Chapter 73: Chapter Seventy-Three: We, the Jin Party, Shall Bear High the Banner of the Sovereign

I truly am not neglecting my duties. Volume Seven-Three: We, the Jin Party, shall bear high the banner of the Sovereign’s Authority and Favor! The spear and shield are not always right on one side; if one side were always right—the spear never piercing the shield, the shield never failing to block the spear—there would be no spark, no great state dilemmas, let alone any progress.

Take the Ming eunuch faction as an example: in Hongwu’s reign, the founding emperor erected an iron tablet forbidding eunuchs from interfering in governance; during Yongle’s reign, the Office of Attendants was formally established; under Xuande, eunuchs declined and faded into obscurity; under Zhengtong, Wang Zhen dominated court; under Jingtai, eunuchs were inactive; under Tianshun, the eunuch Cao Jixiang even led troops in rebellion.

During Chenghua’s reign, Wang Zhi founded the Western Depot, filling all with dread; during Hongzhi’s reign, “the upright filled the court,” and eunuchs could not assert themselves; during Zhengde’s reign, Liu Jin led the Eight Tigers in establishing the Inner Factory, earning the title “Standing Emperor”; during Jiajing’s reign, Lu Bing commanded the Embroidered Uniform Guard, forcing eunuchs to bow beneath it.

During Longqing’s reign, Chen Hong conspired with Grand Secretary Gao Gong; in the early Wanli years, Feng Bao still held great power; after Wanli fifteenth year, eunuchs began to grow quiet.

Observing only eunuchs reveals that Ming politics, the conflict between eunuchs and civil officials, was never a matter of eunuchs always wielding overwhelming power, but rather of tides rising and falling, ebbing and surging.

This ebb and flow is a dialectical process of advancement.

Zhang Juzheng pondered long, then bowed and said: “Your Majesty, shall we examine the Illustrated Records of Imperial Precedents?”

Zhang Juzheng had a faint insight, yet still did not fully grasp it—he could only ask His Majesty to wait a little, until he fully understood, then offer clarification.

“Then let us examine the Illustrated Records of Imperial Precedents,” Zhu Yijun said, not pressing for haste, but choosing to wait for Zhang Juzheng’s reflection.

During the lecture at Wenhua Hall, inside the Quanjinhui Hall, Yang Bo, Wang Chonggu, and Zhang Siwei gathered in the study, discussing court affairs.

“The Grand Secretary is too tyrannical! Under the pretext of inspecting the imperial construction, he dismissed ten of our Assistant Regional Commanders—what more does he want?! Where was he when we fought the Tatars in Xuan-Da?! Now he presses harder—what is he aiming for?!” Zhang Siwei, upon hearing court news, slammed his fist on the table and roared.

Ten Assistant Regional Commanders weren’t enough—he now seeks to extend oversight to frontier grain supplies!

But Yang Bo raised his hand to calm Zhang Siwei and said: “You didn’t fight the Tatars either. Ma Fang has the right to say that—have you shed blood? Don’t you feel ashamed?”

“The Grand Secretary has not extended oversight to the tribute trade. Li Le’s lesson was sufficient. If we now obstruct him, he may reach into the tribute trade. The construction project and grain supplies are not the root issue.”

Li Le’s lesson was enough. To provoke Zhang Juzheng’s retaliation would be folly—if the tribute trade falters, if Altan Khan’s tribute pact falters, the Jin Party will truly be in peril.

“My relative speaks truly,” Wang Chonggu said after serious thought, agreeing with Yang Bo. Zhang Juzheng is vengeful—do not provoke him, and all may be negotiated; but if you truly rouse him, his retaliation strikes like thunder, leaving you no chance to recover.

Our political acumen is not on his level. There is no need to antagonize Zhang Juzheng.

Zhang Siwei looked at his two elders, who chose timidity before Zhang Juzheng’s offensive, and said with slight displeasure: “Then what should we do, Uncle?”

Wang Chonggu looked at Yang Bo and said: “I think we should follow the old precedent of military farming. Let them have their grain—it’s better to give than to lose everything.”

