Chapter 369

My duties are truly neglected. Volume 380: The Evil of the Gentleman—Minor Evils Become Major Evils. Wang Wang Jiaoping's methods were nothing new, but after Yin Yin Zhengmao and Ling Ling Yunyi had repeatedly cultivated the Two Guangs, administrative power had been greatly strengthened, making his will especially decisive in the region—so these privileged households could not help but speculate, which sent chills down their spines, for it meant doing anything had no progress bar.

What surprised Zhu Zhu Yijun most were Wan Wengqing and Wu Wu Weizhong—he had assumed their fondness for brothels was merely a disguise, a performance of wild abandon meant to lull others into complacency while they quietly rose, eventually commanding universal attention; Wang Wang Jiaoping had agreed to Wan Wengqing's father's request precisely because of this reasoning.

But now it seemed these two fellows were truly consistent in word and deed—they genuinely loved visiting brothels…

This left Zhu Zhu Yijun both amused and exasperated; only as dusk approached did he conclude his day's journey to Xishan.

Wang Yao stared blankly out the window. Xishan was the Ming imperial mausoleum; due to feng shui, trees still surrounded it, but beyond Xishan, everything was barren—green hills were no longer green, clear waters no longer clear. Born of humble origins, Wang Yao knew why: the seven necessities of life—firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, tea—firewood came first. The capital housed a million souls, and these trees had long since been cut down.

In the fields, peasants toiled hard; autumn was harvest season, so the country paths were bustling.

A frail child, barely two or three years old, barefoot, sat strapped to a cart—bound with hemp ropes to prevent wandering while his parents worked. In his hand he clutched a small sweet potato, gnawed into unrecognizable shreds.

Eating too many sweet potatoes causes bloating and acid reflux—but isn't eating too many also a luxury?

Wang Yao unconsciously rubbed her belly, her expression troubled. If the child inside were a boy, he would be the Ming Crown Prince—could he truly, like his father, hold up the heavens for the people of Ming? In that moment, Wang Yao understood why Empress Dowager Li had been so harsh with the Emperor, yet so indulgent toward Prince Lu.

Wang Yao had endured countless hardships, even greater than those of the child on the cart; she had seen what true human catastrophe meant. In her darkest days, the child on the cart was merely a ration.

"What are you thinking?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, smiling as he watched her lost in thought.

"Nothing much. First time being a mother—I'm just a little unsettled." Wang Yao leaned back into Zhu Zhu Yijun's arms. Her husband adored her; she knew it, and that was why she cherished every moment with him.

"Yesterday, my tutor told me a story." Zhu Zhu Yijun had also seen the child; he sighed heavily, recounting the human tragedy Zhang Zhang Juzheng had witnessed firsthand.

Zhu Zhu Yijun embraced Wang Yao, feeling her warmth, and said: "My tutor once loved speaking of the gentleman's goodness—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, faithfulness—the Five Constants of Confucianism, the great rites of human relations. As his duty, he had to teach me what the gentleman's goodness meant. But after returning to court, he began speaking of the gentleman's evil."

"In the winter of Emperor Jiajing 39, the season was bitterly cold, yet no snow fell. The tragedy began."

That winter, the entire North China Plain saw no snow. The Taoist Emperor emerged from his secluded Wang Xiyuan to pray for snow at the Altar of Heaven—but no auspicious snow descended. That year, the people were terrified, for everyone knew a winter without snow meant a dreadful famine year ahead.

In the spring of Emperor Jiajing 40, northern drought struck, followed by plague. After barely surviving the drought came locusts—swarms blotting out the sun. At this point, raising a few ducks would not suffice; locust control was the paramount task of pacifying the land and nurturing the people. After the locusts passed, not a blade of grass remained. Famine followed, ravaging the capital region; over 1.7 million were affected.

In March, the Emperor Jiajing Emperor issued an edict to relieve and calm the people. But the edict, instead of soothing, became the spark for court factional strife.

