Chapter 74

His Majesty has truly neglected his duties. Volume 74: When a Brother’s Wife Drowns, One Must Reach Out to Save Her; In Urgent Circumstances, One Must Adapt with Expedient Measures. The Great Ming’s envoys Zhang Cheng and Zhang Jin were dispatched to Qiongzhou to summon Hai Rui back to the capital. Zhang Cheng was the adopted son of Zhang Hong, eunuch of the Qianqing Palace; Zhang Jin was the adopted son of Feng Bao, Chief Eunuch of the Palace Secretariat. The imperial edict had already been sent by eight-hundred-li express to Qiongzhou, yet these two envoys had other missions upon leaving the capital.

The Emperor’s Southern Treasury—Yuegang.

After receiving the edict, Hai Rui returned to Guangzhou’s Dianbai Port, boarded a ship to Yuegang in Chenghai County, Fujian, then sailed to Songjiang Prefecture, and proceeded northward to Tianjin Weisuo, where he disembarked and entered the capital to assume office.

Yuegang was the only legal private maritime trade port in the Great Ming.

In the forty-third year of Jiajing, the Japanese pirate threat gradually subsided. Tan Lun, in his post-campaign memorial “Strategic Planning for Long-Term Stability,” noted that countless coastal dwellers, who relied on the sea for their livelihood, suffered grievously under the maritime ban. He initiated a movement to petition for opening the seas, sparking intense debate within the court.

Resistance to opening the seas was immense, yet the prolonged pirate threat had exhausted the court. After prolonged struggle, the pro-opening faction gradually gained the upper hand.

In the first year of Longqing, under the prevailing sentiment that “trade turns pirates into merchants; prohibition turns merchants into pirates,” Fujian’s Provincial Governor and Censor-in-Chief Tu Zemin submitted a memorial requesting the opening of the seas. Emperor Longqing immediately approved it.

Yuegang, a port open to foreign trade since the Sui and Tang dynasties, was finally opened.

The court adopted opening the seas as its primary policy, forming a political bloc of considerable size, spanning censors, military officers, and officials, unified by the memory of the Jiajing-era campaigns against the pirates.

Yuegang’s shape resembled a crescent moon, hence its name. Along a two-li stretch of riverbank in Haicheng County stood eight piers, aligned west to east along the estuary of the Jiulong River. Standing on the piers and gazing toward Yuewei, one saw islands emerging and vanishing with the tides.

Beyond lay the boundless sea and sky, merging into one. The salty sea breeze stirred the waves, crashing against the rocks and spraying golden-tinged foam under the evening glow. The wind swept across the water, rippling the surface, rushing past the towering masts of ships, the barges, and tugging at the sleeves of Zhang Cheng, Zhang Jin, and Luo Gongchen.

Zhang Cheng, Zhang Jin, and Luo Gongchen exchanged polite remarks about how calm and peaceful the sea was.

Zhang Cheng stood with his hands clasped, facing the wind, and asked Luo Gongchen: “Speak plainly. His Majesty, upon hearing of your auspicious harvest, became eager and has already allocated ten mu of land in the Shanglin Garden’s Jingshan for him to personally tend crops. I’ve come here to ask you directly: can the auspicious crops you sent to the capital really yield twenty to thirty dan per mu?”

“This matter is of great consequence. Please answer truthfully, Luo Vice Prefect.”

Luo Gongchen was immensely robust—broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, with bushy brows and large eyes, appearing exceptionally solid. He was a juren by degree but a warrior by nature; he could not write or compose, but he excelled in fighting.

As the Maritime Defense Vice Prefect of the Du Xiangguan, Luo Gongchen had cultivated ties with Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng during his return to the capital for duty review. He now led the Du Xiangguan.

“Gentlemen, look here,” Luo Gongchen pointed to a vast expanse of white flowers on the beach. “These are fanmiao. Cut a few stems, plant them anywhere, and now they’re lush and thriving.”

“I would never deceive His Majesty. If planted properly, these fanmiao yield over fifteen hundred jin of grain; even if planted carelessly, they still yield six to seven hundred jin.”

