Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-Six: Face, Substance, and Dignity Are Earned by Oneself!

Qi Jiguang lost his Quan Chu Hui Guan credential, triggering a barrage of impeachments, but His Majesty always had ways to surprise and refresh everyone.

Want to scold? Want to impeach? Go to Jizhou yourself and see with your own eyes before opening your mouth—don’t just speak empty words.

Let the impeaching censors, the pure stream scholars, the Hanlin officials, and the court ministers personally endure three months of hardship in Jizhou, gain a deep understanding, then present evidence and speak with facts.

The content of the impeachments was so absurd it made even the ten-year-old emperor laugh.

The first charge against Qi Jiguang was that he killed civilians to inflate battle counts—a completely baseless fantasy. If Qi Jiguang’s southern troops had truly killed civilians to claim credit, they would have collapsed long ago, never lasted until now. How many people saw Qi Jiguang as a thorn in their eye and a splinter in their flesh?

Qi Jiguang’s suppression of the pirates angered many. With the pirate threat gone, stability returned—how could the gentry still seize land? How could maritime merchants still profit from chaos? How could officials still use the excuse of war to demand silver for city and coastal defenses, lining their own pockets?

During the campaign against the pirates, Qi Jiguang’s southern troops often achieved victories with only dozens of casualties while claiming over a thousand enemy heads—a casualty ratio incomprehensible to some civil officials, so the censors assumed Qi Jiguang was killing civilians to inflate his tally.

Battle reports can lie, casualty figures can lie, but the frontline cannot lie. The pirates once ravaged three provinces—now, is there any sign of pirates still roaming the southeast?

The people’s hearts do not lie. Across the entire southeast, shrines to living men are everywhere—would the people build shrines to honor generals who killed civilians to claim credit?

Killing civilians means killing the people.

If the southern route is distant, what about the north?

Qi Jiguang led troops amid heavy contradictions—take the battle in the first year of Wanli, when he repelled Dong Huzi. Ming forces, relying on the Great Wall’s terrain, suffered fewer than ten casualties, while the northern barbarians lost over two thousand.

The pirates were raiders; the northern barbarians were formidable enemies. Can such a formidable record not prove Qi Jiguang’s valor?

How many victories must Qi Jiguang win to prove his bravery?

The second charge against Qi Jiguang was embezzlement of vast sums—a charge on which Zhang Juzheng had the most authority.

Every year, Qi Jiguang sent silver to Quan Chu Hui Guan as ice gifts and charcoal gifts—always in silver fragments, and sometimes even salt certificates to make up the amount. If Qi Jiguang had truly embezzled vast sums, why would he send such fragmented silver to his patrons?

The Jin Party, under the guise of repairing the Great Wall, building garrison forts, and fortifying passes, siphoned off funds and grew fat—so they naturally assumed Qi Jiguang did the same.

The third charge was that he flattered powerful figures and fawned upon them—a genuine charge, because Qi Jiguang had previously served under Zhang Juzheng; he indeed flattered the powerful and fawned upon them.

The strangeness lies here: when Qi Jiguang flattered the powerful, no one dared impeach him; when he stopped flattering them, these censors all jumped out.

How did the Grand Secretariat acquire partial decision-making power?

Through floating memorials, which contained not only analysis of state affairs by the Grand Secretariat but also proposed solutions. The emperor then made decisions after considering the opinions of the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial.

Often, the Grand Secretariat’s proposals became the emperor’s decrees—that was how the Grand Secretariat gained partial decision-making power. Though not as potent as the chancellor’s authority in early Ming, it was already powerful enough to intimidate the sovereign.

But this time, it was the young emperor himself who conceived the solution.

It had nothing to do with Zhang Juzheng’s floating memorial. After Qi Jiguang returned his credential, Zhang Juzheng could only analyze Qi’s case from the standpoint of Great Ming—he could not propose a solution.

