Chapter 486: The Eighth Year of Tianqi

Behind Zhu Youxiao followed Wei Chao.

The two walked forward together, their steps relaxed and brisk, looking for all the world like they were out for a stroll—a sight that drew more than a little envy.

In truth, over these four years, Zhu Youxiao had done virtually nothing overt—most of his time was spent reorganizing the court, reshuffling officials, and simultaneously steering ideology.

In other areas, Zhu Youxiao had made no major moves at all, which kept the court stable for four years.

Though natural disasters and man-made calamities continued to strike across the realm, because Zhu Youxiao delivered when it counted, nothing ever spiraled into real chaos.

After four years of development, the Great Ming had taken on something of an air of prosperous peace, which had boosted Zhu Youxiao's prestige considerably.

Even so, Zhu Youxiao was not entirely satisfied. Now that this day had come, there were some things that could formally begin.

The eighth year of Tianqi—a year that had never existed in history—naturally called for doing something out of the ordinary.

"Let's go take a look in the back," Zhu Youxiao said to Wei Chao beside him as he ambled along.

The two turned a corner and followed the road of the Imperial Academy toward the rear.

This straight red-brick road had, as it happened, caused quite a stir when it was first built.

Because there were numerous statues lining both sides of the road—a practice borrowed from the blue-brick road beside it.

The blue-brick road enshrined various sages of old and was known as the Sage Path.

And on this red-brick road, the statues lining it were all famed ministers of the Great Ming, earning it the name the Minister Path.

When the Minister Path first appeared, it naturally stirred up no small commotion.

There was little to say about the Sage Path—this was the Imperial Academy, after all, and enshrining the sages was only proper.

But "famed ministers" were a different matter entirely. Once someone entered the Minister Path, should the Imperial Academy endure through the ages, that person's statue would stand there forever, displayed for every scholar of later generations to see.

If a family had a relative or elder displayed there, scholars naturally felt pride in their hearts; and those serving as officials at court, or those studying to become scholars, naturally aspired to earn that very spot, so that posterity might gaze upon them with reverence.

Zhu Youxiao had not imposed a one-size-fits-all policy—the Imperial Academies in the various regions likewise had their own Minister Paths. Only, the statues there were not of the capital's famed ministers, but of their own local worthies.

These local ministers were reported up by each locality, verified and approved by the court, and then statues would be erected in the local Imperial Academies, creating role models for local scholars.

Besides the statues themselves, a stele stood beside each one, inscribed with an account of that minister's career in service.

Walking down this path, everyone felt a solemn reverence.

Whether in this era or in later ages, the Chinese people have always placed tremendous weight on such things—it counts as a form of inheritance, one that in later times would evolve into places like museums.

A well-known example was the memorial hall of the Founding Emperor. When people entered it, they naturally felt awed.

Zhu Youxiao and his companion walked all the way down this path, passed through the Minister Path, turned a corner, and arrived at a courtyard in the rear.

On the plaque at the courtyard's entrance was written:

Qixian Hall.

Qixian Hall was a place Zhu Youxiao had established three years prior, and over those three years, it had produced a great many things.

If the Hundred Crafts Institute was the Great Ming's scientific research institution, then Qixian Hall was the Great Ming's ideological research institution.

Over these three years, Qixian Hall had turned out a number of fine works that could serve as guiding thought for the Great Ming—such as the Treatise on the Four Classes of People, the Treatise on Law and Principle, and the Theory of Heavenly Merit, which was currently all the rage.

This was also something Zhu Youxiao had to change.

If scientific knowledge was to be promoted, then the prevailing doctrine of the Resonance Between Heaven and Humanity stood as the greatest stumbling block on that road.

The doctrine of the Resonance Between Heaven and Humanity endowed the imperial house with incomparable majesty, but it also constrained the development of the natural sciences. To promote natural science, one had to break free of that enclosure.

So Zhu Youxiao had to sever ties with the Resonance Between Heaven and Humanity, and after stepping beyond it, find for himself a legitimate line of legitimacy for the emperor. That, naturally, was the Mandate of Heaven theory.

It was the same thing Zhu Youxiao had been promoting before—only, previously it had been all noise and argument; this time it was formally enshrined as state policy.

The reason the Zhu family could sit upon the throne was that the Zhu family had rendered merit to this realm. Heaven rewarded the old Zhu family for its contributions, and so let the old Zhu family rule as emperors. As for the merits of the ministers, they were rewarded by the old Zhu family—this was called dispensing rewards on Heaven's behalf.

After cutting ties with the Resonance Between Heaven and Humanity, Qixian Hall threw its full weight behind promoting the natural sciences. Over the past two years, these ideas had spread widely, delivering no small shock to the Great Ming—one could call it a revolution in the world of thought.

After all, the seven thousand books brought by Nicolas Trigault, together with the items Zhu Youxiao had collected, could make up for many of the Great Ming's deficiencies.

Such as the earth being round, or all manner of knowledge in mathematics, physics, and chemistry.

This reform could be said to have taken root and sprouted, and with Zhu Youxiao's encouragement and promotion, it began to shine brilliantly. Especially within the Imperial Academy, where it captivated a great many people.

