News travelled faster than the fleeing Mongols. By the time General Li's detailed report—a dry, military account that could not hide the astounding victory—reached the capital, the city was already awash with wild, incredible rumors.
They spoke of a Ming sorcerer who had summoned thunder from a clear sky to smite the barbarians. They spoke of mechanical bows that never needed to be reloaded. They spoke of a valley where the ghosts of past Ming warriors had risen to defend the empire.
When Zhu Haolang held court the next morning, the atmosphere was electric. The usual undercurrent of gossip was gone, replaced by a stunned, reverent silence. Minister Liu looked as if he had swallowed a lemon. His entire narrative—that the emperor's innovations were heresy bringing disaster—had been vaporized more completely than the Mongol vanguard.
The emperor himself arrived late, yawning. He listened to the Minister of War read General Li's report with an expression of profound boredom.
"...and thus, with minimal Ming casualties, the enemy force was rendered combat ineffective. Survivors report the Mongols are in full retreat, their morale broken. They speak of... 'devil-fire' and 'ghost arrows.'"
A collective exhale swept through the hall.
Zhu Haolang waited for the murmuring to die down. "So," he said, his voice cutting through the awe. "The 'toys and firecrackers' worked. How… unsurprising." He directed a lazy glance at Minister Liu, who seemed to be trying to become one with the marble floor.
"The strategy was unorthodox, Your Majesty, but brilliant!" the Minister of War exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement.
"It was efficient," the emperor corrected. "It solved the problem with the least amount of effort and the fewest dead farmers. That is all." He shifted on his divan. "Now, the next problem. The Mongols are superstitious and defeated, but they are still hungry. General Li reports that Batu himself has broken off his advance and is retreating. This is our chance."
The court leaned in, hanging on his every word.
"We will not pursue. Pursuing is effort. Instead, we will send envoys after them. Not with threats, but with offers."
"Offers, Your Majesty?" Minister Wang asked, confused.
"Trade," Zhu Haolang said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We will offer to sell them grain. Sweet potato and corn. At a fair price. We have a surplus. They have a deficit. It is basic economics."
The court was stunned into silence. Trade? With the barbarians who had just invaded?
"It… it is unprecedented!" someone finally stammered.
"So was the repeating crossbow," the emperor replied drily. "Think. Why do they raid? Because they are hungry. If we sell them food, we solve their reason for raiding. We turn a mortal enemy into a… customer. A dependent customer. It is far cheaper and less exhausting than maintaining a massive army on the border forever. We beat them with one hand, and we feed them with the other. They will never know what to think."
He looked out at their astonished faces. They saw madness. He saw sublime, beautiful laziness. The ultimate end-state: a peaceful, profitable border that required minimal oversight.
"The envoys will also carry a gift for Batu," the emperor added. "One of the undetonated firepots. A beautifully lacquered box, with a note. It will read: 'A sample of our newest agricultural tool. For clearing stubborn weeds.'"
A slow smile spread across his face. "Let him wonder. Let them all wonder. The best war is the one you win without fighting. The best peace is the one where your enemy pays you for the privilege of not being annihilated."
With that, the Lazy Emperor stood. "The audience is over. I have neglected my koi pond for two whole days. This is a national tragedy that requires my immediate attention."
He left them then, a court full of the most powerful men in China, utterly bewildered, utterly defeated by his logic, and utterly in awe of the strange, lazy genius who napped while he reshaped the world. The storm had passed. And the emperor had barely broken a sweat.