Zhang Cheng felt somewhat reassured. Before departure, Zhang Hong had solemnly warned his adopted son to verify whether Luo Gongchen was lying. Since His Majesty personally tended agriculture, he needed tangible results.

Zhang Cheng and Zhang Jin, the two eunuchs, had come to Yuegang to inspect the Emperor’s Southern Treasury.

Merchant ships departing from Yuegang required permits. In Wanli’s first year, 110 permits were issued. Daily, over two hundred ships entered Ming maritime ports. Under the tax law of six percent per hundred, the Du Xiangguan collected sixty thousand liang of gold-silver monthly, totaling roughly 720,000 liang of silver annually as commercial tax sent to the capital.

Zhang Juzheng’s private residence, the Quan Chu Hall, spent an average of 1,200 liang of gold-silver annually, including every three years when it hosted scholars from Hubei for the metropolitan examinations.

Seven hundred twenty thousand liang of silver could sustain Zhang Juzheng’s Quan Chu Hall for six hundred and twenty years—that is, until the year 2193.

The annual trade revenue amounted to no less than hundreds of thousands of liang, benefiting both public and private sectors. This was a key reason the court reevaluated the maritime ban after opening the seas. Naturally, there were still those who vociferously opposed it, but the court was broke, the emperor was broke; though anti-opening sentiment lingered, the court had resolved to compete with the people for profit.

The Great Ming court was truly destitute—without grain, without silver.

“Your Excellencies, I have a matter I’d like to inquire about,” Luo Gongchen handed out two salt permits. To his great embarrassment, neither eunuch accepted them.

Salt permits were money. One large salt permit was worth one and a half liang of silver. Luo Gongchen had produced over ten permits—more than fifty liang of silver.

The sea breeze fluttered the salt permits, creating an awkward silence.

Which eunuch didn’t take bribes? This was like the sun rising in the west—eunuchs refusing bribes?

After a moment’s thought, Luo Gongchen realized he had made a foolish mistake. These two great eunuchs had come for one purpose: only one salt permit was needed. He winced slightly, then pulled out another ten permits, extending both hands—this was the proper way to do things.

The salt permits rustled in the sea breeze; the atmosphere was excruciatingly awkward.

“Luo Vice Prefect, put them away,” Zhang Cheng broke the silence. “It’s not that we find them insufficient—it’s that we cannot accept them. The Old Ancestor and the Second Ancestor have issued strict orders: anyone caught taking money outside will be ordered to find a well and jump in. Ask what you wish to know.”

Throughout the journey, Zhang Cheng and Zhang Jin had explained this repeatedly. Officials everywhere refused to believe eunuchs didn’t take bribes—it seemed absurd.

The fundamental reason was that Feng Bao, the Old Ancestor, forbade it, and the Second Ancestor forbade it too. Though the two no longer openly clashed, they were locked in covert rivalry. If either’s protégé was caught taking bribes, their court ranking could be instantly rewritten.

His Majesty mentioned Wang Zhen and gave a warning. Feng Bao didn’t want to become Wang Zhen. Since he stopped taking bribes, when he sat in the Wenhua Hall for court deliberations, he could scold with perfect moral authority—his rebukes were thorough and satisfying.

When had the eunuch faction ever felt so triumphant?

Feng Bao had gradually realized: once the bell is gone, it’s truly gone. Hoarding wealth for adopted sons? Better to live freely.

Luo Gongchen, deeply puzzled, retracted the salt permits and asked: “Last year, when I came to the capital, I wanted to tax foreign ships. Can that still be done?”

“Tax them!” Zhang Cheng replied immediately. “You must tax them!”

Zhang Jin also spoke solemnly: “If we don’t tax foreign ships, shall we let them breed? Luo Vice Prefect, remain calm. The court is still deliberating, but Grand Secretary Zhang is determined to push this through.”

Taxing foreign ships was obviously justified, yet resistance remained—Lu Shusheng, Minister of Rites, was the greatest obstacle.