Since the silver-for-grain system began, the former merchant-farmed lands have lain fallow. Letting them lie idle is wasteful—giving them to garrison troops to cultivate is beneficial.

Wang Chonggu had surrendered—he truly dared not provoke Zhang Juzheng.

Let whoever wants to provoke him do so—just don’t drag Wang Chonggu into it.

“Wang Guoguang specifically came to me about this,” Yang Bo revealed after Wang Chonggu relented. “The Ministry of Revenue does not mean to cut silver entirely—it means to issue grain rations in kind, then convert the cost into silver for frontier garrisons. In essence, the court’s silver is the old salt certificates.”

Wang Guoguang’s shift from silver to in-kind rations does not mean the court abandons the frontier—it uses in-kind rations as oversight, issuing silver accordingly, shifting military farming from merchants to local garrisons, partially restoring the garrison system’s land cultivation.

Zhang Siwei pondered this carefully, then said, puzzled: “If that’s the case, why didn’t Wang Guoguang say so earlier?”

“If Wang Shaobao hadn’t mentioned military farming, I wouldn’t have mentioned this,” Yang Bo said with certainty.

Information asymmetry.

Yang Bo still holds his position—he remains party leader. He knows more than Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei. If Wang Chonggu doesn’t raise military farming, Yang Bo won’t reveal the Ministry’s terms. Let them fumble—they’ll learn.

Yang Bo didn’t believe Wang Chonggu or Zhang Siwei could outmaneuver Zhang Juzheng.

Lose, crawl back in shame, beg for mercy—lose often enough, and the Jin Party vanishes.

“Isn’t this better?” Wang Chonggu’s expression finally eased. Some loss was inevitable, but partial loss was far more acceptable than total loss.

Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei finally compromised—this matter ceased to spark further conflict.

“Now, the appointment of officers for the Capital Garrison still requires careful deliberation,” Wang Chonggu said, referring to the Capital Garrison—he was its Viceroy, yet Zhang Juzheng appointed Wu Baipeng, Vice Minister of War, and Yang Wen, one of the Six Tigers of Taizhou who fought the Japanese pirates.

“You plan to follow Li Le’s old tactics—coerce and bribe Wu Baipeng and Yang Wen? If you anger the Grand Secretary, I can’t guarantee what will happen,” Yang Bo said, his face growing impatient.

Success is hard, failure easy. The appointment of Capital Garrison officers was a major matter personally overseen by the Emperor.

The conflict between the Jin Party and Zhang’s faction was ultimately a struggle among ministers; but if the Jin Party sabotaged the Emperor’s own project, they would offend the imperial authority.

Yang Bo sat upright and said to Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei: “Besides, Li Le was merely a junior censor fresh to office—he’d never seen luxury, yet you couldn’t handle him.”

“Wu Baipeng fought the Japanese pirates in Yangzhou, Qianzhou, and San Chao; Yang Wen led the Six Tigers of Taizhou—they’re veterans of battle. Do you think they fear you?”

“What will you use to coerce or bribe them? Must you force Tan Lun, Wu Baipeng, and others to report to the Quanjinhui Hall for their badges before they’ll settle?”

“Even combined, are you more fearsome than Bai Gui? Hah.”

“True enough,” Wang Chonggu agreed with Yang Bo. Last time, they provoked Li Le—and Zhang Juzheng struck back with four blows, leaving Wang Chonggu dazed to this day.

If we stir trouble again over the Capital Garrison appointments, it won’t be four blows—it’ll be worse.

Zhang Juzheng is truly not to be trifled with. As long as it doesn’t touch the tribute trade, Wang Chonggu felt no need to provoke him—another clash might land him in the dissecting hall.

“So we just give up?” Zhang Siwei said bitterly. “Just like that? They’ll think we’re afraid of Zhang Juzheng!”

Yang Bo tapped the table sharply with his index finger. “You’re not afraid? Then you do it.”

