Chapter 300: Memorial on the Shared Ailments of the Vain Confucians

As emperor, Zhu Zhu Yijun could not turn a blind eye to the suffering of the Great Ming's people, so he acted—he fed Kong Xianxian's adopted son, the murderer, to the dogs.

The Kong family of Qufu had neither benevolence nor filial piety; this was the Kong family—they could not even preserve Confucius's kaimu statue, losing it repeatedly and even forging copies, which deepened Zhu Zhu Yijun's contempt for the Qufu Kong household.

Zhu Zhu Yijun handed the case entirely to Wang Wang Chonggu; the crimes of the Qufu Kong family were so grave that execution was inevitable—even Zhang Zhang Juzheng could not intervene, and even the base Confucians would not agree to leniency, for the tide had turned.

The Qufu Kong household collapsed utterly, and immediately the debate over the new Duke Duke Yansheng began in court, yet the Great Ming emperor remained silent; memorials entered the Grand Secretariat, then the Directorate of Ceremonial, then reached His Majesty's hands, and returned to the ministers with only three words: "Understood."

The Qizhou Kong family had already arrived in the capital, yet His Majesty delayed granting the title, leaving the base Confucians frantic as ants on a hot pan; perhaps struggle is this way: if you retreat one step, your opponent advances three. The base Confucians retreated one step, and His Majesty seemed inclined to take another.

During Li Li Dongyang's tenure, Emperor Wu Xun even considered stripping the Duke Duke Yansheng title from the Northern Kong line, sending envoys to Qizhou to appoint Kong Duke Yansheng of the Southern lineage as Doctor of the Five Classics, permitting his eldest male heir to inherit the title—thus the Southern Kong line's direct descendants still existed.

Emperor Wu Xun failed to act because Li Li Dongyang had left court; Yang Yang Tinghe served as chief grand secretary, and Wu Xun not only did not abolish the Duke Duke Yansheng title but even rebuilt the Qufu Kong family's residence.

Yang Yang Tinghe's reasoning was simple: it involved the precedent of Kong Zhu yielding the title.

In the late Southern Song, Kong Zhu, the Duke Duke Yansheng appointed by the Southern Song court, refused to accept the Yuan court's investiture, while the Northern line accepted the barbarian Yuan's investiture; since then, the Qufu Kong family seized the title of Duke Duke Yansheng and became the perpetual submitter of surrender memorials.

Yang Yang Tinghe said: since Kong Zhu yielded the title, how could one demand it back? More matters in the locality bring more disturbances; granting one more favor brings one more benefit.

Kong Kong Wenyin, the Five Classics Doctor of the Hanlin Academy, was the patriarch of the Qizhou Kong family.

The Great Ming emperor's prolonged refusal to receive them left court ministers deeply anxious; such a major matter, with the emperor's attitude—was he planning to renege? Would his cherished credibility collapse?

On the twenty-third day of the fifth month, Emperor Zhu Zhu Yijun again visited the Yicheng Marquis's villa in the Western Hills; he arrived with the Empress to escape the summer heat. The May weather had grown scorching; Zhu Zhu Yijun lounged lazily on a reclining chair while Zhang Hong fanned him with a large fan.

The emperor was fishing, but his mind was entirely elsewhere; whether the fish bit or not, he never pulled the rod. He enjoyed fishing, though without feathers or slingshot, yet his arrows never missed—he was pondering the disposition of the Duke Duke Yansheng.

The mighty Great Ming emperor had no need for water monkeys to bait his hook.

"Master, have the Confucian scholars been troubling you these days?" Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled at Zhang Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's face was clouded with worry; these base Confucians sent him constant visitation notes, and he was weary beyond endurance—perhaps this was Zhu Zhu Yijun's cruel amusement.

"What are you hesitating over?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng was genuinely curious; he knew his disciple too well—Zhu Zhu Yijun was decisive. Why, then, had he persistently refused to receive the new Duke Duke Yansheng?

