Chapter 823

Zhu Zhu Yijun thought it was a fine idea: let everyone become shipowners, so that the opening of the seas could smoothly withstand its initial pressures.

At the outset of opening the seas, there were several sources of pressure.

The first came from southern gentry smugglers, who defied the Ming ban on maritime trade with impunity—otherwise, the Zhejiang Provincial Governor Zhu Wan, who had crushed the Japanese pirate base at Shuangyu, wouldn't have taken his own life.

The "Everyone a Shipowner" plan introduced northern gentry as a balancing force against the southern smugglers.

Northern gentry could also partake in maritime trade profits—this was Wang Wang Chonggu's stance as leader of the Jin Faction, and it embodied north-south balance.

The second pressure was financial: the court was destitute; only in December of the first year of Emperor Wanli did it finally repay the 110,000 taels owed for the imperial mausoleum, and at that time Zhang Zhang Juzheng was so broke he was eyeing the emperor's gold-flower silver; yet northern merchants, led by the Shanxi traders, still had some silver on hand.

Wang Qian once said: "Whoever pays the silver eats their food." Northern gentry jointly owned a group of shipyards; even today, the five major shipyards for maritime trade remain under strong northern gentry influence—from shopkeepers and accountants to head foremen and shipwrights, both north and south.

The third pressure came from conservative scholar-officials in court, who clung irrationally to ancestral laws, opposing the opening of the seas not out of self-interest, but because they believed everything the ancestors did was right.

Like Shen Li, they saw it as the young emperor's folly, and Zhang Zhang Juzheng enabling him to satisfy his personal lust for exotic foreign treasures.

The fourth was that northern gentry received no share of maritime profits, and since land consolidation in the north was already complete, their surplus silver sat idle—until Wang Wang Chonggu devised the Shipowner Plan, convincing them to give it a try.

Excellent investment opportunities are rare in any era; everyone knows whether maritime trade is profitable, but geography once barred them from participating.

Broadly speaking, Wang Wang Chonggu's original plan united the majority and ultimately laid the foundation for today's glorious achievements in opening the seas.

When the Yanxing Trade House fulfilled its historical mission and closed its doors, it might well be a good choice—yet many court scholar-officials despised this institution, viewing it as a demonic den of greed, a perversion that abandoned fundamentals for profit.

Zhu Zhu Yijun believed that if Yanxing merely enacted a prudent closure policy—not defaulting like Felipe—it wouldn't spark major unrest.

But both the emperor and Wang Qian were wrong: when Wang Qian's memorial requesting Yanxing's closure reached the Grand Secretariat via the Tongzheng Office, it provoked opposition from Grand Secretaries, the Six Censorate Officials, Censorate Inspectors, and ministers of the Six Ministries—and this wave of opposition quickly spread throughout the capital.

Court ministers dared not openly block or reject imperial authority.

Daily squabbles were mere outbursts of emotion; but when widespread opposition formed, further resistance became rebellion.

Eventually, the scholar-officials hit upon a clever solution: have Zhang Zhang Juzheng persuade the emperor.

The scholar-officials sorrowfully realized that if Zhang Zhang Juzheng were gone, who else could possibly persuade the emperor?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng felt his influence might be too slight to sway the emperor—the emperor had grown, held his own views, and if Zhang now used his reformist merits to repeatedly obstruct imperial decrees, he'd only provoke resentment; so he brought Wang Wang Chonggu along, yet feared the scene might spiral out of control, so he also summoned Shen Li—the Grand Secretary was a universal solvent; having him present ensured at least a surface of harmony.

This matter couldn't be debated in the Zhao Wenhua Hall—it was too public; if the emperor were humiliated, he'd only dig in his heels until chaos erupted, and out of pride, he'd never retreat, harming governance.

In short, as a minister, Zhang Zhang Juzheng could no longer rely on the emperor's youth and ignorance to block him.

"Sit down, sit down—I've read all your memorials," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, gesturing for the three Grand Secretaries to sit, his tone weary: "I've considered all your points, weighed the advantages and disadvantages, and made my decision."

Court ministers submitted memorials on this matter, and their objections fell into three main categories, all reasonable.

The most prevalent objection held: while the Yanxing Trade House existed, things were manageable; once it closed, private trade houses would sprout everywhere, and no matter how strong the court, suppressing one problem would only cause another to rise—these unregulated houses, controlled by their merchant lords, would run rampant.

If Yanxing became scandalous, Wang Qian could be sacrificed to appease public anger and adjust course; but if it closed and private houses bloomed everywhere, there'd be no scapegoat to blame.