“Zhang Siwei, I warn you—Zhang Juzheng is not merely Grand Secretary—he is the Emperor’s supported man. Ge Shouli has repeatedly impeached him, yet the Emperor rebuffed every impeachment in Wenhua Hall. Zhang Juzheng was already difficult; now with imperial backing, he will be far more formidable!”

“If you don’t understand this, I’d rather give the Jin Party leadership to Ge Shouli than to you. Ge Shouli is foolish, but he has loyalty. When the Emperor grows, he will remember our Jin Party’s loyalty in restraining the Grand Secretary from overreaching.”

Ge Shouli is blunt, but loyal. Whenever Zhang Juzheng coerces the Emperor, Ge Shouli stands to rebuke him for intimidating the sovereign—this is unique in court.

Ge Shouli reminds Zhang Juzheng: don’t think becoming Imperial Tutor and Grand Secretary grants you license to act arbitrarily or entertain dangerous ambitions.

If Zhang Siwei lacks even a shred of loyalty, the day the Emperor comes of age will be the day the Jin Party falls.

“What do you think of Ge Shouli, Shaobao?” Yang Bo asked Wang Chonggu, ignoring Zhang Siwei.

“Uncle, what do you mean?!” Zhang Siwei erupted. We agreed I’d take over the Jin Party—why now shift to Ge Shouli?!

Ge Shouli is from Shandong—not Shanxi!

Wang Chonggu hesitated. “Why?”

Wang Chonggu, having been struck four times, was finally waking up. If the Jin Party continued like this, it wouldn’t survive until the young Emperor’s coming of age—or until Zhang Juzheng’s death—it would collapse first.

The Jin Party needed a new strategy—but how exactly, Wang Chonggu didn’t yet understand.

“We must change our thinking. Bai Gui is now strong—we should claim the banner of supporting the Emperor’s direct authority, reconcile with Tan Lun, Wu Baipeng, Qi Jiguang, and the Zhe Party, and jointly resist the Grand Secretary’s intimidation of the sovereign. Then Bai Gui won’t dare commit treason. Ge Shouli is unquestionably the best candidate,” Yang Bo said.

Ge Shouli may lack other talents, but on impeaching Zhang Juzheng, he holds the moral high ground of loyalty to the sovereign—Zhang Juzheng has little recourse against him, and won’t dare act against him, or else he confirms his own treasonous intent.

From this perspective, redefining the Jin Party’s platform becomes logical.

“So you mean, we Jin Party shall bear high the banner of the Sovereign’s Authority and Favor?” Wang Chonggu’s eyes lit up—he clapped his hands. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Yang Bo nodded. “When Gao Gong intimidated the sovereign, what did that have to do with us? We Jin Party were collateral damage—Gao Gong alone lacked reverence, not us. Let Bai Gui monopolize the banner of loyalty—it leaves us too passive.”

“The core principle: uphold the Sovereign’s Authority and Favor.”

“For example: if the Emperor wishes to plant crops, and we Jin Party oppose it, while Zhang Juzheng recommends Xu Zhen to accompany him—then we fall behind. Better to change our approach: help the sovereign grow these potatoes and sweet potatoes well. The Empress Dowager and Emperor will see our loyal devotion. We may lose the initiative, but once these crops succeed, they must be widely adopted—then our opportunity returns.”

“When the Emperor oversees the Capital Garrison Commander appointments and tests martial skills, if our Shanxi men outperform the Hubei men, the Emperor will know he can rely on us. Face, substance, and influence—all must be earned. Even if we perform poorly, we must not perform disastrously—otherwise, the Emperor will see our warriors fail even the basic tests, and why would he favor the Jin Party?”

“Take the recent inspection of the Great Wall: Wu Baipeng led a host of censors inspecting Jizhou, Yongping, and Shanhai Pass—everywhere, defenses were tight, bandits could not break through. But in Xuanfu and Datong, our defenses were riddled with holes—Altan Khan could easily seize Hu Yu Kou, taking and giving as he pleased.”

Yang Bo didn’t merely propose a new direction—he gave concrete methods. Only then could they truly uphold the Sovereign’s Authority and Favor, and stand firm against Zhang Juzheng.