“We now face a difficult situation,” Luo Gongchen said gravely. “A four-masted Portuguese vessel requests entry for trade. Should we tax it?”

Zhang Cheng asked, puzzled: “By regulation, any ship entering port is taxed. What cargo makes you so cautious?”

“Silver,” Luo Gongchen replied firmly.

“But you said yourself, most merchant ships carry silver. What’s unusual about that?” Zhang Jin asked, confused.

Luo Gongchen’s expression turned complex. “This ship carries nothing but silver—approximately four million liang, twenty-five thousand jin.”

Zhang Cheng and Zhang Jin’s casual expressions turned to shock. Zhang Cheng stared at Luo Gongchen. “How much did you say?”

Luo Gongchen said solemnly: “Four million liang. Twenty-five thousand jin. All for purchasing raw silk, brocade, cotton cloth, tea, porcelain, and other goods.”

“One ship… over four million liang of silver…” Zhang Jin’s gaze turned strange. He didn’t care about ten salt permits, but four million liang lay before him.

Rob it!

The court was desperate for funds—and here was a ship brimming with silver!

Four million liang of silver!

“Your Excellencies, we can rob only one ship. But trade? That’s a steady stream,” Luo Gongchen whispered.

Luo Gongchen wanted to tax it. Four million liang at six percent yielded twenty-four thousand liang. Yuegang’s annual revenue was seventy-two thousand liang—this single ship surpassed a quarter of the annual quota. With a target, this one vessel would fulfill four months’ quota!

Zhang Jin looked troubled and remained silent. Robbing was no issue, but interfering in local affairs required caution—he declined to comment.

Zhang Cheng, adopted son of the Qianqing Palace eunuch Zhang Hong, gritted his teeth and spoke: “Customs must adapt to circumstances; laws must respond to events. The Du Xiangguan exists to collect revenue. Tax first, then explain. If the court blames us, I will bear the responsibility.”

Zhang Cheng had the authority to say this—he was a Yellow Robe Envoy, representing His Majesty. He possessed discretionary power, though few ever exercised it. Since he was here to await Hai Rui, he shouldn’t meddle. But Zhang Cheng argued: tax the foreign ship. If punishment came, it would be his patron, the Second Ancestor Zhang Hong, who would punish him—not the outer court.

But Zhang Cheng stated that taxes on the foreign ships should be collected first; if punishment comes, it will be his patron, the Second Ancestor in the palace, Zhang Hong, who will punish him—the outer court cannot interfere in the palace.

“Then tax it,” Luo Gongchen decided. Even without a leader, he’d have taxed it. Now that someone had taken the lead, he’d act.

The Du Xiangguan existed to collect revenue!

Ming merchant ships must be taxed! Foreign merchant ships must be taxed!

For this collection, Luo Gongchen assembled over a hundred small boats, a dozen warships, and nearly three thousand soldiers to communicate with the large vessel and confirm all tax procedures.

Interpreters shuttled between the Ming court and the large vessel, swiftly resolving numerous entry and docking matters.

The large vessel differed vastly from Ming ships: longer, deeper-drafted, its bow and sides bristling with black cannon muzzles. Its mainmast flew a square sail; the three aft sails were triangular lateen sails—longitudinal sails that allowed the ship to sail against the wind by tacking in a zigzag pattern.

The Portuguese four-masted vessel was a colossal beast. After repeated negotiations, it slowly lowered its gray or reddish-brown sails, like giant goose feathers, and drifted to a stop on the sea, allowing barges to secure ropes to its hull.

Francisco Sande, Governor of Luzon, and Captain Antonio Morga argued fiercely aboard.

“Captain, we promised the Ming to lower our weapons, and now they’ll swarm aboard, kill us, and seize our silver! We must load the cannons, remove the bow supports, and prepare for battle!” Francisco shouted, furious at the captain’s order.

Captain Antonio Morga, who had sailed from Potosí in Mexico across the endless Pacific to Luzon and now Yuegang, could not fathom lowering his weapons and sealing his cannons with wood.

