Chapter 174: The Great Ming Is No Longer the Great Ming It Once Was

As for what lay ahead, Yu Maoheng had thought it over himself—since he had chosen this path, he would surely bear the consequences.

If things succeeded in the future, then so be it—he would leave his name in the annals of history; but if things failed, he might face retaliation, and in that case he would need to leave himself some room to maneuver.

Yet the matter could not be left undone, because if he did not act, then failure was guaranteed, and his choice of side at this moment would become a joke.

Yu Maoheng was perfectly clear about this situation in his heart, so he needed to find someone to charge ahead of him, to stick his neck out for him, to do the things that were inconvenient for him to do himself.

If ever some mishap occurred down the road, this person could also take the brunt in front of him.

Originally, finding such a person was no easy task, because no one would be willing to serve as that pawn charging ahead.

But now that he had seen Cui Chengxiu, Yu Maoheng knew that the pawn he needed had been found. Compared to himself, Cui Chengxiu was more ambitious, more eager to climb, and more unscrupulous.

Yu Maoheng knew that such a man was exactly what he could put to use.

Cui Chengxiu naturally had no idea what Yu Maoheng was thinking; he had already seen Wei Zhongxian to the door.

Before stepping into the carriage, Wei Zhongxian turned back to look at Cui Chengxiu, nodded at him, and said with a gentle smile: "The Censorate is a place of tangled affairs, and Yu Maoheng's mind is unsettled. Be careful yourself."

Hearing Wei Zhongxian's words, Cui Chengxiu knew this was concern, and hurriedly replied: "Rest assured, Eunuch. I understand."

As for some of Yu Maoheng's intentions, Cui Chengxiu could guess them as well. To put it plainly, Yu Maoheng was using him as a spear.

But in the current court, which of these ministers was not His Majesty's spear?

The most crucial point, Cui Chengxiu saw clearly.

That was—in this world, if you wanted to get ahead, you had to do what others could not do; otherwise, on what grounds could you?

Cui Chengxiu was not unaware that Yu Maoheng was using him, old Cui, as a knife—but even knowing, what could he do about it?

The most pitiable thing in this world is not that someone uses you as a chess piece, but that you are utterly useless.

At least a chess piece, while useful, receives protection and preferential treatment; but if you are good for nothing, you cannot even become a chess piece—do you think anyone would care about you?

If need arose, someone like you, who is not even a chess piece, would be the first to be sacrificed without the slightest hesitation.

Cui Chengxiu had that awareness. As for his own eventual fate, that could wait until the future came.

But in order to secure a good ending for himself, Cui Chengxiu also had to strive, so that he would not sink to the point of being settled accounts with.

Cui Chengxiu was clear on this in his heart as well. As for whether he would be called to account in the future, that could wait until the future arrived. If he started worrying about this and that right now, then he might as well do nothing at all—he could not borrow trouble from the sky.

The news that Wei Zhongxian had come to the Censorate to make arrests spread through the entire capital like a swarm of bees.

Of course, this was only the beginning; afterward Wei Zhongxian arrested quite a few more people, all charged with colluding with the Donglin Faction and forming cliques for private gain.

From that moment on, Wei Zhongxian's reputation was thoroughly ruined; everyone in the streets was cursing him.

There were also many who pointed their spears directly at the several Grand Secretaries of the Grand Secretariat, believing that they fawned on the Emperor without the slightest integrity, unworthy of being called scholars, let alone ministers.

As a result, many people began impeaching the Grand Secretaries, stirring up a great deal of chaos.

The Forbidden City, Qianqing Palace.

Zhu Youxiao flipped through the account books in his hands, occasionally turning his head to glance at Chen Hong, his eyes filled entirely with excitement.

These account books had been submitted from below, and their contents were simple—they recorded the silver and money seized from the household confiscations during this period.

It was said that the ministers of the Great Ming were wealthy; originally Zhu Youxiao had not quite believed it, but now it seemed these people indeed had money.

After confiscating these households, Zhu Youxiao obtained over four million taels of silver, with the remaining property and farmland beyond counting.

Once these things were liquidated, they would yield another several million taels, even ten million or more. It could be said that from this single campaign alone, Zhu Youxiao had obtained no small amount of money.

At the same time, Zhu Youxiao also thought of another matter—namely, the hereditary nobles and imperial kinsmen of the Great Ming.

One had to know that these hereditary nobles and imperial kinsmen had been passed down continuously since the founding of the Great Ming—that was already over two hundred years. How vast an estate would they have accumulated?

If he were to go after the hereditary nobles and imperial kinsmen, how much money would he get?

But for now, this could only be a thought in Zhu Youxiao's mind; there was no justification for moving against them.

Of course, Zhu Youxiao also thought of another group—namely, the princes of the Great Ming.

The imperial relatives of the Great Ming occupied countless lands and countless grain and wealth. These people could be said to be utterly thorough parasites on the state—contributing nothing at all, yet clinging to the body of the Great Ming and sucking its blood.

