APSIL -Chapter 185 The Founding Emperor’s Notes

Although Zhang Shou had no idea what considerations had led the Emperor to bestow the Founding Emperor’s relics upon him, he carefully put on the silk gloves that had come with the box and glanced at the first page.

His immediate feeling was…that every lofty, admirable image he had painstakingly built up of the Founding Emperor through countless stories and bits of information had collapsed completely in an instant.

He had expected to find notes written in pinyin.

Or, if the difficulty had been raised another level, perhaps a diary written in English, French, or even some obscure foreign language. If that were the case, he would have been in real trouble—he only recognized most English vocabulary and knew barely a handful of basic French words.

He had even imagined that the Founding Emperor might cleverly have written everything in simplified Chinese.

Granted, that possibility had seemed rather slim. Chinese writing had remained fundamentally continuous throughout history. Modern people who learned simplified characters could still read traditional novels with little difficulty beyond a bit of eye strain. Likewise, ancient people probably wouldn’t have found simplified characters especially hard to decipher.

But the notes before him…were an unholy combination of Chinglish and pinyin.

Even if one invited an Englishman fluent in Chinese, there was absolutely no way he’d be able to decipher them!

Besides, the English of this era differed from modern English. England itself was still in the latter years of the Hundred Years’ War and was nowhere near becoming a great power. At this point in history, Latin was still Europe’s principal scholarly language. Even Spain—the first nation later known as the empire on which the sun never set—had yet to truly rise.

Finding a genuine Englishman capable of decoding this was practically impossible.

Looking at the thick stack of notes filled with expressions like “no zuo no die,” “no door,” and “too awful” mixed into Chinese sentences, Zhang Shou rubbed his forehead before quickly suppressing the smile tugging at his lips.

Taking a deep breath, he silently warned himself to stay calm.

Don’t laugh.

If anyone outside heard him laughing, they’d immediately know he could understand the Founding Emperor’s notes.

The pages had yellowed with age but were remarkably well preserved.

Apparently believing that no one except another transmigrator could ever understand them—and indulging in that rather wicked sense of humor—the Founding Emperor had written these during the most difficult years of his early life.

The earliest entries were carefree, full of jokes, curses, and candid thoughts, very much like a diary.

But after flipping through several pages, Zhang Shou noticed subtle differences in the handwriting. They had evidently been written in batches rather than day by day.

“Seriously, no stupidity, no death. I climbed a mountain during a thunderstorm, got struck by lightning, and physically transmigrated. Good thing I happened to be carrying a backpack!”

“If I’d known I was going to transmigrate, I wouldn’t have brought only a few history reference books and Senior Brother’s paper on the structure and development of artillery throughout Chinese and foreign history. I should’ve stuffed my backpack with physics and mathematics textbooks! Otherwise how am I supposed to unlock the technology tree? Damn… I shouldn’t have made that bet saying I’d seclude myself in the mountains for two months to write my graduation thesis. Turns out my seclusion is going to last a lifetime.”

“So it’s the chaotic end of the Yuan Dynasty. The woman who saved me is actually Yang Sanniang, Han Shantong’s wife. She’s genuinely kindhearted.”

“I’ve been teaching Han Jin’er archery. Thank goodness this was physical transmigration—I even brought my thirty-pound bow with me. Rapid-fire archery in this backward era is unbelievably cool! I packed spare bowstrings, though I didn’t bring many arrows. Honestly, the arrows people make these days are terrible.”

“Han Lin’er actually fell off a cliff and died? The brat was annoying, sure, but even if I’m the butterfly causing changes, I didn’t do anything! I was practicing archery with Jin’er when he died. Wasn’t Han Lin’er supposed to be drowned by Zhu Yuanzhang?”

“They want me to marry into their family? Not a chance! Jin’er is sweet and adorable, but a real man never marries into his wife’s household!”

“Now that I’ve married in, I’m the White Lotus Sect’s Holy Son? Wait… they actually want me to impersonate Han Lin’er as a descendant of Emperor Huizong of Song? Religious people really do love this sort of mystical nonsense! My surname is Zheng, not Zhao!”