After all, this learning was meant to be spread. Zhu Youxiao had previously opened a School of Principle academy, but the results had been unremarkable. No matter—luring people with profit would do the trick.

Zhu Youxiao had issued an imperial edict at the time: any student who graduated from the School of Principle academy would be directly granted jinshi status and could also be appointed to office.

Though some remained skeptical, it genuinely attracted a considerable number of people.

And Zhu Youxiao believed that as time went on, such people would only grow in number, and in turn, the pool of officials he could put to use would grow ever larger.

What technocratic officials meant, Zhu Youxiao knew very well in his heart.

Stepping into Qixian Hall, Zhu Youxiao could clearly hear the debates within, and he had no intention of joining them.

Zhu Youxiao had come to Qixian Hall only to walk around, look, and listen—he had no desire to speak with these people.

After all, every one of these people possessed their own unique ideas, and here those ideas would collide and spark all the more.

Already, people were pulling out ancient texts, carefully selecting the scholarship of various schools, and whenever they found something useful, they would take it, slap a label of Confucian doctrine on it, and go spread it abroad.

By now, these people had grown thoroughly adept at this sort of work. Confucius had utterly become a little princess, available for anyone to dress up as they pleased.

Zhu Youxiao did not mind such things in the least—he himself was the one who had set this trend in motion, and now it rather felt like a Great Ming Renaissance.

If something was useful, just take it.

Several thousand years of ancient wisdom had, in this moment, burst back to life.

Zhu Youxiao was happy to see it. With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked forward, a pleased expression on his face the whole way.

Passing through Qixian Hall, the two of them soon arrived at the library.

Stepping through the library's main gate, Zhu Youxiao found that the entire world had gone quiet.

Loud noise was strictly forbidden here—even speaking required keeping one's voice low.

The library's courtyard was large—or rather, very large. Numerous stone tables and stools were arranged about the yard, with many green plants planted throughout.

Many students sat at the stone tables flipping through books, their expressions grave and earnest.

Zhu Youxiao also spotted quite a few elderly men, likewise holding books and frowning as they read.

This was the Imperial Library. Besides the students of the Imperial Academy, many people who had come into the city also visited.

Some renowned scholars, as well as officials at court — they all held permits.

It was impossible to block everyone out. If that were the case, this would become the library of the Imperial Academy, not the Imperial Library of the Great Ming.

The reason for limiting the flow was simply that too many people wanted to come. If a place like a library got packed to bursting, the scene on site wouldn't be very pleasant.

The most important thing was to restrict the flow of people coming in and prevent them from stealing books out. One should know that those coveting the books of the Great Ming Imperial Library were no small number.

However, Zhu Youxiao had also ordered some public editions printed for sale, and some shelf space was set aside here as well. The more important a book was, the higher the borrowing level required.

Zhu Youxiao strolled along with his hands clasped behind his back. He had no intention of reading any of the books here, but instead turned and walked toward the back.

Passing through the corridor, Zhu Youxiao arrived at a small courtyard.

Upon reaching this place, his expression turned serious.

Stepping inside, Zhu Youxiao saw the guards at the entrance.

Zhu Youxiao had been to many places, but nowhere had guards as tight as this place.

A simple location, yet it seemed anything but ordinary.

But Zhu Youxiao didn't care; he still walked on inside with steady steps.

As for those guards, upon seeing Zhu Youxiao, they knelt directly to the ground and saluted him.

Clearly these people recognized the Emperor of the Great Ming, and it was also evident that Zhu Youxiao came here often.

Stepping inside, Zhu Youxiao saw the busy people coming and going within.

This was the true realm of Ming scholarship — the gathering place of Ming learning.

Why say this?

Because this was the place where books were compiled for Zhu Youxiao.

The man in charge was called Wang Zheng, an old fellow in his fifties who had married a fifteen-year-old girl as a concubine.

That concubine should be about eighteen now, right? Or in her twenties?

Zhu Youxiao had stopped paying attention. In any case, the old man still hadn't fathered a son. Clearly, his inability to produce a son wasn't his wife's problem, but his own.

After studying the natural sciences — especially the medical knowledge that had come over from the West, and particularly the knowledge Zhu Youxiao had him compile — Wang Zheng sometimes felt regret.

In Wang Zheng's own words, marrying such a young wife at such an old age was already a sin. As for his faith in Catholicism, he was no longer so devout.

The reason was also simple: Zhu Youxiao had Wang Zheng compile a history of Catholicism, laying the entire missionary history clearly before his eyes.

Bloody and chaotic — indulgences, Crusades, everything was written down.

And so Wang Zheng came to know one thing: Catholicism was no different from Buddhism or Daoism. As for the things he liked, they too were no different from religion.

In His Majesty's words, this was called natural science. Back when those people were proselytizing, they had certainly used natural science plenty to hoodwink others.

After Zhu Youxiao told Wang Zheng this, Wang Zheng completely changed his faith and was now a firm believer in the Church of Science.

Zhu Youxiao had sent Wang Zheng here to compile books — not ordinary books, but books of later generations.