At that time, the Yan faction and the Pure Stream had reached the brink of open conflict; the party purges were complete, and the court fought with extreme ferocity. After the imperial edict was issued, it was immediately exploited by those with ulterior motives. Normally, an emperor's edict could only reach the prefecture and county levels, with at most a yellow proclamation posted at the county courthouse—rural commoners could never possibly see it; this was a key manifestation of weakened administrative power.

But this imperial edict, against the backdrop of weakening administrative power, was spread by rural folk—ten telling a hundred, a hundred telling a thousand—and soon, starving refugees began marching toward the capital. At this time, the refugees still clung to the fantasy that a sage monarch, a father-king, would not abandon them; refugees began gathering in the capital.

At the time, corruption ran rampant in court; relief silver was Cengcengbopan, leaving little behind. Even without corruption, a treasury severely depleted could hardly afford to relieve such an endless tide of refugees. Soon, relief grain began to dwindle slowly.

Refugees began rioting. To restrain them, they were surrounded entirely, to prevent civil unrest. When grain ran out, people naturally became food to each other. Soon, rebellion erupted. Though the capital garrison had encircled them, the unrest should not have grown so large—but the capital garrison was filled with ghost soldiers, utterly incapable of containing over sixty thousand refugees.

The rebellion erupted, was swiftly suppressed, and then the refugees scattered in all directions.

This incident was recorded in only one brief line: "Great drought, locusts darkened the sun, people starved, heard the imperial edict of relief, rushed to the capital, chaos ensued, quelled."

Zhu Zhu Yijun said slowly: "In this affair, the Shizong Emperor's edict became a tool of court factionalism. Imperial authority did not reach the county level—posting a yellow notice before the county Southern Yamen was already a stroke of luck. Yet soon after the edict was issued, all commoners knew to head for the capital. Despite every effort to pacify and block them, they could not be stopped. This is the first evil of the gentleman."

"When refugees gathered in the capital region, as Chief Grand Secretary, Yan Song had no choice but to handle them. True, a clever wife cannot cook without rice—but even then, Yan Song, Yan Yan Shifan, and the Yan faction could still have fed these fewer than sixty thousand refugees. Even though Yan Song had already lost Shizong's trust, after twenty years as Chief Grand Secretary, he still had the resources. Why did the rebellion happen? Naturally, it was tied to factional strife. This is the second evil of the gentleman."

"When the rebellion erupted, the capital garrison, responsible for guarding them, scattered. True, the capital garrison was riddled with corruption, filled with old, weak, sick, and disabled soldiers—but armed soldiers were still routed by unarmed refugees. Strangely, the next day, the rebellion was swiftly suppressed. This is the third evil of the gentleman."

Yan Song served twenty years as Chief Grand Secretary; this great villain was no flatterer or incompetent. The Yan faction's corruption was rampant; did they truly lack the resources to feed sixty thousand refugees? Zhu Zhu Yijun sensed something amiss. He was no emperor secluded deep in the palace, ignorant of the people's suffering. In truth, a daily bowl of thin rice gruel and bran cakes would have pacified them—they would have survived until better years came, and dispersed naturally; if they didn't survive, they starved.

The people are but grass and weeds—this is precisely so.

Yet the rebellion erupted suddenly. Zhu Zhu Yijun did not believe nothing had happened—but what exactly occurred, even Zhang Zhang Juzheng did not know.

When the rebellion erupted, the capital garrison was immediately scattered; the next day, the rebellion was swiftly suppressed, the people fled, and the capital garrison—was it incapable or capable?

"There is a fourth evil," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, his hand trembling slightly as he held Wang Yao tighter. He loved the warmth of her body. Zhu Zhu Yijun needed to understand the complexity of this world—right and wrong, good and evil, beauty and ugliness—opposites coexisting universally. And this girl, gradually unfolding before him, was the good and beauty within his reach.

"A fourth evil? What is it?" Wang Yao asked, puzzled. Understanding her husband's words already strained her grasp of court politics—how could she guess the fourth evil? She could not.

Zhu Zhu Yijun shook his head. "Master only said there was a fourth evil, but never explained it clearly. Yet I have guessed it."