And His Majesty’s solution was effective.

Zhang Juzheng put away the memorial and said, “When you return to your departments, tell the court officials: if they still insist on impeaching General Qi, send them to Jizhou’s garrison for three months of training—find evidence first, then impeach.”

To gather evidence of crimes by a top general like Qi Jiguang, one must go to the frontier and search among frontier troops. Qi Jiguang is not a military warlord—he won’t harm these censors—but if these censors continue speaking against their conscience, His Majesty can issue an edict to Jizhou, letting Qi Jiguang present his case.

This back-and-forth would take half a year; if time drags on, the matter fades away—this is the classic tactic of exploiting bureaucratic inertia: turning big issues into small ones, small ones into nothing. Civil officials are masters of this game.

It seems the young emperor is also skilled in this kind of bureaucratic wrangling.

Isn’t it just wrangling? Who can’t do it?

As for whether the pure stream censors will go—likely not.

Leaving the capital for an assignment abroad means exile from power. Once they leave the center, their seats are taken, and returning becomes as hard as climbing to heaven.

After Zhang Juzheng finished, he turned to Ge Shouli and said sternly: “Grand Censor Ge, I must remind you: the Fengtian Hall and Wenhua Hall house sacred relics. The Censorate’s censors are the emperor’s ears and eyes. Impeachment is a matter of state—meant to curb flattery, strengthen integrity, defend upright officials, speak for loyal ministers, serve the nation’s greatest interests, and offer harsh but necessary counsel.”

“Are these censors deliberately distorting facts and stirring up lies, turning state affairs and the nation’s greatest interests into a child’s game? The Fengtian Hall and Wenhua Hall are solemn places; impeachment is an act of justice—not baseless accusations, not weapons of factional strife.”

“Grand Censor Ge, I warn you plainly: you are Left Grand Censor, Chief of the Censorate. Uphold the laws, clarify your duties, be loyal to the sovereign, loyal to the state, loyal to yourself, and speak only with facts and evidence—that is the bare minimum expected of every censor in the Censorate!”

“As Chief, must you wait for Hai Rui’s return to restore integrity among the censors?”

Zhang Juzheng rarely rebuked anyone in such tone and harshness. Usually, when dissatisfied, he simply removed people by other means. Now, he scolds so fiercely because he truly wants to help Ge Shouli.

If Ge Shouli keeps charging ahead in the conflict between the Jin Party and the Zhang Party, he will be the one who suffers.

“Yes.” Ge Shouli, silenced, could only respond. The Censorate’s poor performance was nothing new—he had no good solution, so he took the scolding.

Ge Shouli could not control the Censorate censors; his position as Grand Censor had nearly become the Jin Party’s mouthpiece. The Censorate’s censors and the Six Ministries’ remonstrators had no real respect for Ge Shouli, who flattered the powerful—whose words did they take seriously? Hearts were scattered; how could he lead a good team?

Zhang Juzheng tapped the table and said: “If Hai Rui were still in court, would he ignore facts and bark like a mad dog?”

“No!” Ge Shouli, hearing Zhang Juzheng mention Hai Rui, could only sigh deeply and reluctantly agree.

Rebuke must pierce the lung to wake a man.

Hai Rui was the lung of Ge Shouli, head of the Ming Censorate. The censors ignored Ge Shouli’s orders entirely, taking the exiled Hai Rui in Hainan as their model—and held no respect for him at all.

Zhang Juzheng mentioned Hai Rui because—

He wanted to tell Ge Shouli: face, substance, dignity—all are earned by oneself. Even if the emperor had offered no solution and Zhang Juzheng had not spoken up, other ministers would still have submitted memorials defending Qi Jiguang. Qi Jiguang would still have passed this trial.

Because Qi Jiguang had just won a decisive victory, annihilating Dong Huzi’s forces, while the Huyu Pass on the Datong Great Wall had just been easily breached by the northern barbarians.

