Chapter 329: Wine and Meat Rot Behind the Zhu Gate, Frozen Corpses Lie on the Road

Under Ming law, foreign barbarians—yi di—are legally considered human, but occupy the same social status as the Zhu Jianji of the Ming realm.

When Wan Shihé mentioned this, Zhu Zhu Yijun suddenly recalled a small detail that confirmed the practical application of this law.

Whenever the state held grand ceremonies—such as a victorious army's return, the emperor's wedding or funeral, or the emperor's birthday—a grand banquet was held with imperial gifts of food; on the Ming official hierarchy, the fifth and fourth ranks formed a dividing line, and some men remained at the fifth rank their entire lives, never crossing this chasm.

At these grand banquets, all Beijing-based officials gathered together; those of fourth rank and above could sit while eating, while those below fourth rank could only stand to eat.

Foreign envoys, too, were permitted only to stand while eating.

Notably, foreign envoys were invited to attend these grand banquets and were allowed to eat.

Thus, foreign barbarians were indeed recognized as human under the law, and both legal and ritual codes were put into practice.

In the case of the Western City youths who had killed Hu Ji, the resolution became simple: the wealthy youths must pay sufficient fines and be exiled to the frontier to eat sand—Song Yingchang, Liaodong, Nagasaki, Liuqiu, or Lu Song—any one of these would suffice.

The remaining cases were simpler still: the brawl between the Beijing youths and the Western City youths was merely an ordinary street fight, to be handled as a public order incident; it could be resolved easily because no one had died—if someone had died, it would no longer be a simple brawl, for death is sacred.

Soon, Minister of Justice Wang Wang Chonggu offered his opinion, and with Deputy Prefect Wang Wang Yie's guidance, matters became easy to handle.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng had drafted a floating ticket; after receiving the emperor's vermilion approval, he pulled out another memorial, glanced at it briefly, and said with visible hesitation: "The Five City Military Command's Fumaduwei Li He has arrested a newlywed couple, accusing them of overstepping their rank by wearing phoenix crowns and brocade robes."

Grand Judge Lu Lu Guangzu asked, puzzled: "This is a matter of civil complaint—no complaint, no prosecution. Has someone filed a denunciation?"

Wang Wang Chonggu sighed: "Yes. The woman was betrothed since childhood, but her family's fortunes declined; she chose to remarry. The rejected groom, filled with resentment, filed a complaint. Upon hearing this, the Five City Military Command had no choice but to act."

If the groom's family had fallen into ruin, she need not have married him—why go to the Five City Military Command to report? Once it reached the scales of justice, the Command had to arrest them.

"That doesn't sound right," Wan Shihé frowned. "Wait a moment—I need to think."

After much reflection, Wan Shihé shook his head: "This isn't overstepping. Since the founding, people have worn phoenix crowns and brocade robes; when reported to Emperor Taizu, he did not punish them. Though there is no written edict, the Taizu's Sacred Instructions state: 'Every bride must wear crown and robe to signify she is a wife, not a concubine.'"

"Similarly, when a groom marries, he may wear a black gauze cap—even though only officials may wear it—because marriage is a momentous life event, and the rule is suspended."

"Your Majesty, I believe this newlywed couple has committed no overstepping."

Wan Shihé believed the couple's use of phoenix crown and brocade robe was not a violation, for Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang had declared that brides must wear crown and robe to affirm their status as lawful wives; the specific design of the crown and robe was never codified.

Hearing this, Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded: "What's the big deal? The Ministry of Justice knows—release them immediately. If the Five City Military Command has nothing better to do, go catch some spies!"

"The eunuch Cui Min of the Imperial Treasury withdrew ten taels of silver from the treasury as my wedding gift—yet the Five City Military Command still meddles on their wedding day."

Zhu Zhu Yijun made his decision: the Ming realm was already rife with overstepping—was this one case any different?

