Chapter 380

I am truly neglecting my duties. Volume 391: My Fate, Zhu Zhu Yilu, Is to Enjoy! Zhang Zhang Juzheng often boasted in his memorials that he came from a commoner background—not to show off how impressive it was to rise from a commoner to Grand Secretary and Grand Tutor, though that feat was indeed like a cow on a rocket, shooting straight to heaven. Zhang Zhang Juzheng wasn't showing off; he was telling the Emperor he had no family ties, no background, no clan, and posed no threat.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's family at least served as guards for the Liaoyang Prince's mansion, hereditary battalion commanders; Xiong Xiong Tingbi, by contrast, was a cowherd.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng, brimming with passion and ambition, dominated the court; when he departed, endless grudges and controversies would follow, determining the Ming's future. The world is unpredictable—no one knows, not even Zhu Zhu Yijun himself, who is not omnipotent. He needs allies, and he needs companions to walk beside him.

Comrades, fellow travelers, share joy together.

Zhu Zhu Yijun's desire to popularize basic education stemmed from his unrealistic fantasy after seeing Xiong Xiong Tingbi; Zhang Zhang Juzheng still believed opening the seas was more practical.

Expand the navy, let the extravagant households go plunder, use plundered wealth to revive the Ming—this was Zhang Zhang Juzheng's idea. What the Emperor hoped for, Zhang Zhang Juzheng also hoped for—but it was simply too, too difficult. Rarely, Zhang Zhang Juzheng resorted again to his favorite tactic: changing the subject.

In past lecture sessions, when faced with the Emperor's doubts, Zhang Zhang Juzheng would pull out The Illustrated Guide for Emperors to deflect. Now, he uses opening the seas and naval expansion to shift focus.

How I wish for thousands of spacious halls, to shelter all the poor scholars and make them smile!

To establish the heart of Heaven and Earth, to secure the destiny of the people, to carry forward the lost teachings of the sages, to open peace for ten thousand generations.

Hadn't Zhang Zhang Juzheng once held such grand aspirations in his youth? Even now, he still possesses this ambition. Time has passed, and as Grand Secretary of the Empire, his belief in these ideals has not dimmed—but the older he grows, the more he values what lies before him.

This is also the lesson Zhang Zhang Juzheng repeatedly taught the Emperor: no one can see beyond the river of time to envision the state of the realm five years hence. Even the mighty Emperor Taizu could not control what happened after his death—four years later, the Jianwen Emperor surrendered the throne.

Without taking small steps, one cannot reach a thousand li.

Quantitative change leads to qualitative change—this is another key point of dialectics. Only by doing more can we make the world a little brighter, so that at death, one may look back on this fleeting life without regret.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng discussed many plans for naval expansion with Zhu Zhu Yijun, mainly focused on military construction. The most important point was establishing academies under the Jiangwu Academy, ensuring that at least the children of elite soldiers could afford an education.

Zhu Zhu Yijun called it: The Great Ming Imperial Land-Sea National Defense University Affiliated Primary and Secondary School Program.

Even with his talent, Zhang Zhang Juzheng dared not promise the Emperor that every child could read. But he could promise to achieve part of it—anything more was beyond his power, requiring overall societal progress.

"That boy Xiong Xiong Tingbi…" Zhang Zhang Juzheng looked at him with a complicated expression. Seeing Xiong Xiong Tingbi, he always felt he saw himself—his own youthful self, that genius self.

"Just teach him well," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, smiling at Zhang Zhang Juzheng's expression. Seeing a genius even more terrifying than you, Zhang Zhang Juzheng—sweating yet? Master!

After passing the military examination, Xiong Xiong Tingbi was mocked, then in anger he topped the provincial examination as the top scholar. People said: "Three top scholars exist in the world, but two top provincial scholars are unheard of."

Xiong Xiong Tingbi's military talent was unquestionable. In his letter to He He Shixian, the regional commander stationed in Liaoyang, titled "Reply to Commander He," he advised: Don't drink, maintain good relations with allied troops, never leave the city to fight the old barbarian chief recklessly, and don't overly trust the barbarians.

He He Shixian, however, drank heavily before battle, led a thousand retainers out of the city, slaughtered the invaders, then the old barbarian chief Nurhaci lured him deeper. He He Shixian, emboldened, advanced recklessly and was surrounded by Nurhaci's elite. No reinforcements came. Though He He Shixian fought bravely and escaped back to the west gate of Shenyang, the surrendered barbarians inside rebelled. He He Shixian died, and Shenyang fell.

