Chapter 403: The Emperor Wanli Era

The great victory at Kaiping Wei, the death of Subahei, and the enemy's instant collapse all signify that the Northern Barbarians' will to resist has been utterly shattered—this is the fundamental purpose of war: to completely destroy the opponent's will to resist and force them to submit to one's own will, allowing the Great Ming to act as it pleases.

Tumens, the ruler of the Tumens Khanate, whose lineage is Borjigin Tumens, now faces a precarious rule; his golden bloodline can no longer suppress the restless ambitions stirring among his people.

Kaiping Wei, Song Yingchang, Quanning Wei, and Danning Wei were all originally under the jurisdiction of the Northern Parallel Capital Military Commission, whose headquarters was located in Danning Wei.

Since the Yongle era, when the Ning Prince's fief was relocated inland, the various garrisons of the Northern Parallel Capital Military Commission gradually withdrew, eventually being completely abandoned.

This was the inevitable trend of promoting literature and suppressing military affairs; after Zhu Di personally led campaigns and died on the march, the trend of promoting literature and suppressing military affairs was firmly established. Even after the capital was moved in Yongle nineteenth year, the Ming court had already faced strong opposition to the mounting hardships caused by continuous northern expeditions.

In Yongle nineteenth year, Grand Secretary of the Ministry of Revenue Zi Xia Zi Xia Yuanji, Minister of War Fang Bin, and Minister of Public Works Wu Zhong opposed Emperor Emperor Chengzu's further northern campaigns, citing depleted border reserves, exhaustion both internally and externally, and the emperor's declining health.

Zi Xia Zi Xia Yuanji had served as Minister of Revenue since Yongle first year, holding the post for nineteen years straight, overseeing Zheng He's voyages, Emperor Emperor Chengzu's northern expeditions, the construction of the northern capital, and the compilation of the Yongle Encyclopedia; throughout, he tirelessly supported the emperor's grand ambitions. His firm opposition to the fifth northern campaign stemmed not only from the repeated strains of prior expeditions but also from Emperor Emperor Chengzu's own deteriorating health.

The emperor, who had spent his life on horseback, suffered from chronic illnesses in his later years, with old wounds repeatedly flaring up.

After Emperor Emperor Chengzu's death, the momentum toward promoting literature and suppressing military affairs became absolute; under this calculated trend, the Ming gradually abandoned its northern territories, until the capital itself became the frontline of mounting tensions.

Now, what the Great Ming had lost, Zhu Zhu Yijun was slowly reclaiming—but reclaiming was only the beginning; stabilizing rule was the true challenge ahead. After long and deep contemplation, Zhu Zhu Yijun found the key: one word—profit.

After seeing off his son Wang Qian, Grand Secretary Wang Wang Chonggu's household fell into profound silence; Wang Qian had been like a cub hiding behind wolves and tigers, and now that he had begun hunting on his own, the chaos he once caused vanished, leaving behind a stillness tinged with the melancholy of old age.

Wang Wang Chonggu adjusted his reading glasses and sighed again at the accounts before him—not because they were too small, but because they were too large.

He had presented His Majesty with ten million taels of silver, tens of thousands of hectares of pastureland, and actively subscribed to ship certificates; after these repeated sacrifices, his wealth had only grown—by the first half of Emperor Wanli eighth year alone, his household had received 320,000 taels, and with further income from overseas investment, ship certificate dividends, and woolen factory profits in the second half, this year's projected earnings would exceed one million taels.

When Wang Wang Chonggu returned to Xuanfu in Emperor Wanli first year to plug the gaps in the Great Wall's construction, he had exhausted his entire fortune to raise over two million taels to fill them; now, his annual income was half of what he had accumulated over the past twenty years.

This rate of wealth accumulation filled Wang Wang Chonggu with deep anxiety.

Wang Wang Chonggu was not afraid Wang Qian would become a corrupt official; former Governor of Sichuan Luo Yao had amassed 340,000 taels in three years, but Wang Qian had no interest in such petty sums.