Captain Antonio, who came from Riccō Peak in Potosí, Mexico, and crossed the endless Pacific Ocean to reach Lu Song and then Yuegang—how could he lower his bow and seal his cannons with timber?

But Captain Antonio shook his head. “Governor, your letter proposing conquest of the Ming was rejected by the King. You wrote that only two to four thousand soldiers were needed. Now, seeing the Ming’s coastal defenses, tell me—how could two to four thousand men conquer them?”

Francisco replied firmly: “Every Ming person will turn pirate given the chance. No one is loyal to their emperor! We send missionaries to infiltrate, gather intelligence, and incite rebellion. Then, under the pretext of ‘returning Ming subjects home,’ we invade, seize territory, and conquer step by step.”

Francisco stated with certainty: “Every Ming man will become a pirate given the chance; no one is loyal to their emperor! We can first send missionaries to infiltrate, gather intelligence, and turn internal allies, then incite civil unrest—and when China is in chaos, we will launch our troops under the pretext of ‘repatriating Ming subjects,’ seize territory, and occupy it step by step.”

Antonio laughed. “Because the King isn’t a fool.”

“Did you see those warships? They have dozens. We have one armed merchant vessel. You suggest we fight an endless fleet with one ship?”

“We’re here to trade, not to fight. If we bristle like a porcupine, we die—and they take our silver. This is Ming territory. To raise bows and cannons here is not wise.”

“They tax only six percent. The Empire’s governors and tax collectors in every province demand thirty percent!”

Antonio spoke these last words through clenched teeth.

Maritime trade carried both risk and opportunity: storms, reefs, hostile natives. Even surviving those, one still faced harassment from local governors. The governors of Mexico and Peru had extracted over thirty percent from Antonio.

Had Antonio not bribed the tax officials and underreported his cargo, this voyage—despite its immense risk—would have cost him money.

The principle of silence: declare only what you write. Tax officials remain silent, never board to inspect. But to ensure their silence, bribes must be paid.

Take Antonio’s Pelican, for example: he declared cargo worth 520,000 silver reales, eight reales each.

At departure, his ship carried only 520,000 reales’ worth. But after leaving port, dozens of small boats replenished his hold. In Peru, Mexico, and Luzon, he bribed tax officials to remain silent about his true cargo.

In Yuegang, Antonio truthfully declared his cargo. The Ming’s six percent tax rate stunned him. And he didn’t know any Ming tax officials.

“Don’t worry,” Antonio reassured Francisco. “They’re not savage natives. From what I’ve seen, the Ming seem more civilized than we are. Let’s disembark.” He stepped ashore, followed by several servants in linen shirts.

Antonio was a merchant, willing to bear risk to expand his fortune.

“I am delighted to arrive at the mysterious Eastern empire. Since childhood, I’ve heard legends of this land. Today, I finally set foot upon it. Here are gifts I bring.” He did not kneel, but awkwardly performed a bow.

Several linen-clad servants opened wooden chests filled with neatly arranged silver reales.

Luo Gongchen, Zhang Cheng, and Zhang Jin studied the strangely dressed man.

Antonio and Francisco both wore black slouch hats with feathers, broad velvet coats lined with cotton, and numerous cross-shaped pendants hanging from their chests.

Antonio stood under six feet tall, with a high nose, deep-set eyes, cat-like pupils, hawk-like beak, copper-toned skin, and curly brown-red hair and beard. Francisco was much shorter, barely five feet.

Luo Gongchen and the Ming officials studied the red-haired barbarians; the barbarians studied the Ming officials. The first impression: Ming officials were rigidly hierarchical—their chest badges indicated rank.

Luo Gongchen stepped forward, picked up a silver real. The obverse bore a king’s portrait; the reverse, a crown and the Portuguese royal shield, flanked by two Pillars of Hercules, with scrolls wrapped around them—resembling a “$.”

“I apologize,” Antonio said, seeing Luo Gongchen return the coin, and signaled his servants to close the chests.

Public bribery might violate local law. Such matters should be handled discreetly.