Yang Bo continued: “When Yan Song governed, Emperor Shizong resided in the Western Garden, secluded behind nine gates, rarely seen—why did the Emperor repeatedly summon me to the Western Garden for audience?”

“Why was Shaobao once favored by the late Emperor? Was it not because you dared defy public opinion and proposed the tribute pact, halting border warfare? You gained support from Gao Gong and Bai Gui.”

“When Ma Fang, a former southern defector from the barbarians, rose from common soldier to Regional Commander, all said he was too close to the barbarians, unfit for trust—Emperor Shizong decreed: ‘No one is braver than Ma Fang,’ and silenced the criticism.”

“Our Jin Party succeeded—not through kinship, not through school ties, not through marriage—but because we were reliable.”

“Now we are not.”

Yang Bo’s voice grew weary—he was making his final attempt to save the Jin Party. If they refused to listen, he had no more solutions.

“Your words are sound,” Wang Chonggu said after long thought, agreeing with Yang Bo—agreeing that after Yang Bo’s retirement, the Jin Party leadership would pass to Ge Shouli.

Zhang Siwei’s face twisted in shock—he never imagined his own uncle would oppose him for party leadership. He had already prepared to move into Quanjinhui Hall—how could it change again? He protested bitterly: “No! I refuse!”

Wang Chonggu slammed the table, leapt to his feet, and pointed his finger at Zhang Siwei’s nose: “You refuse? Then you listened to your own nonsense about Li Le—and look where it got us! Do you know how the eunuch Feng Bao humiliated me? Twenty-seven court officials, ceremonial officers, chanters, and eunuchs mocked me! They laughed at me—not you!”

“You refuse? Who gave you the right to refuse?! If we listen to you again, I’ll be beheaded at the marketplace tomorrow!”

“This matter is settled!”

Wang Chonggu had truly been hurt. After careful thought, he realized Yang Bo was right: don’t provoke Zhang Juzheng, and he won’t be this brutal.

Zhang Juzheng had governed nearly ten months. Because the Emperor was young, Zhang Juzheng’s methods had never been this fierce.

Zhang Siwei still resented: “Zhang Juzheng’s Examination System is unpopular. If we seize on this, we can rally all officials—what can Zhang Juzheng do to the Jin Party?”

Wang Chonggu snapped: “Zhang Juzheng implements the Examination System under the late Emperor’s edict. The Emperor himself disapproves of hidden rules and cheating—he endorses the system. Who is truly pushing it? Think clearly, you fool!”

“If you’re this incompetent, handing the Jin Party to you means letting Zhang Juzheng trample us at will to establish his authority!”

Yang Bo chuckled. The uncle and nephew quarreled—Zhang Juzheng’s four blows had struck true, finally making Wang Chonggu see sense, instead of letting Zhang Siwei run wild.

Cycles repeat, contradictions collide—some sparks and questions must be resolved. Clearly, contradictions existed within the Jin Party too, and sparks flew. Zhang Juzheng’s theory of contradiction, presented to the Emperor, was indeed universal truth.

This was a living example.

Yang Bo, who grasped the “Theory of Contradiction,” had once again become a worthy Jin Party leader.

Yang Bo did not intervene in the quarrel between Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei—blood relatives, they would argue without breaking ties. Yang Bo smiled: “Shaobao, your point about Zhang Juzheng using the late Emperor’s edict to impose the Examination System on the Emperor—that’s an excellent pretext.”

“When the state faces great peril, when court harbors great treachery, our Jin Party dares to speak harsh truths, preventing treachery from intimidating the sovereign. What do you think, Shaobao?”

“Brilliant!” Wang Chonggu’s eyebrows lifted, his eyes brightened, his face lit up. “You’re truly the leader—only you have such insight.”

From today on, the Jin Party would center on Ge Shouli and become the most loyal imperialist faction!

As Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei left, Yang Bo’s gaze at Zhang Siwei’s back grew sharp. In the Ministry of Personnel, Zhang Siwei had used Quanjinhui Hall to intimidate Li Le. Yang Bo had stayed silent then—but he hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t even retired, and Zhang Siwei was already overstepping.

How could Yang Bo allow Zhang Siwei to grow so arrogant?

He was old, useless—but Zhang Siwei wasn’t his son. He owed him no courtesy.

Even Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng treated Yang Bo with respect, calling him a man of great virtue. What was Zhang Siwei?

At dusk, Ge Shouli was summoned to Quanjinhui Hall, bewildered. When Yang Bo asked him to move into Quanjinhui Hall, Ge Shouli hesitated.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t protect the Jin Party’s interests—the Minister saw it myself—I have no power against the Grand Secretary,” Ge Shouli firmly refused.

Yang Bo spoke gently: “General Ge, while the Grand Secretary governs, the Emperor is young and the state uncertain—all court officials tremble before his authority, silent and hesitant. Only you dare stand and rebuke the Grand Secretary’s conduct!”

“General Ge, you have loyalty—that’s why I chose you. Now that you’re party leader, whether you protect the Jin Party’s interests is your own affair.”

Yang Bo repeated to Ge Shouli what he had told Wang Chonggu—how to raise the banner of the Sovereign’s Authority and Favor, how to lead the Jin Party forward. Then he said: “General Ge, don’t fear. Bai Gui governs under the late Emperor’s edict—he must do his duty.”

“Gao Gong was dismissed and retired. We need not outperform Bai Gui—just achieve something, and we will appear loyal to the sovereign and the state.”

The task is not heavy; Zhang Juzheng doing well is only to be expected, but if the Jin Party achieves even a little, it will be enough to demonstrate loyalty to the sovereign and secure an invincible position.

“Bai Gui has his flaws—he excels at statecraft but is clumsy in safeguarding himself. The Emperor is young; should Bai Gui wish to act, he will inevitably intimidate the sovereign. If General Zong Bian merely seizes upon this point, and adds even a modest achievement, the Jin Party will remain unshakable,” Yang Bo continued instructing Ge Shouli.

Zhang Juzheng is not without flaws; toppling him is difficult, but countering him is not. Should the situation turn unfavorable, simply invoke the phrase “intimidating the sovereign,” and Zhang Juzheng will be left with no defense.

“Wang Chonggu may not listen to me,” Ge Shouli considered, then chose to refuse. Even Yang Bo, as party leader, had acted so meekly—how could Ge Shouli expect Wang Chonggu, Zhang Siwei, or the frontier generals to heed him if he became leader?

Yang Bo spoke with ease: “General Zong Bian, you’re too upright. If Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei refuse to obey, let Zhang Juzheng discipline them. Once they’re hurt, they’ll naturally listen to you.”

“What if Zhang Juzheng kills them? Then you’d truly be the Jin Party leader, wouldn’t you?”

“Huh?!” Ge Shouli stared, eyes wide, at Yang Bo. Do all these scholars have hearts dyed with coal? So black?!

After a long silence, Ge Shouli said: “Use Zhang Juzheng’s hand?”

Yang Bo replied as if stating the obvious: “Yes. Isn’t that a fine strategy?”

“If Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei refuse to listen, stand by and watch. When they’re hurt, they’ll come crawling back to you. A dog beaten outside won’t stay out—it returns whining. If Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei persist in their folly, you must not only refuse to save them, but kick them while they’re down—crush them utterly. How simple is this? Does General Zong Bian doubt that the Chief Minister can hurt them?”

“That… is true,” Ge Shouli muttered, stunned into silence, unsure how to respond.

Ge Shouli felt a chill, even finding Yang Bo strangely alien.

He could only think: these scholars play dirtier than anyone.

How could a man of such virtue speak such venomous words so calmly?

Yang Bo was teaching Ge Shouli how to be a party leader—how to prevent the Jin Party from collapsing, how to keep everyone from ending up in the Dissection Hall with their hearts and lungs ripped out.

