Chapter 714: The Sun and Moon Grow Dim, Then Bright Again—Yet Some Sparks Have Already Been Extinguished

Shah Mahmud sought to enroll Akbar's children in school, and the Ministry of Rites mocked the Western envoy Li Yashih, accusing the West of ingratitude—how the Ming had helped so much, yet Portugal repaid it by ridiculing the Emperor's frugality.

Frugality is a virtue, though Shah Mahmud could not practice it.

Shah Mahmud also recorded this in his memorial; Zhu Zhu Yijun had read the gossip sheet *Overseas Idle Talk* and knew well what had happened in Portugal—the pen had not lied, the facts were true—but Zhu Zhu Yijun felt nothing special, for years of prejudice had taught him to see foreign barbarians not as humans at all.

Ming-Portuguese relations were driven purely by interest; the war reparations lent were chiefly for forty years' interest.

If one must speak of sentiment, the greatest was Anthony's annual quest across the world for crops and livestock unknown to the Emperor, which proved vital to the Baoqi Bureau's breeding—Zhu Zhu Yijun's mildness toward Anthony stemmed from sweet potatoes, potatoes, sugarcane, rubber trees, pasture seeds, palm trees, rex rabbits, turkeys, breeding pigs, and breeding sheep.

Between nations, interest reigns supreme.

Shah Mahmud recognized the advantage of high morality, focusing on anti-corruption, religious harmlessness, integrity, and loyalty.

Heroes exist in every civilization, but these civilizations lack heroic lineage—for instance, Li Yashih loved calling the Capital Garrison's elite "Templar Knights," and though the West once had such heroes, they eventually became legends, mere ripples lost in the tides of time.

Integrity is strange: take Yangcheng Bo Ma Fang—Altan Khan treated him excellently, yet Ma Fang ultimately chose to flee and return to the Ming, starting again as a lowly soldier, eventually becoming Altan Khan's nightmare and reversing the Ming's declining fortunes on the northwestern front.

Jin Aizong Wanyan Shouxu and the abdicated Wanyan Chenglin were Jurchens, obscure historical figures almost unknown—after the fall of the Northern Song, these Jurchens moved south, gradually sinicized, and at their final hour chose to die for their state, acquiring integrity.

The last Qing Emperor Puyi, after abdication, colluded with the Japanese; in the twenty-fourth year of the Republic, Emperor Hirohito invited Puyi to Kyoto, and Puyi knew full well this meeting was a Japanese propaganda maneuver to legitimize their aggression.

Emperor Hirohito waited at the station; Puyi stepped out from the Phoenix carriage, holding a knife whose scabbard and blade were filled with lead, heavy and impossible to draw—he walked up and bowed to Hirohito.

Puyi knew his purpose: he toured Japan's State Shrine honoring Amaterasu with Hirohito, watched the military parade with him, visited the Tama Mausoleum to pay respects to Emperor Taishō, and finally entered a toilet-like shrine reeking of filth, dedicated to war criminals of the First Sino-Japanese War.

Thus Puyi became a joke—the Aisin Gioro clan had ruled as suzerain for over two hundred years, yet Puyi, in Tokyo, changed Aisin Gioro to the inferior branch of the Minamoto, claiming Aisin Gioro were merely the lost children of the Japanese Emperor in the northeast.

One wonders what expression Nurhaci, Huang Huang Taiji, During Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Emperor Qianlong would wear if they learned their surname was now Minamoto.

At that moment, had Puyi chosen to smash his lead-filled dagger onto Hirohito's forehead, how would history judge Puyi?

So standing to die is indeed the last dignity.

"Akbar made a wise decision, but one question: how did he convince his nobles? Korea, famed for filial piety, had not sent a crown prince or imperial prince to study in the Ming since the Tian Shun era." Zhu Zhu Yijun remained puzzled.

Akbar's decision was excellent, and Zhu Zhu Yijun welcomed it—after all, a 3% drop in cotton prices was a vast sum, allowing the Ming's southern textile mills to earn more—but the problem was, how had Akbar persuaded his nobles?

Korea's crown prince and imperial princes had studied in the Ming continuously until King Li Zhao of Korea's seventh reign; during Tian Shun, Li Zhao ceased sending princes to the Ming. The policy of "serving the great and befriending neighbors" was first proposed by King Li Zhao—not because he did not wish to, but because his ministers forbade it, seeking greater independence.

Akbar did the opposite.

