Chapter 315: Your Majesty, I Did Not Take Even a Single Coin More!

Ming society's ideological consciousness had become severely detached from its material existence—that is why corrupt Confucians littered the Ming court, just as Emperor Hui of Jin asked, "Why not eat meat porridge?" Emperor Hui was born foolish, but Ming's corrupt Confucians chose not to hear, not to see, not to speak, pretending ignorance.

Zhu Zhu Yijun and Zhang Zhang Juzheng, as the empire's decision-makers, persistently pushed the theory of contradiction and practice precisely to reduce this detachment, ensuring Ming's ideological consciousness could still guide its material existence.

The Mandate of Heaven and legal legitimacy encompassed an immense range of elements.

Material existence was the material foundation of Ming society.

Ideological consciousness was the superstructure of Ming society.

Material existence included natural endowments, population structure, modes of production, and the degree of material abundance; ideological consciousness, by contrast, comprised spiritual understandings of the world—politics, law, philosophy, art, religion, and more.

Ming's material existence was primarily created by impoverished producers and laborers generating wealth, while Ming's ideological consciousness was primarily consumed by the privileged class, who defined standards of consciousness entirely detached from the producers.

Beginning in the first year of Emperor Wanli, the imperial government purged official horse permits for post stations, and countless mountain dwellers living along official roads were abruptly stripped of their official horse permits by the Ming emperor.

These mountain dwellers held an extremely one-sided view of Ming: Wang Li Shizhen's Ming was utterly different from the Ming struggling to survive.

In Wang Li Shizhen's eyes, it was the crimson larch trees blanketing the western hills of the capital, the roast duck outside the front gate, the morning bells and evening drums, the harmony of rising with the sun and resting with its setting, the throngs of pilgrims at Dalongxing Temple, the chants of Zen, the refined music, the silken strings echoing in the ears. When Wang Li Shizhen left the capital, he might have looked down on its people—those who spent lavishly yet haggled over every copper coin.

Wang Li Shizhen's next stop was Taicang in Suzhou. Beneath the morning's cold mist, he arrived at Wang Wang Xijue's luxurious Nan Garden. Before he even entered, a maid eagerly rushed forward, removed his shoes, and used her sleeve to wipe them clean, placing them aside.

In the Mandarins' Pavilion of Nan Garden, Wang Li Shizhen, back from the capital, leaned against the balustrade, sipping freshly brewed Longjing tea. This tea was a Ming dynasty tribute tea; its presence in Nan Garden clearly signaled the general's overreach. He stood there, gazing at pavilions and terraces rising along winding corridors, at the gentle ripples on the water stirred by Jiangnan's breeze—soft and graceful.

The young girl who brewed tea for Wang Li Shizhen placed a two-liang silver-thread sugar before him. The sugar threads were snow-white, slender, like dragon whiskers; her fingers, pale and translucent, were delicate and elegant.

When he awoke in the morning, the maids had already left. The dragon-and-phoenix dance of yesterday had become history. The maids had prepared an exquisite breakfast: the staple was Snow Plum Pile, golden crispy pastry dotted with red and green melon threads and the year's most expensive sugar—stacked like snow-covered plum blossoms. One bite, and it crumbled into flakes.

After breakfast, Wang Li Shizhen met Wang Wang Xijue, then toured the Wang family's private academy. Walking among black-tiled, white-walled classrooms, he heard nothing but the ringing recitation of texts. At noon, Wang Wang Xijue introduced him to the Prefect and the Superintendent of Education. Scholars of distinction conversed merrily; they drank lightly and enjoyed themselves.

The next morning, amid the maids' reluctant gazes, Wang Li Shizhen departed Wang Wang Xijue's Nan Garden in Taicang, Suzhou. Normally, the sentimental Wang Li Shizhen would have taken one of these maids along to serve him—but his mood was poor, so he left without her.

Wang Li Shizhen envied Wang Wang Xijue's lavish estate, then remarked that the people of Suzhou loved reading.

Would Wang Li Shizhen, seeing Ming's dynasty nearing its end, believe Ming was about to fall?