Even during Emperor Longqing, Wang Wang Chonggu had written his daughter's imperial edict in gold characters, yet no one dared to complain; only in Emperor Wanli's first year did Zhang Zhang Juzheng act against him. The charge of overstepping was a political tool meant to guard against civil and military officials who directly threatened the emperor or imperial authority—only they qualified as true offenders.

Elaborate rituals and strict rules on clothing, food, housing, and conduct were used to define the distinction between sovereign and subject.

Wang Wang Chonggu's overstepping nearly got him killed by Zhang Zhang Juzheng; a bride's overstepping was lightly dismissed by the emperor.

"Your servant obeys." Wang Wang Chonggu bowed and accepted the order.

Though rumors circulated that Empress Ma of Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang had decreed that regardless of wealth or status, every bride could wear phoenix crown and brocade robe, Wan Shihé had reread every book he owned and found no such written edict—but the Ming Ancestral Instructions did state clearly: brides wear crown and robe to affirm they are wives, not concubines.

Wang Wang Chonggu accepted the order because the crime of overstepping was not governed by the Ming Code, but by the Da Gao—extralegal punishments directly decreed and judged by the emperor.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng exhaled in relief; he had said little, but public gossip had been rampant—his Majesty's decision swiftly quelled the controversy.

"Your Majesty, it's snowing," Zhang Hong whispered during a pause in court deliberation.

Zhu Zhu Yijun looked out the window and smiled: "A timely snow foretells a bountiful year."

In the forty-third year of Emperor Jiajing, winter brought no snow; the Daoist Master even halted his immortal cultivation, left Wang Xiyuan, and went to the Altar of Soil and Grain to pray for snow—but until New Year's Day, not a single flake fell.

No heavy snow meant drought the next year, locust eggs surviving the cold, poor harvests, inevitable spring epidemics—and the Daoist Master's political position became utterly passive. On the second day of the New Year, he issued an edict declaring self-reform to appease Heaven's wrath.

In the spring of Emperor Wanli eleventh year, the capital suffered a severe drought; the usually lethargic Emperor Wanli Emperor was forced to leave the palace, walking nearly twenty li to the Southern Altar to pray for rain.

Before Emperor Wanli eleventh year, the emperor's legs had never been an issue; this rain prayer was his last journey outside the palace—his next departure would be in a coffin.

Outside, sleet turned to heavy, swirling snowflakes by the time court ended; ministers departed wrapped in the emperor's newly issued fine wool cloaks—imperial gifts were precious; this year's gift included not only cloaks but also hats, each with ear flaps.

To match these hats and ear flaps, Zhu Zhu Yijun personally issued an edict permitting foreign officials and juren and jiansheng to wear ear flaps when entering court.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's, Qi Qi Jiguang's, and Yu Yu Dayou's cloaks bore embroidered python patterns—the highest rank of imperial gift—more luxurious than the flying fish patterns worn by others.

"Minister of Justice, stay a moment," Zhang Zhang Juzheng signaled Wang Wang Chonggu to remain; he did not call him "Vice Grand Secretary"—this vice minister vanished instantly to the Ministry of Justice, and if you looked again, he'd be at the Western Hills Coal Bureau or the Yongding Wool Factory.

Wang Wang Chonggu followed Zhang Zhang Juzheng to the Zhang Wenyuan Pavilion—this was his second visit since joining the Grand Secretariat; the first had been the day he was appointed vice minister, when he merely reported in and never returned.

"Grand Secretary, what is it?" Wang Wang Chonggu drank his hot tea and cut straight to the point—he had matters to attend to; the snow had fallen, and he needed to personally visit the Western Hills Coal Bureau—an eighty-li round trip. The emperor had decreed that officials overseeing imperial enterprises could miss court if necessary, yet Wang Wang Chonggu, ever respectful, had never missed a session.

Wang Wang Chonggu feared that if he missed court, the next day he might be struck down for stepping into the palace with his left foot—and lose his head.

"When did you begin attending the Grand Secretariat?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng asked, puzzled; Wang Wang Chonggu had been in the Secretariat for a year and a half and had never once come to work. As Grand Secretary, Zhang naturally had to inquire.