"He convinced his nobles with silver: whoever disagreed lost their cotton distribution rights. Instantly, all his nobles agreed—they had already intended to send their children to the Ming," Feng Bao explained. This was the question posed by Vice Minister of Rites Chen Chen Xuehui; as the Inner Chancellor, Feng Bao could not answer the Emperor without an answer.

Akbar was a Turkicized Mongol, a ruler who saw himself not as filth in a latrine, nor wished his descendants to become filth in a latrine.

"Submit this to the Ministry of Rites: when these noble youths come to study in the Ming, no more lavish giving and meager receiving—charge them, charge heavily, make it a profitable business. The Ming's benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness are very expensive." Zhu Zhu Yijun specified the details.

They may come, but they must pay more.

Feng Bao bowed deeply: "Your servant obeys."

Zhu Zhu Yijun continued reviewing memorials; Ma Fang, as vanguard of the cavalry, had galloped swiftly to Jiuliancheng, the border town opposite Yizhou at the Yalu River's estuary, now growing bustling—all proceeding as planned.

Liaodong shipped 120,000 shi of grain to Jiuliancheng—this was Liaodong's own grain; the grain dispatched from the capital had not fully arrived in Liaodong. To prevent his eldest son from starving, Li Li Chengliang diverted Liaodong's grain to support the front.

What intrigued Zhu Zhu Yijun was Li Li Chengliang's order: all chieftains of Jianzhou Jurchens, Haixi Jurchens, Wild Jurchens, and the Seven Outer Khalkha tribes must arrive in Jilin by the second day of the second month of the fourteenth year, and remain there until the war ended—during this time, Li Li Chengliang provided them and their retinues with food and water, and one bottle of fine wine daily.

He gathered these chieftains to prevent them from causing trouble; whoever failed to come would have their trade permanently halted, and after the war would face the Ming's thunderous wrath—but those who came would receive enough salt for their tribe's annual sustenance.

This was extremely tyrannical, yet before the Lantern Festival, before the Ming New Year had even ended, seven or eight out of ten chieftains had already arrived—the so-called alliance of mutual defense had never taken effect; Korea was nearly destroyed by the Japanese, yet these chieftains who had sworn blood oaths had no intention of sending troops.

"Do we still have Guojiao?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked about Guojiao's stock. Guojiao was actually sweet potato liquor, tasteless at first, but after decades of brewing improvements, it was barely considered fine by alcoholics.

"Thirteen ten thousand units remain," Feng Bao pulled out a memo from his sleeve and checked before answering.

"Send thirty thousand units to Marquis Ningyuan Marquis; these chieftains are clamoring for wine—this thirty thousand will last Marquis Ningyuan Marquis for years; whatever remains is his. Liaodong lacks grain—do not use Liaodong peasants' grain to brew liquor." Zhu Zhu Yijun wrote a mid-decree, sealed it, and dispatched Guojiao to Liaodong.

One unit contained six bottles, each bottle one jin—thirty thousand units meant 180,000 jin; each unit sold for twelve taels—thirty thousand units meant 360,000 taels, enough for Li Li Chengliang to distribute wine. In Liaodong, strong liquor was hard currency; in freezing cold, a sip warmed the body better than anything.

These chieftains didn't drink for pleasure—they took it home; in Liaodong, this was a lifesaver: spray it on a wound, the pain made one wish to die, but after the pain passed, one survived.

Feng Bao bowed in obedience: expensive to sell, but cost was low—when all expenses were counted, one unit cost at most two taels to brew.

Feng Bao dared not deceive the Emperor: if eggs cost one tael each, the Emperor would hunt down his nine clans tomorrow and execute them.

Feng Bao didn't even know where his nine clans were.

"Annam truly is an old man hanging himself—he forbade Laos from agreeing to the Ming's construction of a road to Laos! Utterly outrageous!" Zhu Zhu Yijun slammed the table after reading the memorial, his lip twitching.

The memorial was written by Wang Wang Jiaoping, who had sent envoys to Laos to negotiate the road—potassium salt production had increased, and with potassium salt, the Ming could enjoy favorable weather and national peace.

The salt lake in the Western Regions had yet to be found; Laos's potassium salt fields were exposed and easy to mine; with a road to Laos, the Ming would gain water and potassium fertilizers—yielding 1,800 catties per mu would no longer be a dream, a vital people's livelihood project. Wang Wang Jiaoping wished to advance, and to do real good for the people while advancing—perfectly ideal.

But Annam blocked this plan; in his memorial, Wang Wang Jiaoping cursed the Annamese king's ancestors to the eighteenth generation.