"Will the Qizhou Kong family become the next Qufu Kong family?" Zhu Zhu Yijun voiced his concern—that was why he had delayed granting the title.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng nodded: "Yes, it will."

The Qizhou Kong family would inevitably become the Qufu Kong family; once the Southern line received the title, it would become the head of the Kong ancestral temple, the true bloodline of the Duke Duke Yansheng, its status rising immeasurably—then, whether it behaved well or not would no longer be up to the Qizhou Kong family.

Zhu Zhu Yijun thought a moment and said: "I intend to build the Duke Duke Yansheng's residence in the capital, sparing the countryside from its corruption."

"The capital is where all scholars gather; the Duke Duke Yansheng's residence, the sacred ancestral temple, belongs most appropriately here. Your Majesty's wisdom is profound." Zhang Zhang Juzheng considered carefully and endorsed the idea: sending it to Qizhou would leave local officials bound and helpless before the Kong family; better to keep it in the capital, where the court's authority reigns supreme—no evil the Qizhou Kongs could commit in the capital would surpass that of the Qufu Kongs.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng even provided a ready justification: every three years, when Great Ming scholars gathered in the capital, paying homage would be immensely convenient.

Benefits inevitably carry drawbacks: relocating the Great Ming's cultural center to the capital, alongside the political center, would embolden the base Confucians, creating grave trouble for imperial authority—especially in public opinion, where they would cluster beneath the Kong family's banner.

There is sacrifice and gain; it is up to Your Majesty to choose. For now, Your Majesty can still control them. If future descendants prove unworthy and cannot restrain them, nor execute them, then restore the Qizhou Kong family's title.

Zhu Zhu Yijun leaned back on the reclining chair, gazing at the fishing rod, his expression calm, his tone flat: "During the Emperor Jiajing era, in Changyi County, Laizhou Prefecture, Shandong, there was a watchtower marquis named Zhao Qi. In Emperor Jiajing forty-two, while spying on the northern barbarians, he perished. Only in Emperor Longqing five was his credential found—he returned too late, trapped by snow in the mountains. The snow beyond the frontier was white wind, obscuring all directions—he likely starved to death, his corpse devoured by wild beasts."

"When found, only fragments of bone and tattered clothing remained."

"Zhao Qi had a daughter, Huaniang. Huaniang lost her father at five. Now, during Ling's investigation in Shandong, Huaniang became a prostitute. According to Ling's findings, Zhao Qi never returned; his household was stripped to extinction. The pretext? Zhao Qi defected to the northern barbarians, becoming a Han slave. Those who stripped his household included not only the Zhang clan of Laizhou but also Huaniang's uncles and cousins."

"Huaniang had two elder brothers. One argued with others, insisting his father would never betray them—he fought and was killed. The other quarreled over water; villagers refused his family irrigation—he went to argue, and never returned."

"Huaniang's mother, helpless, sold her daughter, then drowned herself."

"Ling searched long and found Huaniang—she was now a prostitute, diseased, near death."

Zhu Zhu Yijun calmly recounted the case files he had seen, speaking at length of countless such cases—some ordered by the Qufu Kong family, others committed by their henchmen. Chen Zhu's case was not unique; Zhao Qi's case was not unique. Countless such tragedies replayed endlessly across Shandong, repeating in endless cycles.

"I wish I could feed the entire Kong family and their henchmen to the dogs!" Zhu Zhu Yijun could no longer speak; he clenched his molars, his face twisted in fury.

Zhu Zhu Yijun was truly furious. Feeding Kong Kong Yinsong to the dogs wasn't enough, yet the arguments put forth by Lu Lu Guangzu, Hai Rui, Li Li Youzi, and others from the Weng Dali Temple against executing him by dog were valid—this was already the absolute limit the current world would tolerate.

How to reduce the damage the base Confucians inflicted upon the Great Ming was a problem Zhu Zhu Yijun must solve.

"Master, how should I distinguish the base Confucians?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked Zhang Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng shook his sleeve, pulled out a memorial, glanced at it, put it back, then took it out again, hesitating slightly: "Your Majesty, I have a memorial I beg you to read."