Wang Wang Chonggu shook his head: "Grand Secretary, with two other ministers present, I won't come and clutter things up."

Gold-banded waist heavy, brocade-lined ear flaps cold.

Wang Wang Chonggu studied Zhang Zhang Juzheng's attire—the python-patterned imperial gift still on his back—who in the world could challenge Zhang Zhang Juzheng? Why had he joined the Secretariat? To be hung out to dry by Zhang Zhang Juzheng?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng spread his hands, equally exasperated: "Past offenses are past. Lately, censors have accused me of holding grudges, forbidding the vice minister from attending the Secretariat."

"Then let me come daily to sign in," Wang Wang Chonggu said, after considering Zhang Zhang Juzheng's dilemma. "These petty Confucians' tongues are truly relentless."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng insisted: "Come and work directly."

Wang Wang Chonggu immediately replied: "No need. No other business—I must leave. There are matters in the Western Hills I must inspect personally. Supervising imperial factories is endlessly enjoyable."

"I take my leave."

"See off Vice Minister Wang," Zhang Zhang Juzheng rose to his feet, seeing Wang Wang Chonggu out. Whether Wang agreed or not, Zhang had to say this—it was self-protection; should censors later complain, Zhang could point to this exchange.

"Vice Minister Wang enjoys the emperor's favor—why should he fear?" Lu Lu Diaoyang asked, baffled.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng watched Wang Wang Chonggu's retreating figure and shook his head: "He fears me."

Heavy snow fell; ink froze solid; ground turned to mirror ice. In this winter of hibernation, Wang Wang Chonggu's carriage departed the Ministry of Justice for the Western Hills Coal Bureau—he went personally to ensure adequate coal supply for the Ming.

In the past, whenever snow fell, speculators at the Coal Market Gate would inflate coal prices; only after the Western Hills Coal Bureau was established in Emperor Wanli second year did the situation improve. Now, with ample coal supply from the Bureau and the autumn habit of stockpiling coal, prices rose during snowfall—but never exceeded twenty wen per jin.

Official Ming coal cost six wen per jin; refined coal eight wen; even washed and sieved refined coal never exceeded twenty wen per jin.

"Firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, tea—whichever rises in price, the others follow, as if fearing the people might live comfortably," Wang Wang Chonggu clutched a hot water bottle, watching the hurried crowds outside, and sighed deeply to Wang Qian.

"Isn't that true? There are countless ways to make money—why inflate the cost of food and shelter?" Wang Qian had come to deliver the hot water bottle; the wind and snow were fierce, and his father was old.

"If you don't inflate food and shelter, how do you squeeze money from the people?" Wang Wang Chonggu shut the carriage window, studied Wang Qian with a scrutinizing gaze, and frowned: "My good son, why this sudden kindness? It's either deceit or theft—speak up. What do you want from your old man?"

"I brought you the hot water bottle—how is that deceit or theft?" Wang Qian frowned.

Wang Wang Chonggu grew impatient: "Spit it out!"

"There really is something," Wang Qian said, uneasy. "Father, come spring, I plan to go to Lu Song."

"Go… where?!" Wang Wang Chonggu waved his hand, then suddenly widened his eyes.

"Lu Song!"

Wang Wang Chonggu slapped Wang Qian squarely on the forehead. "Go to Lu Song? Are you mad? You're a northerner. In Emperor Jiajing forty-two, you went to Yangzhou to study—you couldn't even endure the summer heat, dropped out, and ran back home. Now you want to go to Lu Song?"

"Do you know people in Lu Song still sweat in short shirts?"

Wang Qian's face flushed red. "Father, I've given you two grandsons—I can't stay in Beijing forever! If I go to Lu Song—"

"No!" Wang Wang Chonggu cut him off sharply. "If you go, I'll break your legs!"

Wang Wang Chonggu was truly angry—his threat wasn't empty posturing with a dao to assert paternal authority; he meant to break his son's legs, and he meant to carry it out.