On the day Emperor Chongzhen Emperor presided over the execution of the first Chongwang, Gao Gao Yingxiang, at Wumen in the ninth year of Emperor Chongzhen, amid the court's thunderous congratulations, could he possibly have imagined that eight years later, he would end his own life on Coal Hill—and with it, the Ming dynasty?

Ming's ideological consciousness, especially among the privileged class who determined its future fate, was utterly blind to the imminent collapse of the dynasty.

The contradiction between material existence and ideological consciousness was precisely why Zhu Zhu Yijun and Zhang Zhang Juzheng repeatedly promoted the theory of contradiction and sought to transform customs—to change the state of separation between consciousness and existence.

It was difficult. But it had to be done.

In a letter to Geng Prince Dingxiang, Zhang Zhang Juzheng once wrote: "Beyond ten li from the capital, bandits gather in groups of dozens or hundreds; corruption shows no sign of abating; the people's resentment grows deeper daily! If a wicked man exploits even a moment of vulnerability, the consequences will be unbearable."

Only a bold, upright, and extraordinary man, smashing through convention and sweeping away corruption, could heal the nation's afflictions.

Beyond ten li from the Son of Heaven's carriage, bandits roamed; corruption festered in court; the people's resentment had accumulated deeply. If a wicked man stirred unrest, the empire would surely perish.

As the culture of extravagance and luxury competition infiltrated the bureaucracy, officials unwilling to endure poverty descended further, manifesting in increasing collusion among officials, Confucians, and merchants; behind-the-scenes exchanges of money, power, and sex blurred the boundaries between scholar and merchant, creating a vile spectacle like flies swarming around a stench, with corruption so rampant that governance itself was bought and sold.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng was also a gentleman, yet the Ming he saw was utterly different from Wang Li Shizhen's.

Zhu Zhu Yijun would never, under any circumstances, let Zhang Zhang Juzheng go—not even in thought.

On the seventh day of the seventh month of the sixth year of Emperor Wanli, the Ming emperor issued the Emperor Wanli Calendar, to be officially implemented in the seventh year. This calendar provoked little controversy, for public opinion was not deeply invested—it was too technical, leaving Ming Confucian scholars utterly unable to oppose it.

The precession of the equinoxes determined the precision of the year; the calculation of solar and lunar eclipses determined the precision of the seasonal divisions.

To Zhu Zhu Yilu, Zhu Zhu Yijun's daily routine was extremely dull—even boring. Daily court deliberations left Zhu Zhu Yilu so drowsy he nearly yawned, yet dared not. The strange glances from ministers were unbearable.

The memorials brought to the Zhao Wenhua Hall deliberations were all conflicts of interest, requiring painstaking unraveling of their relationships—already an immense challenge—then identifying the key issues amid the complexity and proposing solutions, which was even harder.

Zhu Zhu Yilu had no interest whatsoever in his brother's livestock-like life. Yes, in Zhu Zhu Yilu's eyes, his own imperial brother was livestock—the Ming dynasty's livestock.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had no idea what Zhu Zhu Yilu thought—if he had, he would have long since dragged the Prince of Lu to the Martial Academy and whipped him soundly.

Each man has his own aspirations; they simply pursue different things.

"The alliance treaty signed by Altan Khan and Tumeng Khan at Song Yingchang has arrived in the capital; livestock, horses, and all goods have been fully transferred," Grand Minister of Works Wang Wang Guoguang reported. Back at Song Yingchang, Qi Qi Jiguang had forced the steppe's left and right wings to pay war reparations.

War reparations were accepted only upon delivery; any losses from illness or death along the way were not counted. Transportation losses could be converted to silver, recorded as debt, and deducted during wool payments—this was Ming's benevolence.

The Western envoy Li Li Yashi commented: "The Chinese always possess a baseline of kindness, hoping to live quietly under the same sky. Yet China is repeatedly betrayed by this kindness, yet never learns its cost, and always maintains it—because this kindness brings greater benefits, benefits more precious than gold."

