Hong Chengchou's mind began to turn at high speed.
The jurisdiction of the Governor General of the Three Border Regions covered Yansui, Ningxia, and Gansu. For years those lands had suffered constant harassment from the Mongols. Raids had come like seasonal storms. Border forts were never at peace. Supplies were always strained. Soldiers lived with armor at their bedside.
Yet in recent years the Mongol incursions had gradually stopped.
When had that begun.
A name surfaced in his memory.
His brows drew together.
"Shi Jian. Is Shi Jian one of yours?"
Tie Baihu answered without hesitation.
"Yes. General Shi Jian was sent by us to solve the Mongol problem. The harassment you fear has already been dealt with."
Hong Chengchou felt genuine shock. It rose from his chest like cold water. But his face did not change. His posture remained composed. His voice steady.
"Shi Jian merely intimidated them. He frightened the Mongols into staying quiet. But if your rebellion spreads and the realm falls into chaos, the Mongols will return. They always return when the Central Plains weaken."
Tie Baihu smiled faintly.
"Will they."
Before the exchange could continue, Mi Qianhu set down his food bowl with a sharp sound and wiped his mouth.
"Enough. Tie me up. It is time to go watch Gao Family News."
Hong Chengchou turned his head.
"What news."
Mi Qianhu answered with complete seriousness.
"Gao Family News. Every day they broadcast events great and small. State affairs. Local affairs. Strange affairs. Trivial affairs. It is the only entertainment I have here. If I miss it, I feel as though I might die."
Hong Chengchou was silent.
Tie Baihu looked at Mi Qianhu.
"You do not need to be tied. You witnessed the Heavenly Venerable granting the giant chicken wing. Do you still think of escape."
Mi Qianhu lowered his gaze and remained quiet for a long moment.
"Better tie me. If I suddenly grow foolish and try to run, that would be troublesome. Bind me so I stop thinking about it."
Ropes were brought out. Mi Qianhu and his companions were tied securely.
When it was Hong Chengchou's turn, he spoke calmly.
"I do not require binding. I will not engage in futile struggles."
He was a civil official. His physical strength was limited. Tie Baihu saw no need to restrain him.
They left the Prince of Qin's residence.
Outside, Zhu Cunji sat waiting, clad in garments that shimmered under the sun. The gold thread in his robes caught the light so strongly it almost hurt the eyes.
Hong Chengchou glanced at him. Words rose to his throat, then fell away. He had already spoken enough to Tie Baihu. He felt no desire to repeat himself.
He walked in silence.
Soon they reached the marketplace at Caishikou.
A vast crowd had already gathered. People filled the square. Merchants closed stalls early. Laborers washed quickly and hurried over. Even elderly men leaned on canes to secure a place.
They were waiting for the news.
Hong Chengchou felt unease in his chest.
These so called rebels possessed the hearts of the people.
The television lit up.
Advertisements began.
Colorful images flickered one after another. Voices praised products with relentless enthusiasm. Medicines. Farming tools. Cloth. Kitchenware. Prepared foods. New mechanical devices. Each segment was brief yet persuasive.
Hong Chengchou found himself calculating.
In ten minutes he had noted at least fifteen items he wished to purchase. When he tallied the cost in his mind, the total exceeded one hundred taels of silver.
His heart jumped.
This strange luminous mirror drained wealth like a flowing river.
He overheard the Princess Consort of the Prince of Qin speaking rapidly to a eunuch beside her.
"Write that down. Buy one later and test it."
"This item looks excellent. I want it on my table tomorrow evening."
"Within half an hour I must eat that rabbit brand spiced rabbit head."
Hong Chengchou could not help but compute her spending as well. In just those few minutes she had casually committed more than three hundred taels.
Finally the advertisements ended.
He exhaled without realizing it.
If this continued, even his family estate would not withstand it. The Qin household might afford such indulgence. He could not.
The news began.
The first international segment reported on the progress of the Shimabara Rebellion in Japan. Military movements were explained clearly. Maps appeared. Casualty estimates were discussed. Hong Chengchou watched with keen interest.
Domestic reports followed.
Large bands of roving bandits had been crushed. Smaller groups were being eliminated region by region. Grain transport routes were reopening. Refugees were returning home.
The camera shifted to Shu.
A militia member from Sichuan stood before the lens. One foot rested upon the corpse of a local bandit. His face shone with excitement.
"The bandits of Wulong Mountain have been wiped out."
The surrounding villagers cheered loudly.
Hong Chengchou's expression grew complicated.
The camera changed again.
A man appeared with an awkward smile.