The Ming did not intend to swallow the whole elephant at once—building a direct highway to Laos—but planned to construct an official road and relay stations to Vientiane for trade, first transforming the sparsely populated route into a populated corridor, then discussing a highway later.

The official relay road beneficial to both the Ming and Laos could not be built because the little tyrant of the Indochinese Peninsula, Annam, refused.

Laos was one of the Ming's Pacification Commissions; in the forty-fourth year of Emperor Jiajing, the new Pacification Commissioner Panya Lan Zhang had been formally invested, and every three years Panya Lan Zhang paid tribute to Yunnan with elephants, silverware, Burmese mats, and rare treasures.

Laos was a Ming Laos Laos Xuanweisi—did Annam have the right to speak?

"Your Majesty, the Ming is too far, Annam is too near," Feng Bao sighed helplessly. Panya Lan Zhang had declined the Ming's request—not because he did not wish to, but because he dared not; if he agreed today, tomorrow the little tyrant would kill him.

"Let this jumping clown Annam dance a few more days—I cannot spare the hand to deal with him now." Zhu Zhu Yijun endorsed Wang Wang Jiaoping's memorial, approving his suggestion: increase grain imports from Annam; the more foreign grain imported, the less grain Annam had—already rife with internal contradictions and unrest, it would only worsen.

The Ming was a colossus; if it merely turned over, Annam would be thrown into chaos—but the war against the Toungoo had not ended, and the Ming could not yet spare the resources.

"Yet Panya Lan Zhang has an unspoken request—he dared not write it down, but hopes the Ming will grant him his ancestral surname. His ancestors bore the surname Dao; his real name is Dao Dao Lansheng. He hopes the court will bestow this name upon him—his current name, Panya Lan Zhang, was imposed by Annam." Feng Bao mentioned this detail: Panya Lan Zhang requested a name from the Ming.

"Your Majesty, this matters immensely—he must have a credible claim so the Laotians believe the Ming truly sees them." Feng Bao added, suggesting the name Dao Dao Lansheng be granted.

How had Annam and Toungoo become the little tyrants of the Indochinese Peninsula, even mimicking the Ming's tributary system? Because the Ming ignored the region entirely—having no expansionist desires, these Pacification Commissions and tribes could only endure Annam and Toungoo's bullying in silence.

Now the Ming's gaze turned to Indochina—for timber, jade, potassium salt—not for trade alone. Dao Dao Lansheng knew the Ming had demands and wished to strengthen control, yet if he could not even control his own name, how could he persuade the Laotians?

Strengthening control must come gradually; granting a surname signifies recognition, treating him as one of us, restoring Dao Dao Lansheng's ancestral name under Ming support, making him truly the Nanzhong of Laos.

Nanzhong was the Laotian title for the Pacification Commissioner, meaning "the Ming's hand in the south."

"Approved." Zhu Zhu Yijun considered and said: "Send him bows, crossbows, and long and short weapons. I oversimplified this—I focused only on the Japanese and forgot Annam. Three days without beating, they'll tear the roof off." Beyond granting the name, he needed some force—so Laos could resist slightly; if Annam's rulers truly moved against Laos, Laos would not be annihilated before Ming troops arrived.

Zhu Zhu Yijun did not send armor—Ming itself lacked enough; let Laos maintain some military strength, but not excessive.

"Has the Yu Gongci been completed?" Zhu Zhu Yijun suddenly paused his brush, asking Feng Bao about the shrine he planned to build by West Lake—he only intended to expand it, not disturb Yu Qian's tranquility.

"It has been renovated and expanded; several days ago, when completed, Yan Yan Shixuan submitted a congratulatory memorial," Feng Bao hurriedly bowed.

"Hmm, good." Zhu Zhu Yijun resumed reviewing memorials.

Loyalty and integrity are not infinite; the Han dynasty's realm and its loyal ministers must be deliberately cultivated to bear fruit.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu, president of the Imperial Academy of Natural Philosophy, submitted a memorial correcting a widespread belief: in the Ming, it was commonly held that distilled liquor and stills appeared in the Yuan dynasty—Li Li Shizhen recorded in the *Compendium of Materia Medica*: "Distilled liquor is not an ancient method; it began in the Yuan."

The Academy of Natural Philosophy had acquired a Western Han dynasty still, confirming distilled liquor existed since the Western Han, and its tradition had never been broken.