Li Li Yashi called this a "high-morality disadvantage," and its endurance for so many years was likely because the benefits of morality were even more precious.

Wang Wang Chonggu smiled broadly and said: "San San Niangzi has submitted a memorial, hoping to continue her annual tribute next year."

"For now, agree to San San Niangzi," Zhu Zhu Yijun considered and decided.

San San Niangzi's arrival in the capital would further divide Altan Khan. War meant exhausting every means to force the enemy to submit to one's will; division was clearly an excellent tactic. Even the militaristic Wu Di of Han did not seek to exterminate the Xiongnu in his northern campaigns—the fact that Jin Midi, son of the Xiongnu's Chuwang, became one of Wu Di's final regents proved it.

Division was an excellent tactic.

Seeking to exterminate an enemy was not war.

"The Grand Minister of Justice is extraordinary—his move in Jining was astonishing. He actually possesses a pasture of fifteen hundred hectares—truly unexpected," Hence Hai Rui said to Wang Wang Chonggu with ill intent.

Hence Hai Rui launched an attack on Wang Wang Chonggu. Wang Wang Chonggu raised an eyebrow, ready to counter.

Wu Wu Baipeng, Viceroy of Xuan-Da, had uncovered something interesting: Wang Wang Chonggu not only owned vast estates in Shanxi but also held massive holdings beyond the frontier. This fifteen-thousand-mu pasture was Wu Wu Baipeng's ironclad evidence against Wang Wang Chonggu.

Hence Hai Rui looked at Wang Wang Chonggu with certainty: "Grand Minister of Justice, think carefully before you speak. Altan Khan has already confirmed your landholdings beyond the steppe."

"When did you buy this land?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked curiously.

Wang Wang Chonggu's total landholdings in Ming, at most, were ten thousand mu. For a second-rank official enjoying first-rank privileges, this was within bounds. Zhu Zhu Yijun had previously wondered: how could a powerful magnate like Wang Wang Chonggu not engage in land consolidation?

Clearly, a powerful magnate who avoided consolidation did not exist. Wang Wang Chonggu did consolidate land—but beyond the steppe!

Wang Wang Chonggu looked at the emperor, paused briefly, then stated firmly: "Your Majesty, permit me to report: beyond the frontier, I hold not merely fifteen hundred hectares, but precisely twelve thousand hectares—all acquired through consolidation before the first year of Emperor Wanli. The land deeds are in my residence; allow me to send my servants to retrieve them."

This life is unbearable!

The Censorate was preparing to impeach Wang Wang Chonggu. His own son, Wang Qian, as Hence Hai Rui's confidant, must have known—yet failed to warn him. Hence Hai Rui's sudden attack caught Wang Wang Chonggu off guard. Fortunately, these offenses were committed before Emperor Wanli's first year—there was still room for negotiation.

Hence Hai Rui's eyes widened in shock: "Twelve thousand hectares?!"

Hence Hai Rui had only impeached Wang Wang Chonggu for owning private land on the steppe. Wang Wang Chonggu, however, chose to self-expose, revealing the full extent of his pasture holdings.

Fifteen hundred hectares? Who are you mocking? As one of Ming's top magnates, how could Wang Wang Chonggu own only fifteen hundred hectares?!

Twelve thousand hectares!

Wang Wang Chonggu spoke so decisively because he had precisely gauged the young emperor's temperament. To tell the truth, he still had a chance. To lie would mean certain death.

Better to expose it himself than wait for the emperor to discover it—better to seek leniency proactively.

"You must not speak lightly," Zhang Zhang Juzheng confirmed again: "Twelve thousand hectares of land? This is no jest." He could only say: Wang Wang Chonggu, truly, was a magnate of extraordinary wealth.

Wang Wang Chonggu, seeing the emperor's stunned expression, whispered: "It is twelve thousand hectares."

"Wait a moment—let me catch my breath. So, some of the wool from the Mao Official Factory is your Wang family's wool?" Minister of Works Guo Guo Chaobin immediately grasped the point: Wang Wang Chonggu wasn't just profiting from the emperor's share—he was profiting from the raw material itself.

