Chapter 9: Isn't Being a Fatuous Ruler Great?

In the Ming dynasty, the power of discourse was never held in the emperor's own hands.

Just look at Zhu Youxiao's own father, the Taichang Emperor—reigning for thirty-eight days, he accomplished three things:

Abolishing mining taxes—immediately after taking the throne, he ordered the dismissal of mining supervisors and tax commissioners nationwide, halting all forms of mining and levying activities.

Funding border defense—after ascending the throne, in the name of the late emperor's edict, he released one million taels from the privy purse to reward border troops, transferred two million taels of silver from the imperial treasury to be given to Liaodong Military Commissioner Xiong Tingbi and the governors and inspectors of the Nine Border Garrisons, letting them reward the soldiers, and allocated five thousand taels of silver for transport expenses along the way.

The third thing—filling official vacancies.

First he ordered the Right Vice Minister of Rites and the Vice Minister of Personnel in Nanjing to be made Minister of Rites and Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat; then he promoted four men including He Zongyan to Minister of Rites and Grand Secretary; he recalled the retired former Grand Secretary Ye Xianggao, and agreed to re-employ all thirty-three men who had been punished for submitting memorials on establishing the heir apparent, and the eleven who had been punished over mining taxes.

He recalled officials who had been dismissed during the Wanli reign for submitting memorials on state affairs, men like Yuan Keli, Zou Yuanbiao, Wang Dewan—officials of the Donglin Faction.

These three things turned an emperor who reigned for thirty-eight days into a sage ruler, and thirty-eight days became the "Taichang Restoration"—just how shameless were the people desperately singing his praises?

Look at these three things. The first, abolishing mining taxes—those people must have jumped for joy; taking two million taels from the inner treasury, which may never have reached the soldiers, with the officials handling it along the way getting rich instead—landing that windfall naturally made them even happier; the last one, promotions and re-employment of everyone who'd been dismissed—they were flying with delight. With an emperor like that, wouldn't you sing his praises?

But Zhu Youxiao knew this was something he couldn't pull off. No way around it—the title of sage ruler was out of reach, so he might as well just be a fatuous ruler.

Isn't being a fatuous ruler great?

Recalling history, the entire Ming dynasty had countless instances of eunuchs wielding power: Wang Zhi, Liu Jin, Wei Zhongxian, and so on. But no matter how arrogant and domineering they were, no matter how they persecuted their opponents, toward their master—the emperor—they were utterly loyal.

Of course, political struggle was brutal by nature. That had nothing to do with being eunuchs. Were non-eunuchs any less ruthless? Did they hold back from killing?

Overemphasizing the identity of eunuchs was nothing more than saying eunuchs were castrated men, so they didn't deserve—instead of attacking policy, they went straight for personal attacks. In Zhu Youxiao's view, doing this was not only utterly classless, but also extremely low-grade tactics. And in Zhu Youxiao's view, the things the Donglin Faction did weren't any more noble either.

He let out a soft breath, suppressing the chaotic thoughts in his mind, and couldn't help but sigh. At this moment, although the Great Ming's rivers and mountains had not yet suffered Wei Zhongxian's devastation, they were already riddled with holes.

"I hope Liaodong can hold steady!" Zhu Youxiao's gaze finally settled on Liaodong. If Liaodong couldn't hold, that would be a huge problem. "I hope Xiong Tingbi makes it in time."

If things followed history, with Liaodong continuing down the old path—first losing Liaoyang, then losing Shenyang, and finally losing Guangning—then the Later Jin would find it hard not to grow strong. To the east they could attack Joseon for logistics; to the west they could attack the Mongols and subdue the various Mongol tribes, while stretching the front line—a front line that long, from east to west, how could it be defended?

The Great Ming, let alone attacking, would find it difficult just to hold such an endless border. So Liaodong could not be lost.

If Shenyang and Liaoyang were still held, Nurhaci would absolutely not dare advance west or east, because once he marched west or east, his retreat would be cut off. So Nurhaci could only tangle with the Ming army in Liaodong. Even historically, after Shenyang and Liaoyang were both lost, Dongjiang Regional Commander Mao Wenlong still kept his eyes fixed hungrily on Liaoyang and Shenyang.

Mao Wenlong had many faults. Though his occupation of Dongjiang was enough of a position to pin down the Later Jin, his own strategic ability was limited, the military funds he wasted each year were uncountable, and he only cared about recruiting merchants, selling contraband, nominally aiding Joseon while actually venturing recklessly beyond the border—when there was no fighting, his business was selling ginseng and cloth; when there was war, he rarely proved of any use.

Zhu Youxiao, however, understood this point well, because Mao Wenlong had it hard. In that place, Pidao, production was limited—without doing some business, where would the money come from to support an army?

As for Mao Wenlong fraudulently claiming military funds—a force of tens of thousands claiming pay for two hundred thousand—was that Mao Wenlong's problem? Even if pay for two hundred thousand men was issued, if what reached Mao Wenlong's hands was enough for even tens of thousands, that was already good—sometimes not even enough for tens of thousands remained. The silver was allocated by the Ministry of Revenue, and before it even left the capital, thirty percent was gone. That was "sinking loss."

Along the way, layer after layer was skimmed off—by the time it reached Liaodong, how much could remain? The blame was dumped on Mao Wenlong. Who actually took the money? Well, it was all Mao Wenlong who embezzled it.

There's a joke from later generations: a bank gets robbed, the robber takes three million, but when reporting the loss, it's three hundred million—all the robber's doing. The robber cries without tears. Mao Wenlong was the same. Never mind Mao Wenlong—what about Qi Jiguang? Zhang Juzheng supported Qi Jiguang, but embezzlement still couldn't be stopped. Qi Jiguang's tens of thousands of men also drew pay on a two-hundred-thousand-man establishment.

This kind of thing was all too normal in the late Ming. An army of several hundred thousand suffers a crushing defeat—did it actually have that many men? And that's not even counting padded rolls and missing numbers.

Zhu Youxiao sighed softly. If Liaoyang and Shenyang weren't lost, then he could catch his breath. Of course, Pidao still needed to be dealt with. Then the army could sail up the Yalu River and directly harass the Later Jin's heartland and rear, making them unable to commit fully to attacking Shenyang and Liaoyang. It was just that the man leading that force would need to be chosen carefully.

If Liaodong couldn't hold steady, then he would have to think of other ways. But Zhu Youxiao would absolutely never waver between war and defense, and he leaned more toward defense—hold for eight or ten years, and by then he could accomplish quite a few things.

He reached out, picked up the book on the table, and flipped through it for a while. Zhu Youxiao found he still couldn't focus—his mind was entirely on Liaodong.

What Zhu Youxiao was pondering now was how he could do something. Placing all his hopes on Xiong Tingbi—but what if it was too late? Could he do something himself?

But he was in the capital now, and no matter how he racked his brains, he couldn't think of a good solution.

Sending troops over definitely wouldn't work. In this era, mobilizing troops wasn't a simple matter—it required money and grain, required arrangements, and distant water couldn't quench a nearby fire.

Send some money over? That didn't seem right either. Transporting it took time—by the time the silver arrived, the daylily buds would be cold.

How about sending a few capable men over? But where would he find people on short notice? The situation in Liaodong was very complicated—sending a newcomer there wasn't necessarily a good thing.

No matter how he racked his brains, Zhu Youxiao couldn't think of a suitable candidate. In the end, he could only sigh in defeat—even being a fatuous ruler carried a sense of powerlessness.