Chapter 67: This Is Only the Beginning

Zhu Yijun had been reading, Zhang Juzheng had been pressing forward, and the Jin Party had been utterly crushed, forced to surrender.

In the first wave, Zhang Juzheng stripped Wang Chonggu of his golden edict, his protective talisman, and removed Yang Bo from office.

In the second wave, Zhang Juzheng dismissed Ma Fang, Regional Commander of Datong, ordering him to return to his native place and remain idle, awaiting further summons.

In the third wave, Zhang Juzheng removed the deputy regional commanders of Xuanfu and Datong, Ma Gui and Ma Jin, along with eight assistant regional commanders.

The problem in Xuanfu and Datong was a classic case of rites, music, and military campaigns originating from the feudal lords.

The Regional Commander of Datong was Ma Fang, a native of Xuanfu, but he had been captured as a child and taken north of the frontier, later escaping back to the Great Ming; the court had always treated Ma Fang as a Tartar officer; the Regional Commander of Xuanfu, Guo Hu, was from Shaanxi, with ancestral roots in Fujian; neither Ma Fang nor Guo Hu belonged to the Jin Party.

Yet the Ma Gui, Ma Jin, and the eight assistant regional commanders Zhang Juzheng listed were all Shanxi natives; after sidelining the regional commanders, they acted with impunity.

Since the strike had to target the vital points, Zhang Yijun keenly noticed that all ten military officers dismissed had previously appeared on Wang Chonggu’s list of recommended talents for the Capital Garrison.

If Tan Lun had approved that list, Wang Chonggu could have placed all his loyalists into the Capital Garrison; though the Garrison was filled with the old, weak, and sick, it was closer to the Emperor.

The dismissed Regional Commander of Datong, Ma Fang, was replaced by Yang Li, deputy commander under Qi Jiguang; Yang Li was from Shuntian Prefecture in the capital region, a veteran of the Capital Garrison’s Divine Engine Battalion, a military noble; in the second year of Longqing, after Qi Jiguang returned to the capital, Yang Li was transferred to Jizhou as deputy commander, where he achieved notable success stationed at Malan Valley.

Zhang Juzheng presented a fourth memorial, this one by Censor Yin Jin, accusing Wang Chonggu himself; Zhang Juzheng opened the memorial and said to Wang Chonggu: “Censor Yin Jin accuses Wang Chonggu of nurturing bandits to enhance his own power, relaxing defenses to appease enemies, saying: ‘Chonggu willingly flatters the barbarians, deceives the court, seizes titles and rewards, and when exposed, relies on money to remain unshaken. Wang Chonggu must not be used!’”

Ge Shouli, Chief Censor of the Censorate, held back another memorial, this one by Censor Gao Weisong, also accusing Wang Chonggu of nurturing bandits to enhance his own power and relaxing defenses to appease enemies.

Feng Bao had also leveled the same accusation against Wang Chonggu during Zhang Juzheng’s third wave of attacks.

This round of assault came with extreme speed; even if Ge Shouli had not released the memorial, Wang Chonggu would have been in great distress.

After long deliberation, Wang Chonggu swept his sleeve and knelt on the ground, shouting: “Your Majesty, the matter of Altan Khan’s tribute and enfeoffment was entirely decided by the late Emperor’s wisdom and the strategic brilliance of his ministers; I merely carried out his orders and made modest arrangements.”

“The tribute trade, using horse prices to pay silver and cease hostilities, brought peace to the people; the northern barbarians frequently harassed the borders; repairs to the northern defense wall were intermittent; now, wicked ministers hope for renewed border conflicts, whispering slander, as if removing me alone would allow war with the northern barbarians.”

“I am not worried for myself; I am only concerned that future governors of Xuanfu and Datong, seeing my fate, will no longer consider the state’s great dangers, and the late Emperor’s benevolent policy toward distant peoples and the court’s grand strategy to control the barbarians will be ruined. I humbly beg Your Majesty to take heed!”

Zhu Yijun understood: Wang Chonggu invoked the late Emperor’s benevolent policy toward distant peoples and the court’s grand strategy to control the barbarians—this was an appeal to seniority.

As for the missing fortifications, Wang Chonggu had answered: the silver from horse trade to cease hostilities and pacify the people was insufficient; clearly, funds meant for fortification had been diverted elsewhere, used for demobilization and peace; the Great Wall’s construction could only proceed intermittently.