He He Shixian was no coward—he had twice crushed Nurhaci, treating him like a target for military merit. After Xiong Xiong Tingbi left, he completely forgot his warnings, stepped into every trap Xiong had warned against, and ultimately perished.

When the policy of "Liaodong people defending Liaodong land" led to heavy reliance on surrendered barbarians—becoming political correctness—Xiong Xiong Tingbi's opposition to using them became a taboo.

The surrendered barbarians were indeed useful. Frontier generals treated them as: trusted like the heart, relied upon like hands and feet.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi strongly opposed this. His reasoning was sound: after the disastrous Battle of Sarhu, the barbarians who had once wished to be loyal dogs of the Ming had changed their hearts. Hearts were restless, the state unstable. Trusting barbarians risked great disaster. The idea that "Liaodong people defend Liaodong land" seemed prudent but was actually a fatal error.

The Donglin Party officials in court, unaware of the situation, were deeply dissatisfied with Xiong Xiong Tingbi's stance! Who is betraying the state?

Xiong Xiong Tingbi repeatedly submitted memorials to defend himself. Even after being dismissed as Grand Coordinator of Liaodong, he wrote a nearly ten-thousand-character "Imperial Mandate Handover Memorandum," thoroughly analyzing Liaodong's situation.

But this memorial sank like a stone into the sea, ignored by all.

After Xiong Xiong Tingbi's death, Sun Chengzong, Yuan Ke, and Yuan Yuan Chonghuan all followed his strategic framework of the Three-Pronged Deployment, finally stabilizing Liaodong.

"Xiong Da, come here." Zhu Zhu Yijun and Zhang Zhang Juzheng spoke openly before Xiong Xiong Tingbi, who stood respectfully beside them, eyes wide with astonishment. Rumors said the Emperor and Master were at odds, but Xiong Xiong Tingbi saw now—there was no rift. They were teacher and student, friends, and comrades.

Sharing the same ideals, advancing together—could there be a greater joy?

"Your Majesty," Xiong Xiong Tingbi stepped forward, deeply respectful.

"That brat Zhu Yilu holds you in high regard, thinks you're a talent worth shaping. The ten thousand beauties you requested have arrived. Don't indulge yourself. Study hard under Master Zhang, train your martial arts, and serve the state." Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled broadly.

Before fighting Takahashi Tōko, Zhu Zhu Yilu had promised Xiong Xiong Tingbi two "ten thousand beauties." He never broke his word—he sent them. Not the beauties from the Lu Prince's original harem, but two of the six beauties bestowed by Zhu Zhu Yijun upon the Lu Prince's household: two Persian beauties, untouched and new.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi stared blankly at the Emperor, stunned for a long moment, then frowned slowly: "Your servant… is still young. Please return the beauties. When I have mastered both literature and martial arts, then we may speak of this again."

Before marriage, he already had two concubines—it left Xiong Xiong Tingbi bewildered. The Emperor had already granted him a hereditary company commander rank, which he felt was more than enough. His priority now was serious study.

The Emperor's gift cannot be refused—but he was too young to be playing with ten thousand beauties.

"Very well. Send them first to the Lu Prince's mansion. When you come of age, I'll give them to you then." Zhu Zhu Yijun stood up, having finished his meal and ready to leave. He patted Xiong Xiong Tingbi's shoulder: "Xiong Da, don't pressure yourself too much. Learn steadily. Don't over-worry."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Xiong Xiong Tingbi escorted the Emperor onto his carriage, then bowed deeply: "Your Majesty, we respectfully see you off."

After the carriage turned, Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Xiong Xiong Tingbi returned to the Quanchu Quanchu Huiguan. Xiong Xiong Tingbi followed closely behind, and halfway, he could no longer hold back: "Master, I have a question."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng stumbled. Hearing "I have a question," painful memories surged back.

"What question?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng watched Xiong Xiong Tingbi steady himself. Who? Another genius!

He had weathered the Emperor's questions. Xiong Xiong Tingbi's youthful doubts—he could answer them. But many things, Xiong Xiong Tingbi must find the answers to himself.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi hesitated, then asked: "Liaodong has eighty thousand troops, yet fewer than half of the garrison troops are fit for battle. Reinforcements from east and west are weak and insufficient. Troop ranks are empty, fodder and grain are lacking. The entire elite force of Liaodong amounts to only three thousand. Marquis Ningyuan Marquis, a noble of military merit—why does he turn a deaf ear?"

