Chapter 52: Chapter Fifty-Two: General Qi, I Have Doubts

Empress Dowager Li agreed to grant Qi Jiguang a noble title because she had her own calculations: Qi Jiguang had become a disciple of Zhang Juzheng, and with the rank of viscount, he could enter the capital to assume office as Provincial Military Commander of the Capital Garrison; should that day arrive, Zhang Juzheng’s Zhang Faction—today’s Jin Party—though not a clan-based faction, would be sufficient to threaten the Emperor.

This was a scenario she would never allow, so when Qi Jiguang came to the palace to observe the Emperor’s martial training, Empress Dowager Li immediately imposed this condition without consultation.

Zhu Yijun’s expression remained unchanged; Empress Dowager Li had not informed the young Emperor of her intentions beforehand, for she did not wish to place Qi Jiguang in an unduly difficult position.

Empress Dowager Li could be reasonable on some matters, but on others, she was exceedingly difficult; if the child suffered, she would feel pity but would not issue an imperial edict to block it, yet on matters of the outer court, she rarely listened to the young Emperor’s grand principles.

Granting a title is certainly acceptable, but Qi Jiguang, the sharpest sword of Great Ming, must remain in the Emperor’s hands.

Direct imperial control was the unchallengeable boundary Empress Dowager Li would not cross.

This matter of Qi Jiguang’s ennoblement was a test following Zhang Juzheng’s Five-Point Memorial, a test of imperial control; Zhang Juzheng’s debate with Yang Bo in the Fengtian Hall proved he had no intention of usurping the imperial authority or interfering with the Emperor’s exclusive jurisdiction—on this, Empress Dowager Li could tolerate all other points of the Five-Point Memorial.

The Emperor presiding over court sessions, reviewing memorials, summoning ministers, deliberating state affairs in council, and evaluating capital officials—all these were reasonable demands.

Under the imperial system, when the sovereign is young and the state uncertain, the imperial authority is weakened, and court ministers naturally seize the opportunity to make demands: for the Emperor to preside over governance, manage affairs, and meet ministers—all these were not excessive.

Zhu Yijun was about to speak and persuade Empress Dowager Li—he was eloquent, and with this outer minister present, she ought to grant the young Emperor this small face.

“I have always been a subject of Great Ming, eating the Emperor’s salary and serving the Emperor’s cause,” Qi Jiguang interrupted, bowing deeply: “I humbly beg Your Majesty’s discernment.”

“That is indeed true—General Qi understands well,” Empress Dowager Li said upon hearing Qi Jiguang’s reply, knowing he had accepted; henceforth, he would no longer be under the Zhang Faction’s gate.

Qi Jiguang’s meaning was that his past discipleship under Zhang Juzheng had been out of necessity; if he could meet the Emperor and serve without pledging allegiance to another, he would not wish to bow to multiple patrons.

To become a disciple of a patron was to become that person’s lackey; for a soldier who had fought in battle, it meant bowing low before the powerful.

Qi Jiguang and Zhang Juzheng maintained a gentlemanly relationship, but in this corrupt court, such arrangements were unavoidable.

“I am weary. General Qi, stay in the palace today and dine with the Emperor,” Empress Dowager Li said, without mentioning anything else to Qi Jiguang; the Emperor had already issued an edict affirming Qi Jiguang’s worth—she was not recruiting generals for her own faction, but for the Emperor.

The banquet was held in the Fengwang Hall; accompanying them was Chen Dacheng, Assistant Regional Commander of Jizhou, who was overflowing with excitement: the General had returned to the capital, received full rewards, been granted a noble title, and now was invited to the Emperor’s grand banquet!

Ten personal guards from those who had come to the capital were also selected to accompany him.

“I do not drink alcohol; the military regulation forbids it except for the naval forces,” Qi Jiguang said, looking at the wine flasks and cups with slight discomfort; the ban on alcohol in the army was his iron rule—he could not be the first to break it, and he still had to leave the city that day to return to Jizhou.

Zhu Yijun smiled and said: “The wine in the cup is merely water.”

It was only for the atmosphere; if he drank at this age, Zhang Juzheng would have to submit a self-censure memorial daily, and Empress Dowager Li would drag the young Emperor to the Imperial Ancestral Temple to recite the Confession Edict.

Upon hearing this, Qi Jiguang realized it truly was water; he immediately rose, swept his sleeves, and pretended to kneel: “Thank Your Majesty for your consideration.”

“In future private audiences, you need not kneel to reply; Grand Secretary Zhang gives lectures, the Embroidered Uniform Guard trains in martial arts, and Academician Xu teaches me farming—all of them do not kneel when replying,” Zhu Yijun said firmly, cutting off Qi Jiguang’s kneeling posture and citing examples to show this was no special favor.

For a seasoned general in his forties, having fought for nearly thirty years, kneeling before a ten-year-old sovereign was ritual; but the Emperor’s verbal command was an imperial decree.

When ritual and imperial decree clashed, whose word prevailed?

Qi Jiguang chose to obey the Emperor; he had discovered another trait of the young sovereign: disregard for conventional etiquette. This might be a tactic Empress Dowager Li had taught him to win loyalty—when the sovereign is young and the state uncertain, any method that secures the allegiance of civil and military ministers is a good one.

Yet such a tactic was deeply appreciated.

The meal ended with mutual delight.

Zhu Yijun highly praised Qi Jiguang’s military achievements in suppressing pirates and repelling enemies, commended his victory at Xifengkou, exposed and crushed the conspiracy between the Northern Barbarian Prince Xiao and Dong Huli, dealt a heavy blow to enemy arrogance, and lifted the morale of Great Ming’s soldiers and civilians; he also voiced his concern over the Northern Barbarians’ renewed incursions.

