Chapter 402: Corrupt Officials Greedily Go Unchecked, the Virtuous People Suffer in Ignorance

From the perspective of class theory, it becomes perfectly clear why imperial power—and indeed the court—spends relentless effort confronting great clans such as the Kong family of Yanzhou, the Xu family of Songjiang, the Yang family of Xindu, and the Zhang family of Pucheng: they have transcended the status of prestigious lineages and now threaten the hereditary and court-appointed official class.

These extravagant households control populations, land, and workshops far exceeding the red line permissible under Ming's current political and social environment; if not curbed, their usurpation of imperial authority will become inevitable.

For instance, the Kong family of Yanzhou and its lackeys control over half of Shandong's land, exceeding five hundred thousand hectares; even after two centuries of effort by the Prince of Qian in Yunnan, including official lands registered under the Prince's household to prevent tribal chieftains from reclaiming them, they still only hold forty thousand hectares.

In Sichuan, the Land of Abundance with its fertile thousand-li plains, the total cultivated land recorded in the Emperor Wanli seventh year survey by Provincial Governor Wang Wang Tingzhan amounted to only 140,000 hectares; obstruction to the survey came from collusion between local elite families and tribal chieftains—the very existence of the Yang family of Xindu had reached the point where the emperor could no longer tolerate it.

A single province with 140,000 hectares, or 14 million mu of land? Even ghosts wouldn't be fooled by such a farce!

By contrast, Shaanxi and the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission, drier and perpetually on the brink of drought, recorded 650,000 hectares of cultivated land in last year's survey; Henan had 1.14 million hectares; the Southern Court had 1.89 million hectares; yet Sichuan's taxable land stood at only 140,000 hectares.

Imperial power and the court had only two choices: either pretend ignorance, turn a blind eye, and drown in the illusion of ritual-bound imperial majesty, silently watching these clans erode the Ming's foundations; or renew the system, uproot them entirely, and drive a new Ming policy to mediate tensions among classes.

Without doubt, the court chose the latter—that is precisely what Zhu Zhu Yijun and Zhang Zhang Juzheng, and the administration they led, have been doing.

The reason is simple: my money!

Wang Qian immediately prepared to depart; the showy Wang Qian brought over a hundred carriages—not because he wished to stand out, but because, if opened, each carriage contained firearms; this journey was not merely to investigate a case, but to escort weapons destined for Sichuan—weapons meant to guard against unrest in the southwest after Mang Yang Yinglong's death, delivered to Regional Commander Liu Zhang Xian.

The entourage marched resolutely toward Sichuan; Wang Qian was not alone—Wang Wang Chonggu had written multiple letters to his allies in the Jin Party, carefully instructing them to provide protection.

On the first day of the seventh month of Emperor Wanli eighth year, the seventh Spanish galleon arrived at the Songjiang Customs Office; this time, seven five-masted ocean-going ships docked, carrying envoys from Spain, Portugal, France, and England; the captain had changed from Marcus to Paulino, Paulino Franco, second mate under King Antonio of Portugal.

Paulino's face was grim as he stared at the approaching Xingang of Songjiang; when he first arrived in Emperor Wanli second year, it had been nothing but a fishing village—rudimentary piers extending sparsely into the sea, with only a dozen small fishing boats in the harbor; back then, with the galleon's crew complement, capturing Xingang would have been effortless.

At that time, the Governor of Luzon, Francisco, constantly boasted that two thousand Western troops could crush the Ming; later, the number swelled to twenty thousand, then forty thousand, then fifty thousand—but now, the Ming navy's size had surpassed Philip's Armada.

The Xingang of Songjiang was the brightest jewel on the entire Maritime Silk Road—without exception.

A natural deep-water port, connected to waterways serving nine provinces, officials not overly greedy, countless workshops, and industrious commoners had created this miracle: cargo and passenger ships, like giant dragons, wound across the rippling sea, sails blotting out the sky, becoming nesting grounds for birds; the endless docks teemed with people bustling to load and unload goods—this bustle embodied the prosperity of Ming maritime trade.

"Captain Paulino, though this may seem rash, as an experienced envoy, can you tell us—is it always like this? My God, this incredible prosperity—is it the work of the divine?" A young woman exclaimed, staring in awe at the scene before her.

In the West, no city then had a population exceeding one hundred thousand; though legends claimed ancient Rome's population once surpassed that figure, it remained merely legend.