"What makes you hesitate so?" Zhu Zhu Yijun took the memorial, glanced once, then widened his eyes, reading intently. No wonder Zhang Zhang Juzheng hesitated—this memorial addressed the common vices of base Confucians; its title was "Memorial on the Shared Ailments of the Vain Confucians."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng naturally proceeded with caution, for this memorial could easily harm the virtuous. He had not wished to submit it—but after much deliberation, he brought it forth. His Majesty had assumed personal rule; this memorial was merely a suggestion, and the decision rested with His Majesty.

"Memorial on the Shared Ailments of the Vain Confucians" examined eight aspects, thirty-two traits, for Your Majesty's reference.

The first aspect: in daily conduct, they differ from ordinary men—others sleep, they sing; others sing, they sleep. They love to moan without cause, dwell in unpredictable dread, perpetually anxious, burdened with worry, like the man of Qi who feared the sky would fall.

The second aspect: in action, they always gaze at the next mountain, convinced they are underappreciated. Great tasks they cannot accomplish; small tasks they refuse. They act carelessly, negligently, retreat before difficulty, postpone today's work to tomorrow, and tomorrow to tomorrow—how many tomorrows are there?

The third aspect: in study, they disrespect their teachers, read superficially, grasp fragments and believe they understand fully, yet their learning is hollow, and they are self-satisfied.

…

Zhu Zhu Yijun finished reading the memorial and was certain—he had asked the right man. Zhang Zhang Juzheng understood the base Confucians deeply, better even than the base Confucians understood themselves. This was Zhang Zhang Juzheng's guide for selecting capable officials—not a rigid checklist for His Majesty to follow blindly.

In one aspect, possessing such traits is merely a flaw—not all men are perfect. But if one possesses all eight aspects, all thirty-two traits, then one is unquestionably a base Confucian—utterly unfit for appointment.

"Master, your talent is extraordinary." Zhu Zhu Yijun tucked the memorial into his sleeve. When faced with uncertain appointments in the future, he would take it out and compare—whether a man was fit for office would be instantly clear.

Base Confucians cannot accomplish anything. Keeping them in the capital is nauseating; assigning them to the provinces is to spread poison endlessly.

Zhu Zhu Yijun and Zhang Zhang Juzheng spoke at length; the moon rose above the willow branches, the sweltering heat finally cooled. Since they were in the hills, Zhu Zhu Yijun pulled a quilt over himself, gazing at the bright moon, then suddenly asked: "Master, do you think the Great Ming will perish?"

Zhang Zhang Juzheng answered without hesitation: "It will."

"Master, bold indeed! How dare you curse the Great Ming to ruin!" Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled broadly.

Feng Bao and Zhang Hong exchanged glances, both utterly shocked—one dared ask, the other dared answer!

What kind of topic were these sovereign and minister discussing?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng sighed deeply: "Zi Xia, Shang, and Western Zhou; Eastern Zhou split into two. Spring and Autumn, Warring States—unified under Qin and Han. Three Kingdoms: Wei, Shu, Wu; Western and Eastern Jin extended. Southern and Northern Dynasties stood side by side; Sui, Tang, Five Dynasties passed. Song, Yuan, Ming succeeded—how could any dynasty's mandate endure forever?"

"Indeed, during the Emperor Jiajing era, Emperor Shizong once asked the Blue Immortal: 'Do any truly live forever?' The Blue Immortal said no. Emperor Shizong grew furious, ready to punish him—but ultimately issued no decree. Shizong knew: no one lives forever, no one shares eternity with heaven and earth."

"There are no immortals. There are no dynasties destined to last ten thousand generations."

"Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand ten thousand years!"—merely a beautiful wish.

"The Great Wall still stands, but Qin Shi Huang is long gone."

"Then why does a dynasty perish?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked another question.