"This fourth evil: the court at the time feared the refugees themselves, not the famine. Do you understand my meaning? The court, the capital officials, the capital garrison, the local administrators—all tacitly accepted this event, not to resolve the famine, but to deal with the refugees. This is the fourth evil of the gentleman. The next year, Yan Song fell; the pure stream faction won."

The evil of the gentleman: small evils become great evils.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's evil of the gentleman was already gross disrespect, for the first three evils included the Shizong Emperor himself. To speak of the fourth would inevitably require discussing whether Shizong had also condoned it—the answer was yes. Thus Zhang Zhang Juzheng could only speak of "difficulty in maintaining the end," never accuse Shizong of evil—it violated the ritual of honoring superiors, and was not the way of a minister.

But Zhang Zhang Juzheng knew well: the emperor would understand.

When the state loses the great Dao, everyone is guilty.

"This this this…" For Wang Yao, a seventeen-year-old girl—even as Empress—these words from the emperor today left her flustered.

"What do you feel after hearing Master's story of the evil of the gentleman?" Zhu Zhu Yijun sighed.

"Let this Great Ming perish!" Wang Yao chose to speak the truth.

After hearing the story, she had only this thought. The emperor was the ruler of Great Ming—technically, this was utterly treasonous. Only the emperor and empress were in the carriage; Wang Yao did not wish to conceal her thoughts from him during their private moments. He disliked it—and hiding was useless; he saw through her.

Zhu Zhu Yijun said calmly: "That is also my thought. I directly asked Master: how has this Great Ming not yet perished?"

"Master's expression turned strange—he wanted to speak but held back. In the end, he said nothing. Even after all this time, Master still has not grown accustomed to my bluntness."

"In the third year of Emperor Wanli, Jiangxi Provincial Governor Pan Pan Jixun submitted a memorial stating Jiangxi suffered drought and locusts. At the time, Master's letter to Pan Pan Jixun summed it up in one phrase: pacify the people, relieve the refugees. Pan Pan Jixun had merit in stabilizing the land and governing the people—if he failed, he would die."

"Pan Pan Jixun fulfilled the court's relief mission admirably. He had to find a way—or die. He did not wish to die, especially a shameful death. So he began executing wealthy families to fund relief, supplemented by grain shipments from neighboring provinces. The starving survived the famine year. Combined with two years of tax and labor exemption in Jiangxi, the province fully recovered."

"Thus, Pan Pan Jixun was transferred to Nanjing as Provincial Governor. Beyond that, he entered the ranks of court ministers."

"After that, the Ever-normal Granaries came under direct control of provincial governors. Any fire destroying the granaries, or relief grain shortages—responsibility fell on the governor. Afterward, our Great Ming's relief efforts gradually stabilized."

"Years must not bring disaster."

That is, the calamities of the world must not afflict the majority of the people. This was Zhang Zhang Juzheng's great Dao—what he did after seizing power as Chief Grand Secretary and Grand Tutor, usurping imperial authority.

If all chief grand secretaries were like this, Zhu Zhu Yijun, as emperor, would not mind the usurpation. But from Yan Song, Xu Xu Jie, to Gao Gong, Zhang Zhang Juzheng was merely a solitary, brilliant star in the long river of history—rare as the guest star that appeared in October of Emperor Longqing Sixth Year.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng criticized Daoist Master, criticized Yan Song, criticized Xu Xu Jie—his criticism was righteous, delivered from a moral high ground, because he had done it. Only then could he speak to the emperor plainly of the evil of the gentleman, condemning the inaction, tolerance, cover-up, indifference, and incompetence of the meat-eaters.

Especially incompetence.

The most terrifying thing in the world is to see hope, then experience despair. In Emperor Wanli Twelfth Year, Zhang Zhang Juzheng's household was raided; all his new policies were abolished; the world lost the Dao.

Great Ming died around Emperor Wanli Twelfth Year; its corpse was buried only in Emperor Chongzhen Seventeenth Year.

"Compared to Yan Song and Xu Xu Jie, Master is truly formidable!" Wang Yao's heavy heart lifted; a radiant smile appeared on her face. Her outlook toward the child's future grew optimistic—even that useless Lu Prince Zhu Zhu Yilou, though a scoundrel, merely loved foreign beauties—he had not sunk to any worse depths.