"Good heavens," Lu Lu Diaoyang sighed again. The Wang family was truly wealthy.

"Before wool production, the steppe's output was less than one-third—equivalent to forty thousand mu of central plains land. The Wang family's wealth rivals Xu Xu Jie's!" Wang Wang Guoguang's eyes gleamed green—this gleam was called greed.

The construction of the Songjiang naval force and the Nan Ya 's shipyards had forced Xu Xu Jie back to his ancestral home, compelling him to return seized lands to fund their establishment.

Feeding off the wealthy did indeed fill the belly. Even today, part of the Songjiang navy's pay still came from these forty thousand mu.

"Even less," Wang Wang Chonggu waved his hand: "Before wool production, output barely reached two-tenths—even in good years. Prices were low. Steppe land differs entirely from central plains land—it was all seized."

Before wool, due to terrain, weather, and transport, output rarely exceeded two-tenths—even in good years. Only after wool production did these pastures become genuinely profitable, turning into prized assets.

"You shouldn't be called Grand Minister of Justice—you should be called Taji or Otog," Zhu Zhu Yijun said sincerely.

Otog meant tribal chieftain on the steppe; Taji meant prince. Wang Wang Chonggu was a Ming noble, yet wielded such influence beyond the frontier—no wonder he had trembled in fear until, on the emperor's orders, he exterminated the Kong family, finally finding peace.

"I deserve death!" Wang Wang Chonggu flung his sleeve, knelt, and bowed his head in apology.

"Something's off," Zhu Zhu Yijun said slowly, staring at Wang Wang Chonggu: "Something's off."

"Why do I feel this was deliberately arranged? Why now? Wu Wu Baipeng has served as Viceroy of Xuan-Da for three years—why only now did he uncover this fifteen-hundred-hectare pasture?"

"Grand Minister of Justice, you've thought this through."

The timing was wrong. Too convenient.

At the emperor's words, all ministers turned sharply toward Wang Wang Chonggu. The emperor hadn't noticed before—but now that he spoke, the matter seemed utterly suspicious. Why now? Why not earlier?

Wang Wang Chonggu looked up at the emperor, then bowed his head again: "I am terrified."

Wang Wang Chonggu was terrified—but did not deny. In truth, he had deliberately exposed this himself; he simply didn't know when the censors would strike. Whether his son Wang Qian had warned him was not the core issue—it was the crimes he committed years ago.

Secretly colluding with barbarians was punishable by dismemberment at the Jieku Yuan!

"Brilliant move!" Zhu Zhu Yijun tapped the table. Wang Wang Chonggu had chosen the perfect moment to reveal this.

In the current context, Altan Khan and Tumeng Khan had submitted; Qi Qi Jiguang's army had just returned victorious; Ming would not launch a campaign now. Peace with the northern barbarians aligned with the moment. As a key figure in this peace, Wang Wang Chonggu was hard to punish. Meanwhile, he had just overseen the execution of the Kong family—fully demonstrating his loyalty to the emperor.

Every minister in the Zhao Wenhua Hall was a master of intrigue.

"Since the Grand Minister of Justice has brought this up himself, how should it be handled? You decide," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, puzzled by Wang Wang Chonggu's motive.

Wang Wang Chonggu bowed again and declared loudly: "I shall offer it to the palace as an imperial estate."

"You're bribing me, Grand Minister of Justice?" Zhu Zhu Yijun blinked in surprise. He never expected Wang Wang Chonggu's solution was bribery.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had assumed Wang Wang Chonggu was offering to surrender the land to the state. Now he saw: Wang Wang Chonggu wanted to give it only to the emperor.

"I can't hold onto it," Wang Wang Chonggu offered a curious justification: "Tumeng Khan has been driven east of the Great Xianbei Mountains. These pastures are limited. I've held them, fearing I'd lose them. But if they're the emperor's imperial estate, then Altan Khan and Tumeng Khan will dare not touch them."

Zhu Zhu Yijun stroked his chin, pondered, then said: "No—I suspect you revealed this because the conflict between Ming and the northern barbarians is about to reach the critical Hetao region. So, resolving this threat is better done sooner than later?"