Xiong Xiong Tingbi couldn't understand Li Li Chengliang's actions in Liaodong. Though Li Li Chengliang wasn't as skilled at training troops as Qi Qi Jiguang, he was among the few generals who could lead expeditions beyond the frontier and win. Why didn't Li Li Chengliang change the status quo? Liaodong's military readiness was in shambles; the only truly effective force was Li Li Chengliang's three thousand mercenary retainers.

"What do you think?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng didn't answer, but asked Xiong Xiong Tingbi's opinion. These were all reports from the Liaodong Provincial Governor, Assistant Regional Commander, and various bureaus of the Ministry of Revenue. The court knew Liaodong's decay all too well.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi thought for a moment, then said: "People say Li Li Chengliang is our Ming's An Lushan—nurturing rebels to maintain his own power, neglecting defenses, indulging enemies. Liaodong's military decay is so severe, he clearly nurtures rebels."

"Not just suspicion—Li Li Chengliang is actively nurturing rebels." Zhang Zhang Juzheng stood beneath a large poplar tree. It was late autumn, early winter; the ground beneath the tree was covered in fallen leaves. He had planted this tree after returning to the capital in the thirty-second year of Emperor Jiajing; later, when the Quanchu Quanchu Huiguan was built, he transplanted it here.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi's brow knotted into a knot. He stared, then slowly said: "Huh?"

"This is his way of survival. Three thousand mercenaries—no more, no less. Too many, and the court grows suspicious. Too few, and he cannot repel enemies. Life, in general, is full of such unavoidable compromises." Zhang Zhang Juzheng was indeed carefully teaching. Xiong Xiong Tingbi, this complete talent in both civil and military affairs, had only one flaw: he was too much like Hai Rui—hating evil with righteous fury. It was a virtue, a moral strength—but in court, it was a fatal weakness.

The elite troops capable of campaigning beyond the frontier must not be increased, nor decreased.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng explained the subtleties in detail: don't judge by appearances. Start from phenomena, identify the problem, then find its root cause within the general situation, and finally choose a solution that isn't the best, but the most suitable.

Merely raging and cursing isn't teaching—it's just emotional venting.

This was the way Zhang Zhang Juzheng taught Xiong Xiong Tingbi to think.

Petty Confucians don't think this way. Petty Confucians think like the Westerners: I think, therefore I am; I think, therefore I am right. If you don't listen to me, you're wrong—you're an heretic deserving death.

"I'm beginning to understand," Xiong Xiong Tingbi nodded thoughtfully. "It's not that they don't want to—it's that they can't."

"Exactly," Zhang Zhang Juzheng nodded with great satisfaction. Contradictions exist universally. Not doing something is wrong; doing too much is also wrong.

The next morning, before dawn, palace maids in the Lu Prince's mansion began bustling. A beautiful woman, clearly well-fed and healthy, approached Zhu Zhu Yilu's bed, bent down, and whispered softly: "Your Highness, Your Highness, it's time to rise and attend court. The Imperial Palace is already busy."

"Ah! The twenty-fifth is a day off! No court today! Sleep! I won't get up!" Zhu Zhu Yilu yanked the quilt over his head.

Winter quilts were extremely warm. Zhu Zhu Yilu had already planned yesterday—he would sleep in hard, indulge in laziness. The twenty-fifth day off was long established. No matter what, he would sleep in!

The Lu Prince's bedroom was very warm, but the maid, coming from outside, wore thick clothing. Seeing the sulking young prince, she helplessly took off her large cloak and hung it on a rack, wearing only a thin gauze robe. She lifted the quilt, slipped in, embraced the prince, and said in a voice both shy and heartbreakingly sweet: "Your Highness, today is supposed to be a day off, but the Imperial Palace insists you go to the Zhao Wenhua Hall. You must go."

"If the Imperial Palace blames you, Your Highness, being the Emperor's brother, will be fine. But we maids will suffer punishment."

"Your Highness doesn't want your servant punished by the Emperor, does he?"

Her cold body startled Zhu Zhu Yilu. Her wandering hands woke him fully. He sat up, annoyed, preparing to rise—then lay back down, burrowing into the maid's arms, rolling several times on her face cream until his morning grumpiness vanished.