Luo Gongchen was fascinated by the coin: each weighed about six and seven-tenths of a liang. The Portuguese brought few coins—mostly silver ingots.

Tax collection began. Five Maritime Defense Vice Prefect of the Du Xiangguan were present; four eunuchs watched. Fujian’s Provincial Governor, Censor, and Fuzhou Prefect all observed the weighing and taxation.

Luo Gongchen estimated the vessel carried 4,020,000 liang of silver. By regulation, the tax was 241,200 liang. This tax revenue would be escorted to the capital and split equally between the state treasury and the imperial household.

The annual trade revenue amounted to no less than hundreds of thousands of liang, benefiting both public and private sectors.

Antonio was deeply puzzled.

Antonio was very puzzled.

According to his estimate, after taxes were collected, there should have been all sorts of harassment—he had prepared silver coins to grease the palms of officials—but after the duty was levied, they received a Dushui Slip issued by the Dushui Pavilion and could immediately begin purchasing goods.

“Is that it?” Antonio said to Francisco, puzzled. “This doesn’t match what the Viceroy told us. Francisco, you’ve been in the East a long time—are Ming officials really this swift and straightforward?”

Francisco replied, even more confused: “On the contrary, there should have been tax officials, city defense officers, and others harassing us—because previously, when shipping goods from Lu Song to Great Ming, we faced countless obstacles.”

“The two men we saw, clean-shaven, must be eunuch envoys sent by the Emperor of Great Ming. No one dares harass us while an envoy is present.”

Francisco guessed those two clean-shaven men were the legendary eunuchs.

Antonio finally understood and said: “Look, you told me: every Ming person becomes a pirate; no one is loyal to their Emperor.”

“But here in Yuegang, with the Emperor’s envoy present, these officials dare not even harass us—if this isn’t loyalty, then what is?”

“Alright, I admit—I don’t understand this mysterious land well enough,” Francisco said, somewhat awed. This wealthy land didn’t seem easily conquerable.

The Son of Heaven, seated thousands of miles away, needed only to send two seemingly unimposing eunuchs to make local officials shed their usual vile facades.

Truly, a strange and mysterious Eastern world.

“We brought six million silver coins—can this tiny port satisfy us?” Antonio said, slightly worried.

Francisco, the Spanish-appointed Viceroy of Lu Song, smiled: “Even if you brought sixty million silver coins—or more—Yuegang could satisfy you. Of course, if you brought six hundred million, that would be impossible.”

Francisco had long been in Lu Song; he knew well how rich this land was. Its output was endless, like a monster that could never be fed—no matter how many silver coins were poured into Great Ming, the monster’s greed remained unsated.

Zhang Cheng was deeply uneasy. He was a eunuch from the palace, assigned to escort Hai Rui back to court. While waiting in Yuegang for Hai Rui to arrive by ship from the Guangzhou Maritime Trade Office, Zhang Cheng took it upon himself to levy a duty on foreign ships—an act beyond his authority, even bordering on overreach.

“Now you’re scared?” Zhang Jin sat calmly, smiling at Zhang Cheng’s nervousness. “When eunuchs leave the palace, the rule is: say as little as possible, do as little as possible, and grab as much money as you can. That’s the job. Supporting local officials in taxing foreign ships? When you return to the capital, you’ll surely be impeached by the censors.”

“When we get back to the capital, whether His Majesty or the Empress Dowager beats me, scolds me, kills me, or throws me down a well—it doesn’t matter. I’ve brought the silver back. Isn’t Yuegang the Emperor’s southern treasury?” Zhang Cheng reassured himself.

He felt bringing the money to court was right—but the censors in the capital were ruthless; they’d surely seize this incident to accuse the eunuchs of interfering in state affairs.

In June, Hai Rui received the imperial edict and set out. He boarded at Dianbai Port in Guangzhou Prefecture, arrived in Yuegang, anchored for one day, then sailed south to Ningbo, where he anchored again for a day before continuing.