"Your Majesty is wise," Wang Wang Chonggu bowed again. At this moment, whatever the emperor said was law. Wang Wang Chonggu was no Wang Li Shizhen—he dared not defy the emperor.

All reasons applied. Wang Wang Chonggu had to resolve these seized pastures—sooner rather than later. If someone else exposed them, he would truly deserve death.

Zhu Zhu Yijun turned to Zhang Zhang Juzheng. Zhang Zhang Juzheng stared at his nose, saying nothing. Clearly, he had anticipated this. When Zhang Zhang Juzheng first attacked Wang Wang Chonggu, his charges were: nurturing enemies to strengthen himself, relaxing defenses to appease foes, fawning on barbarians, deceiving the court, seizing titles and rewards, and when exposed, relying on wealth to remain unshaken—unfit for use.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's assessment of Wang Wang Chonggu was precise. Even now, his attitude remained unchanged: Wang Wang Chonggu was a corrupt minister. Whether the emperor used him was the emperor's affair—he would not recommend him.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's stance was intriguing: he remained detached. If the emperor chose to retain Wang Wang Chonggu, the emperor would pardon him. If the emperor chose to remove him, Zhang Zhang Juzheng would handle the execution.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng feared Wang Wang Chonggu's overreach most when he himself was away, fearing the young emperor would be manipulated.

Now that he had returned, Wang Wang Chonggu was no threat.

"Rise," Zhu Zhu Yijun said without hesitation: "I keep my word. Since I previously accepted a strand of your hair, I won't punish you twice. These twelve thousand hectares of pasture shall become imperial estate. Feng Da, handle this matter."

"I obey," Feng Bao bowed. These twelve thousand hectares now belonged to the imperial estate—the palace no longer needed to beg the outer court for funds.

"Your servant kneels to thank Your Majesty's boundless grace," Wang Wang Chonggu bowed again. He had prepared for dismissal—yet received no reprimand.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Zhu Yijun's first question was: when had Wang Wang Chonggu consolidated these pastures? Wang Wang Chonggu said before the first year of Emperor Wanli. In the first year of Emperor Wanli, the Jin Party had grown so powerful that Wang Wang Chonggu commanded the capital garrison—even his dog ate imperial rations.

Without talent, one can never become a corrupt minister; Wang Wang Chonggu is highly capable, and such a double-edged sword, if mishandled, will wound oneself.

Zhu Zhu Yijun did indeed pardon this matter, saying one offense shall not be punished twice; he attached these pastures to the old charges, but as judge, Zhu Zhu Yijun could still treat this matter separately.

Wang Wang Chonggu is useful; he may continue to be employed.

Wang Wang Chonggu and Wang Qian clearly understood their own position: their families' survival to this day depended entirely on the Emperor's grace.

"Your Majesty, I serve at the wool factory; I swear, I never dared take even a single copper coin that did not belong to me!" Wang Wang Chonggu rose and bowed low.

He denied the accusations made by Minister of Works Guo Guo Chaobin; the wool from his family's pastures was indeed supplied to the official factory, but at prices even lower than those of the Third Princess's wool—supplied at zero profit.

He truly did not earn a single coin he should not have earned.

"I believe you," Zhu Zhu Yijun waved his hand. He trusted Wang Wang Chonggu's words; had he not dared to confess voluntarily, but instead chosen to risk everything, he would surely have cleaned his tracks—otherwise, he would never have brought this matter to the Zhao Wenhua Hall.

Wang Wang Chonggu gained a clearer understanding of the Emperor's approach to appointing officials: as long as one is useful, one will not be discarded!

"I believe it advisable for now to reconcile with Altan Khan," Qi Qi Jiguang said hesitantly. "Your Majesty, the Ming army is still not strong enough."

"Not strong enough?" Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at Qi Qi Jiguang in astonishment. Was the Ming army not strong? Altan Khan and Tumene Khan had both experienced the Ming army's combat power firsthand—how could they not know whether it was strong or not? The enemy's evaluation and fear were the highest praise a general could receive!