“Yang Sanniang personally came to persuade me. I won’t have to change my surname. They’re willing to marry their adopted daughter Jin’er to me because they believe this strangely dressed man who fell from the heavens and shoots arrows at incredible speed is the legendary Holy Son of Light of the White Lotus Sect. The so-called marriage into the family is only to reassure Han Shantong. It won’t be made public…”

“Fine. Jin’er has cried in front of me several times. A real man should know when to soften his heart. Since only Han Shantong and his wife know, and I don’t have to change my surname, then marrying into the family it is. But first I have to warn Han Shantong not to spend all his time stirring up rebellion and neglect his own safety. Otherwise how could he die while Liu Futong survives?”

Zhang Shou was extremely interested in the Founding Emperor’s rise before unifying the empire.

Although deciphering the mixture of English and pinyin took time, he found himself completely engrossed.

After marrying Jin’er, the Founding Emperor gradually built prestige among the White Lotus followers through eloquence and exceptional archery, eventually gathering capable followers around himself.

Yet despite doing everything he could, he failed to prevent Han Shantong from being captured and executed shortly after the uprising began.

The diary entries covering the subsequent years of campaigning north and south became much briefer.

One day someone surrendered.

The next day someone was defeated.

The day after that another city was captured.

Recruiting troops, attracting talented people, conquering territory…

Victory followed victory.

Although the Founding Emperor modestly claimed that his university thesis had been “The Military Strategy and Talent Recruitment Behind Ming Taizu’s Unification of China,” and that all the reference books he’d brought concerned precisely this historical period, giving him every possible advantage…

…Zhang Shou still couldn’t help but admire him.

Reading about warfare on paper and actually conquering an empire were worlds apart.

The portion describing the unification wasn’t complete, but the dates remained.

After making a rough calculation, Zhang Shou discovered that the Founding Emperor had completed the conquest two years earlier than Zhu Yuanzhang had in actual history.

He had ascended the throne while still in his prime—not even forty years old.

Yet compared to these wartime entries, the diary after his accession became much more meticulous.

As emperor, he clearly chose his words with far greater care.

The familiar Chinglish all but disappeared.

Instead, he increasingly substituted English words for Chinese characters, inventing bizarre sentence structures that concealed his true meaning far more effectively.

Court intrigue, political struggles, and the elimination of ambitious rivals were recorded only briefly.

The development of cannons and firearms, however, received exhaustive detail.

And when discussing shipbuilding and overseas expeditions, his enthusiasm practically leaped off the page.

The most absurd revelation, in Zhang Shou’s opinion, was this:

Because the Founding Emperor’s surname was Zheng, he had bestowed the name Zheng He upon the former pirate who commanded the first great imperial expeditionary fleet.

Finally, Zhang Shou reached the last page.

There, at last, he found what he had most wanted to know.

“The thesis and reference books I hid inside the Nine Chapters Hall plaque at the Imperial Academy should remain sealed there forever. I’ve always loved Li Bai’s poetry, so I selected two of his verses, shifted them according to a pattern within the Thousand Character Classic, and used that as the key. I then had that Goryeo craftsman build this puzzle box and sealed these last manuscripts inside.”

“By the time the dynasty eventually falls, both the plaque and the papers in this box will probably have decayed into dust anyway. Since that’s the case, I’ve decided to leave behind this wristwatch as the final proof that someone from another time once existed here. Ideally I’d have left my phone and power bank instead, but an iPhone without power is worse than a brick. I smashed it over someone’s head while rescuing Jin’er and it shattered. As for the power bank… it blocked an arrow once, and the charging cable even strangled someone…”

“Jin’er injured her body when she was young. The physicians said she’d never bear children, so she persuaded me early on to take concubines and produce heirs. I failed her. Now she’s gone, and my sons have all grown into capable men. One of them, in particular, possesses extraordinary bearing and will surely become a great enlightened ruler. Since I’ve abdicated, and to prevent suspicion and conflict between father and son, I’ve decided to personally set sail across the seas.”

“I’ll bring the finest astronomers, the greatest craftsmen skilled in design and repair, and a group of orphaned boys and girls. Just like Xu Fu once did. If we can’t return, they’ll become the hope of the future… Southeast Asia, South Asia, Europe, Africa—they’re all too close. As someone obsessed with maps, I’ve decided to sail west: through the Strait of Malacca, across the Indian Ocean, around the Cape of Good Hope, through the Atlantic, and follow the route Columbus would one day take to the Americas. I’ve already lived a full life. Since that’s the case, why not go even farther?”