The sea breeze brushed her cheek, bringing before her eyes this miracle of a human city—Songjiang.

Cindy Celia, a musician, was also a holy virgin of the Papacy; she came from Rome, with fiery red hair, dazzling as flame, large eyes filled with disbelief, a fitted top accentuating her slender curves like a fragile flower blooming in the night.

Cindy was an envoy of Philip II, a devout believer who vowed to dedicate her lifelong virginity to her god; her mission to the Ming carried a specific task: the Martyrdom of Virginity. Cindy was Philip II's gift to the Ming emperor.

Philip sometimes could not fathom what this eighteen-year-old Ming emperor was thinking; with the terrifying army at his disposal, the emperor need not heed the constraints of mere schemers and gossips; yet as the supreme ruler, his harem contained only three women.

After much deliberation, Philip sent a great beauty; those who wield power always crave to shatter beauty and break taboos—such is the allure of power itself.

Philip was thus: as the dominant power of the West, he judged others by himself, believing previous women he sent lacked distinctiveness; to ensure lasting friendship between the Ming and the Western hegemon, Philip chose Cindy Celia.

This gesture appeared suspiciously flattering—yes, it was not suspicion, it was fact.

Philip did not wish to strain relations, especially since Antonio had received Ming's investiture; as Western hegemon, he could not permit it—he had coveted Portugal for over twenty years; securing its ports would enable faster reinforcement of the Netherlands, a necessity for Philip.

Yet eliminating Antonio would inevitably offend the Ming emperor, requiring an opportunity for reconciliation.

"This is not the work of the divine, but the will of His Majesty. I know Philip II's vile schemes, but merely seeing His Majesty is already a grace—do not beg for further mercy," Captain Paulino understood this awe perfectly.

One million people living in a single city, with endless dwellings stretching beyond its walls—such a vast metropolis, so orderly, appeared to Cindy and all Westerners as a divine miracle; yet it was not the work of gods, but the embodiment of the Ming emperor's will.

"Are there many such wonders in this ancient Eastern empire?" Cindy asked, puzzled.

"Miracles differ from one another, just as one cannot step into the same river twice; each miracle possesses its own uniqueness," Paulino replied after thought; he had personally witnessed four cities exceeding one million people: the Northern Court, the Southern Court, Ningbo, and Songjiang.

The seven five-masted ocean-going ships were towed to long-term berths; all Westerners were led into a circular walled city.

This was the "City of Ten Thousand Nations," standard at every customs office, housing foreign barbarians who could not enter or leave freely; trade occurred within its walls. The Ming was an extremely conservative state; such strict control aimed to prevent foreign unrest—the earlier Japanese envoys' dispute over tribute had humiliated the emperor and court, and the Yisibaxi rebellion—a Persian armed uprising in Quanzhou during the late Yuan and early Ming—had left a bitter memory.

To prevent such violence, the City of Ten Thousand Nations was established.

Upon arriving in Songjiang, Paulino's tense nerves relaxed; seeing his anxious companions, he smiled: "Don't worry—our ships won't be forcibly seized by the Ming; our goods face no issues; we will receive a customs inventory list—yes, it's that simple: one list proves our cargo."

"Can the list be forged?" a first-time sailor asked, sensing a vast business opportunity.

Paulino burst out laughing, pointing to the city wall: "See those hanging skeletons? Violate Ming law, and your artery will be slit, your body hung there to bleed out. Your idea is clever—if you try it, tomorrow you'll be hanging on that wall."

"I must remind you: the Ming is a land of ritual and civilization, but its definition of 'human' is narrow—foreign barbarians are not considered human here. Any violation of Ming law invites punishment you cannot imagine; hanging here is already good fortune."

Cindy asked in astonishment: "Hanging here is good fortune?"

Paulino's face turned grave: "Yes. In the Ming capital lies a hell on earth; those who commit grave offenses—such as Japanese pirates or pirates who shed Ming blood—are sent there. Believe me, it is truly a hell on earth—even Ming subjects who anger His Majesty are sent there."

Cindy's face turned pale; she had read Lí Yáshí's travelogue, where she believed only divine emissaries could govern such a vast land; the existence of this hell made her realize things were far more complex.

She murmured: "I always thought the ruler of such a civilized nation must be benevolent."