Qi Jiguang pledged to spare no effort in resolutely resisting enemy invasions, increasing the number of beacon towers and outposts to detect enemy movements promptly, and doing everything possible to repel the enemy beyond the national borders, not disappointing the expectations of Great Ming’s Emperor, civil and military officials, and the people of the capital region for the troops of the Three Garrisons: bold, resolute, and determined to win decisive battles.

“I have established a Baoqi Hall in Jingshan; Qingming has passed—General Qi, will you accompany me to see it?” Zhu Yijun proposed, after lunch, a visit to the Shanglin Garden.

“I humbly beg to accompany Your Majesty,” Qi Jiguang immediately bowed deeply; though the Emperor had forbidden kneeling, he remained profoundly respectful.

As for the Emperor’s promise, Qi Jiguang did not expect it to be fulfilled; he only hoped the Emperor would take military affairs seriously and prevent war from spreading to the capital region.

Zhu Yijun brought Qi Jiguang and Chen Dacheng to the Baoqi Hall in Jingshan, led him outside the sunroom, stood under the midday sun, and pointed to the seedlings in the field, introducing potatoes and sweet potatoes.

“According to Luo Gongchen, the Assistant Commissioner of Coastal Defense, sweet potatoes and potatoes yield over a thousand catties per mu overseas,” Zhu Yijun said, crouching beside the field: “General Qi, Assistant Regional Commander Li, both of you come from military farming households—you know what a thousand catties per mu means. More importantly, these crops do not require fertile soil; if they can be cultivated, countless lives will be saved.”

The seedlings were deep green, heart-shaped ovals, brimming with vitality; Qi Jiguang crouched down to examine them carefully, clearly recognizing they had been meticulously tended.

Zhu Yijun pointed to the five mu on the left: “Plant one seedling every six inches; one mu requires four thousand seedlings. Each seedling has four nodes; two leaves and a heart must emerge above ground, while the rest are buried in the soil.”

“This does not mean planting four thousand tuber seedlings; the seedlings are specially cultivated in the heat chamber. If the temperature exceeds forty degrees, they burn—so we use sterilization and cultivation, inspecting daily. Once the seedlings are moved from the heat chamber and grow to six to eight inches, we clip them and transplant them into the main fields.”

“Forty degrees?” Qi Jiguang, hearing this unfamiliar term, immediately asked.

Zhu Yijun led Qi Jiguang and the others in a detailed explanation of the principle and standard definition of thermometers—thermal expansion and contraction.

“Sweet potato seedlings prefer sandy loam; when planting, the soil must be broken, finely pulverized, and leveled. Too much water causes rotting of seedlings and tubers,” Zhu Yijun concluded his explanation of the entire seedling process.

The heat chamber need not be a sunroom; the sunroom’s main purpose is cultivating virus-reduced seedlings—only when pinching tips or sterilizing is the sunroom used. Once seedlings reach six inches, clipping and transplanting begin; they grow rapidly, with four nodes forming one seedling.

In the twenty-fifth year of Jiajing, Qi Jiguang inherited his ancestral post as Assistant Regional Commander of Dengzhou Guard, responsible for military farming; though the Southern troops (Qi Family Army) were recruited, they were not exempt from farming—in fact, they emphasized farming and warfare; the Southern troops’ discipline, free from looting and pillaging, relied precisely on farming and warfare.

For Great Ming, farming was a matter of course.

Qi Jiguang had extensive experience in agriculture and engaged in a long, serious conversation with the Emperor; Xu Zhenming stood by, filling gaps—only when the Emperor did not know something did Xu Zhenming speak; most questions, the young Emperor answered himself.

Only when they reached the pavilion of the Baoqi Hall did Qi Jiguang suddenly realize: he was exchanging farming experience with the Emperor! Was His Majesty not neglecting his duties?

Yet the young Emperor’s profound familiarity with farming was no jest—it kindled a stronger flame of hope within Qi Jiguang.

“Your Majesty, do you often come to the Baoqi Hall?” Qi Jiguang asked curiously; in his memory, a Great Ming Emperor merely symbolically held the plow during the spring sacrifice to Jumang—Song Renzong’s farming was merely a visit during harvest.

Qi Jiguang could write military treatises; since ancient times, capable generals were rare, as if battlefields were made for them—but few generals could fully articulate their knowledge into written works.

Many generals knew how to fight, yet could not explain the principles—like dumplings in a teapot: full inside, but unable to pour out.

Qi Jiguang could pour out his knowledge because he read extensively and possessed exceptional literary talent; had he not inherited his ancestral post, he might have pursued the imperial examinations; though his military talent shone brightly, he never put down his books in the army.

So Qi Jiguang knew Song Renzong’s Baoqi Hall was merely symbolic of agricultural reverence—did Song Renzong really farm himself?

The founding Emperor of Great Ming, Taizu, had farmed personally—even after becoming Emperor, he farmed within the palace.

“His Majesty comes every day,” Xu Zhenming answered; the Emperor cherished these seedlings deeply, coming to see them even if it was late, always before the palace gates locked—even if only for a glance.

“Your Majesty’s resolve and perseverance—I offer congratulations on behalf of Great Ming and the people of the realm,” Qi Jiguang said, deeply moved.

Zhu Yijun sat down in the Baoqi Hall—a small hall less than thirty-five feet wide, more like a pavilion than a palace; he smiled and said: “General Qi, Assistant Regional Commander Chen, Academician Xu—please sit and speak.”

Zhu Yijun looked directly at Qi Jiguang and said: “General Qi, I have doubts.”