"Hehehe, Your Highness, slow down, slow down—it tickles!" The beauty laughed, dodging Zhu Zhu Yilu's hands, until her laughter grew low and seductively restrained, ending their daily morning tussle. If they continued, things might get out of hand.

The old nurse from the Imperial Palace inspected the Lu Prince's household every half-month. If any beauty was found not a virgin, the Emperor would reclaim all the ten thousand beauties granted. Zhu Zhu Yilu had kept his promise—before marriage, he hadn't been too wild. He couldn't get meat, but he could still sip broth.

"Three more years! Three years until I marry! So frustrating!" Zhu Zhu Yilu got up. He still felt resentment—but thinking of Xiong Da, the resentment vanished.

After leaving the Lu Prince's mansion, Xiong Xiong Tingbi's life was no life at all—he rose before the rooster, slept after the dog. Mornings at the Quanchu Quanchu Huiguan's school, afternoons beaten at the Jiangwu Academy, evenings studying for examinations. Truly, he rose at the crow of the rooster and trained under the stars.

Xiong Da saw this as his greatest opportunity, and he was truly striving to seize this divine fortune. Zhu Zhu Yilu thought Xiong Xiong Tingbi, so young, bore a weight no child his age should carry.

When Zhu Zhu Yilu sent Xiong Da away, he had celebrated with drums and gongs. A genius like Xiong Xiong Tingbi by his side only hindered his Lu Prince's plan to lie flat and slack off! Xiong Xiong Tingbi, training the sparring partners to rise at the crow of the rooster, made Zhu Zhu Yilu feel ashamed even to slack off. After Xiong Xiong Tingbi left, the sparring partners returned to slacking, and the Lu Prince's mansion resumed its usual calm.

What could be more comfortable than waking up and rolling around on face cream?

Nothing! Absolutely nothing!

Geniuses have their destiny; I, Zhu Zhu Yilu, am a born noble. To lie flat, to slack off, to enjoy—that is my fate!

Twelve palace maids moved through the bedroom, attending to the Lu Prince's morning routine. Each maid was plump, wearing only a thin gauze robe, walking like willows swaying in the wind, alluring yet retaining the innocence of untouched youth. Occasional giggles echoed.

"Brother! I'm only twelve! Twelve! You make a twelve-year-old get up this early to accompany you to court? Aren't you ashamed?!" Zhu Zhu Yilu, upon seeing his elder brother, boarded the carriage and began loudly complaining.

Zhu Zhu Yijun slapped Zhu Zhu Yilu hard on the shoulder and snapped: "I am diligent; you are lazy. Are you not ashamed, you, my own brother?!"

Zhu Zhu Yilu weighed his options—he truly couldn't beat his brother—then said defiantly: "Brother, you're the Emperor! The greatest born noble under heaven! You get only one day off a month—just one day! What's the big deal? Can't you rest? Your diligence, Elder Brother, is truly the Ming's fortune!"

"Even the mill donkey is still napping!"

Zhu Zhu Yijun burst out laughing, furious, and punched Zhu Zhu Yilu repeatedly before saying: "The civil officials in Liaodong have impeached Li Li Chengliang. So today's court session is postponed to tomorrow. Sleep in tomorrow."

"Liaodong matters? Then I must go to the Zhao Wenhua Hall. Hurry up, don't delay state affairs." Zhu Zhu Yilu, hearing that someone had impeached in Liaodong, now understood why the Emperor had sacrificed his precious day off to attend morning court.

The Ming had several matters requiring immediate decisions: border emergencies like Xuan-Da, Liaodong, Nagasaki, Lu Song, Yunnan; sudden disasters like earthquakes, ice jams, Yellow River breaches—all demanded prompt decisions. A day's delay at court meant a great disaster.

Zhu Zhu Yilu was clever—but he believed enjoyment was his destiny.

Zhu Zhu Yijun arrived at the Zhao Wenhua Hall, sat upright, and summoned court ministers waiting in the side hall. Zhu Zhu Yilu stood beside him, yawning, looking utterly disinterested.

"We bow to Your Majesty. May Your Majesty's health be well." The ministers bowed, as court officials, they did not kneel.