As his family's assets swelled, Wang Wang Chonggu suddenly realized that silver was merely transient wealth; what truly mattered was asset ownership—assets continuously generated surplus production, and that surplus could be converted into cash.

The difference between one full meal and meals always full was merely a matter of degree—but these meals were too full, and would choke them to death.

Wang Wang Chonggu was deeply troubled: beneath the surface of apparent prosperity lay hidden danger. After thoroughly studying Zhang Zhang Juzheng's "Theory of Class," Wang Wang Chonggu fully understood why Zhang Zhang Juzheng had insisted on taking him along when he resigned.

Even more terrifying to Wang Wang Chonggu was that, unlike the Sun family of Songjiang, he had no escape route—he was the Grand Secretary, and as long as Zhang Zhang Juzheng remained, he could not leave; he was part of the ruling class appointed by officials themselves. Look at his titles: Grand Secretary, University Scholar of the Eastern Pavilion, Tutor to the Crown Prince, Minister of Justice, leader of the Jin Faction—the Sun family could place its hopes on the Yuanxu Islands as a promised land, but Wang Wang Chonggu's position doomed him to only one path.

Raise the emperor's threshold for execution.

Or rather, continuously expand the upper limits of what the current Ming political and social environment can tolerate, thereby allowing His Majesty and the court to permit the existence of the Wang family's colossal power.

The Wang family now earns one million taels annually; the emperor's gold-flower silver revenue amounts to only 1.2 million taels per year.

"The emperor is right," Wang Wang Chonggu leaned back in his chair, pondering his family's future. "Those extravagant households fixate on the meager earnings of the poor—they are shortsighted." For families, as for individuals, survival is the first imperative.

"Master, the Grand Secretariat has sent word of a victory: Kaiping Wei has been captured by General Wang Wang Rulong." The chief steward approached Wang Wang Chonggu to report the latest news.

Wang Wang Chonggu's gaze sharpened; he immediately took up the Grand Secretariat's victory report, studied it for a long while. Wang Wang Rulong's forces belonged to the frontier troops, which, as Qi Qi Jiguang had once declared, lacked offensive capability; even after full pay, the Ming's expectation of frontier troops was merely to hold fortresses and repel invaders.

The great victory at Kaiping Wei demonstrated the offensive capacity of frontier troops—a surprise to the court. The killing of Subahei, the Khalkha Wanhu, and the capture of his family and prisoners, now sent to the capital, clearly indicated this was no fabricated triumph.

Wang Wang Chonggu leapt to his feet and shouted: "Quickly, to the detached palace!"

His urgency stemmed from the long-standing anxiety he had just resolved—he had found his family's way forward, and he needed the emperor's support.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng, Wang Wang Chonggu, and Tan Lun arrived at the detached palace simultaneously—clearly for urgent matters. Minor issues were discussed in large meetings, major ones in small ones, and the most critical in closed-door sessions; clearly, this victory had drawn exceptional attention from the Grand Secretary, the Grand Secretary, and the Minister of War.

"Your subjects pay homage, Your Majesty. May Your Majesty's health be well." Zhang Zhang Juzheng bowed with the other two.

"Rise."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng had come to confirm the military rewards; according to the Ming's merit-based system, the Kaiping Wei victory qualified as a third-class merit, but since frontier troops had achieved victory, Zhang Zhang Juzheng petitioned for an upgraded second-class reward. He was the only Grand Secretary to accept military officers' gifts of silver and charcoal, and the only one to champion military revival; since Emperor Wanli first year, he had consistently advocated military strengthening, and this petition aligned perfectly with his longstanding political stance.

Tan Lun had come to confirm Wang Wang Rulong's personal reward; according to the merit system, the Ministry of War petitioned to enfeoff Wang Wang Rulong as the Marquis of Song Yingchang, in recognition of his valor.

Wang Wang Rulong had fought the Japanese pirates in the south and repelled northern barbarians—his military achievements were more than adequate.

After Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Tan Lun submitted their petitions, both received satisfactory responses; the Ming emperor never stinted on rewarding military merit.