In early August, Hai Rui disembarked at Tianjin Wei, accompanied by his wife Wang Shi, his young daughter, two eunuchs—Zhang Cheng and Zhang Jin—and 241,200 taels of levied silver.

Hai Rui, appointed as Right Grand Secretary of the Censorate, second rank, returned to court to assume office. After settling in, he first reported to the Ministry of Personnel, received his official seal, exchanged a few words with Yang Bo, then reported to the Censorate and chatted briefly with Ge Shouli before returning home.

The next morning, Hai Rui, dressed in his second-rank robe embroidered with a golden pheasant, stood before the Wenhua Hall, awaiting the court deliberation.

As Right Grand Secretary, Hai Rui was already a court minister. His robe was too loose—the Ministry of Personnel hadn’t expected him to be so thin; the court robe had been made too large.

After three strikes of the cleansing whip, the ministers entered the hall.

“We bow before Your Majesty. How is Your Majesty’s health today?” the ministers saluted.

Zhu Yijun extended his small hand and said: “Rise. I heard yesterday that Grand Coordinator Hai has returned. Where is Grand Coordinator Hai?”

“Your servant bows before Your Majesty,” Hai Rui stepped forward and bowed.

Zhu Yijun studied Hai Rui. He stood straight, slightly gaunt, eyes sharp and bright, radiating scholarly air—no wonder he was called “Mountain Brush Stand.”

“Good, good, good. All ministers, be seated. Let the court deliberation continue,” Zhu Yijun waved his hand, signaling them to sit.

Ge Shouli struck first: “The Provincial Governor and Surveillance Censor of Fujian, along with the Left Financial Commissioner of Fujian, have impeached the eunuch Zhang Cheng for interfering in state affairs, illegally establishing maritime checkpoints to intercept foreign ships and levy duties.”

Zhang Jin was not named in the impeachment, for he had taken no stance.

Wang Guoguang’s face broke into a faint smile. Yesterday, after the silver was divided between the imperial treasury and the state treasury, it had entered the state coffers. The state’s finances were dire, stretched thin—this sum could provide urgent relief.

Feng Bao observed the situation, planning to teach Ge Shouli a lesson. Though Zhang Cheng was Zhang Hong’s adopted son, the silver had entered the Inner Treasury—and the eunuch in charge of the Neichengyun Warehouse had grinned so hard his face wrinkled. The court had no money, but the Inner Treasury had none either.

A single coin can humble a hero.

All that nonsense about grand principles is useless—without rice in hand, even calling a chicken won’t get a response!

Before Feng Bao could speak, Hai Rui rose and bowed: “Your Majesty, our Great Ming has ancestral instructions: eunuchs interfering in state affairs, establishing unauthorized checkpoints to levy taxes, are the lowest sort—flattering, deceitful, fawning on the sovereign, stealing state power, poisoning the people, gaining favor through petty loyalty, then daring to commit great crimes and great evils to disrupt governance.”

Zhu Yijun watched Hai Rui, waiting for him to finish. He understood: gain the Emperor’s trust and favor, and one dares commit great crimes and great evils to ruin the state.

Hai Rui continued: “But in this case, I believe Zhang Cheng’s actions were not improper. When a sister-in-law drowns, one must reach out to save her. In emergencies, one must act on expediency. The great ships are already at sea—if we do not levy duty now, future ships will never be taxed. Then what purpose remains for the Dushui Pavilion?”

“I humbly beg Your Majesty to examine this matter.”

If the court did not levy duty on the first great ship to arrive in Yuegang, it would be impossible to levy duty on future ones—this would inevitably cause conflict. Once this precedent is set, the Dushui Pavilion should be abolished entirely. If no one pays duty, why establish a Dushui Pavilion?

Zhu Yijun smiled after hearing this. Hai Rui’s words were strange.

In summary, Hai Rui was saying: Zhang Cheng’s actions were wrong—but also not wrong.

Heaven changes, earth changes, people change. Hai Rui once urged Xu Jie to return land to the people and was impeached into retirement. Hai Rui has changed too—he is still himself, but now he fights differently.

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