Yang Bo continued: “Also, never fall for Bai Gui’s trap—don’t accept the duty of lecturing the Emperor! Absolutely not. You can’t handle it. Let me show you the Emperor’s exchanges with Bai Gui—you’ll understand.”

Yang Bo pulled out a copy of the lecture notes made by the Imperial Reader, selected key passages for Ge Shouli, and personally explained the parts he didn’t grasp—especially the contradictions. Yang Bo made them crystal clear.

“General Zong Bian,” Yang Bo said with a smile, “ask yourself honestly—can you handle it?”

Ge Shouli shook his head dumbly: “I can’t. A man must know his limits. If I went, I’d only mumble and become a laughingstock. Let the Chief Minister handle it.”

“Let the Chief Minister go!”

That wasn’t a lecture—it was a dragon’s den and tiger’s lair!

That spear-and-shield question directly targeted the core of Confucian orthodoxy—just glancing at it made one gasp for breath.

“Move into the Quanjinhui Hall tomorrow,” Yang Bo decided for Ge Shouli.

“I’m not in the Jin Party. What’s the point of moving into the Quanjinhui Hall?” Ge Shouli waved his hands frantically.

Yang Bo smiled: “I have a daughter. Aren’t you now my Shanxi son-in-law?”

In the end, Yang Bo married off his nonexistent daughter to Ge Shouli—so Ge Shouli could enter the Quanjinhui Hall as a Shanxi son-in-law, legitimately.

As for that nonexistent daughter? She never existed. It was merely a title.

“A gentleman may be deceived by righteousness,” Yang Bo said to Ge Shouli, his expression complex, gazing at the waning moon. His entire strategy for countering Zhang Juzheng revolved around this one phrase.

Zhang Juzheng is a gentleman—that’s why he can be deceived this way. If Zhang Juzheng were a villain, none of this would be necessary—he’d have been won over long ago.

Night fell. You Qi hurried to the Wenchang Pavilion and bowed before Zhang Juzheng, who was writing furiously: “Master, word has come from the Quanjinhui Hall: Wang Chonggu scolded Zhang Siwei, and Ge Shouli will move into the Quanjinhui Hall tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” Zhang Juzheng paused his brush, frowned, then slowly smiled: “I understand.”

Ge Shouli moving into the Quanjinhui Hall meant the first non-Shanxi leader of the Jin Party had appeared—it signaled a shift in the Jin Party’s strategy. For the Great Ming, this was good. Zhang Juzheng was pleased to see the Jin Party change.

He resumed writing. Nothing in the world troubled him—except the young Emperor.

He had to resolve the Emperor’s questions, or else when the boy asked during the lecture, Zhang Juzheng couldn’t say: “Your Majesty, consult the Illustrated Mirror for Governance.”

All things are interconnected; contradictions exist everywhere, opposing yet interacting. Zhang Juzheng had clearly grasped this—but what is the relationship between spear and shield and the development of things?

The spear and the shield do not always favor one side.

Zhang Juzheng wrote: Altan Khan, Xuan-Da Garrison, Jin Party. He circled “Jin Party,” then wrote: Eunuchs, Civil Officials, Military Nobles. He pondered long, his face filled with frustration.

“Where is the imperial edict recalling Hai Rui?” Zhang Juzheng set down his pencil and asked You Qi.

“The envoy is nearly in Fujian. It will take another month to reach Qiongzhou. Hai Rui won’t return to the capital for over four months. Isn’t Master not fond of Hai Rui, this pure-stream official?” You Qi didn’t brew tea—this hour, strong tea would mean more oil for the lamp.

“I’m desperate for him to return,” Zhang Juzheng said, slightly helpless.

The young Emperor is hard to handle—he needs reinforcements. It’s time to deploy the Emperor-poking weapon: Hai Rui, Hai Gangfeng, to give His Majesty a headache.

Having grasped part of the Doctrine of Contradictions, Zhang Juzheng understood: Heaven changes, Earth changes, Man changes. Will Hai Rui, upon returning, truly turn his spear against the Emperor?

Zhang Juzheng believed he would not.

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