"Your Majesty, I hear that Xindi has entered the palace? She is said to be a Western Christian holy woman. Your Majesty, Emperor Wu of Han achieved great feats in expanding territory and subduing the Four Barbarians, yet in his later years, the witchcraft scandal brought endless harm. History is a mirror to understand rise and fall; people are mirrors to discern gain and loss." As Grand Secretary and imperial tutor, Zhang Zhang Juzheng could no longer remain silent about the Western holy woman's entry into the palace.

Youthful curiosity in exotic things is harmless; the Ming already has many foreign beauties—His Majesty may choose one. Zhang Zhang Juzheng was not a rigid traditionalist; he did not oppose the rule forbidding foreigners from entering the palace. On the matter of San Nizi, he had remained silent while others like Wan Shihé and Hai Rui had protested.

But Xindi's identity deeply repelled Zhang Zhang Juzheng.

A holy woman? She is clearly a heretic.

"Sent to the Washing Bureau as a laundry servant." Zhu Zhu Yijun had taken Xindi into the palace, but never invited her to the detached palace; he had not sent her to a nunnery—that was already his mercy.

Taking Xindi into the palace was a gesture: I accept your gift, but I am deeply dissatisfied with it. Bringing Xindi in was a message to Felipe: the issue of Antonio is not beyond negotiation, but your offering is insufficient.

"A laundry servant?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng smiled and bowed. "Your Majesty is wise."

It was not that Zhu Zhu Yijun despised foreigners; the Western red-haired and golden-haired barbarians simply had a strong body odor.

"Grand Secretary Wang, the captives have not yet reached the capital. Why have you come for this audience?" Zhu Zhu Yijun turned to Wang Wang Chonggu.

Wang Wang Chonggu hurriedly replied: "Your Majesty, I have come with an idea, primarily to earn merit."

"Merit?"

"Merit." Wang Wang Chonggu spoke with firm conviction. Raising the emperor's execution threshold has another method: accumulating imperial favor. What I am about to propose will simultaneously build imperial favor and expand the Ming's upper limits—two benefits in one.

Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded. "Speak."

"Your Majesty, I believe the wool trade holds tremendous potential!" Wang Wang Chonggu cut straight to the point.

Why had the Ming abandoned Kaiping Wei, Song Yingchang, Quanning Wei, and Danning Wei? Because supplying grain and pay was too costly; transporting military provisions to Kaiping Wei was a heavy burden on the court, the roads were remote and riddled with bandits, and the fortifications were weak—walls were made of rammed earth, requiring immense labor to build. Like the Rehe military outpost, the court had originally planned a large city, but ended up with only a military fortress.

In short: they could not afford to maintain them.

After explaining his idea clearly, Wang Wang Chonggu's main approach still followed his "Plan for Settling Rogues": suppressing bandits, training troops, repairing roads and bridges, constructing fortresses, resettling refugees, and raising horses and sheep—all of which had already been implemented in Danning Wei and Quanning Wei.

The difference: the primary benefit of Danning Wei and Quanning Wei had been Taotushan, while the eastern slopes of the Greater Xianbei Mountains were mainly used for horse breeding and farming, not sheep herding.

In short: the Emperor Wanli-era Wang-style civilizing path.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's eyes brightened; the Ming already had several civilian woolen factories, and competition had driven up raw material prices; raising sheep beyond the frontier was now a viable solution. The tens of thousands of hectares of pastureland between Kaiping Wei and Song Yingchang could serve as a wool base.

In the early Ming, during Emperor Hongwu and Yongle reigns, such conditions did not exist; after the chaos of the late Yuan, population recovery took time, and then came the Jingnan Rebellion. At that time, the Ming heartland still had pastureland for horse grazing and sheep herding; now, the primary contradiction was population versus land—too many people, too little land.

"The frontier is not a wasteland—it is profitable," Wang Wang Chonggu stated confidently. The Shanxi merchants did not transport goods beyond the frontier out of charity; their actions were based on real profit.