Zhu Zhu Yijun waved his hand: "Minister of War and Right Censor-in-Chief and Liaodong Provincial Governor Zhou Yong has impeached Marquis Ningyuan Marquis and Liaodong Regional Li Shuai Li Chengliang. What do you, esteemed ministers, suggest we do?"

Zhang Zhang Juzheng, face grave, held up the memorial: "Li Li Chengliang built a luxurious mansion called Hualou in Tieliang Wei, with carved railings, jade steps, pavilions surpassing those of Jiangnan. He gathered three thousand courtesans and musicians, indulging in debauchery day and night. He pursued mining taxes, levied housing fees, conscripted ox carts, targeted wealthy households, drafted laborers, repaired archways, falsified military rations, seized soldiers' duties, impersonated officials, used illegal torture, and seized property. Even all the bamboo of Nanshan could not record all his crimes; even all the waters of the East Sea could not wash away his filth."

"This memorial was also jointly submitted by Hou Hou Yuzhao, Imperial Inspector of the Danning Tianjin Tianjin Weisuo's farmland, and Zhou Zhou Liangyin, Military Advisor of Quanning Tianjin Tianjin Weisuo."

Hou Hou Yuzhao, loyal to the Emperor and devoted to the state, had joined the accusation—proving this was no rumor. All eyes turned to Zhang Zhang Xueyan, former Liaodong Provincial Governor, now Minister of Revenue.

Zhu Zhu Yilu blinked. Good, good! Then the Lu Prince's mansion must have a Hualou too! A Ten Thousand Flowers Pavilion!

"Marshal Li is indeed dissolute," Zhang Zhang Xueyan said, slightly helpless.

Zhang Zhang Xueyan knew well about the Hualou in Tieliang Wei. Three thousand courtesans and musicians? Underestimating Li Li Chengliang. Those were Han women; there were also many foreign beauties, plus secret prostitutes, brothel girls, and private concubines not on the register—minimum five thousand.

Tieliang Wei was practically a hellhole. Even the strongest man who entered would lose ten catties in three months.

"The Hualou sits beside mountains and water, with hot springs flowing through. The people of Liaodong cannot tear themselves away." Zhang Zhang Xueyan added a few details. Li Li Chengliang's Hualou was built beside hot springs—a place where once you entered, you never wanted to leave.

As for other charges—pursuing mining taxes, levying housing fees, conscripting ox carts—these were old, common complaints, harmless. The court had once owed salaries; the Liaodong Military Commission had to find its own solutions, which became habitual and hard to reverse. In recent years, such harsh collections had lessened, shifting to the Tax Inspection Office, making things easier.

The Tax Inspection Office retained thirty percent of collected taxes locally. Li Li Chengliang's mercenary retainers, during peacetime, rotated over a thousand men to assist the Liaodong Tax Inspection Office in tax collection and arrears pursuit.

All charges were real—not false accusations.

When Zhang Zhang Xueyan was in Liaodong, in the second year of Emperor Wanli, the Hualou had been closed. No one knew why, but this year, Li Li Chengliang reopened it.

The issue was clear: conflict between the Liaodong Regional Commander and the Liaodong Provincial Governor.

Rarely, Qi Qi Jiguang spoke: "This winter, no fighting. Liaodong has received over three feet of snow; men and horses cannot move. The courier routes have been cut for over seven days. Marshal Li's three thousand mercenary retainers can fight enemies, but they can also cause unrest. Without work, they turn to theft and crime. Marshal Li reopened the Hualou to give them something to do. If they aren't in the Hualou, they'll cause trouble."

"Marshal Qi, the Beijing Tianjin Tianjin Weisuo has never been so absurd!" Right Censor-in-Chief Li Li Youzi disagreed with Qi Qi Jiguang's explanation.

Since the first year of Emperor Wanli, the imperial troops have indeed fought every winter; this winter, they were ordered to rest and recuperate, with no combat missions—but the Beijing garrison had no need for prostitutes at all, and Li Li Youzi rejected Qi Qi Jiguang's excuse for defending Li Li Chengliang.

Ma Ma Ziqiang pondered a moment and said: "If the Beijing garrison can have them, why can't the Liaodong mercenary troops?"

"The Beijing garrison can; Liaodong cannot," Qi Qi Jiguang answered firmly, elaborating: "The Beijing garrison numbers one hundred thousand; each man receives eighteen taels annually, and with rewards for battlefield merit, no less than thirty taels per year. The Liaodong mercenary troops, when at peace, receive only ten taels per year; even during war, no more than eighteen."