The Ming army is now strong—supreme under heaven.

"Not strong enough," Qi Qi Jiguang said firmly. "Your Majesty, since the Emperor Wanli era, every campaign beyond the Great Wall has occurred in winter, because we still have grave deficiencies in mobility!"

"If we attack in spring, summer, or autumn, we cannot guarantee our long supply lines will not be targeted by the enemy. The enemy's cavalry raids would place enormous pressure on our logistics. Only in winter, when snow blocks the roads, can our troops push their flank wagons to the front and secure victory, then establish garrison-farming outposts to hold against enemy offensives during spring, summer, and autumn."

"We need powerful cavalry—mobility—to ensure our Ming army can conduct adequate reconnaissance and protect our logistics from enemy harassment."

"I understand what Commander Qi says," Zhu Zhu Yijun acknowledged. The Ming army is now strong, invincible under heaven—but it can still grow stronger.

During the Yongle era, Ming armies launched northern expeditions year-round, in all weather, with overwhelming force. Back then, the grasslands were not as cold as today, and the northern barbarians were even more formidable—yet they were still driven into panic, fleeing and refusing to engage.

Year-round warfare is crucial: it means the Ming army can strike at any time, disrupting the steppe peoples' production and livelihood—a vital supplement to military control. The Ming army's current limitation to winter campaigns allows the steppe people to maintain their lives through spring, summer, and autumn, then flee far away when winter arrives, returning to breed and thrive once the Ming troops retreat to their bases.

The significance of Wu Di of Han's massive cavalry buildup lay precisely here: under conditions where full military control is unattainable, the notion of reducing enemy resistance to zero and forcing total submission is a false proposition.

In the early Yongle period, the Ming's horse administration had not yet deteriorated; at that time, the total number of military and relay horses exceeded seven hundred thousand. Even excluding frontier troops, the capital garrison's cavalry, at most, numbered only ten thousand.

"The matter Commander Qi raises has kept me awake at night, but restoring the Yongle horse administration is not advisable," Tan Lun, representing the Ministry of War, stated firmly. Restoring the Ming's horse administration was not only inadvisable—it was unrealistic.

Ma Ma Ziqiang of the Ministry of Rites, after much thought, also spoke: "I concur with the Grand Marshal's view."

Ma Ma Ziqiang agreed with Tan Lun's argument, and both men articulated their respective reasons.

Tan Lun believed the vast number of horses in the Yongle era stemmed from the fact that the Ming heartland still contained large pastures, a condition tied to the backdrop of war. Amid chaos, farmland lay fallow and could be used for grazing. But as the state stabilized, pastures became cultivated fields; even when grazing resumed, people raised cattle, not horses—because cattle were tools of production, while horses were tools of war. Restoring the Yongle horse administration would force the people to their deaths. The realm is already strained by land consolidation, teetering on the brink of explosion—this move would be like pouring oil on fire. Thus, Tan Lun opposed it.

Ma Ma Ziqiang held the same conclusion, but for different reasons. He cited England: to compete with Spain in the wool trade, England enacted enclosure policies that created countless displaced peasants—a scene described by Xu Pan and Gao Gao Qiyi in their Records of Western Observations. England's enclosure movement was tacitly permitted by its nobility, and the suffering fell squarely on the common people.

After synthesizing the views of Tan Lun, Ma Ma Ziqiang, and others, Zhang Zhang Juzheng spoke: "The Danning and Quanning Garrisons can be used for both grazing and farming—they are suitable for raising horses. The Ming's horse farm should be established near Rehe."

How large would this military horse farm be?

One point five million hectares—from Song Yingchang to Huining Garrison, Danning Garrison, and onward to Rehe—this region totals one point five million hectares, over half a million of which are pastures. Wang Wang Chonggu's twelve thousand hectares of pasture are negligible compared to state power.

Such vast pastures could support over a million horses, from which ten thousand could be selected as military mounts, equipping twenty to thirty thousand cavalrymen.

The Rehe Million-Horse Farm.

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(End of Chapter)