Antiquities, called "gold-stone studies" in the Ming, were often too ancient—centuries of history had erased their purpose; some existed only as physical objects with unknown use, others only as records, impossible to reconstruct—like Zhang Heng's seismoscope.

The Imperial Academy of Natural Philosophy had two gold-stone natural philosophers dedicated to this research, ultimately discovering the physical object: the still consisted of three parts—the sky pot, the tube, and the cauldron—and its distillation efficiency was not low, though inferior to the Ming's current stills.

When the Southern Song surrendered to Kublai Khan and the Han dynasty fell, some traditions were severed; these gold-stone studies were reconnecting those lost threads.

"Excellent. Issue a court gazette to correct this misconception. My uncle's words are wise: 'The sun and moon grow dim, then bright again—but some sparks have already gone out.'" Zhu Zhu Yijun deemed this research vital—for example, state factories were new to the Ming, yet iron offices existed since the Warring States, proliferated in the Han, yet vanished in the Ming.

This was a vital component of state revenue; with state factories, the Ming would not starve for funds.

The humiliating fall of the Northern and Southern Song erased many things taken for granted—like the *Zhuishu*, which Zhu Zhu Yijun had long sought, now lost—a loss to China, a civilizational agony.

Fortunately, the Ming truly had dimmed and brightened again—Rome never returned in a flash.

"Your servant obeys," Feng Bao replied. Zhu Zhu Zaiyu was not overreacting; confirming the still's origin strengthened cohesion—whether glorious or tragic narratives, both enhanced state unity.

Minister of Rites Wan Shihé submitted a new foreign state chronicle, this volume on the Rummi Kingdom—the Ottoman Empire.

The Ottoman Empire sent envoys to the Ming in Emperor Jiajing's twenty-second, twenty-seventh, thirty-third, thirty-eighth, and forty-third years; after Emperor Jiajing forty-three, until Emperor Wanli twenty-two, the Ottomans again sent envoy Duosima to the Ming.

To the Ming, the Rummi Kingdom was not a regular tributary state, unworthy of deep ties—the Ming did not know its location, its ruler, its territory, or its strength, and had never taken it seriously. Since opening the seas, the Ministry of Rites spent years to learn even basic facts about Rummi, concluding it was worth cultivating, and transliterated "Rummi" as the Ottoman Empire.

After thorough study by the Ministry of Rites, green luo was not "luo."

The Ottoman Empire was undoubtedly a great power, a major threat to Philip, but most Ming data came from Westerners, biased—this volume required revision and would not be publicly printed.

"Blood tax." Zhu Zhu Yijun read long, noting a key term; since sources were mostly Western oral accounts, the volume focused heavily on military matters—half the book detailed Ottoman military.

"Blood tax" was the Ministry of Rites' succinct summary: the Ottomans' taxes were bloody.

The Ottoman military could be summarized as "starve the realm, fatten the guard"—the Janissary Corps was the Ottoman Imperial Guard.

This corps numbered about 200,000; their daily food and lodging were excellent—unlimited white bread, expensive in the West, reserved for nobles, while commoners ate hard, gritty black bread; they bathed in hot water every three days during campaigns.

Superior weapons, rigorous training, high status, and an Imperial Guard Academy—the Ottoman Empire fought armed conflicts with Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, and Russia almost daily.

Two million people supported 200,000 soldiers; the Janissaries fought on three fronts and held their own—evidencing formidable strength. All things have cause and effect: the enormous cost of sustaining the Janissaries, the brutality of their taxation—every silver tael was soaked in Ottoman blood and flesh.

Everything has two sides; this "starve the realm, fatten the guard" rule had a flaw: the Janissary succession law.

This corps often played a decisive role in palace coups, even leading them, wielding decisive influence over imperial succession.

The Janissaries' formidable strength made them the Ottoman Empire's greatest violent institution; if they had even a minor grievance, they demanded the Grand Vizier's head to appease their anger; if the Sultan refused, they cut off the Sultan's head.

The Janissaries' influence extended far beyond politics; according to Venetian merchants, the entire Ottoman grain trade was controlled by the 56th Corps, which also controlled 90% of casinos, 100% of coffeehouses, 80% of saltworks, and 70% of silver mines—ubiquitous.

Venetian merchants lamented: "In the Ottoman Empire, even drinking a sip of water requires paying the corps a tax."

Controlling these businesses gave the corps independent revenue, freeing them entirely from the Sultan's control, allowing them to act as they pleased.

Violence had completely spiraled out of control.