Zhu Zhu Yijun discussed the details with Wang Wang Chonggu, then entrusted the matter entirely to him.

Let professionals handle professional matters; if Kaiping Wei could be upgraded to a prefecture under Wang Wang Chonggu's management, it would be a monumental achievement.

"Your Majesty, regarding this year's woolen factory dividends—could my one percent be fixed at ten thousand taels?" Wang Wang Chonggu raised the old request again. If His Majesty still refused today, Wang Wang Chonggu would have no choice but to resign.

This year's woolen factory dividends are projected to exceed 300,000 taels; Wang Wang Chonggu simply could not bear the uncertainty.

"Very well. But make this clear: the woolen factory concerns northern frontier security—you must give it your utmost effort." Zhu Zhu Yijun granted the request. The woolen factory, which had begun with a single handful of wool, a pair of shears, and fermented urine for cleaning, was now fully under imperial control.

"I shall exert myself fully," Wang Wang Chonggu sighed in relief, making his pledge. Even without dividends, he would still work hard.

While the closed-door meeting was held at the detached palace, the Spanish envoy Ruyizhi met Xindi Xilija.

"Omnipotent and merciful God, hear the prayer of the virgin martyr Xindi Xilija. Grant my plea, forgive my sins. Under Your ever-present light, I shall preserve the purity of my soul as I bring holiness to this land of unbelief." Before meeting Ruyizhi, Xindi prayed before the holy cross.

Ruyizhi showed no sign of a believer; his filthy soul was destined for hell—or even worse, the court of Yanluo.

Ruyizhi understood Xindi's intent: she wanted to proselytize! "Bring holiness to this land of unbelief"—how dare you, without the Ming emperor's permission, preach within the Ming realm?

"Holy Woman, this prayer is your last." Ruyizhi looked at her with pity. "Once you enter the palace, the depths are unfathomable. You entered as a gift; cease such prayers. If palace staff see them, you risk the crime of witchcraft—punishable by death."

Ruyizhi had to tell this holy woman: the more devout she was to her Lord, the more the Ming palace would reject her. Prayer and religious artifacts were strictly forbidden within the palace; any unapproved rites were considered heretical sorcery, no different from sticking pins into straw dolls.

"This…?" Xindi was horrified. She thought she had already become a martyr; when she prayed, she had settled for preserving inner purity—but now even prayer and worship were forbidden?

"The palace rules are strict," Ruyizhi said. "According to the Ministry of Rites' Grand Honglu Temple official, you were not brought in to serve the emperor, but as a laundry servant. It is cruel, but first you must survive." He informed Xindi of what he knew.

Once inside, someone would teach her the rules; the palace's old maids were not only skilled in postpartum recovery but also in enforcing discipline.

Ruyizhi feared Xindi would not survive.

"Can I return to the West? I feel this land of unbelief rejects me." Xindi's face paled; she had anticipated hardship, but never this.

Indeed, the land of unbelief was more terrible than hell.

"You cannot return. The Ming emperor's edict on this land is no less binding than a divine decree—especially in the capital." Ruyizhi shook his head. Once the emperor issued the imperial decree, there was no turning back.

Xindi could not return. She must struggle to survive in the palace—a survival challenge of hellish difficulty. The emperor resides in the detached palace, not the imperial palace; Xindi could no longer hope to ascend through beauty alone.

"This is not a land of unbelief. The Ming revere the sacred, but they also believe in themselves." Ruyizhi placed a travelogue on the table—written in Latin by himself. Whether Xindi understood it was up to her own fate.

One could imagine Xindi's life in the palace: unable to understand the maids' speech, her former life of luxury would become self-reliance—she would need to labor for every necessity. Her daily rhythm would be pounding clothes with a mallet, not chanting scriptures. Her Lord could not help her with anything. Her beauty, once a gift, had become a sin that invited envy.

Suffering would accompany Xindi for the rest of her life.

But what power did this individual have to resist the clash of interests between two global powers? She could only drift with the current—perhaps Felipe's mere whim had chosen a holy woman to test the Eastern emperor's resolve.