Qi Jiguang has face, substance, dignity, strength, influence, and backing—once Zhang Juzheng, now the emperor—Qi Jiguang’s patron.

Zhang Juzheng had said all he could. Kind words cannot save those who seek death. He had spoken his mind—now, Ge Shouli’s path ahead depended entirely on his own fate.

The second matter of the court deliberation was to dispatch Li Le, leading a group of imperial inspectors, to examine the Great Wall at Huyu Pass and other locations.

Li Le was Zhang Juzheng’s man; the accompanying censors included the Shanxi Circuit Censor of the Censorate, officials from the Ministry of War and Ministry of Public Works, eunuchs from the Directorate of Ceremonial, and representatives of the noble families.

Eunuchs, Ministry of War and Ministry of Public Works officials, Censorate censors, Directorate of Ceremonial eunuchs—this was clearly serious business. It was the first time since Jiajing 40 that non-Jin Party censors had been sent to Datong and Xuanfu to inspect the frontier and examine the Great Wall.

“Any objections?” Zhang Juzheng held a memorial in hand.

If no one opposed, he would seal it and send it to His Majesty’s desk for approval.

On paper, the Minister of War Tan Lun, the Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang, the Minister of Personnel Yang Bo, Grand Censor Ge Shouli, and Viceroy of the Capital Garrison Wang Chonggu—all were Jin Party.

Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng, Minister of Rites Lu Shusheng, and Minister of Justice Wang Zhihao were Zhang Party.

The Jin Party opposed unanimously—Zhang Juzheng’s memorial, “Petition for Imperial Inspectors to Patrol and Examine the Great Wall in Xuanfu and Datong,” could never pass the court deliberation.

But Li Le, the censor from the Ministry of War, was recommended by Ge Shouli. Minister of War Tan Lun had already parted ways with the Jin Party over appointing capital garrison officers. Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang had openly defected during the impeachment of Tan Lun.

Lu Shusheng studied under the same master as Zhang Juzheng, and Zhang Juzheng had recommended him—yet Lu Shusheng now flirted with the Jin Party.

Wang Chonggu thought a moment, then said: “If these inspectors stir unrest, and if Altan Khan launches a southern invasion, and our soldiers lose heart to fight or defend—what then?”

Zhang Juzheng looked at Wang Chonggu and asked calmly: “Wang Shaobao, do you realize what you just said? Repeat it yourself.”

Maintaining enemies to preserve one’s own power was a common tactic—but Wang Chonggu could not openly say: “We can’t investigate everything—what if we uncover something?”

Wang Chonggu was silenced, helplessly turning to Yang Bo.

Yang Bo sat upright, hesitated, then said: “I need the Capital Performance Review to conclude soon—my body cannot hold out much longer.”

Whatever these inspectors uncover now has nothing to do with Yang Bo. His meaning was clear: he intended to stay out of this. He wouldn’t get involved—he couldn’t.

For Yang Bo, successfully completing the Capital Performance Review without disgrace was already a great success.

“Since no one objects, then so be it.” Zhang Juzheng signed the memorial, handed it to Zhang Hong, who placed it on the imperial desk.

Zhu Yijun picked up the Wanli Imperial Seal and stamped the memorial, returned it to Zhang Hong, and signaled he could send it to the Ministry of Personnel.

Zhu Yijun did not expect much from this frontier inspection. Zhang Juzheng’s strike had hit the vital point—but if the Jin Party could be toppled so easily, they wouldn’t be deeply entrenched.

“Your subjects take leave.” After the court deliberation, the ministers bowed respectfully and left the Wenhua Hall.

The Book Presenters, Readers, Lecturers, and Ritual Officers who served the emperor’s studies entered in sequence.

Zhu Yijun, watching Zhang Juzheng’s solemn expression, asked: “Grand Secretary, what do you think will be the outcome of this frontier inspection and Great Wall examination?”