Chapter 306

The railways in the capital city had become quite a spectacle. The emperor, confined within the palace, was curious to see them and eager to experience what riding on one felt like. Yet, he was reluctant to venture outside the palace to share this with the common people. Thus, he sent word to Wang Xiujin, ordering him to build a small railway track within the palace grounds so he could test whether it was truly as convenient as rumored.

Upon receiving the imperial command, Wang Xiujin's expression shifted repeatedly. Was the emperor losing his mind? It was hardly surprising for Wang Xiujin to think so. After all, only certain people were allowed in and out of the palace—it was the emperor’s home. Who would dare send workers inside? If a single person harbored ill intent, the consequences could be disastrous. But if the workers weren’t allowed in, who would lay the wooden tracks? How would the carriages be transported? Surely, the emperor couldn’t do it himself. No, this was absolutely impossible.

Wang Xiujin sought his father’s counsel, knowing that the Li family could not help; this matter required his father’s intervention.

After hearing his son’s report, Lord Wang’s face changed several times. His first thought was that the emperor might be on a path to decline. If so, it would be wise to protect oneself. “Tomorrow, after the morning court session, I shall advise His Majesty. If he listens, there will be no further trouble. If he insists on building this, we must prepare for what lies ahead.”

Wang Xiujin was momentarily stunned but soon grasped his father’s meaning. Considering the emperor’s age, he hoped it was not to the point of mental decay. Yet, one could never be certain; age didn’t necessarily breed cunning or wisdom.

The following day, Lord Wang earnestly presented the pros and cons to the emperor. Fortunately, the emperor heeded the advice—though somewhat regretfully—and recognized that the project could not proceed. Yet, he still longed for the wooden railway carriage. Lord Wang then suggested constructing a smaller wooden railway at one of the emperor’s rural estates. Once completed, the emperor could visit under the pretext of recuperation and take it for a spin.

The emperor was delighted, but Lord Wang found himself hesitating, feeling an unexpected urge to retire from official life.

Relieved that the railway would be built elsewhere, Wang Xiujin no longer dwelled on other concerns. Whether the emperor was declining or becoming foolish was beyond his control; he couldn’t simply stop the project and retreat quietly. The scale was too large. After discussing the matter with General Li, the veteran dismissed Lord Wang and his daughter-in-law’s worries. The emperor was the most powerful man in Daliang; if ordinary people already had what he lacked, and the emperor had not yet blamed Wang Xiujin directly, that meant all was well.

Wang Xiujin relaxed and arranged for the wooden railway to be built at the secondary estate. The workshop crafted a special carriage made mainly of wood, with a thin iron layer on the outside. The interior was modest: a soft bench at the center and two small seats on either side. The emperor only wanted to experience it and would not use it as his private carriage.

The construction of the wooden railway took over a month, while the carriage took two months to complete. Once everything was ready, they tested it around the estate without issue. When the emperor heard it was finished, he immediately went to try it out under the guise of recuperation. Upon returning to the palace, he summoned Wang Xiujin and inquired whether the wooden railway could be extended throughout Daliang. Wang Xiujin respectfully replied that given the current materials, it was unsuitable. Perhaps it was better to wait for a superior alternative to replace the wooden rails, allowing more people to benefit.

The emperor pressed further, asking what was wrong with the current materials. After hearing Wang Xiujin’s detailed explanation, the emperor urged him to quickly find a substitute for wood. If the entire realm could be connected by wooden railways, he believed travelers would save time.

Save time? Wang Xiujin dared not promise. By common reasoning, wooden railway carriages seemed faster than ordinary horse-drawn carriages. Yet, in reality, they offered little time saved. The wooden railway required strict schedules; a slight delay meant missing the train and waiting for the next, which could be hours or even a full day later. Even if one caught every departure on time, it wasn’t necessarily faster than riding a horse, especially since wooden railway carriages had to enter cities, whereas horse-drawn carriages could bypass them.

As for saving money, that was uncertain too. Wang Xiujin thought even if sturdier materials replaced wood and railways extended across Daliang, passengers might not increase significantly. Merchants traveling north and south had their own caravans and would not change their routines for wooden railway carriages. Business travelers in a hurry would ride horses; those less urgent still had carriages. Who would squeeze into a crowded wooden railway carriage? Common folk seldom traveled more than a few times a year. Investing in such infrastructure could be tantamount to throwing money away.