Ruyizhi could not help Xindi. Today was their final meeting, their last warning.

"You have only one path to survival: make the emperor your object of faith." Ruyizhi rose. His words ended here; the road ahead was hers alone to walk.

"Make the emperor…?" Xindi murmured. She now clearly understood the difference between the West and the Ming. She must rely on herself to survive. Her expression gradually hardened.

Xindi entered the palace. An old maid led her through the mandatory entry procedures: physical inspection. The Ming palace's inspection was extremely strict—not only checking chastity, but also odor. Women with strong body odor could not even enter the Washing Bureau; they were sent to the latrine to empty the night soil—more bluntly, to handle the five grains' cycle.

Xindi was fortunate to pass the inspection. Zhu Zhu Yijun held a stereotype: over 90% of Westerners had body odor and needed perfume to mask it—but Xindi did not. She was a carefully selected gift; if she had an odor, she was not a gift, but an insult.

Ruyizhi's travelogue recorded some of the Ming emperor's embarrassments: besides his stinginess, it noted that the emperor had created extremely luxurious perfumes, yet they sold terribly in the Ming.

Nervous and anxious, Xindi, after passing the inspection, understood the terrifying severity of palace rules. She was scrubbed repeatedly by several matrons until her skin shone, before being taken to the detached palace for audience.

As a woman summoned by imperial decree, Xindi, after inspection, naturally required an audience for the emperor to determine her fate.

Xindi had prepared herself to be transformed inside and out, her soul and body remade in the emperor's image—but she never met the emperor. She was assigned to the Washing Bureau. Unfortunately, the emperor's mercy and compassion had not yet reached her.

Zhu Zhu Yijun was busy with Kaiping Wei matters. The captives had not yet arrived in the capital, but a rubbing arrived before his desk: a stone inscription from Kaiping Wei, carved in the second month of Yongle fourth year, when Emperor Emperor Chengzu reestablished Kaiping Wei.

It bore four lines of poetry, composed by Emperor Taizu Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang, written in his own hand.

I have a thousand pints of molten iron, never shed tears for children's woes. But hearing of Chang Chang Yuchun's death yesterday, my tears wet heaven and earth, grass and trees.

Beneath the seven-character verse, a smaller inscription: 【I regret I can no longer serve my lord.】

Chang Chang Yuchun had captured the Yuan capital, renaming it Kaiping Prefecture; one month later, he died. The Ming could not retreat—"I regret I can no longer serve my lord" was Chang Chang Yuchun's final words; these four lines were Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang's response.

Kaiping Wei—the glory of the early Ming—crossed two centuries of history and leapt vividly onto the page.

"Order Wang Wang Rulong: erect this stele in a pavilion before the prefectural office, and build a larger stele in the city center." Zhu Zhu Yijun decided to leave the stele in Kaiping Wei.

In July of Emperor Wanli eighth year, Paulino and Ruyizhi jointly paid homage to the Ming emperor.

Ruyizhi made no mention of Xindi's fate—not a word. It was not his concern. He presented Felipe II's state letter, delivered a string of formalities, and was not worried about his own future should Ming-Spanish relations sour; he had already made his choice. Felipe had dismissed him as envoy, but he was now one of the Grand Honglu Temple's interpreters, responsible for translating Western texts.

"Your Majesty, the King has never set foot in Great Ming, so there may be offenses—but it is also good, for conflict breeds understanding. If conflict never escalates, how can mutual tolerance arise?" Li Li Yashi expressed his stance on mutual friction—he was merely an emotionless messenger.

Between nations, between people, there is always a period of adjustment—to learn each other's limits and temperaments. Great Ming's imperial authority must not be trifled with; on the other side, the ruler of the Empire Where the Sun Never Sets answers to no one. A little bump, a few fights, and then they'll submit.

"Paulino, this is our third meeting." Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at the burly man beside him. Paulino had a broad back and sturdy frame, stood nearly seven feet tall, his skin tanned dark copper by the sun, appearing exceedingly bold and open.