This held immense lessons for the Ming: the Ming had 130 million adult males; previous tax revenues could not even pay officials' salaries, let alone soldiers—the Ming must reflect on why taxes could not be collected; no military may engage in commerce—the Capital Garrison must remain pure, never allowed independent revenue, or violence would inevitably spiral; the Ming with 130 million adult males could easily support 100,000 Capital Garrison, 200,000 navy, and two million semi-agricultural, semi-military garrison troops.

Two million semi-agricultural troops cost only eight million taels annually, as most of their pay came from land yields.

"I see now—Wan Shihé's long-winded argument was to persuade me to expand the navy by 100,000, to a terrifying 200,000." Zhu Zhu Yijun finally understood—Wan Shihé, an extreme conservative royalist, was subtly lobbying for a 100,000-man navy expansion.

Radicals proposed 50,000; conservatives proposed 30,000; extreme conservatives proposed 100,000.

The Ottomans, with fewer than 20 million people, could sustain 200,000 pampered Janissaries; the Ming with 130 million could not support 100,000 Capital Garrison and 200,000 navy? Expand!

Let the Ottomans think we cannot expand!

If we cannot afford it, learn the Ottoman blood tax method—tax the rich. Only after Zhang Zhang Juzheng completed land surveys and population censuses did the extreme conservatives dare propose this.

Wan Shihé's implication: the court is too proud—on finance and taxation, it must adopt the ugly face of merchants: exact every bit, haggle over every copper, avoid compromise, avoid being a water-balancer. On taxation, the Ming court must learn from barbarians.

"Your Majesty, 100,000 is not impossible—it matches Yongle's scale," Feng Bao cautiously offered.

"One hundred thousand is too much," Zhu Zhu Yijun wrote his red annotation while speaking to Feng Bao: "Expand by fifty thousand for now—sufficient. One hundred thousand would bring mediocrity; the Ming navy must remain elite, cannot tolerate mediocrities. Commander Qi's advice is prudent: expand by thirty thousand. The court needs silver for military campaigns and canal construction—it cannot afford more."

Qi Qi Jiguang mainly feared that the imperial treasury could not cover expenditures and that state finances would collapse.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had already been extremely aggressive: expanding the navy by fifty thousand troops meant the court must spend nearly a million taels annually. Zhu Zhu Yijun was willing to pay, and the Great Ming had the silver—but naval expansion was not just about money; it involved manpower, ships, and junior officers. Training grassroots officers for the navy also required time to accumulate.

Blindly expanding the army, like blindly scaling up production, would only strain the system too far and cause collapse—not forming combat power, but instead dragging down the navy's development.

On the fifteenth day of the first month of the fourteenth year, the Emperor of Great Ming received a border report from Chen Tiande, Inspector of Coastal Defense, stating that the Japanese pirates had advanced from Hanseong toward Pyeongyang.

Oda Nobunaga had promised to divide the land along the river, with the Han River at Hanseong as the boundary; the Great Ming had even sent an official reply—yet the Japanese pirates moved again. This was the nature of the Japanese pirates: it was not Oda Nobunaga deceiving the Emperor, but rather his inability to effectively command frontline commanders like Mōri Terumoto and Konishi Yukinaga from his homeland in Japan.

"The Koreans are going to suffer again," sighed Wan Shihé during the court deliberation. As one grew old, one developed a touch of compassion—even though he had always condemned the barbarians, the Koreans were still human.

In less than a month, the Japanese pirates turned the bustling city of Hanseong into an empty ruin.

"Your Majesty, issue an edict ordering the Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan to move the troops from Jiuliancheng into Uiju. Such conduct by the Japanese pirates invites heaven's and earth's wrath!" Zeng Ceng Shengwu proposed. If the King of Korea cannot defend it, let the Great Ming take it.

The Japanese pirates's brutality awakened the Ming officials' painful memories of the southern coastal raids—the horrors of that time seemed to be replaying in Korea.

Zeng Ceng Shengwu said solemnly: "We cannot let the Japanese pirates establish a foothold. Kaeseong is on the brink. Pyeongyang will fall in no more than a month, or as soon as ten days. If the Great Ming army enters Korea without securing Uiju, we cannot open the campaign."

Zeng Ceng Shengwu believed immediate military action was necessary—not merely out of emotion or sympathy, but from Great Ming's strategic calculus: once defeat begins, it cascades like a mountain collapsing. No one could say how long Pyeongyang would hold. If we arrive too late, the Great Ming will have no foothold in Korea.