"Then comparing the discipline of the Beijing garrison to that of the Liaodong mercenary troops is unfair."

Hai Rui sat upright, frowning: "Marshal Qi is wrong. While stationed at Jizhou, you commanded twelve cities and one hundred thousand troops: southern troops received full pay, northern troops half. Yet not a single scandal like this occurred. At that time, court officials and the southern and northern troops alike viewed you as a useless wart—desperate to remove you. Had such absurdity arisen, impeachment would have been inevitable."

Upon Hai Rui's words, court ministers murmured among themselves: the Beijing garrison received ample pay and maintained good discipline—this was understandable. Yet the Jizhou garrison then received only half-pay, yet no such chaos arose.

"Marshal Hai, Liaodong and Jimen are not the same; they cannot be treated identically. Each case must be judged on its own merits." Qi Qi Jiguang was not skilled at debate; as soon as he learned of Li Li Chengliang's brothel, he knew trouble was coming, and had prepared many arguments—almost convinced everyone—until Hai Rui brought up old grievances!

Qi Qi Jiguang was utterly unlike Li Li Chengliang: Qi trained troops with exceptional rigor; strict obedience was his unerring path to victory. Li Li Chengliang, in troop training, was indeed inferior to Qi Qi Jiguang.

"So the problem belongs to whoever caused it." Hai Rui did not press aggressively; after refuting Qi Qi Jiguang, he sat upright again and resumed the court deliberation.

Tan Lun immediately spoke: "Then what? Let these three thousand mercenary troops run wild? Mercenary discipline has always been a headache—not one or two days. Everyone speaks from comfort, but Liaodong is a freezing land, having fought for years—can't Liaodong's soldiers enjoy themselves a little?"

"The Beijing garrison soldiers are selected from the finest across the Great Ming's twenty provinces; who are Li Li Chengliang's mercenaries? Everyone knows—they're all desperate men."

"Zhou Yong is a bit of a troublemaker."

Tan Lun felt Zhou Yong's memorial was unnecessarily provocative, yet the clear conflict between the Liaodong Provincial Governor and Regional Commander could harm Liaodong's stability.

If mercenary discipline were good, the Great Ming would have long since adopted full conscription. Li Li Chengliang's recruits could not compare to the Beijing garrison's: the Beijing garrison could select loyal, brave men from all twenty provinces; Li Li Chengliang's mercenary retainers were all desperate men.

The Great Ming's annual military expenditure is ten million taels; eight million go to the garrison troops. Mercenaries are a double-edged sword. The historical lesson of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang abolishing the fubing system, leading to powerful frontier commands, stands before us—we can only maintain conscription alongside military colonies.

Zhang Zhang Xueyan sighed helplessly: "Zhou Yong isn't making trouble for nothing—this old Li simply refuses to give Zhou the Provincial Governor any face."

Li Li Chengliang always took Zhang Zhang Xueyan with him on expeditions beyond the frontier: Li charged ahead in battle, Zhang secured the rear and supply lines; they forged their bond fighting back-to-back. Li Li Chengliang always included Zhang Zhang Xueyan in his battle reports.

Zhou Yong arrived in Liaodong in the fifth year of Emperor Wanli—it was like a concubine entering the house: everywhere she was unwelcome.

Zhang Zhang Xueyan once urged Li Li Chengliang to shut down the brothel, warning it would invite criticism; Li Li Chengliang closed it—mainly because the court now provided full pay, so he had no need to win loyalty through such means. Zhou Yong also advised Li Li Chengliang to rein in Tieling Tianjin Tianjin Weisuo, fearing scandal; Li Li Chengliang immediately reopened the brothel!

Pure defiance.

Zhang Zhang Xueyan urged Li Li Chengliang not to risk himself; Li Li Chengliang thought it was a brother's concern for his safety. Zhou Yong advised him; Li Li Chengliang thought Zhou was meddling too much—what did a scholar know about warfare?

Li Li Chengliang won victory after victory, accumulating military merit; his son Li Li Rusong was commander of the elite first regiment of the Beijing garrison. In every hard battle, Li Li Rusong led the charge, always at the front.

Zhou Yong didn't seek Zhang Zhang Xueyan's status, but his words were useless—and now Li Li Chengliang had escalated. So he appealed to the court.