Calculating his assets, Wang Xiujin silently rejected the idea of widespread wooden railways—not because he was stingy, but because, although it was a worthy cause, it was a losing proposition financially. Even if it failed to generate profit, it would earn a brief mention in future history books: “In the year XXX of Daliang, the empire laid wooden railway tracks nationwide, with carriages primarily made of wood…” But he simply did not have the funds. After two consecutive wars, with supplies and clothing provided, the wooden railway at the emperor’s estate and the wooden carriage were gifts. These were costly endeavors. Though his businesses were highly profitable, the heavy donations to the palace made it hard to justify further investment. He resolved to limit the railway to a line from the capital to Xiangcheng. Let others say what they would; he was the one footing the bill.

Following the campaign against the Kou Kingdom, all generals and deputies received rewards. Li Linshan was granted a residence and promoted. The commanding general was dispatched to garrison the Kou Kingdom, joined by a civil official. The Kou Kingdom was renamed Yingri City—named because it saw the sunrise before the inner city walls did—and a comprehensive reconstruction began. However, the first batch of settlers sent there were all death-row inmates and exiles.

“Yingri City?” Wang Xiujin repeated the name Li Linshan had spoken. Why did it sound so strange and awkward to him?

Li Linshan nodded. “The residence granted by His Majesty is quite large. Want to take a look?”

There was no chance that Li Linshan and Wang Xiujin would be separated to live apart; the residence was of little use to either and could not be rented out. It would just sit there, requiring annual maintenance. To Wang Xiujin, it seemed utterly impractical.

He shook his head, uninterested in the house. A few shops were far more useful than a mansion.

“There are some servants still living in the house,” Li Linshan insisted. “The mansion was originally built for a princess, later given to a founding general. That general was deeply devoted to his wife. Though young, they had no children and never adopted. They cared for each other until old age. The general’s wife passed first; he died shortly after. Before he died, the general instructed his steward that the house was to be handled by the emperor and not passed to any relatives. The general kept no close kin and never supported any successors. Anyone claiming to be his kin would be rebuked.”

“Those so-called relatives were probably the true cause of the general’s childlessness,” Wang Xiujin said without hesitation. Otherwise, why such disdain for family?

“Perhaps. Shall we go see for ourselves? The steward’s descendants guard the residence.” Li Linshan proposed again, and this time Wang Xiujin agreed. He wasn’t eager to see the house, but wanted to pay respects. If possible, he intended to offer incense to the general. In ancient times, clan pressure made it difficult to sever ties with relatives. This general showed great courage in facing clan pressure and gossip alike.

The residence was not far from the general’s mansion. Upon arrival, they stood before the imposing gate, which showed no signs of decay—clearly well maintained. A servant knocked, and soon the door was opened by a man with a disfigured face. The servant recoiled in fear, but Li Linshan stepped forward. “I am Li Linshan.”

The man scrutinized Li Linshan before opening the door wider. Li Linshan took Wang Xiujin’s hand and led him inside. When Wang Xiujin passed the man, he nodded slightly. “Thank you for your efforts.”

The man bowed his head but seemed not to notice the gesture or hear the words. Wang Xiujin paid no mind, but the servant accompanying them frowned, wanting to say something. A sharp look from Wang Xiujin silenced him.

Soon, a young man hurried out, bowed, and introduced himself as the steward. Wang Xiujin gave a nod and asked him to show them around.

The mansion was vast and immaculate; flowers and plants were carefully tended. After a tour, they noticed that aside from the gatekeeper and steward, no other servants were visible. Could two people manage such a large estate alone? It seemed unlikely. Wang Xiujin did not inquire, trusting the gatekeeper and steward were reliable. Since they had no intention of moving in, they would send monthly funds to cover expenses, so long as no troubles arose.

They did not stay long. Before leaving, they asked where the general was buried. The steward promptly gave the location. Wang Xiujin nodded and planned to prepare offerings for a proper memorial soon. After saying what needed to be said, they departed.

The young steward looked at the gatekeeper. “I didn’t expect the imperial merchant to be so approachable.”

The gatekeeper nodded, then turned and entered a small room by the entrance. The young man shrugged, unsure how much the imperial merchant would allocate for their upkeep and whether it would suffice for so many. Sighing, he thought that once these elders were sent off properly, his conscience would be clear.

Wang Xiujin was not one to mistreat people, especially after seeing the labels attached to those two. The residence sheltered some wounded veterans from the old general’s command. Wang Xiujin wondered why these men hadn’t sought work at the workshops—were they guarding the mansion out of loyalty or for other reasons? Regardless, he would not ignore disabled veterans. The monthly funds and expenses allocated were substantial. Li Linshan found it odd, but Wang Xiujin offered no further explanation.