"My name is Zhang Xiaoyi. In the jianghu I was called the King of Great Gold. I once joined the rebel ranks. I accepted a false amnesty from Zuo Liangyu and served briefly as a fake garrison commander. I am now undergoing labor reform. Our camp is responsible for post disaster reconstruction in Wuyang County. Progress is smooth. Please look behind me."
The scene showed fields being cleared. Irrigation ditches repaired. Simple houses rebuilt.
Another shift.
Shanghai Port.
A senior official stood before the camera with visible pride. It was Lian Guoshi, Left Vice Minister of Revenue in Nanjing.
"Observe the prosperity of Shanghai Port. A few days ago the court officially lifted the maritime prohibition for Fujian and Shanghai. Previously we conducted sea trade in secret. Now we may do so openly."
Behind him the harbor teemed with activity. Ming ships. Japanese vessels. Korean ships. Portuguese carracks. Dutch merchantmen. Workers unloaded cargo. Others carried goods aboard departing vessels.
"In the past month alone," Lian Guoshi continued, "I have provided work for five hundred impoverished citizens as dock laborers. Five hundred households now have stable income. We shall continue expanding so more people may live better lives."
Hong Chengchou felt the ground beneath his convictions tremble.
The lens moved again.
Xue'er, manager of the Anqing Yingjiang Sericulture Cooperative, appeared before stacks of wide bamboo trays used for raising silkworms. She held a bolt of fine silk that shimmered softly.
"After several years of development, our cooperative has reached stable scale. We have recruited more than one thousand eight hundred female workers. Annual silk production has risen steadily. Village revenues have increased accordingly."
Her smile was confident.
Hong Chengchou watched segment after segment.
Everywhere economic growth.
Factories.
Cooperatives.
Ports.
Infrastructure.
The news did not focus on battles. It focused on livelihoods.
These rebels did not merely fight. They built.
A chill crept into him.
Without realizing it, had their influence spread across the entire realm.
The screen shifted to Zhoushan Maritime School.
A close shot captured the profile of a ten year old boy struggling in a swimming pool. He thrashed with determination, kicking hard, refusing to stop.
Beside the pool stood a female reporter.
"Please observe. The Great Khan of Mongolia, Ejei, is diligently practicing swimming. He strives to qualify as future commander of the Mongolian navy."
Hong Chengchou's composure cracked.
"What did you say."
The Mongol Great Khan.
In a swimming pool.
Training for a navy.
His mind could not reconcile the image. The Mongols had always been riders of the steppe. Masters of horse and bow. Now their sovereign trained in water like a southern fisherman.
The reporter continued cheerfully, explaining how cooperation between regions had fostered new ambitions. Maritime defense. Trade expansion. Education reform.
The crowd around Hong Chengchou reacted not with outrage, but with interest. Some laughed in surprise. Others nodded thoughtfully.
No one expressed fear.
No one spoke of betrayal.
Hong Chengchou felt isolated within the sea of spectators.
He had devoted his life to stabilizing border regions. He had negotiated, suppressed, calculated, endured. Yet here was a reality he had not foreseen.
If the Mongols became partners in maritime trade rather than raiders of the frontier, the entire strategic balance would shift.
The program continued.
Agricultural innovations in Henan.
Railway expansion near Xi'an.
A new printing workshop producing affordable textbooks.
Each report carried data. Numbers. Outcomes.
The format was consistent. Identify a problem. Present a solution. Display measurable results.
The crowd listened attentively.
When the segment ended, murmurs of discussion spread immediately. People debated which cooperative might recruit more workers. Which port offered better wages. Whether to send children to maritime school.
Hong Chengchou looked at Tie Baihu.
"Do you see this as harmless."
Tie Baihu answered quietly.
"This is what wins a nation."
Hong Chengchou did not reply.
He watched as the program concluded with a summary of grain prices across major markets. Stability was emphasized. Hoarding discouraged. Transparency promised.
The screen dimmed.
For a moment the square remained silent.
Then the crowd dispersed in orderly fashion. Conversations continued as they walked.
No chaos.
No riot.
No agitation.
Only discussion.
Hong Chengchou stood still.
He had believed rebellion meant burning cities and seizing granaries. Yet what he saw was systematic reconstruction.
He turned toward Zhu Cunji.
"You allow this."
Zhu Cunji met his gaze calmly.
"Can you stop it."
Hong Chengchou found no immediate answer.
The Minister of War was not present.
The army was not assembled.
Edicts could not silence what people had already witnessed with their own eyes.
Information had become a force.
As they began walking back, Hong Chengchou felt a subtle but undeniable shift within himself. Not surrender. Not agreement.
But doubt.
If governance could be demonstrated daily before common citizens, if prosperity could be measured publicly, then authority would no longer rest solely on titles or seals.
It would rest on results.
The thought unsettled him more than any battlefield report ever had.