"Your intuition is correct. His Majesty is gentle, like your god, bestowing light and mercy upon every Ming subject; yet he is also a demon lord. This seems contradictory, but if you read the Ming Doctrine of Contradiction, you'd understand—though for you, the Doctrine is too difficult." Paulino's expression was complex; he had read translations of the Doctrine and could barely grasp the emperor's state.

"Enough. Prepare for the journey to the capital," Paulino said with a reassuring smile. "As long as you obey Ming law, walk in the light here, and you will see only light."

At the Xingang, cargo from the galleons was unloaded; all rats and fleas aboard were exterminated and the ships cleaned—this after-sales service cost extra, and repairs to water-tight compartments were expensive.

Everyone knew: a dismantled five-masted ocean-going ship was worth far more than the intact vessel.

This was the Ming's way of making money; the five-masted ships themselves were already wildly profitable, but after-sales was even more so—making the extravagant households of the Southern Court green with envy; the Ming emperor was simply too good at making money!

This phenomenon was widely accepted, because buying a new ship cost far more than repairs; ships with no repair value were dismantled, their usable parts sold to less wealthy shipowners.

This was one key reason some extravagant households willingly surrendered their assets to the Ming emperor; they feared change, for new paths meant unknown risks; following His Majesty guaranteed real gains—the vast profits of the open seas required no additional risk, yet yielded abundant wealth. Why not?

Wang Daoqun, Shen Shen Shixing, and Sun Sun Kehong descended from the Viewing Tide Tower and arrived at the harbor.

"Your business must have drawn plenty of criticism," Shen Shen Shixing said, eyeing the Western women being dragged out, his tone tinged with melancholy; these women would be sent to pleasure barges or major brothels, enduring miserable lives.

One ship's hold contained over two hundred Western women; the entire fleet delivered more than a thousand to the Ming.

If their stories were written into popular tales, they would be gripping—but no one cared about their fates.

Simply arriving in the Ming was already reaching the other shore; for these Western women, had they not been purchased by the galleons in the Free City, their fates would have been even bleaker.

Pleasure barges were high-end, expensive, and hygienic—far superior to the cramped, damp, sunless stone fortresses of the New World; minor illnesses like colds were not met with abandonment, but treated with medicine; aboard the barges, guests rarely treated these foreign women cruelly—they were Sun family property, and damage required full compensation.

Some diligent women who mastered Mandarin within three months, learned to weave, could become weavers in the Weaving Bureau, escaping their lowly status.

Like a fish leaping the dragon gate, like a cocoon transforming into a butterfly—rebirth.

Sun Sun Kehong watched the women and smiled: "We must give the court some pretext to act, no?"

"True," Shen Shen Shixing nodded; Sun Sun Kehong spoke truth: profits from the pleasure barges, Japanese courtesans, Korean Goryeo girls, Luzon servants, Annamese pearl divers, Persian beauties—all were donated by Sun Sun Kehong to the Songjiang Maritime Academy.

The profits of the Songjiang Oceanic Trading Company far exceeded those of the pleasure barges and were far more important.

Vast quantities of silver flooded into Songjiang, accompanying goods traded along the Yangtze River to the nine provinces.

Paulino, Cindy, and three other envoys boarded a pleasure barge bound for Tianjin; the hydrofoil sailboat was a vessel only the brave dared sail—Paulino had tried it; even seasoned sailors could not endure its violent rocking.

This pleasure barge would sail directly into the Ming capital—yes, this was Sun Sun Kehong's gift to the emperor; His Majesty did not learn foreign languages, so this barge, filled with beauties from ten thousand nations, was one gift intended for Prince Lu.

Sun Sun Kehong was courting Prince Lu; after Prince Lu's future appointment as a regional lord, he might become Sun Sun Kehong's superior; the development of the Yuanxu Islands was in full swing—Sun Sun Kehong's leap over the dragon gate—he sought the title of Overseas Hereditary Official, escaping the doom of the Sun family.

The Sun family now controlled dangerous levels of social resources; though obedient, the court could not allow his expansion; if his influence threatened the stability of the ruling class, he would face certain death.

The pleasure barge entered the capital and was transported into the Taiye Pool; that same day, Zhu Zhu Yilu rushed over to inspect it; the Ming emperor Zhu Zhu Yijun promised: if he behaved well, this barge would be granted to him for his wedding.

Zhu Zhu Yilu was a spoiled child, doted on by Empress Dowager Li and not less so by Zhu Zhu Yijun.