The Great Wall’s unfinished fortifications were not Wang Chonggu’s intent—they were due to lack of funds!

Altan Khan was truly a basket into which anything could be thrown.

Finally came a veiled threat: Wang Chonggu claimed he did not care for himself, only feared that future governors of Xuanfu and Datong, seeing his fate of “seeking honor and receiving disgrace,” would cease worrying about the state’s great dangers and instead collude with the northern barbarians—what then?

Wang Chonggu’s words were mere child’s play; the court ministers saw through them as clearly as mirrors.

Who was truly colluding with the northern barbarians? The successors, or Wang Chonggu and his Jin Party?

Accusations of Wang Chonggu nurturing bandits to enhance his own power and relaxing defenses to appease enemies had long existed; since the Longqing peace talks, such voices had never ceased; clearly, Zhang Juzheng’s fourth wave was not meant to achieve victory, but merely to probe further.

The gains were already ample; it was time to stop; excess leads to failure.

Feng Bao, hearing Wang Chonggu invoke the late Emperor’s name to intimidate the young Emperor and display seniority in the Wenhua Hall, sneered: “Confucius said of Ji Sun: ‘Eight rows of dancers in his courtyard. If this can be endured, what cannot be endured?’”

Ge Shouli laughed outright: the Chief Eunuch of the Palace Secretariat was wielding the Analects like a club again—this tactic was always effective within the Wenhua Hall.

“This means: the Lu minister Ji Sun used the eight-row dance, reserved for the Son of Heaven, in his ancestral hall; Confucius said: Ji Sun, a minister, dares to usurp the Son of Heaven’s music—what will he not dare to do?”

Feng Bao turned to the Grand Secretary of the Left Spring, Wang Xilie, and asked: “Grand Secretary Wang, is my interpretation correct?”

“It is correct. There is another interpretation,” Wang Xilie replied, truly wishing to avoid involvement in the struggle between the Zhang and Jin Parties—both were titans; why should he meddle? But since Feng Bao asked for an interpretation, as a Grand Secretary he had to answer.

“Oh? Another interpretation? What is it?” Feng Bao asked, feigning ignorance.

Wang Xilie sighed: “It means: if Ji Sun, a minister, dares to usurp the Son of Heaven’s music, and this can be tolerated, then what cannot be tolerated?”

“Grand Secretary Wang, I am poorly read—if even usurping the Son of Heaven’s music can be tolerated, does that mean we can also tolerate Ji Sun seizing the Son of Heaven’s throne?”

“Thus, such usurpation must not be tolerated; once this precedent is opened, rites and music collapse,” Wang Xilie said, forcing himself to explain clearly and plainly.

Ji Sun’s usurpation of the Son of Heaven’s music by a minister was absolutely intolerable.

Feng Bao exclaimed in understanding: “Ah, so it is! If a minister’s usurpation of the Son of Heaven’s music cannot be tolerated, what do you say, Minister Wang?”

Rites, music, and military campaigns originate from the Son of Heaven; Wang Chonggu used the military affairs of Xuanfu and Datong to pressure the sovereign—this the ministers might tolerate, but Feng Bao absolutely could not; even if this were established fact, the principle must be clarified: right is right, wrong is wrong; such conduct is wrong, and it must be declared so, even if the current situation cannot be changed—never shall truth be inverted!

Otherwise, what use is my position as Chief Eunuch of the Palace Secretariat?

Yang Bo looked at Feng Bao with unexpected surprise; he now regarded Feng Bao with renewed respect; since the assassination attempt, Feng Bao had spoken little in court, but every word was steeped in classical reference, delivered with precision—more scholarly than the scholars themselves!

Wang Chonggu remained silent for a long while, realizing Feng Bao had become far more difficult to handle than before; kneeling on the ground, he could only say: “I am ashamed.”

Feng Bao’s disadvantage as an inner court official became apparent: he was merely the Chief Eunuch of the Palace Secretariat; Wang Chonggu’s tactic of “I don’t care about my reputation” left Feng Bao with few options; he had won the verbal battle, enjoyed the verbal abuse, but could do little more.

To do more, Feng Bao needed greater authority; the precedent of late Tang eunuchs deposing emperors loomed before him—he could not demand more power.

