Cao Jixiang dearly wanted to hit Pan Yun, but he still took her words to heart.
At first, the Emperor had not wanted to lift the maritime ban, but under the officials' persuasion, he had already begun to relent.
When Cao Jixiang left the capital, the Emperor was already planning to lift the maritime ban in several coastal cities, such as Quanzhou, Nanjing, Suzhou, and the Tianjin Guard area.
Yet the Emperor merely wanted to establish Maritime Trade Offices in those cities and partially open sea trade. He had never considered that even his own ships should pay taxes. If Pan Yun wanted him to submit such a proposal, was she not setting him up to anger the Emperor?
Then Wang Zhen would add fuel to the flames and sow discord from the sidelines. He would be in grave danger.
So Cao Jixiang had no intention of reporting the matter, though he could not help but keep those words in his heart.
Cao Jixiang knew how to command troops, could read and write, and had long remained at the Emperor's side. He knew only too well how difficult it was for a new decree to travel from its birth to the provinces, then the prefectures, then the counties, and finally be put into practice.
To say nothing of distant matters, the Founding Emperor had decreed that merchants could wear only black and white, and were forbidden from wearing bright colors like red, yellow, purple, and blue. Yet more than seventy years had passed since the founding of the dynasty—when had merchants ever obeyed?
Looking at it now, that decree would likely never truly be enforced. Could local yamen really shackle a wealthy merchant and throw him into prison simply because he wore blue or red robes?
Likewise, even if the