"I'll go speak to the emperor!" Wang Qian leapt to his feet.

Wang Wang Chonggu kicked Wang Qian straight out of the slow-moving carriage; cold wind blasted into the cabin. Wang Wang Chonggu pointed at him: "Go! If the emperor doesn't scold you back, I'll take your name!"

"But I already have your name!" Wang Qian muttered from the snow.

"What did you say?" Wang Wang Chonggu felt his blood boil—this rebellious son! He never showed his face, and every time he did, he enraged his father.

"Nothing! I'm going to the palace to see the emperor!" Wang Qian turned and walked toward the palace.

The driver was bewildered—what were these father and son doing? Should he go to the Western Hills or the palace?

"To the Western Hills!" Wang Wang Chonggu barked, ordering the driver to continue.

Wang Qian had indeed served the emperor; he petitioned for an audience and received imperial summons.

Zhu Zhu Yijun was filing a model in a side hall of Zhao Wenhua Palace. He studied Wang Qian and said: "You want to go to Lu Song?"

"Yes," Wang Qian replied firmly.

"Hmm. Good—but no." Zhu Zhu Yijun set down the file and model and shook his head. "You can't go. It's too harsh there—you couldn't endure it."

"But the Marquis of Marquis Sishui, the Marquis of Marquis Yingyang, and the Foreign Commanders go—why can't I?" Wang Qian grew anxious—his father didn't understand him, and now the emperor didn't either.

"Fine," Zhu Zhu Yijun said calmly, studying Wang Qian. "Fight me. Win, and I'll let you go."

The victor decides.

"I dare not!" Wang Qian bowed quickly. After a moment's thought, he added: "I couldn't defeat Your Majesty—I've heard of Your Majesty's skill with weapons."

Dare he fight? Wang Qian wasn't as foolish as Luo Luo Sigong—he truly dared not. Even if he dared, he couldn't win. He knew well the emperor's ferocity in martial arts.

"Good," Zhu Zhu Yijun pointed to himself. "At sixteen, I was barely equal to a capital garrison soldier. In life-or-death combat, I might not even defeat a seasoned soldier."

"The troops sent to Lu Song are all hardened veterans who live by the blade. You've committed no crime—I'd be unjust to exile you there."

"More accurately—you'd be going to your death."

Zhu Zhu Yijun had few virtues, but self-awareness was one. He knew his limits: though the top youth fighter, he lost heavily in weight against adult men; in life-or-death combat, he was no match for seasoned soldiers.

Wang Qian was practically powerless. Going to Lu Song would be disastrous—those days, Lu Song swarmed with gorillas and giant crocodiles; Wang Qian bared his teeth at a gorilla, and the gorilla punched him dead.

"You got beaten?" Zhu Zhu Yijun chuckled, eyeing the large footprints on Wang Qian's backside.

Wang Qian looked miserable. "My father did it."

"Hahaha!" Zhu Zhu Yijun laughed loudly. "Your father won't let you go for one simple reason—you're not strong enough."

Wang Qian finally understood why his father had hesitated—when he was young, his father had made him train in martial arts, but Wang Qian feared hardship and refused. Now, he couldn't do anything he wanted.

A son's lack of discipline is the father's fault.

Wang Wang Chonggu himself had no defense—Wang Qian's refusal to train in martial arts was partly due to Wang Wang Chonggu's indulgence.

"Strange," Zhu Zhu Yijun mused. "Wang Qing has always been cautious with his life—why does he want to go to Lu Song? What's his motive?"

If he sought merit, Wang Qian had already earned countless rewards in Beijing assisting Hai Rui in rooting out corruption—why suddenly yearn to go to Lu Song and be eaten by mosquitoes?

Wang Qian's face was grim. "I dare not deceive Your Majesty. Today, while auditing accounts at home, I discovered an annual income of 120,000 to 150,000 taels of silver—its origin unknown. I am terrified."