Fortunately, the outer court had Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Juzheng paused, then said: “Your Majesty, I believe the matter of Altan Khan’s tribute and enfeoffment was not an act of willing flattery toward the barbarians; I believe this accusation is unfounded; I humbly beg Your Majesty to take heed.”

Zhu Yijun looked up at Zhang Juzheng: the agreed-upon policy of attending court meetings—now every incident forced a ten-year-old child to decide—could he still read in peace?

After careful deliberation, the young Emperor said: “I have long heard that Minister Wang has rendered meritorious service, devoted himself to military strategy and border affairs, quelled the smoke of war along the frontier; I dare not violate the late Emperor’s benevolent policy toward distant peoples, nor arbitrarily alter the court’s grand strategy to control the barbarians; it is best to instruct the censors to refrain from further comment.”

“What does the Chief Minister think?”

Zhang Juzheng bowed deeply: “Your Majesty is wise.”

“What does Minister Yang think?”

“Your Majesty is sagacious,” Yang Bo replied, bowing low.

Zhang Juzheng did not press further for two reasons.

First, the court was already filled with Zhang Party members; if the Jin Party were utterly destroyed, the inner court would grow restless; during a minority reign, Zhang Juzheng had already reached the limit of what a Chief Minister could achieve—he had performed his role as Chief Minister with exceptional competence.

Second, military readiness was lax, the Capital Garrison was decaying; Wang Chonggu could not yet be removed; to remove Wang Chonggu, the Capital Garrison must be revitalized and restored to offensive capability; otherwise, if frontier armies grew too powerful, removing Wang Chonggu alone would be futile.

“Thank Your Majesty’s great grace,” Wang Chonggu bowed again in thanks; the young Emperor’s statement had spared him from disaster.

“Rise. Continue the court deliberation,” Zhu Yijun waved his small hand, signaling the meeting to proceed; seeing no bloodshed, he was still somewhat disappointed.

Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang opened his mouth and delivered another backstab to the Jin Party.

The Regional Commander of the Capital Garrison, Wang Chonggu, and others petitioned for funds to repair frontier defenses: repairs to walls in Xuanfu and fortifications at northern passes like Ningyuan required 23,006 shi of grain and 39,093 taels of silver; the Ministry of Revenue calculated that last year’s surplus was 20,000 shi of rice and 30,000 taels of silver, and offered only 3,006 shi of grain and 993 taels of silver.

The Great Ming’s frontier repair accounts followed the rule of seven parts Ministry of Revenue, three parts Ministry of War; this meant: of these 3,006 shi of grain and 993 taels of silver, the Ministry of Revenue bore seven-tenths, the Ministry of War three-tenths.

More departments meant more procedures; with such a small amount, rigidity multiplied, and bickering increased; Wang Chonggu had to run between two ministries for this meager sum—not out of malice, but because Wang Guoguang, now leading the Ministry of Revenue, would no longer let the Jin Party drain the court’s blood.

To enrich the state, one must open new sources and cut expenses; since new sources remain uncertain, Wang Guoguang had performed excellently in cutting expenses.

The court deliberation ended in chaos; ministers bowed and departed the hall; Zhu Yijun put down his brush.

“I am incapable,” Zhang Juzheng wished to kneel and bow, but the Emperor had decreed no kneeling during audience; he could only bow low and utter these words.

Zhang Juzheng considered failing to completely eliminate Wang Chonggu a failure; Zhu Yijun did not agree—he looked at Zhang Juzheng with a strange expression: could this be called incapacity?

Who are you mocking?

“I trust the Chief Minister can handle it,” Zhu Yijun knew exactly what kind of man Zhang Juzheng was; having launched the offensive against Wang Chonggu, if he failed to remove him this time, he would succeed next time.

“Thank Your Majesty for trusting me! I… am overwhelmed with gratitude,” Zhang Juzheng bowed again, his fists clenched tightly.

This was his second time declaring himself incapable; he would never allow himself to say it a third time; with the Emperor’s trust and imperial authority behind him, if Zhang Juzheng still said “I am incapable,” then he truly would be.

Once and twice, but not thrice; the Emperor is so, and Zhang Juzheng is so.

This was the third time the Jin Party had provoked him: first, the assassination attempt tried to pin blame on Qi Jiguang; second, they turned Lu Shusheng, Minister of Rites, into one of their own; third, the matter of Li Le; Zhang Juzheng would not stop here.

This series of attacks was merely the beginning of dismantling the Jin Party.