The great ship trade had entered its eighth year; Paulino had come to the capital three times, and Zhu Zhu Yijun greatly enjoyed Paulino's maritime journals.

They were always full of strange tales—like the giant-footed tribes they encountered in the Strait of Magellan, the endless redwood forests along Brazil's coast. This redwood was an extremely precious red dye, one only the most expensive silk fabrics could afford.

Each year, the great ships brought fifty-two thousand redwood logs to Great Ming—a number that grew yearly—while Portuguese and Spanish colonists frenziedly competed for them: stealing, smuggling, armed clashes, arson—nothing was too extreme.

"Most Revered Majesty, Prince Antonio, with the help of Advisor Xu, has become King of Portugal. In accordance with the Prince's earlier promise, here is the official decree returning the Strait of Ma Liujia." Paulino first presented a document—the formal decree issued by Antonio in his capacity as king.

Returning it signified that Antonio, as king, acknowledged Great Ming's legal claim to the Strait of Ma Liujia.

Feng Bao took the decree in hand, then returned another. Paulino opened it, carefully compared both, and confirmed—through the bilingual Latin and Chinese decrees—the legal ownership of the Strait of Ma Liujia.

"Most High Majesty, forgive the Prince's weakness. The shadow of war at home leaves him unable to offer substantive aid regarding colonial holdings—he can only leave it to Your Majesty to take it yourself." Paulino sounded somewhat helpless; the King of Portugal had nearly zero control over his colonial governors.

The West first opened the seas: Portugal was the first to explore oceans and continents, the first to establish a maritime academy, the first with the most advanced navigation technology—but the first circumnavigation was by Spain, the first Empire Where the Sun Never Sets was Spain. Portugal's control over its overseas governorates was extremely weak, leading to deep internal hesitation over whether to open or close the seas.

"Antonio's situation seems dire. I can understand him. Do you still need to borrow money?" Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded. Whether or not this decree existed, Great Ming intended to reclaim the Strait of Ma Liujia. With it, the action would be even more justifiable and aboveboard.

"Indeed. We require a war loan of two million five hundred thousand taels of silver." Paulino did not hesitate. More five-masted ocean-going ships were needed to form a free fleet, and Felipe II must be made to feel it was not worth it—that was the entire plan from start to finish.

Zhu Zhu Yijun gestured for Feng Bao to bring over another contract. "Sign it," he said. "You will receive ten five-masted ocean-going ships in return."

"Thank you, generous and benevolent Majesty." Paulino examined the contract, then signed his name.

"I hope Antonio can stabilize his position and quickly end this damned war. The interest on this war loan is so enormous, even I am shocked—but as Emperor of Great Ming, such a vast sum requires a proper explanation to my subjects. Even if the money comes from the imperial treasury, it is still taken from the people." Zhu Zhu Yijun spoke eloquently, but he desperately wished the Portuguese succession war would rage fiercely—for ten or even twenty years!

War profits, interest on war loans, long-term gains from extensions—all were deeply alluring!

This year, Felipe purchased only five ships, mainly because the fleet had repaid last year's loan and lacked sufficient silver to pay for new vessels. This long-term order could only be fulfilled once Spain settled its outstanding balance.

Felipe dismantled one five-masted ocean-going ship, hoping to replicate it. He never reassembled it—but even unassembled, its design held reference value. Spain developed a new three-masted galleon. Though its craftsmanship fell far short of Great Ming's standard, it was far ahead in the West. The three prototype galleons drove English pirates to wail and cry.

After Li Li Yashi and Paulino departed, Zhu Zhu Yijun met his third envoy: the ambassador from the English Queen, named George Weymouth, a fair-haired foreigner from the Cross family, a shipbuilding clan.

There were four letters: in English, Latin, Spanish, and Italian vernacular. Zhu Zhu Yijun opened the original English version, stared at it for a long time, then gave up. He could grasp only the general meaning—Old English differed greatly from modern English.

(End of Chapter)