"Is my husband not formidable? Master alone is formidable—he is not the master of the world." Zhu Zhu Yijun, touched by Wang Yao's smile, smiled back. He had once considered granting Zhang Zhang Juzheng the title "Imperial Regent," but in the end, he could not.

"Formidable, formidable—whether my husband is formidable, don't I know?" Wang Yao beamed.

While Zhang Zhang Juzheng lived, the great Dao must be pursued. When Zhang Zhang Juzheng was gone, the emperor must still pursue the great Dao—and the emperor was not entirely under Zhang Zhang Juzheng's shadow; he had his own policies, his own new measures.

Even if the whole world condemned him, Zhu Zhu Yijun would persist. He could not bear to see this lifelong aspiration vanish into nothing.

Zhu Zhu Yijun lacked Zhang Zhang Juzheng's political cunning. If necessary, he would invoke the Seven Kill Method—kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill—until rivers ran red, until everything was cleansed!

Zhu Zhu Yijun was the Great Ming court's second most radical, after Tan Lun!

Qi General Qi Jiguang Jiguang was not a radical. Internally, he preferred gentle, humane solutions. He never wished to turn his blade inward. Thus, court ministers feared neither Qi General Qi Jiguang Jiguang—they were never his match, never felt his terror.

Zhu Zhu Yijun said Li Li Yougong handled affairs with restraint. Indeed, as soon as his carriage returned to the palace behind the Martial Academy, he saw Li Li Yougong waiting at the main gate, awaiting the emperor's return from the Western Hills. The matter was not grave enough to disturb the emperor's rest—but it must be clearly reported.

The words "restraint" were indeed hard to grasp.

"Oh my, Grand Eunuch Li—you should have executed those criminals in Lu Song! Now that they're aboard ship, it's become a nuisance." Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled broadly. Yin Yin Zhengmao was indeed a seasoned official—handled it well. Zhu Zhu Yijun could have accepted the criminals dying in Lu Song—just sink them in the sea. Out of sight, out of mind. Zhu Zhu Yijun spread his hands helplessly: "We can't investigate everything. What if we uncover something? Everyone's face would be lost."

After reporting the facts, Li Li Yougong bowed and said: "Your Majesty, I believe Marquis Si Shui, Marquis Ying Yang, and Shi Shi Longhou had no rebellious intent—otherwise, these criminals would not have been brought to the capital for interrogation."

As the imperial inspector on the frontier, after reporting the facts, he naturally offered his own opinion. Li Li Yougong had given Yin Yin Zhengmao two chances to clean up: first, to wait until tomorrow; second, to execute them outright in Lu Song. But Yin Yin Zhengmao squandered both chances, sending the criminals aboard ship. That proves his innocence.

Proving that Yin Yin Zhengmao, Zhang Zhang Yuanxun, Deng Deng Zilong, and their core followers were uninvolved was extremely beneficial to Great Ming.

"Good, good, good! Grand Eunuch Li, you've worked hard. Go to the Inner Treasury and claim a thousand taels of silver to reward yourself. Each member of the Lu Song mission, ten taels." Zhu Zhu Yijun, reading Yin Yin Zhengmao's memorial, smiled brightly.

"Your servant kneels to thank Your Majesty's… grace." Li Li Yougong bowed as usual, then froze, stunned, nearly stuttering. The emperor had granted a full thousand taels in reward! A thousand taels could cover a year's carbon and ice gifts for the Hubei, Shanxi, and Zhejiang guild halls!

The emperor had just thrown gold coins! Clearly, he was truly delighted—and deeply satisfied with Li Li Yougong's mission.

The emperor's internal rewards, especially to palace eunuchs, were the only solace for men without their manhood. But preventing collusion between inside and outside was paramount—thus eunuchs lost one income stream. To compensate, Zhu Zhu Yijun supplemented their earnings with court bribes.

There is evil in the world, and there is good. Zhu Zhu Yijun could still see a little beauty—so he had not yet become an unspeakable monster.

