Chapter 42: Walking on Thin Ice

The autumn wind was bleak; after a clap of thunder in the evening, the sky began to shed cold rain the size of beans.

In an instant, beneath the red walls and green tiles of Beijing, layers of withered yellow leaves piled up.

The air was filled with a chill and the scent of decay, making one feel weary.

Just past the Hour of the Rooster (5–7 PM), the sky was pitch black, and a four-man sedan chair slowly pulled up before the residence of Zhang Jing.

A servant hurriedly stepped forward with a smile and pulled back the curtain; Zhang Siwei bent his waist and stepped out from inside.

By this time, the rain had already stopped.

There was still some standing water on the ground, which, reflected by the waning moon, cast a gleaming light.

He lifted the front of his robes and strode directly into the residence.

After entering the main hall, he and Zhang Jing met in the study, exchanged greetings, and sat down; two maidservants lit the Eight-Corner Exquisite Palace Lantern and then withdrew.

In an instant, the small study was illuminated as if it were broad daylight.

Because the two were old acquaintances, after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Zhang Jing cut to the chase: "Grand Secretary Zhang, ever since I was schemed against by that filthy wretch Feng Bao, I have been walking on thin ice."

"The Emperor has shut down over twenty mines; now, when I am before the Emperor, I am so terrified I dare not even clench my buttocks, fearing that if I pass gas, a grain of rice might pop out."

Zhang Siwei waved his hand, comforting him: "Zhangin, you speak too gravely. You are currently favored by the Emperor, and the Emperor still relies on you to help him replenish the Inner Treasury. Among the Seal-Holding Eunuchs of the Twenty-Four Yamen, how many can compare to even half of you?"

"But don't I still have Feng Bao and Empress Dowager Li above me?" Zhang Jing muttered with a bitter face, then looked at Zhang Siwei and said, "Now, the Emperor is relying on that brat Zhang Yunxiu to open up new sources of revenue."

"I have come precisely for this matter." Zhang Siwei nodded in agreement.

As someone who came from a merchant background, he naturally understood the exorbitant profits and the terrifying nature of that "treasure gambling."

The capital required was small, but the payouts were multiplied tremendously; one copper coin might seem small, but when many are gathered, the sum is quite considerable.

No matter what the wager was, the house always stood to gain half.

Low risk, high return—such a business is rare in this world.

"Does Grand Secretary Zhang have a way to deal with this?" Zhang Jing asked.

"Just send a few people to ruin it for him." Zhang Siwei smiled, as if he had already seen through this little trick of Zhang Yunxiu's. "If the common people knew the secret behind it, they naturally wouldn't fall into the trap."

What kind of idea is that? Zhang Jing frowned and replied: "Grand Secretary Zhang, you don't know how greedy these commoners are; I don't think your method will work."

"Then let him make wedding clothes for someone else!" Zhang Siwei gave a sinister smile.

"What do you mean?"

"Such a great method for making money should be managed by the Ministry of Revenue to replenish the Taicang Silver, reorganize border defenses, and build water conservancy projects."

"Brilliant!" Zhang Jing clapped his hands, stood up from his chair, and paced the room twice before turning to look at Zhang Siwei and saying, "A father and son fighting each other—it fits the situation perfectly."

Ginger really is spicier when it's old.

Zhang Siwei smiled and stroked his graying beard, then brought up another matter: "Yesterday, Zhang Juzheng came to the Grand Secretariat to discuss affairs, saying he wanted to reform the household registration and allow Artisans to pay money to redeem themselves and leave the Artisan Registry."

"Why does he care about these people?" Zhang Jing asked, puzzled.

"I don't know about that," Zhang Siwei smiled, and two rays of sharp light suddenly appeared in his eyes, "but do you know how much silver can be squeezed from each Artisan Household?"

"I don't know." Zhang Jing shook his head.

"One hundred taels." Zhang Siwei held up a finger.

"That much!"

Zhang Jing was so shocked his eyelids twitched.

There must be sixty or seventy thousand Artisan Households in the whole country; at one hundred taels per family, that is several million taels of silver.

This one hundred taels of silver would surely suck the marrow from the bones of those Artisans and drain them dry of blood.

Zhang Siwei waved his hand, signaling him to sit down, and continued: "That one hundred taels isn't to be paid all at once, but over a maximum of thirty years, with one percent interest per year." Hearing this, a thief-like light flashed in Zhang Jing's eyes, and he said: "Grand Secretary Zhang, you mean for me to whisper in the Emperor's ear and butt heads with that old stubborn donkey."