Wan Shihé keenly sensed something odd and asked curiously: "When you were in Liaodong, did you ever visit the brothel, Master Zhang?"

"Ah, yes, I did," Zhang Zhang Xueyan looked embarrassed, then thought better of it—it wasn't shameful. With a brute like Li Li Chengliang, if you wanted to stay on good terms, you had to go when invited; refusing meant disrespect. If Li Li Chengliang went rogue, Zhang Zhang Xueyan would suffer dearly.

"No wonder Master Zhang and the Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan are so close." Wan Shihé smiled toward the Secretariat's direction—today the Secretariat had fallen into the latrine and hadn't returned from the toilet.

What they did at the brothel wasn't music, chess, calligraphy, or painting—perhaps even two dragons…

Zhou Yong was a traditional Confucian scholar; he and Li Li Chengliang were oil and water. Zhang Zhang Xueyan was a pragmatic official—he only cared for Liaodong's stability; reputation meant little. He could visit the brothel.

"Don't mock me, Grand Minister," Zhang Zhang Xueyan waved his hands frantically, signaling surrender—don't call on him.

"Zhou Yong is from the Jin Faction. I'll write him a letter to counsel him." What could Wang Wang Chonggu do? Only mediate—could he possibly urge the Provincial Governor and Regional Commander to fight each other? That would only amuse the Jurchens.

Li Li Chengliang was broadly aligned with the Zhang Dang, sheltered under Zhang Zhang Juzheng's patronage, but he never received a membership token from the Full Chu Hall, so he couldn't be counted as true Zhang Dang—only broadly aligned.

"Your Majesty, order the Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan to shut down the brothel and transfer Hou Hou Yuzhao there." Zhang Zhang Juzheng pondered a moment, deciding to placate: Li Li Chengliang's defiance toward the Provincial Governor was inappropriate; the brothel must close. Transfer Hou Hou Yuzhao from Daning Tianjin Tianjin Weisuo to Liaodong to assist Zhou Yong—Hou Hou Yuzhao, loyal and devoted to the throne, was the Emperor's man; Li Li Chengliang would dare no such recklessness.

"Leave it open. Send Hou Hou Yuzhao." Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at Zhang Zhang Juzheng and made his decision. He added: "Marshal Qi and Grand Secretary are right—what are these three thousand mercenary retainers to do in this icy wasteland? If they do nothing, trouble will arise—and be harder to contain."

"When the Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan last came to the capital, he was extremely humble. Put yourself in his shoes—Marshal Li walks on thin ice; one misstep means total ruin. If he had another option, he wouldn't have directly clashed with the Provincial Governor."

"The brothel isn't the core issue. The core is preventing rifts between the Provincial Governor and Regional Commander—lest enemies exploit them."

"Your Majesty's wisdom." Zhang Zhang Juzheng bowed after a moment's thought.

The conflict between the Liaodong Provincial Governor and Regional Commander didn't arise overnight. Either Zhou Yong must yield, or Li Li Chengliang must yield. While snowed in for winter, they must settle this.

"The Governor-General of Luzon, Guoxing Yin Zhengmao, has submitted a memorial thanking Your Majesty for the imperial marriage." Zhang Zhang Juzheng spoke of another matter, his expression peculiar.

The seventeen-year-old Emperor of the Great Ming married his sixteen-year-old princess to Luzon; Yin Yin Zhengmao was now a true imperial relative. This raised a deeper, more troubling question.

Why had the imperial family gone to such lengths to make Yin Yin Zhengmao family? Even marrying him an adopted princess with no blood tie—could Yin Yin Zhengmao truly be a lost imperial clansman?

Previously, everyone dismissed this as idle gossip—but now, even court ministers began to scrutinize.

The more they looked, the more it seemed true.

Of course, this question could not be discussed in court.

Xiong Xiong Tingbi's military genius is unquestioned—history has already tested it. Sun Chengzong, Yuan Yang Keli, and Yuan Yuan Chonghuan all followed Xiong Xiong Tingbi's strategies, albeit clumsily. Guangning's location is critical; if Guangning falls, the Three-Pronged Deployment strategy becomes unusable. Before his death, Xiong Xiong Tingbi wore a pouch around his chest containing his plans for after Guangning's loss. The "Confession of a Criminal" never reached the court. Alas, alas. Sigh. Please vote for monthly tickets, woohoo!!!!!!!!