These Western beauties, meticulously trained in service and surpassing Yangzhou's slender horses in skill, had also leaped the dragon gate—transformed from prostitutes into musicians of Prince Lu's palace, escaping lowly status and living in extreme luxury.

In the palace study, the emperor's desk was piled with memorials; Emperor Zhu Zhu Yijun held Zhang Zhang Juzheng's treatise on class.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng presented numerous examples—bloody, vivid portraits of human suffering—to reveal to the emperor the essence of class.

The essence of class is exploitation; class is the skin, exploitation the bone.

The seemingly rigid hierarchy was in truth a bloody knife scraping the bone.

"Upper and lower alike seek profit, public and private alike exploit; corrupt officials are ignored, the good people suffer in silence; over time, external promises become untrustworthy, internal unity fractures, the people's hatred sinks into their marrow, resentment accumulates into harm." Zhu Zhu Yijun read aloud a passage on the cruelty of exploitation.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng never resorted to alarmism; he preferred examples, using brief words to show the emperor the hardships of the people: exploitation was the act of slicing flesh from bone, then crushing the bone to suck out its marrow.

Beyond the Sichuan scale-case, Zhang Zhang Juzheng cited a major case from the Emperor Longqing era in Shaanxi: at that time, Shaanxi Provincial Governor Shi Mao had not yet arrived; a mutiny erupted among border garrison troops; according to the Emperor Jingtai-era ancestral system, each household in border garrisons provided one soldier, each soldier granted twenty mu of land, paying twelve shi of grain annually, with the rest for self-sufficiency.

Time passed; land loss, desertion, and consolidation had reduced holdings far below twenty mu, yet the tax remained twelve shi, worsening desertion.

In Emperor Longqing third year, the Shaanxi Regional Military Commissioner imposed an additional twelve shi of grain, fully igniting tensions; Ming officials turned a blind eye; border soldiers were already destitute; over time, they lost all trust in their commanders' promises; resentment accumulated until it exploded in a mutiny, leaving chaos.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng expounded on the essence of class and the harm of ruthless exploitation.

Zhu Zhu Yijun handed his annotated copy of the treatise to Feng Bao, instructing him to deliver it to the Ministry of Rites, the National Academy, and the Imperial Examination Hall for publication in the official gazette.

"Wang Wang Cifu probably won't sleep tonight," Feng Bao said; as Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, he knew this annotation's publication would make Wang Wang Chonggu sweat—this treatise clearly targeted Wang Wang Chonggu.

"No matter; didn't Wang Wang Cifu just win against Master Zhang? Former Sichuan Governor Luo Yao, a loyalist of the Zhang faction, has just been thrown into prison," Zhu Zhu Yijun said with a smile.

"That was only because Master Zhang was cleaning house, giving Wang Wang Cifu an opening. On the surface, Wang Wang Cifu won—but in truth, Master Zhang still won," Feng Bao knew the game well; using one to kill another was common. Wang Wang Cifu gained some political capital in factional strife, but with the class treatise published, he lost far more.

Wang Wang Chonggu had become the villain endangering the state—exploiting privileged economic advantages during the court's pivot, amassing wealth, and threatening the rulers.

At their level, gains or losses in a single city or region no longer mattered.

"Philip II still gives me no face—he plans to strike Antonio, even sends a peace offering." Zhu Zhu Yijun sat upright, his eyes dark and unreadable; Philip was targeting Antonio? He was slapping the Ming emperor's face.

Antonio wore a five-chapter dragon robe at his coronation in the palace; the robe clashed with the Sintra Palace of Portugal; Antonio was no good king, but after years of dealings with the Ming, he knew how to ally with a strong elder brother.

The Ming was a nation obsessed with face—and Antonio was right.

"He even repaid my loan—now he gives me even less face," Zhu Zhu Yijun tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought.

Philip II's gift lacked sincerity; Cindy Celia, as a holy virgin, might offer forbidden pleasures—emotional value indeed rare, and only Philip, guardian of the Papacy, could provide.

But what of tangible benefits? Philip offered no real compensation—not even extra interest on the loan.

This angered Zhu Zhu Yijun; his anger meant the Ming was angry.

"Philip's calculations are clever: according to his letter, after eliminating Antonio, he will assume Antonio's debt, sparing me from losing my massive investment. He speaks beautifully," Zhu Zhu Yijun stopped tapping.