“Since I’ve already replaced Zhu Yuanzhang and built my Ming in place of his Ming… why shouldn’t I plant the Dragon Banner of the Great Ming on the American continent before Columbus ever gets there?”

After reading the final passage, Zhang Shou quietly drew a deep breath.

He carefully returned the last sheet to its place, solemnly placed the entire stack of notes back into the box, and gently closed the lid.

Then, after a moment’s thought, he picked up the wristwatch.

This was the final object that his predecessor had left behind in the Great Ming.

Having lived a colorful life himself in his previous world, Zhang Shou could immediately tell that it wasn’t an expensive luxury watch.

The case, metal bracelet, and even the crystal were covered in scratches.

It had clearly endured countless hardships.

After pondering for a long while, he unclasped it and fastened it around his right wrist.

Consider it a gesture of respect for a fellow traveler.

And if it still keeps accurate time… well, that would simply be an unexpected bonus.

“Young Master, we’ve arrived at the Imperial Academy.”

Hearing A-Liu’s voice from outside the carriage, Zhang Shou closed the box, scrambled the combination wheels, and stepped down while carrying it.

Seeing the familiar academy gate, he handed the puzzle box directly to A-Liu without hesitation, deliberately revealing the watch on his wrist.

“The box contains those heavenly-script notes. Keep looking after it for me. I’ll wear this as a keepsake.”

A-Liu possessed remarkably sharp eyesight.

In that brief instant, he noticed that besides the two hands that hardly seemed to move, there was a third hand on the watch face that appeared to be steadily ticking.

He blinked twice.

In the end, he said nothing.

When winding the watch earlier, Zhang Shou hadn’t known the current time.

Fortunately, the Imperial Academy had a sundial, so he planned to synchronize the watch at the next exact hour.

For now, though, the more important task was checking on the two classes under his supervision.

The students of Nine Chapters Hall weren’t much cause for concern.

Half Mountain Hall, however…

Those young nobles were another matter entirely.

Passing the sundial, he glanced at it and judged that it was just past the midpoint of the si hour (around ten o’clock in the morning).

He immediately turned toward Half Mountain Hall.

Before the distinctive building even came fully into view, a familiar voice drifted toward him on the breeze.

Listening more carefully, he froze in surprise.

It was…

Zhang Chen.

“Next comes the following problem! Two people, A and B, set out from the capital to Tongzhou by carriage…”

Zhang Shou was thoroughly astonished.

Had he come to the wrong place?

This was Half Mountain Hall, not Nine Chapters Hall.

Why were they suddenly working on pursuit problems?

And Zhang Chen was the one teaching?

If he remembered correctly, the eldest son of Duke Qin had once hated solving math problems more than anything.

As he reached the entrance to Half Mountain Hall, someone suddenly darted out from the side.

It was Zhang Lu.

“Teacher, you’re finally back! Early this morning, when everyone heard you and Lu Sanlang had gone to court, some people tried to skip class. Brother Chen got furious. He had A-Wu and me block the doorway, then declared that anyone who solved five problems correctly would be allowed to leave. But…”

He paused awkwardly before continuing.

“But Brother Chen came up with twenty problems in total. Even those fellows who’d spent over a month in the Green Bamboo Pavilion couldn’t solve five of them. With the Third Prince and Fourth Prince backing him up, Brother Chen even used that imperial ruler His Majesty bestowed on you to discipline seven or eight people.”

Not bad, Zhang Chen…

The thought had barely crossed Zhang Shou’s mind before something even more important occurred to him.

“How did Zhang Chen remember so many problems?”

“That’s thanks to A-Wu.”

Zhang Lu gave an embarrassed grin and lowered his voice.

“A-Wu had copied all the problems you’d ever assigned into a handbook. It proved useful at exactly the right moment. Besides, the Third Prince solved one problem, the Fourth Prince solved two, and when Brother Chen scolded everyone else for performing worse than two children, they finally quieted down.”