The Imperial Treasury, once a source of constant anxiety for Minister Wang, was beginning to resemble a dragon's actual hoard. The first trade caravan from the north had returned, its wagons groaning not with loot, but with the fruits of peaceful exchange: sturdy horses, thick furs, and raw minerals from the steppes. The ledger entry for the grain they'd traded was a fraction of the cost of fielding an army for a month.
But it was the southern trade that promised true alchemy.
The first Portuguese shipment arrived in Canton: a hold full of burlap sacks containing the precious, bitter cocoa beans, along with smaller parcels of vanilla pods and chili seeds. Under the watchful eyes of imperial officials, the beans were transferred to guarded barges and sent up the coast to the capital.
The "Chocolate Workshop," a heavily guarded annex of the imperial kitchens, swung into action. The air grew thick with the rich, roasty aroma of beans tumbling in the new rotating drums. The granite rollers, powered by a clever water-wheel mechanism, ground the beans into a velvety powder with an efficiency that astonished the artisans. The screw press separated the golden cocoa butter, which was stored in precious ceramic jars.
Under the emperor's exacting instructions—delivered via hastily sketched diagrams and bored-sounding explanations—the chefs perfected the recipes. "Heaven's Warmth," the drinking chocolate, was a blend of the fine powder, hot milk, vanilla, and a whisper of chili that left a tantalizing warmth on the palate. "Dragon's Treasure," the solid bars, were a marvel of snap and gloss, tempered to perfection and poured into intricate molds that depicted coiling dragons and phoenixes.
Minister Wang, overseeing the operation, held the first finished lacquer box in his hands. It was a work of art. Inside, nestled on crimson silk, were six bars of "Dragon's Treasure," each wrapped in fine rice paper stamped with the imperial seal.
"The Portuguese Captain, Silva, is waiting for an audience, Your Majesty," Eunuch Xi whispered. "He is… eager to see what we have done with his beans."
Zhu Haolang, who had been observing the packaging process with a critical eye, nodded. "Let him wait another hour. Build the anticipation. And make sure he can smell it."
When Captain Silva was finally admitted to a small, elegant reception hall, he was not greeted by the emperor, but by Minister Wang. The captain's eyes immediately fell upon a low table where a single, exquisite cup of "Heaven's Warmth" steamed gently beside a small lacquer box.
"Captain," Minister Wang said with a polite smile. "His Majesty, in his infinite generosity, has deigned to improve upon your humble offering. Please. Sample the result of Ming refinement."
Silva, slightly offended by the term "humble offering," picked up the cup. The aroma alone was profoundly different—deep, complex, without the harsh bitterness. He took a sip. His eyes widened. It was smooth, rich, and impossibly luxurious. The flavor unfolded in layers on his tongue. This was not the crude energy drink of the Aztec courts; this was a nectar fit for a king. No, fit for an emperor.
Wordlessly, he opened the lacquer box. The glossy, perfect bars within gleamed. He broke a piece off one, the clean snap echoing in the quiet room. He tasted it. His mind, a merchant's mind, began to race. He imagined the court of King Manuel. He imagined the nobles of Spain and France. They would beggar themselves for this.
"This… this is from our beans?" he stammered.
"Through the divine ingenuity of the Son of Heaven, yes," Minister Wang said smoothly. "These items, 'Heaven's Warmth' and 'Dragon's Treasure,' are now available for purchase. In limited quantities, of course."
The negotiations that followed were a formality. Silva, utterly captivated and seeing a fortune before him, agreed to the exorbitant prices without a whimper. He would trade shiploads of raw beans for a few chests of the finished product. The profit margin for the Ming was astronomical.
As Silva left, already calculating how to triple the price for European aristocracy, Zhu Haolang emerged from a side chamber, yawning.
"Well?" he asked.
"He agreed to everything, Your Majesty," Minister Wang said, bowing deeply. "The treasury will overflow. And we have created a dependency. They will need us to transform their raw materials into something valuable."
"Good," the emperor said. "The 'Divine Nectar Initiative' is a success. Use the profits to fund the northern grain trade and the armory research. We will finance peace and war with chocolate. It has a certain elegance."
He walked to the window, looking out over his peaceful, prosperous capital. The Mongols were now trading partners. The Portuguese were effectively his exclusive distributors. The refugees were settled and productive. The court was too busy making money to plot against him.
A contented sigh escaped his lips. It had taken some effort, it was true. But he had successfully built a system where the empire practically ran itself, funding its own defense and expansion through superior snacks.
"The ultimate laziness," he mused to himself, "is building a machine that others are happy to turn the crank for, just for a taste of what's inside."
He turned to Eunuch Xi. "Now, I believe I have a nap to attend to. See that I am not disturbed. Unless the Spanish show up with potatoes. Then wake me immediately."