The next day, at dawn, as the sky began to lighten, Zhu Ping’an helped Li Shu onto the carriage, ready to set off for Shaoxing to assume his new post.
The carriage Zhu Ping’an and Li Shu rode in was a large one drawn by two horses, carrying Zhu Ping’an, Li Shu, Hua’er, and Qin’er.
Following behind were seven smaller carriages, each pulled by a single horse, carrying Aunt Wang, various maids, and servants. The convoy was escorted by three hundred Zhejiang cavalry led by Liu Dadao, ensuring the safety of Zhu Ping’an and his entourage.
As for the other household servants and attendants, they had been sent ahead in two groups days earlier to prepare the new residence in Shaoxing. They were tasked with installing underfloor heating, radiators, and arranging furniture so that Zhu Ping’an and his party could settle in immediately upon arrival.
To ensure Li Shu, who was pregnant, travelled comfortably, Zhu Ping’an had put considerable thought into the carriage.
First, he had the carriage wheels wrapped tightly in two layers of cowhide to act as a makeshift rubber tyre, reducing jolts.
Second, Zhu Ping’an had commissioned Ou Zhige, a firearms craftsman from the Zhejiang army’s equipment camp, to create several thick copper springs.
Ou Zhige, who was researching flintlock muskets, had made preliminary progress, crafting usable springs by hand. Using ideas provided by Zhu Ping’an, he had produced two prototype flintlock muskets.
A few days earlier, he had demonstrated them to Zhu Ping’an, but the results were less than ideal. The flint’s ignition rate was only about sixty percent, and loading was as cumbersome as with matchlock muskets. The musket had to be held upright, with gunpowder and a bullet poured into the barrel, tamped down with a rod, followed by priming powder added to the pan, before cocking the hammer and finally pulling the trigger to fire.
After examining Ou Zhige’s flintlock musket, Zhu Ping’an identified the issue: the frizzen cover was flat.
When the trigger was pulled, the hammer struck the flint against the frizzen, producing sparks to ignite the powder and fire the bullet. A flat frizzen provided insufficient friction, resulting in a low spark yield and unreliable ignition.
Zhu Ping’an suggested that Ou Zhige redesign the frizzen with an uneven surface to improve the flint’s ignition rate.
As for loading, Zhu Ping’an proposed exploring breech-loading designs. Ou Zhige noted that breech-loading posed significant challenges with gas sealing but was researching ways to improve airtightness to enable faster loading.
Though the flintlock musket was still in development, Ou Zhige’s spring craftsmanship was already impressive.
Zhu Ping’an, making private use of public resources, had Ou Zhige craft several larger copper springs, which were installed between the carriage body and axles. In essence, this added a suspension system to absorb shocks, making the ride more comfortable.
Additionally, Hua’er and Qin’er had lined the carriage interior with cushions, mink blankets, and soft backrests, creating a warm and cosy environment.
“Hmm, it really works! It’s much smoother and more comfortable than usual—hardly any shaking. Who would’ve thought a small spring could make such a difference,” Li Shu said, nestled in Zhu Ping’an’s arms, her crescent-shaped eyes sparkling as she enjoyed the carriage’s improved ride.
“It has even greater potential. It can make firearms unstoppable, transforming the battlefield,” Zhu Ping’an said, his face full of anticipation as he envisioned the Zhejiang army equipped with flintlock muskets.
Equipped with flintlocks, rain would no longer be an issue. Matchlock muskets were nearly useless in wet conditions, but flintlocks could fire anytime, anywhere, with greatly improved efficiency and accuracy.
“I’m just a woman; I don’t meddle in military or state affairs. I only care about daily necessities. Once I’m out of confinement, I’ll send someone to the capital to start a carriage business. These comfortable carriages will surely appeal to nobles, officials, and wealthy gentry. We’ll make a fortune and build a solid foundation for these two little ones,” Li Shu said, her delicate hand resting on her belly, her eyes narrowing into a sly, fox-like smile as she imagined spring-equipped carriages taking the capital by storm.
Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. Li Shu’s knack for spotting business opportunities was unparalleled, second to none.
Her heating equipment venture, launched not long ago, had already swept through the residences of the capital’s elites, judging by the growing pile of account books she reviewed. It was clear she was raking in profits.
Inside the carriage, Hua’er and Qin’er cut fruit into small pieces on a small table, allowing Li Shu to eat them with a toothpick.
Just one street away from the Zhu residence, the carriage came to a stop.
“Dadao, what’s happened? Why have we stopped?” Zhu Ping’an lifted the curtain and called out.
“Young Master, Prefect Shang and his entourage have come to see you off,” Liu Dadao replied, clasping his fists.
No sooner had Liu Dadao spoken than Zhu Ping’an heard the slightly breathless voice of Prefect Zhao from behind. “Lord Zhu, please wait, please wait!”
Turning around, Zhu Ping’an saw Suzhou Prefect Shang Weichi, who had dismounted and was jogging toward them, accompanied by a group of subordinate officials.
Seeing Prefect Shang hurrying over, Zhu Ping’an quickly stepped down from the carriage and walked to meet him.
“Lord Zhu, why the rush to take up your post in Shaoxing? We were just planning a farewell banquet for you,” Shang Weichi said, catching his breath as he reached Zhu Ping’an.
In ancient times, the Ministers and Vice Ministers of the Six Ministries were addressed as “Lord of the Ministry.” After being appointed Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War, Zhu Ping’an was entitled to this honorific.
“What ‘Lord of the Ministry’? Prefect Shang, just call me Zihou,” Zhu Ping’an said with a wry smile, clasping his hands.
“Heh, in the past, I could take the liberty of calling you Zihou, but not anymore. You’re now the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War and Governor of Zhejiang. Calling you Zihou would be improper,” Shang Weichi said, shaking his head with a smile.
“Heh, Prefect Shang, if others can’t call me that, surely you can. Without your unwavering support and close cooperation, how could I have been appointed Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War and Governor of Zhejiang?” Zhu Ping’an replied, shaking his head with a smile.
“Alright, alright, I’ll take advantage of my seniority and call you Zihou in informal settings. But in formal occasions, I’ll still address you as Lord of the Ministry,” Shang Weichi said, stroking his beard with a laugh.
“Zihou, you’re leaving in such a hurry—you didn’t even give us a chance to hold a farewell banquet. If I hadn’t just received word, I’d have missed the chance to see you off,” Shang Weichi said in a teasing, mock-complaining tone.
“My wife’s delivery is imminent, so I’m hurrying to Shaoxing to settle her in,” Zhu Ping’an explained briefly.
“I see. No wonder you’re in such a rush,” Shang Weichi nodded, understanding Zhu Ping’an’s urgency.