But Zhu Youxiao also knew that he could not move against these people for the time being, and if he wanted to act against them, he would have to adopt a relatively gentler approach; otherwise, great chaos would surely ensue.

Matters had to be handled one at a time, and people dealt with one by one. It was impossible to offend everyone all at once, or everything would be ruined.

Setting down the account books in his hands, Zhu Youxiao spoke: "Send all this money to the Ministry of Revenue. All property seized in the confiscations is to be turned over to the public coffers. Tell those below not to sell it privately—register all these things in the ledgers."

"Yes, Your Majesty. This servant will see to it at once." Chen Hong hurriedly acknowledged.

In fact, Zhu Youxiao's approach was uncommon.

According to past convention, the money and farmland seized would be sold off—that is, converted into cash—and then divided between the Emperor and the ministers.

A ruler who was not overly greedy would basically take thirty percent; but an Emperor whose inner treasury was empty and whose expenses were large would take more. Essentially, it varied every time, decided according to the circumstances of the moment, and would even be discussed with the ministers.

Giving all the seized silver to the national treasury like Zhu Youxiao did was something ordinary Emperors could not do, because the Emperor also needed to spend money.

There was another point: Zhu Youxiao ordered that the shops and farmland seized were not to be sold, which was somewhat puzzling to people.

In fact, this move of Zhu Youxiao's was also a pretext he was leaving for himself for the future.

As for the farmland and shops that had been seized, Zhu Youxiao planned to keep them for his own use in future undertakings.

In Zhu Youxiao's view, the Emperors of the Great Ming had one very, very great flaw—they kept their energy fixed on the imperial estates.

Although the imperial estates produced no small amount, enough to supply the Great Ming Emperor's expenses, in truth it was far from sufficient—it only let the Emperor have enough to eat.

When ministers came asking the Emperor for money, the Emperor actually had little enough himself, let alone being able to use that money for other things.

For an Emperor, you had to have sufficient wealth; otherwise your realm would be unstable, and your power would be taken away.

In this world, money can make the mill go round—without money, nothing can be accomplished.

Relying on the ministers' national treasury would not do. Many times when you wanted to spend money, they would not let you. For example, your personal guard—if you wanted to expand your protection, the ministers would never let you do such things.

The money allocated from the national treasury would not go to your personal guard either; they would only make all sorts of claims of having no money, then tell you, the Emperor, to cut back on expenses.

So Zhu Youxiao had always wanted a stable source of income to support himself—this point was very important to his reforms—but he had not thought of any good method.

This time, Zhu Youxiao had withheld these seized items precisely to use them as capital in the future.

In the days that followed, the court remained unsettled, full of turmoil, but the general trend had improved considerably.

After all, with several Grand Secretaries of the Grand Secretariat pressing from above and the Eastern Depot arresting people below, if any scholars stirred up trouble among the populace, the Embroidered Uniform Guard would step in. With the three parties working in concert, matters were quickly suppressed.

Meanwhile, the reform of the Ministry of Rites was also underway.

Everyone knew the Ministry of Rites was up to something, because His Majesty had told them to be.

Since Shen Tingyun took office as Minister of Rites, he had been busy recruiting personnel and coordinating internal affairs. The matter discussed at court previously had not yet undergone effective communication and planning.

However, Shen Tingyun already had a preliminary plan in mind—he only needed to discuss it within the Ministry of Rites before presenting it to His Majesty.

But before that, there was one very important matter for the Ministry of Rites: preparing His Majesty's grand wedding.

Fortunately, this was not the Ministry of Rites' first time doing so. They pulled out all the records buried in old piles of paper and drafted a detailed wedding plan. Once His Majesty approved it, they could execute according to plan.

Countless people were arguing at court, while the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard carried out various missions. But within the imperial palace, the atmosphere was one of joy and celebration, for the grand wedding of the young Emperor Zhu Youxiao was drawing near.

The same Great Ming, the same capital—yet the atmosphere could not have been more different.

On one side, families of officials who had been beheaded wailed as they buried their dead; on the other, people were joyfully preparing for a wedding.

Under such circumstances, different people saw different things.

Some saw the new vigor of a new sovereign's ascension—the future of the Great Ming. A fire burned in their hearts, and they were willing to burn themselves out entirely, charging fearlessly forward for the sake of the Great Ming.

But others felt differently. They lamented, believing the Great Ming was beyond saving. On one side were the wails of loyal and patriotic men; on another, the suffering of the common folk beneath the veneer of flourishing prosperity; on yet another, a profligate emperor and greedy officials. Beneath all this lay the Great Ming's road to ruin.

For a time, quite a few officials in the capital submitted routine memorials requesting resignation, while some simply claimed illness and stayed home.

Everything seemed to herald that the Great Ming was no longer the Great Ming it once had been.

Would the Great Ming rise reborn from the flames, or sink utterly into the abyss?

No one knew.

The Forbidden City.

Zhu Youxiao stood alone atop the city wall, gazing into the distance at the capital under the night sky. Looking at the myriad lights of ten Battalion Commander in the capital, Zhu Youxiao's expression was grave, and he did not move for a long time.