"To speak plainly: the realm is strangled by consolidation. Your Majesty, this realm is the Great Ming's realm—but is it not also the realm of every past dynasty?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng did not mind the emperor's reprimand; this was no longer the Zhao Wenhua Hall audience. Since His Majesty asked, he would speak truthfully—not flatter, for that was the way of sycophants.

Nothing is too dangerous to discuss. Their goal was the Great Ming's revival—aligned in purpose. Only through debate could policy be properly adjusted, ensuring the dynasty's longevity.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng stated firmly: "Consolidation—that is the seizure of means of production."

"Your Majesty, whether aristocratic clans, landlords, or scholar-gentry—we collectively call them the meat-eaters. Their self-replication and proliferation ensure wealth continuously flows toward them. These meat-eaters will reinvest profits into areas promising further gain, accumulating ever more wealth."

"Like Wang Wang Chonggu, holding Jin merchants' capital, he profited immensely in woolen textile trade, then withdrew and invested in the Southern Court."

"But the common people's wealth dwindles; land, currency, even labor grows cheap. When meat-eaters find no profitable investment, they bury silver in pigsties. The silver buried in pigsties means even less wealth for the people—until the realm collapses into chaos."

"The remedy for consolidation is land survey, land redistribution—in essence, equitable distribution."

During his mourning period, Zhang Zhang Juzheng had not idled; he observed, observed long and deeply, gradually discerning patterns. Now that His Majesty raised the matter, Zhang Zhang Juzheng laid out his findings plainly.

It resembled an economic crisis: cyclical human calamity, cyclical upheaval, cyclical suffering for the people.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng continued: "Each dynasty offered its own solution. Qin Shi Huang and Han Han Wudi expanded outward—land was the greatest means of production, extracting more wealth. But soon, newly conquered lands merged with the interior, requiring further military expansion. Yet dynasties in their middle and late stages often fell into a trap of military incapacity, leading to internal rebellion."

"The trap of military incapacity" was a broad concept. Zhang Zhang Juzheng did not elaborate further—fear of defeat, fear of its consequences, dread of military power threatening the throne, the emperor's laziness, the prevailing bias favoring civil over military, moral injunctions against unnecessary slaughter—countless factors undermined military effectiveness.

For example, defeat: the five-pronged campaign against Zi Xia, Emperor Yingzong's personal campaign—all yielded disastrous outcomes.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's expression grew grave as he continued: "By Emperor Renzong's reign, reform became the dominant pursuit. The loss of violent control was most evident in the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms—thus reform became mainstream, and both Northern and Southern Song undertook multiple experiments."

"For example, state monopolies: in late Northern Song, a jin of coal sold for two hundred wen; in early Southern Song, the dung contractors of Lin'an were all men of Emperor Gaozong."

"For example, lending: the Green Sprout Law of the Song dynasties eventually became a tool of extortion. When the realm's wealth totaled one dan, the meat-eaters seized one dan and two dou; the realm owed two dou."

"Both Song dynasties tried. It failed."

Zhu Zhu Yijun fell silent for a long while. He fully endorsed Zhang Zhang Juzheng's view. This Grand Tutor was truly worthy of his name, always offering Zhu Zhu Yijun profound insights. The emperor asked: "Master, what should be done?"

"The realm—the realm of the people." Zhang Zhang Juzheng laughed at his own words, shaking his head: "Like the Confucian ideal of the Great Zhixing Zhixing Heyi—'the realm of the people'? Merely an ideal state."

"The realm of the people"—if the realm were a business, and every person held one share, non-transferable, each bearing responsibility and duty to ensure the business thrived—easy to say, but how to achieve it?

Fundamentally, who sets the rules of the business? By what right? To implement these rules, he must use his own people—how to ensure the system does not favor the "insiders"?

In Zhang Zhang Juzheng's view, cultivating a wise sovereign was more practical.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng was profoundly pragmatic. He did not pursue the unattainable. "The realm of the people" was too difficult to realize.

Zhu Zhu Yijun leaned back, nodding: "I understand. To resolve dynastic succession and ensure the mandate endures ten thousand generations, the realm must become the realm of the people. But since this is unattainable, dynastic succession is inevitable."