"Issue an edict to the Ministry of Rites: arrange for Cindy's entry into the palace. I accept this gift. Inform the Western envoy Lí Yáshí: if King Antonio dies, I will properly raise his son—do not worry. If Spain ignores my warning and insists on annexing Portugal, the Ming will impose punitive tariffs—raising them from 6% to 50%. Let him guard his Mindanao and Peru Governorate!" Zhu Zhu Yijun issued specific orders.

Antonio was indeed not clever; he was indecisive, trying to hedge his bets—normal enough—but sending his son to be raised in the Ming was another choice.

Zhu Zhu Yijun's orders were not impulsive; the Ming court had long assessed Philip's determination to seize Portugal, held a court deliberation, and decided on economic sanctions—extremely high 50% tariffs—and military action: Mindanao must be abandoned, all ecclesiastical districts in the Far East purged, and the Peru Governorate also threatened.

The Ming could not yet strike directly—but what of the future? Philip understood the Ming well: the galleons had docked eight times; Western envoys had repeatedly met the emperor; the Ming's resolve to open the seas and the growth of its navy were clear to Philip—he knew over forty five-masted ships had been sold to the West.

The Ming had invested in the Portuguese king; Philip gave no face—then let him not blame Zhu Zhu Yijun for turning against him.

"Your Majesty, great victory! Great victory at Song Yingchang!" A young eunuch scrambled into the palace, prostrating himself and shouting: "Regional Commander Wang Wang Rulong led twelve hundred troops, stormed Kaiping Wei, expanded territory two hundred li, seized thirty-two thousand hectares of pasture, beheaded four hundred and twenty-four enemies, shattered the Chao Hua tribes, and shot dead the barbarian chieftain Subahei!"

"Huh?"

Zhu Zhu Yijun stared blankly at the eunuch; Kaiping Wei, in Yuan times called Shangdu, was captured by Chang Chang Yuchun in the sixth month of Emperor Hongwu second year and renamed Kaiping Prefecture; in the seventh month of Emperor Hongwu third year, it was downgraded to a garrison, Kaiping Wei established.

On the seventh day of the seventh month in the second year of Emperor Hongwu, Chang Chang Yuchun, who had just captured Kaiping Prefecture, died young at the age of forty, falling ill and passing away at Liuhe River. Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang was devastated, ordered his burial at Zhongshan, paired his spirit with the Xiao Ling Mausoleum, personally attended his funeral rites, posthumously enfeoffed him as Prince of Kaiping, bestowed the posthumous title Zhongwu, and granted him a place in the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Chang Chang Yuchun's princedom of Kaiping was none other than Kaiping Guard, which was Kaiping Prefecture—this place was of utmost strategic importance, historically a battleground contested by all military powers beyond the frontier.

(Map of the Northern Garrisons)

"Ah, this…" Zhu Zhu Yijun took the victory report, stared at it for a long, long time. Kaiping Guard had been abolished in the sixth year of Emperor Xuande, along with Xinghe Tianjin Tianjin Weisuo, and relocated inward to Dushihu Fortress, the official reason being the enormous logistical burden, the difficulty of supplying provisions for garrison families, and its remote, isolated position.

The battle was utterly one-sided. Blame must fall on Subahei: in the spring of the eighth year of Emperor Wanli, he provoked Wang Wang Rulong. After Wang Wang Rulong repelled this villain, he began preparing a counteroffensive—originally intending only proportional retaliation—but he never expected such feeble resistance. Kaiping Guard fell; territory expanded two hundred li, and the grasslands were fully absorbed into Song Yingchang's administrative seat.

"Good! Good! Good! The Ming army is mighty!" Zhu Zhu Yijun said three times. "Issue a decree to the Ministry of War: reward them with third-class merit. Feng Bao, tell Cui Min: grant each border soldier who fought at Song Yingchang an extra ten taels of silver as a bonus for their valor. The three hundred twenty-six captives—Subahei's wife, children, and subordinates—are en route to the capital. Order the Ministry of Justice to interrogate them thoroughly."

"Good!"

Qi Qi Jiguang had planned to send Li Li Rusong with the cavalry regiment this autumn, after the grassland rainy season ended and before the cold set in, to launch a surprise attack on Kaiping Guard—but Wang Wang Rulong beat him to it.

As Regional Commander of Song Yingchang, Wang Wang Rulong had been attacked; he responded with proportional retaliation, and had already reported this to court. The enemy's will to resist proved astonishingly weak.

(End of Chapter)