In his memorial, Yin Yin Zhengmao first sincerely begged for punishment, chiefly for negligence. Zhu Zhu Yijun naturally would not pursue it. Yin Yin Zhengmao was no god—he could not know every detail in his jurisdiction. Storms inevitably arose during development; solving problems was key.

Then Yin Yin Zhengmao promised: in the coming year, he would supply eleven million catties of copper. He would exert greater effort in copper mining for the Ten-Thousand-Mile Sea Wall. This was a military pledge. The Great Ming emperor loved copper—so he gave copper. Zhu Zhu Yijun annotated: "Do not rush. Prioritize stability of the Lu Song Governor's Office."

Then Yin Yin Zhengmao requested three years from the emperor to expel the Red Barbarians from the Strait of Ma Liujia. Zhu Zhu Yijun set five years as the deadline—this had been previously agreed. The Red Barbarians had occupied the Strait of Ma Liujia for sixty years, building their presence for sixty years; expelling them entirely at once was physically difficult.

Emperor Wanli Seventh Year gradually entered autumn; the maple leaves on the Western Hills had turned crimson. Further north, preparations for winter had begun. Zhu Zhu Yijun ordered the Inner Office to prepare this year's great cloaks. Products from the imperial estates were always superior. The previous cloaks and ear-warmers were still usable, but annual gifts had become customary. The fine woolen textile trade had collapsed; prices had fallen, yielding little profit—yet it was a form of favor.

"Your Majesty, Grand Minister Wan is here, requesting audience as dusk approaches." Feng Bao whispered to a young eunuch, then asked, puzzled.

"Admit him."

Wan Shihé entered, bowed, and sat. He spoke: "Your Majesty, the frenzy over ship certificates has passed, but the number of certificates remains far too low. Even Yixing Pavilion now collects barely any transaction taxes. Could we issue more?"

Exploit the luxury households' obsession with ship certificates to harvest a final, heavy crop.

Wan Shihé had previously quelled public opinion surrounding ship certificates—some claimed the Great Ming emperor sold ships to the Mongols and the West instead of keeping them domestic, favoring foreign allies over his own subjects. But he did not stop—he continued stoking public opinion, emphasizing the essential difference between ship certificates and fine woolen textiles.

After repeated debates, Wan Shihé truly uncovered something: ships are tools of production; fine woolen textiles are not. This fundamental difference led to divergent profit models. Once understood, the ship certificate trade boomed further; luxury households' enthusiasm surged.

The Great Ming shipyards' production capacity clashed with luxury households' insatiable demand for ship certificates.

"You still want me to create futures for ship certificates?" Zhu Zhu Yijun pondered.

Wan Shihé said nothing—his silence was assent. He had many reasons, but the emperor knew them all—no need to elaborate. He was merely testing the emperor's mood.

"No." Zhu Zhu Yijun said clearly. "This door cannot be opened. To speak bluntly: someday, if I destroy this treasure basin, it will be one of my methods. I must keep some means to overturn the table."

"Your Majesty is wise." Wan Shihé thought, then did not press further. The luxury households requesting futures feared the emperor would crash the market—but the emperor always kept overturning the table as his final weapon when conflict became irreconcilable. Wan Shihé's words were useless.

Wan Shihé was an Imperial Faction member—and the kind who walked one path to the end. He was not testing—he knew this benefited the emperor: accumulating wealth, exploiting futures to harvest a heavy crop. But the emperor, gentle-hearted, refused to harvest this crop.

This has always been the emperor's trait: sustainable overfishing.

For example, caring for the health of Zhang Zhang Juzheng, Tan Lun, Ling Ling Yunyi, Yin Yin Zhengmao, and others, so they could continue shining for Great Ming.

"Grand Minister Wan, I have a amusing tale: luxury households in Guangdong and Guangxi have requested that Minister Ling return to Guangdong and Guangxi!"

Wan Shihé turned his head slowly toward the emperor, eyes widening. After a moment, he could only utter one word: "Ah?"