The rise and fall of the realm concerns all. To ensure the dynasty lasts ten thousand generations, the realm must become the realm of the people—but since this is unattainable, the next best is to cultivate a wise sovereign to ease social tensions.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng was a Confucian scholar, embodying the Confucian ideal of the gentleman—consistent, unwavering.

Since the problem cannot be fundamentally solved, it must be alleviated—preventing contradictions from escalating to irreconcilable levels requires the court to fulfill its basic duty of mediating social conflict.

For years, Zhu Zhu Yijun has been doing exactly this.

"Your Majesty, Chen Zhu has arrived." Feng Bao, seeing the emperor and Grand Tutor finally conclude this perilous discussion, wiped sweat from his brow. These two masters—next time they discuss such matters, lower your voices! Feng Bao and Zhang Hong could pretend not to hear!

Time passed; Feng Bao and Zhang Hong, often by the emperor's side, had absorbed enough to understand his discussions with the Grand Tutor.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng was treasonous—how could a Great Ming minister say the Great Ming would surely perish, and with such compelling reasons?

Yet the treason began with the emperor—who was truly treasonous? It was impossible to say.

"Your servant bows before Your Majesty. May Your Majesty's health be well." Chen Zhu's current rank was Maritime Patrol Inspector—the Great Ming's "White Stripe of the Waves," restored to office, preparing for deployment.

"Minister Ling has saved your life. You are a man of loyalty. I now send you to Nagasaki to prepare the ground—Minister Ling will sail overseas. I place great trust in you. The Great Ming needs Japanese silver. Your efforts, Da Zhuang, are deeply appreciated." Zhu Zhu Yijun assigned Chen Zhu three tasks: first, the debt of life—Chen Zhu's vengeance was exacted by Ling Ling Yunyi himself; second, state interest—Japanese silver was a vital path to relieve the Great Ming's coin shortage; third, the emperor's personal request.

"Your servant will not fail Your Majesty's command." Chen Zhu kowtowed again, solemnly.

The hardy man of Shandong kept his word—once pledged, he would risk his life to fulfill it.

"This is Master Zhang Zhang Juzheng, Marquis of Yicheng. I trust you've heard of him. Take a badge from the Quanchu Guildhall before you go. I dwell deep in the palace; my protection may sometimes fall short—but you may seek out You Qi at the Quanchu Guildhall." Zhu Zhu Yijun gestured for You Qi to hand Chen Zhu a badge—henceforth, Chen Zhu would be a retainer of Zhang Zhang Juzheng's household.

As emperor, Zhu Zhu Yijun's protection carried the full weight of the Great Ming state—but it was broad, abstract. If Chen Zhu faced minor troubles, could he disturb the Son of Heaven? But as a retainer of the Quanchu Guildhall, matters became far simpler.

"Thank Your Majesty's boundless grace!" Chen Zhu accepted the badge, kowtowed again, then turned and departed.

Zhu Zhu Yijun watched Chen Zhu's retreating figure for a long, long time, then sighed deeply: "The Han dynasty's realm has always produced loyal ministers."

Chen Zhu's mission to Nagasaki was to infiltrate the Nagasaki Governor's Office and prepare the ground—Ling Ling Yunyi would surely sail overseas, for he had killed many; his reputation was poor, and he would face relentless attacks in court. But in Japan, killing was not a flaw. Zhu Zhu Yijun had to consider Ling Ling Yunyi's historical judgment, his future—Japan was perfect.

"By now, Wang Li Shizhen should be dead, Master. Don't blame me—I gave him a chance, but he refused to repent." Zhu Zhu Yijun spoke again of Wang Li Shizhen to Zhang Zhang Juzheng, who had personal ties with Wang; Wang had even sent Zhang a painting by Emperor Emperor Huizong of Song, "Bamboo and Birds," in hopes of being reinstated.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng shook his head helplessly. "Stubborn to the end—his fate is his own doing."

