now."

"Haha, Fourth Uncle, what are you saying? You are only in your early forties, how can you speak of being old? It was merely an extra cup or two yesterday. Come, Fourth Uncle, please sit."

"Hmm."

Zhao Bin turned to Cui'er beside him and said, "Cui'er, have the kitchen bring some rice porridge."

Cui'er acknowledged the order and left.

"Did you sleep well last night, Fourth Uncle?"

"Haha, I slept very well. I was so happy last night that I forgot to ask—your room is exceptionally warm. What kind of charcoal are you burning?"

"It is not charcoal; it is coal."

Prince Heng was startled and asked hurriedly, "Why burn coal? Do you not know that coal is poisonous?"

With this question, Zhao Bin finally understood. The ancients did not burn coal not only because it was difficult to mine and apply widely, but also because they knew that coal gas could cause death. However, not knowing the specific cause, they mistakenly believed the coal itself was toxic and dared not burn it indoors.

"Uncle, you are mistaken. Coal itself is not poisonous. It only produces toxic fumes when there is insufficient air in the stove during combustion. If it burns fully, it is non-toxic. If you are sleeping at night, you can simply run a pipe from the stove to the outside, and there will be no danger."

Prince Heng looked at him with skepticism: "Is that really so?"

"It is indeed so!" Zhao Bin replied with certainty.

"How do you know this?"

"I..." Zhao Bin paused, then hurriedly explained, "I discovered it inadvertently during the salt refining process."

"Oh, I see. And this salt refining process? Never mind, I shall not ask about the details."

Zhao Bin said nothing, merely smiling knowingly.

"Bin'er, those dozen carts of fine salt you sent to the capital last time were snatched up in half a day. The quantity was far too small. Do you have any way to increase production?"

"To be honest with you, there is no good way at the moment. In summer, we can use the sun to evaporate salt, but in winter, the effect is poor, and we must rely on boiling. Naturally, production is limited. To increase it, we would need more hands. But I cannot take all the people of Yan City to the coast to boil salt."

Prince Heng sighed helplessly: "That is a pity. Such a small amount cannot shake the market share of the three great families in the capital."

After a moment of thought, Prince Heng suddenly said, "How about I send you five thousand of the people from my fief?"

"Ah? Uncle, please do not joke. The people of a fief cannot be gifted away; that would be against the laws of the imperial court," Zhao Bin said, startled.

"That is true, the people of the fief cannot be sent," Prince Heng said, scratching his head in frustration.

"However, if you can persuade my father, I could perhaps strike a deal with you, Uncle?" Zhao Bin laughed.

"Oh? What kind of deal? Let me hear it," Prince Heng asked curiously.

"If you can persuade my father to allow your people to move to the coast to dry and boil salt, I am willing to purchase the salt from you at a price of thirty wen per catty of crude salt."

Prince Heng thought this was a good idea, but upon closer reflection, he felt something was off: "Wait, wait, wait. You sell it to the Emperor for one hundred and fifty wen, and he sells it for five hundred. Why would I only get thirty? You rascal!"

"Uncle, don't be impatient. If we are to squeeze the three great families out of the capital's market, the price cannot be that high. We will definitely have to lower it, so thirty wen is certainly not a small amount."

"Oh, I see. Very well, I shall set off for the capital tomorrow and report this matter to the Emperor."

"There is no rush, Uncle. You can stay in Yan City for a few more days."

"No, it is already the middle of the twelfth lunar month. In a dozen days or so, it will be the New Year. I must return before then; the Emperor is waiting for me."

"Very well, since you insist, I shall not try to persuade you otherwise. If I have the opportunity to return to the capital in the future, I will visit you at your residence."

Prince Heng did not speak, only looking at Zhao Bin with a smile. In his mind, he recalled the image of Zhao Bin as a child, whom he used to carry on his shoulders while playing in the palace. Because of his respect and admiration for the old General Ding, his affection for Zhao Bin far exceeded that for the other princes.

The next morning, the fleet of carts laden with fine salt departed from the city gates in a grand procession, heading toward the capital. As he left, Prince Heng did not forget to call out: "Don't forget about our deal!"