This world was insane. Wan Shihé could not comprehend it. Had the luxury households of Guangdong and Guangxi gone mad? How dare they request the return of Ling Ling Yunyi, that great killer?

When Wan Shihé learned the full story, he could only sigh. The luxury households' demand was simple: let us die in peace!

The old patriarch of the Shi family in Guangzhou Dianbai had died to prove this truth—how miserable.

"When Wang Wang Jiaoping was in the capital, he was quiet and obedient. But once in the provinces, he became ruthless." Wan Shihé sneered. Wang Wang Jiaoping had done nothing excessive—it was simply his style. Only the luxury households of Guangdong and Guangxi suffered.

Wan Shihé sighed, leaned forward, and whispered: "Your Majesty, Li Li Yashi's wife has fled."

"I warned Li Li Yashi not to take that woman—he was clearly being tricked by marrying someone who came with a child. And sure enough, she ran off. Didn't she give him a son? Did the boy run off too?" Zhu Zhu Yijun heard this and understood why Wan Shihé had come to court at dusk—he had just learned of the matter.

When Li Li Yashi married Anna Medina Sidonia, Zhu Zhu Yijun had warned him once, because Li Li Yashi had betrayed his god and broken his vow of lifelong celibate service to the Lord—he needed the Emperor's blessing.

Anna had been married before, fine, but she came with two children, a son and a daughter. The daughter died aboard ship; only the boy remained. What else could Li Li Yashi be but a fool? Even Dolgor, that dog of a man, was ultimately tricked by a widow and orphan, and after his death, his tomb was dug up by Tang Shunzhi.

"No, the child he fathered with her is still at his home. Sigh." Wan Shihé said helplessly: "Li Li Yashi is one of our Imperial Academy of Natural Philosophy's interpreters. Lately he's been distracted and won't speak a word. It was only after Chen Chen Xuehui visited his home that the truth came out."

"Your Majesty, how should we handle this?"

In diplomatic matters, Li Li Yashi is unique—he is the envoy of the Western lands, holding nominal authority over all Spanish forces in the Far East, yet he also holds an official post in the Great Ming, working alongside Gao Qi in translating Western texts at the Imperial Academy of Natural Philosophy.

After this scandal broke in his household, Li Li Yashi was too ashamed to speak of it. Only now, after so long, has it finally come to light.

"This woman is truly heartless. Is the son she bore in the West a son, but the son she bore in the Great Ming not a son? She abandons him so easily. And Li Li Yashi—he should have told me sooner. I could have sent the Embroidered Uniform Guard to bring her back. Now she's already reached the Pacific. How am I to capture her?" Zhu Zhu Yijun pondered a moment, then said: "Last time Felipe II sent seven Western barbarian beauties—I'll send three of them to Li Li Yashi."

"The best way to end a tragedy is to begin another."

If Li Li Yashi had spoken up sooner, this could have been easily resolved. But he stayed silent—what else could he do but swallow this bitter pill?

"The son born in the West has a title to inherit—that's why he left. Once someone decides to go, no matter how hard you try, you can't hold them back." Wan Shihé frowned: "This voyage's captain is Marcus, not Antonio. Marcus doesn't have Antonio's prestige. Can he truly control these sailors?"

Wan Shihé had little faith in Anna's return to the West. He was compiling the Records of Foreign Nations, and on the high seas, sailors see any leader as handsome and noble. Antonio had kept the crew in line, but Marcus lacks Antonio's illustrious status. Anything could happen—and if it does, they'll just throw the body overboard and be done with it.

"Your Majesty, the Records of Ma Liujia are complete." Wan Shihé presented a scroll, detailing the history of Ma Liujia. In truth, the Ma Liujia Kingdom had already perished; the Great Ming would not invite trouble by re-enfeoffing any descendant of its prince.

This was the final verdict. By compiling the Records of Foreign Nations, Wan Shihé was defining history—and defining history was defining the present.

No matter how future generations debate it, the Old Port and the Strait of Ma Liujia are the Great Ming's inherent territory, sacred and inviolable—even if we have not yet reclaimed them, even if the Western barbarians now hold them in fact.

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