With such a large cake, the Emperor would certainly be tempted.

Even if he could only pry off a piece, he, Zhang Jing, would have performed a great service. Besides, this Artisan Registry was a rule set by Hongwu Dadi; how could it be changed just like that? Just as Zhang Jing was thinking this, Zhang Siwei had already stood up; Zhang Jing came back to his senses and raised his gaze to meet his.

"Zhangin, both of us are walking on thin ice, so we should be clinging to each other." Zhang Siwei straightened his robes and said with a light laugh.

Zhang Jing smiled, cupped his hands, and replied: "If I didn't have you, Grand Secretary Zhang, I really couldn't make it work."

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries, and Zhang Siwei called out to the outside.

A servant hurried in, looking flustered, carrying a purple sand pot in his hand.

Zhang Siwei took it and handed it to Zhang Jing: "They say Zhangin is obsessed with the tea ceremony. I looked around, and since your house lacks nothing, it only lacks a top-quality Purple Sand Pot like this."

"This must have cost quite a bit of silver." Zhang Jing took the sand pot in surprise, lowered his head to examine it, and looked up to ask.

"Just a small gift between friends." Zhang Siwei waved his hand.

"They say Grand Secretary Zhang's family is the wealthiest in Shanxi, so I won't stand on ceremony with you; I'll accept this sand pot." Zhang Jing gave a bright smile and added, "Don't worry, no matter what happens, I will definitely stand on your side."

Zhang Siwei smiled in response, and the two sat back in their chairs, drank a cup of tea using the Purple Sand Pot, and only then did they disperse.

Leaving Zhang Jing's residence, it was already the Hour of the Dog (7–9 PM), and the entire city of Beijing was submerged in the night. He had no time to admire the night view and only urged the head of the sedan chair bearers to walk faster.

Inside the sedan chair, Zhang Siwei closed his eyes to rest.

He had a vague feeling that the Emperor's attitude toward Zhang Juzheng had changed somewhat. In the past, it was a mix of fear and respect; now, there was a little less fear and a little more respect.

At this rate, he feared it wouldn't be long before Zhang Juzheng could once again become the "Mr. Zhang" in the Emperor's mouth, just as in the early years of Wanli.

After all, the two had a teacher-student relationship of over ten years; it was not something that could be changed overnight.

Moreover, Zhang Juzheng's handling of affairs had become much smoother recently.

Especially regarding matters of imperial power, he tried his best to avoid clashing head-on with the Emperor; take, for example, Gongfei giving birth to a prince last month.

The Emperor wanted to allocate another two hundred thousand taels of Taicang Silver to reward the Concubines and the eunuchs.

In the past, Zhang Juzheng would certainly have rejected it directly.

Because when rewarding eunuchs, the Emperor always used money from the Treasure Note Treasury; although there was plenty of Taicang Silver, it could only be used for the state.

This time, Zhang Juzheng entered the palace himself, and after some conversation, he managed to force the money down from two hundred thousand to one hundred thousand.

Although the Emperor didn't achieve his goal, he did get the money in the end.

"Stop!" A violent shout rang out, and Zhang Siwei in the sedan chair trembled, nearly falling off the seat cushion.

Outside the sedan, seven or eight patrolling soldiers surrounded them, and the head of the sedan-bearers shielded the front of the sedan, shouting, "What do you bunch of animals want to do? Do you know who is sitting inside?"

The leading soldier was a young man of twenty-five or twenty-six, an age naturally full of hot-blooded vigor. Provoked by this shout, he was instantly incensed and snatched up his scabbard to strike.

The scabbard fell with a thud, and the head of the bearers let out a "Wah!" as fresh blood filled his forehead.

As the saying goes, a prime minister's servant is a seventh-rank official.

Zhang Siwei held the position of Cabinet Secondary Minister; when had his head bearer ever suffered such humiliation in the past?

He covered his forehead with one hand and pointed a trembling finger at the group with the other, saying indignantly, "How bold, how bold! Who are you to dare collide with the current Secondary Assistant?"

"If he's the Secondary Assistant, then I'm your father!" The leading youth took a step forward and raised his foot to kick the head bearer, "Brothers, beat these things that rely on their master's power to death."

As soon as the words fell, the seven or eight men swarmed forward, punching and kicking the several sedan-bearers.

Half a quarter of an hour later.

The seven or eight soldiers strode away, leaving behind only a ground full of wailing and screams.

(End of this chapter)