At this moment, Wang Li Shizhen, imprisoned in the Celestial Prison, was nearing the end of his life. Wang Qian, son of Wang Wang Chonggu and a Censor of the Great Ming, arrived as the representative of the Censorate to see him off.

Next to Wang Li Shizhen's cell was a convict from the Kong family, weeping incessantly, a nuisance to all.

"I brought you a meal worth two taels of silver. My father said you once knew him; he couldn't come himself, so I came instead." Wang Qian sat down in the cell without hesitation, looking at Wang Li Shizhen. "You're about to die—don't you have anything to say?"

The Emperor had forbidden the Embroidered Uniform Guards from stopping Wang Li Shizhen from suicide, yet Wang Li Shizhen no longer wished to kill himself—he was already socially dead, and now he was about to die physically.

"I've confessed everything. The gentry and local worthies behind this case have already been stripped of their wealth by Luo Luo Bingliang. There's nothing left to confess." Wang Li Shizhen glanced around the cell and sighed heavily. "I never thought I'd die in a prison cell."

"Eat, then go." Wang Qian, realizing he'd get nothing more, stopped asking.

"When a man is about to die, his words are kind. My fate today may well be yours tomorrow." Wang Li Shizhen glared at Wang Qian with deep resentment—Wang Qian was the very type of cruel official everyone despised, and worse, one who paid for his own cruelty!

Seeing Wang Qian unmoved, Wang Li Shizhen grew more frantic. "Serving the Emperor is like serving a tiger—this truth, Inspector Wang, you understand better than I do!"

"You say that?" Wang Qian brushed dust off his trousers and smiled. "The Emperor is right: Wang Li Shizhen, you refuse to repent, and even at death's door, you still sow discord."

"Zhang Zhang Siwei first arranged for Wang Wang Jinglong to assassinate the Emperor, then set fire to the palace—this is high treason punishable by extermination of nine clans. The Emperor caught him red-handed. My father is Zhang Zhang Siwei's uncle; he should have died with him. I sit here before you only because His Majesty has shown mercy."

"My father, myself, my wife, my two sons—we live one more day, we gain one more day. Do you think I'm as clueless as you about cause and effect?"

Wang Li Shizhen never believed he was wrong, never repented. He misunderstood cause and effect entirely—he never grasped where he had erred, nor why the Emperor had tormented him so. The root cause was this: Wang Li Shizhen, as a member of the ruling elite, as a ruler of men, as the literary patriarch, had involved himself in heretical affairs—setting a dangerous precedent.

Yet Wang Li Shizhen's words made his true belief clear: he thought his death was due to the Emperor's cruel temperament.

"Still refuse to read 'On Contradictions' or 'On Public and Private'? Always thinking yourself clever. Will you eat or not? If not, I'll take it away—those two taels of silver weren't cheap!" Wang Qian snapped, irritated.

The Wang family's eldest son was also a miser.

"Fine, I'll eat!" Wang Li Shizhen still didn't understand—but he refused to die a hungry ghost.

As he ate, Wang Li Shizhen began to weep. Through his tears, he finished the two-tael meal. Wang Qian stood, signaling the Embroidered Uniform Guards to proceed.

Wang Li Shizhen struggled as the guards hung him from a three-foot white silk rope. The candlelight cast his writhing shadow against the wall. Soon, the shadow ceased to move.

The Zhixing Zhixing Heyi case had been cracked only after Wang Qian paid a staggering sum—so large it pained even the Emperor to reimburse—bribing people close to the Witch Wang. Thus, the conclusion of the Witch Wang case naturally fell to Wang Qian.

Wang Qian feared no purge. The Emperor was a man of his word; even after paying out seventy thousand taels, he remained a wise and enlightened sovereign. A cruel official who carried out the Emperor's orders well would not die a disgraceful death.

Wang Qian shook his sleeve, pulled out a worn, curled copy of "On Contradictions," caressed it, then tucked it away. After confirming Wang Li Shizhen was truly dead, he left the Celestial Prison.

One must read more.

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(End of Chapter)