Many of the new capital's residents were like that merchant — timid creatures afraid of danger, unwilling to venture out rashly, cautiously probing their surroundings one tentative step at a time.
Only when they discovered that though these people seemed powerful and intimidating, they harbored not the slightest ill will, did they gradually quicken their pace of exploration.
On Taoyuan Street, in a private room on the second floor of a restaurant, four men dressed in fine silk sat together drinking.
Beside each man stood one or two attendants waiting on them.
These were clearly four gentlemen of means.
"Now this is what I call living — Dragon City style! Magnificent!" one of them said, taking a sip of liquor. The burn contorted his face beyond recognition, yet he couldn't bring himself to spit it out.
"This liquor is fierce! Magnificent!"
At a hundred yuan a jin, Immortal's Stupor had better be fierce — you don't earn a name like that by being mild.
The entire spread of dishes on the table came to only a few dozen yuan, yet these two bottles of liquor cost two hundred.
One meal here would set you back enough to cover hundreds of quick lunches.
"I'd like to settle here permanently. What a pity there are only hotels to stay in — not a single house for sale."
"I've heard Dragon City people only rent, never sell. What do you suppose that's about? Waiting for prices to climb even higher so they can rake in more profit?"
Had Jinxiu heard this, she would certainly have scoffed.
What would ordinary people like you know of our Lord's grand designs?
The burden of renting is far lighter than buying, and without property tying them down, ordinary folk are free to move about and find the work and way of life that suits them best.
The cost of trial and error is driven infinitely higher.
It also prevents the wealth gap that soaring property prices create, ensuring to the greatest extent possible that everyone starts from the same line.
Their Lord was building a harmonious society the likes of which the world had never seen!
"I've heard that Wangjing Town outside the city walls is even more bustling than here. We ought to go have a look — apparently there's no curfew there at night either. What a life!"
"And if that doesn't work out, we could always buy a residence right next to Taoyuan Street."
"If we ever run into soldiers from the court, we just dash inside here — those soldiers wouldn't dare make a peep. Ha ha!"
"Quite right. I watched those fierce soldiers with my own eyes — whenever they pass by the entrance to Taoyuan Street, they take the long way around, practically hugging the walls."
"Well said. So let's head to Wangjing Town to look at properties, and if nothing suits us, we'll buy somewhere in this area. None of us are the sort to fuss over a few taels of silver."
Property prices in the new capital were already far from cheap, and all this buying had driven them up another wave.
The four men drank themselves blind, talked themselves hoarse, and in the end each one slumped face-down on the table.
Outside, the curfew had already begun. The attendants didn't dare risk taking their lords out into the streets, so they had no choice but to book rooms at the nearby hotel and spend the night.
The imperial capital was, by any measure, the most prosperous place in the world. Though the Emperor himself was impoverished, that did nothing to diminish the city's atmosphere of wine, song, and extravagance.
Scenes like this one involving the four men became increasingly common on Taoyuan Street.
More and more people began choosing to rent homes outside the city walls and settle there permanently. And why not? No curfew, brilliant lighting, a rich and varied nightlife.
Many ladies had fallen in love with mahjong, while gentlemen much preferred the bathhouses.
Young misses were captivated by Dream of the Red Chamber and The Story of the Western Wing.
Young masters and their companions had a particular fondness for Jin Ping Mei — the illustrated edition.
Zhao Baihui swore on his life that he had absolutely nothing to do with Jin Ping Mei. It was purely a coincidence.
He only promoted wholesome, uplifting works of literature.
It was purely a coincidence!
Dragon City's culture spread quickly through the new capital, and it moved no slower through the northern imperial city either — Ming Xin now held virtually unchallenged sway here.
The steppe people numbered only a few hundred thousand in total — fewer than the population of an average prefectural city in the Central Plains.
When they entered the pass, eighty thousand came; the remaining tens of thousands were scattered across the grasslands. Could anyone truly abandon their home entirely?
Of course not — if they were ever driven out by the Han people, they would have nowhere to fall back to.
Now with the red-haired barbarians' invasion, the Manchus had dispatched fifty thousand troops back to deal with it, leaving only thirty thousand near the capital.
