The Great Ming in the Box-Chapter 399 — Xing Honglang Come Home

Just as the chemical plant plans were crawling forward... 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Qiachuan Wharf.

The riverboat was finally done.

The fake cannons were gone. In their place: real ones.

Iron-plated hull. Composite decking. Fake wood-grain paint laid on with almost embarrassing care. From both sides of the ship, twelve cannons—stainless steel capillary tubes—jutted out like clenched teeth. No fireworks. No bravado. Just the quiet confidence of something that works.

Bai Yuan was very satisfied.

He had personally selected eighty sailors from Bai Fortress. They stood ready. Alongside them were twenty fishermen from Qiachuan, temporarily promoted to "trainee sailors."

In truth, those twenty understood the Yellow River better than anyone alive.

Unfortunately, their thought education was still pending, so for now they remained trainees—river-savvy, politically immature.

One hundred men total.

A little thin.

But acceptable.

A Spanish galleon of the same size usually sailed with fewer than ninety crew. Only when someone planned to start a proper war did they stuff five hundred bodies into the hold and call it logistics.

Bai Yuan clasped his hands behind his back, chest lifted.

"Men. Today our Immortal Ship begins her trial voyage. Remember—this vessel is a divine treasure bestowed by Dao Xuan Tianzun himself. You will drive her across vast distances. Be cautious. Do not flip her."

A voice muttered, insufficiently quietly, "What vast distances? We’re going to Yongji’s old Yellow River ferry and back. Round trip’s barely two hundred li..."

Bai Yuan’s head turned a fraction.

"Hm?"

The sailor snapped upright.

"Reporting, sir! I was praising the breeze."

Bai Yuan let out a cold snort and moved on.

"Today, an important guest will be sailing with us. Come—applause."

The sailors didn’t know why, but when leadership demands applause, you clap.

Then she boarded.

A woman built like a siege weapon. Broad shoulders, heavy frame, taller than most men. Her boots struck the deck with the confidence of someone who expected it to survive.

Xing Honglang of Yongji.

She cupped her fists.

"Brothers. Yongji is my hometown. Shanxi’s a mess right now—bandits everywhere. I’m worried about my people. That’s why this trial voyage is headed to Yongji’s old ferry. I’ll follow along, thick-skinned as it may be."

She jerked her chin toward the shore.

"I’ve brought grain. Plenty of it. Whether it reaches home intact will depend on your skills."

Onshore, her private salt-smugglers appeared—over forty hardened men escorting ten wagons piled high with grain. One cart after another rolled toward the ship.

The sailors understood at a glance.

She wasn’t traveling.

She was delivering relief.

Months earlier, Wang Jiayin had failed to crack Qiachuan Wharf and turned north instead. Shanxi’s commander fired his cannon. The cannon exploded. The city fell. After that, every rebel band with a pulse flooded into Shanxi like locusts.

Yongji being in trouble was expected.

The sailors returned her salute.

"Miss Xing, leave it to us."

Someone muttered, "Won’t be Miss much longer."

Another leaned closer.

"Oh? She and Gao Chuwu finally settling it?"

"Soon. Wedding’s already being arranged."

"About time. They dragged it out forever."

"All because Gao Chuwu couldn’t beat her."

"Until recently."

"When Miss Xing finally went easy on him."

Everyone nodded, satisfied with this airtight theory.

Xing Honglang’s face went up in flames.

"Hey! I heard that! What kind of garbage are you spreading? I didn’t go easy on him! I genuinely can’t beat Gao Chuwu anymore!"

She jabbed a finger for emphasis.

"He relied on brute force to bully me into marriage! I was scared he’d beat me up, so I had no choice but to marry him! That’s the truth!"

Bai Yuan froze.

"...Oh?"

His expression turned grave.

"That’s serious. Forced marriage. Abducting a civilian woman."

He lifted his gaze to the low clouds.

"That’s something Dao Xuan Tianzun absolutely does not tolerate."

He spoke solemnly.

"Isn’t that right, Tianzun?"

The sky responded.

A massive sheet of paper unfolded above them.

"Those who abduct civilian women shall be beheaded."

Bai Yuan clapped once.

"Clear and decisive. When we return, we’ll inform Fang Wushang. Gao Chuwu—execution."

Xing Honglang’s soul nearly evacuated her body.

"WAIT—NO—WRONG—!"

She waved both hands like she was fighting off lightning.

"I lied! I was talking nonsense! I did go easy on him! I lost on purpose! I wanted to marry him!"

She tilted her head upward, panic-stricken.

"Dao Xuan Tianzun, please don’t take it seriously! Punish me instead! Punish me for loose talk and slander!"

Laughter exploded.

Dao Xuan Tianzun laughed in the clouds.

Bai Yuan laughed on deck.

The sailors laughed.

Even the salt-smugglers lost control.

Xing Honglang stood there, face red enough to serve as a navigational beacon.

With dignity completely destroyed, she turned and roared at her men.

"What are you laughing at?! Load the grain! We’re departing!"

The smugglers swallowed their laughter and obeyed, pushing the carts aboard and stacking them in the hold. The grain was wrapped carefully in oiled paper, sealed layer by layer—the work of men who understood famine all too well.

Bai Yuan raised a hand.

"Once you enter Shanxi, move cautiously."

Xing Honglang saluted. The sailors followed.

The captain flipped the switch. The transfer rudder turned. The ship slid free of Qiachuan’s backwater bend.

Downstream it went.

Dao Xuan Tianzun adjusted the controls on the outside of the box, tracking the ship’s miniature form. For a while, it stayed within view.

Then it didn’t.

No matter how many times he pressed south, the perspective refused to follow.

The ship struck the glass wall—

—and passed straight through it.

Gone.

Dao Xuan Tianzun fell silent.

Please don’t die, he thought.

Xing Honglang still has to come back and marry Gao Chuwu.

The instant the thought formed, his body stiffened.

Wait.

"Come back and marry."

That was a flag.

A classic one.

The kind that gets people killed.

"...Damn it."

He stared at the empty space where the ship had been.

He really shouldn’t have let her go.

Shanxi — Yongji.

Yongji was small, administratively under Puzhou.

At this time, it wasn’t even a county—just a town-sized settlement. Only later, after dynasties changed, would it be promoted.

In better days, Puzhou ranked among the empire’s thirty-three most commercially developed cities. Merchants flowed through Yongji’s old Yellow River ferry, sending goods north and south.