"An income of 120,000 taels with an unclear source?" Zhu Zhu Yijun sat up straight, asking sternly: "What exactly is going on? Do the censors know?"

"I am a censor myself!" Wang Qian nearly burst into tears. The matter of the twelve thousand hectares of pastureland beyond the frontier had not yet been settled, and now another sum of silver—Wang Qian was terrified. How could his father make so much money!

He was still a censor, yet he could not uncover the source, so he planned to flee.

"Zhao Meng!" Zhu Zhu Yijun's fingers kept tapping on the table, then suddenly stopped. This sum of silver must be traced to its origin.

Zhao Meng stepped out from the shadows, bowing low: "Your servant is here."

"Investigate thoroughly," Zhu Zhu Yijun ordered Zhao Meng to personally oversee the matter—quietly, without letting the censors find out. Otherwise, even Zhu Zhu Yijun would find it hard to protect Wang Wang Chonggu.

"Go back first. I'll tell you once I've figured it out," Zhu Zhu Yijun signaled Wang Qian to return home. As long as it wasn't a route issue, this unexplained windfall was an economic matter—there was still room to maneuver.

"Your servant takes his leave," Wang Qian departed nervously from the side hall of Zhao Wenhua Palace.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sent Feng Bao to the Zhang Wenyuan Pavilion to inform Zhang Zhang Juzheng in advance, to prevent matters from slipping out of control.

At noon the next day, Zhu Zhu Yijun received Zhao Meng's memorial: the source of Wang Wang Chonggu's large sum of silver had been uncovered.

"Rental income from houses in the capital," Zhu Zhu Yijun pulled out his abacus. He confirmed the source: Wang Wang Chonggu owned over fifteen thousand houses and sheds in the capital, and operated seventeen businesses involving property sales, rentals, and pawnshops.

Zhao Meng uncovered this so quickly because Wang Wang Chonggu paid taxes regularly at six percent of the assessed value of his commercial properties; checking the tax receipts at the Inspection Office made everything clear.

Wang Qian didn't know because Wang Wang Chonggu never told him how much property the family owned—after all, Wang Wang Chonggu himself was still the head of the family.

"Every autumn, the idle houses and sheds are requisitioned by the Beijing Prefecture as official lodging for migrants entering the capital, to prevent them from freezing to death. Idle people breed unrest. To keep them from loitering aimlessly, the Beijing Prefecture assigns them to repair these houses and sheds. Thus, Wang Ci's properties require minimal maintenance," Zhao Meng explained in detail why the income appeared during the autumn-winter transition.

Zhu Zhu Yijun flipped through the ledgers, marveling: Wang Wang Chonggu was indeed a shrewd manager.

"Wang Qian really is like a man who fears wells after being bitten by a snake," Zhu Zhu Yijun closed the ledger. Wang Wang Chonggu was conducting legitimate business and had eased a pressing problem for the Beijing Prefecture: every late autumn, migrants flooded into the capital seeking shelter, and providing them lodging had been policy since the early Emperor Hongwu era.

Song Jin Lian saw migrants frozen on the streets of Nanjing, and told Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang: "The wine and meat rot behind vermilion gates; on the road lie frozen corpses."

This was a verse by Du Fu. "Vermilion gates" originally referred to the red-painted doors of extravagant households—red paint was expensive, and only aristocratic families could afford it.

But Song Jin Lian's words were a taunt at Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang: the Zhu family lived in revelry while commoners shivered and froze outside their gates.

Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang had no choice but to issue an edict to build the Eastern and Western Meal Temples, porridge sheds, and official lodging for beggars entering the capital.

Later, when Zhu Di moved the capital, these institutions—the Meal Temples, porridge sheds, official lodging, relief homes, and Huiminyaoju —were all replicated.

Time passed. By the sixth year of Emperor Wanli, the Great Ming was over two hundred years old. The official lodging designated in earlier times had been seized by others; even the Yanxing Pavilion, built to host foreign envoys, had changed hands multiple times. The scale of official lodging had shrunk drastically, forcing the government to requisition private housing. Wang Wang Chonggu turned his idle houses and sheds over to the Beijing Prefecture, which assigned migrants to repair them—the Beijing Prefecture truly owed Wang Wang Chonggu a bow.

Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Di were indeed tyrants—something even they could not deny—but they also had benevolent sides.

"Send Li Li Yougong to the Wang household. Tell Wang Qian exactly what this business is—don't let him keep imagining things," Zhu Zhu Yijun ordered Li Li Yougong to go personally and clarify matters, so the boy wouldn't keep worrying needlessly.

When Li Li Yougong arrived, Wang Wang Chonggu had just returned home. He had come back to the capital that morning for the court assembly, served his shift at the Ministry of Justice, changed clothes at noon, and was heading to the Yongding Wool Factory in the afternoon—this hectic routine was merely Wang Wang Chonggu's daily life.

"So that's how it is," Wang Qian's heart, which had been lodged in his throat, finally dropped back into his chest. He had to admit: the ability to make money had nothing to do with him—he only knew how to spend it.

"Is Li Dang, the imperial companion, skilled in martial arts?" Wang Qian asked eagerly.

Li Li Yougong raised an eyebrow and nodded: "Hm? You want to test it?"

"Wait a moment, Grand Eunuch—I need to prepare," Wang Qian truly wanted to test his strength. He still resented it—how could the emperor say his strength wasn't sufficient?

If strength is lacking, make up for it with equipment!

Li Li Yougong suddenly moved. Before Wang Qian could react, Li Li Yougong seized his arm and threw him over his shoulder with little effort, catching his waist with his other hand to prevent injury.

Wang Qian was terrified!

In the winter, just after the snow had stopped, he broke into a cold sweat—Li Li Yougong's speed was terrifying, and his strength immense.

"Censor Wang?" Li Li Yougong helped him up, smiling: "The Emperor is far more formidable than I am. I couldn't last five moves against him."

Li Li Yougong hadn't even used his full strength—he could barely survive five moves against the Emperor.

"Your servant greets Vice Minister Wang," Li Li Yougong bowed upon seeing Wang Wang Chonggu, now changed into fresh robes.

Wang Wang Chonggu quickly returned the bow: "Your servant greets Grand Eunuch."

Li Li Yougong said nothing more. After delivering the Emperor's verbal order, he returned to the palace, leaving Wang Qian dazed and shell-shocked.

"Where's your soul?" Wang Wang Chonggu waved his hand before Wang Qian's eyes, puzzled.

Wang Qian stared blankly: "Father, when you beat me daily… did you ever use real strength?"

Wang Wang Chonggu replied matter-of-factly: "If I used real strength, you'd be dead. Li Dang isn't my match—but the Emperor could defeat me easily. I'm old."

"Then try hitting me with real force?" Wang Qian still spoke dully.

"Good! Good!" Wang Wang Chonggu's eyes lit up, rolling up his sleeves.

"Father! Father! I'm your son, your only blood son! I was just joking! Put me down! Father!" Wang Qian realized the gravity too late—he was lifted up, then tossed into a snowdrift, shouting as he vanished beneath the snow.

Wang Wang Chonggu now understood why Li Li Yougong had come. Furious, he shouted: "I'm your father! I have some silver and don't tell you its source, and you go straight to the Emperor! Why don't you tie me up and throw me into the Imperial Prison!"

"I thought it was a bribe from the Third Princess," Wang Qian said. His reckless impulse had cooled completely—he explained why he had been so terrified.

"That's Mianqiangsuangeliyou," Wang Wang Chonggu finally understood what his son feared. As Vice Minister and someone who dealt closely with the Third Princess beyond the frontier, Wang Qian's suspicions were understandable.

Wang Wang Chonggu looked at Wang Qian crawling out of the snowdrift and said solemnly: "The captured outpost commander is returning to the capital. Someone will surely stir up trouble. You're good at spending money—spend it. Don't let the Emperor see any of those nasty accusations. Make him happy for a few days."

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(End of Chapter)