This was enough to set certain Han armies' hearts stirring with restless ambition.
After all, their numbers now outnumbered the Manchus' by more than tenfold, and with Regent Ming Xin himself being Han — if only...
Many visitors had been calling on him lately. Ming Xin received them all without exception — anyone of sufficient rank and standing, he was willing to meet.
Some hinted obliquely at their intentions. Ming Xin always replied with the same cheerful response: sure, whatever you want to do is your business, but Dragon City will not be involved!
Dragon City was civilized, and had no love for conflict — it only wished to be friends with everyone.
Damn it all. If Dragon City wasn't going to participate, what was the point? Thirty thousand Manchu soldiers would be more than enough to slaughter the lot of them.
The Manchus, for their part, feared that Ming Xin harbored some ulterior motive, and spared no effort in winning his favor — gold, beauties, land, gifts of every conceivable kind.
And Ming Xin's consistent approach was: if you dare send it, I'll dare accept it — but what I'll say remains the same: we are all civilized people, we have no love for strife, we hope for peace.
Very well. That was an answer of a sort, at least.
The Empress Dowager in the palace also feared Ming Xin might cause trouble, and her visits to Ming Xin's princely manor grew ever more frequent.
And then there were the second beauty, and the third beauty's flowers...
Occasionally, their palanquins would pass one another in the street. But all parties behaved as though they were perfect strangers, and swept past one another without acknowledgment.
...
The steppe people had been invincible on their own grasslands, but things had grown rather grim of late — hundreds of thousands of them were being chased and beaten.
Fortunately they were swift runners, and for the moment they were holding on.
With no other option, the Manchus were forced to mobilize their Han infantry into the grasslands.
Useless as they knew those troops to be, perhaps they might still serve some purpose?
But when word came some time later that a unit of Han soldiers had been defeated and captured by the red-haired foreigners — and had then turned their weapons against their former masters — the Manchus finally understood the helplessness that the old dynasty had once felt.
At least a pig can be slaughtered for its meat. These imperial troops only consumed grain and silver, and in the end stabbed you in the back.
None of this was Ming Xin's concern. At this moment he stood in the practice ground at the rear courtyard of his princely manor, eyes fixed on targets not far away.
Ten suits of wolf cavalry armor had been bound to wooden posts. Dozens of meters away, ten men loaded and fired ten muskets that looked no different from wooden clubs.
"These things are awfully slow to fire."
After ten rounds, Ming Xin waved his hand. An attendant beside him gave the order, and the ten men withdrew to a greater distance and continued shooting.
As the shooting went on, one gun exploded. Fortunately the shooter's protective gear was adequate, and he escaped injury.
These were the weapons the northern red-haired foreigners had produced.
The steppe people, though worn down, had not been routed entirely, and had managed to score some victories along the way.
These guns were battlefield trophies from the grasslands, a portion of which had been sent to the rear for study.
For Regent Ming Xin to obtain a few, it was simply a matter of saying the word.
Ming Jian walked over carrying one of the guns. "Second Brother, the test results are pretty average, wouldn't you say?"
"Range, stopping power — neither matches our steel crossbows. It would be very difficult to penetrate wolf cavalry armor."
"That puts my mind at ease."
"Know yourself, know your enemy, and you need not fear the outcome of a hundred battles."
"Now that we understand what the red-haired foreigners are made of, if we ever encounter them in the future, it will at least make communication easier."
Ming Xin rose and handled one of the simple firearms with practiced ease.
"The steel is substandard. Poor marks."
"Loose-powder charge. Poor marks."
"Lead shot? It deforms on impact inside the body and is very difficult to remove. Good marks."
"Dragon City could have produced something like this long ago — but its power doesn't even match our steel crossbows, so there was never any reason to put it into production."
Ming Xin tossed the gun casually to Ming Jian and lost all interest in it.
The steel crossbow Zhao Baihui had produced was already a mature product. Even with enormous effort, there was little room to improve its power further.
Dragon City was currently developing firearms, and had achieved some results.
But further refinements were still needed before anything could be fielded.
What would be the point of producing a batch of weapons only marginally more powerful than the crossbows they already had?
Better to wait until the finished article was ready, and then astonish the world.