Second, while Yanxing existed, emerging industries—like the recently popular mushroom factories across the south and north—required sustained capital investment to survive their most difficult phases.

These mushroom factories involved fermentation industries: yeast, vinegar, soy sauce, wine, medicine, fresh salt, yogurt, fermented soybeans, tofu paste, and more.

The emergence of these factories was hailed as humanity's great endeavor to domesticate microorganisms after plants and animals—requiring continuous silver investment. The Ming court certainly had money, but its funds weren't infinite and were already allocated; thus, everyone needed to contribute.

For example, the court's recent ventures into goat wool, duck down, and dodo feathers likewise demanded heavy investment.

Finally, ministers believed shutting down Yanxing wouldn't correct moral decay—it would deprive the court of a vital tool to control the flow of profit.

Profit wields immense power: it drives people toward every profitable opportunity; the Yanxing Trade House was undoubtedly a crucial node for directing profit flows.

In other words, since Yanxing was entirely under court control, it was the court's authority to interpret profit—like the Shang kings interpreting cracks in oracle bones—the emperor and court could not abandon this power.

Beyond these three reasons, there were also concerns of production stagnation, market chaos, hyperinflation, and wild price fluctuations; unbound silver, like an unchained dragon, would wreak havoc on the market, worsening its already shattered state;

and Yanxing could be seen as a furnace restraining human evil—its presence made morality seem all the more precious.

In the trade house, there was no morality—only profit.

"Since His Majesty has read them, my view aligns with the ministers'," Zhang Zhang Juzheng sighed; if the emperor was open to discussion, all was well—if he declared his will unshakable, the three Grand Secretaries had wasted their trip.

"The ministers' arguments are sound, but I have reasons to shut it down," Zhu Zhu Yijun stated clearly: "This cannot continue. I've seen too many treat the trade house as a gambling den—even after Wang Qian introduced the strictest 'Nine Prohibitions' and later permitted short-selling to regulate the market."

"The ministers' reasons are valid, but Yanxing must not become a gambling den—if it does, it must be shut."

"We cannot view this issue abstractly. The court is distant from the common people—in lifestyle, physical distance, and mindset."

All objections stem from the court's perspective, yet no one considers how Yanxing harms ordinary people—how many families have gambled away their lives, borrowing from moneylenders to bet on 'wolf tickets,' only to be ruined? Zhu Zhu Yijun has heard too many such stories.

"The flood that capsizes boats is the people's tears; until it surges, you never know." Zhu Zhu Yijun adjusted his posture and restated his position.

From the court's view, closing Yanxing brings more harm than benefit; but from the people's view, does Yanxing's existence truly harm their daily lives? This is what Zhu Zhu Yijun must consider.

"Your Majesty, Yanxing still has oversight—Wang Qian must answer to you. But if left to the people?" Zhang Zhang Juzheng shook his head: "I've heard overseas merchants speak of Lombard Street banks in England; after Minister William Cecil ceased redemption, those bankers grew even more reckless."

"The consequences of letting them grow unchecked may be worse than Yanxing's current harms."

Wang Wang Chonggu and Shen Li exchanged glances, saying nothing; the Tonghe Palace study grew quiet. Recently, Zhang Zhang Juzheng and the emperor had diverged too often and too deeply, stirring unease in both men—names kept flashing before their eyes.

Shang Yang and King Hui of Qin, Fan Fan Zhongyan and Emperor Renzong of Song, Wang Wang Anshi and Emperor Shenzong of Song—all ended as strangers.

Conflicts of interest, the struggle between sovereign and ministers, ideals versus reality—all caused this.

Now it seemed that as the emperor grew older, this emperor-teacher pair too was heading toward the same fate, filling Wang Wang Chonggu and Shen Li with genuine dread.

"Your words are wise," Zhu Zhu Yijun mused. "I simply don't want the trade house to become a gambling den. Do you have a solution?"

"I do have one," Zhang Zhang Juzheng said at once, sensing the emperor's shift: "Your Majesty, Yanxing does resemble a gambling den, but the root isn't the trade house itself—it's silver flowing wild and unbridled. I once read the 'Discourses on Salt and Iron'; Sang Sang Hongyang said: 'When profit flows through one channel, the state's finances are sufficient.' If we abandon Yanxing, we unleash ten thousand horses upon the wilderness, only fueling the gambling fever."

"How, then? I have a plan to resolve Your Majesty's concerns."

Closing Yanxing was like the imperial power loosening its grip on profit's reins; Zhang Zhang Juzheng feared this outcome. Now that the emperor had softened, Zhang immediately moved to plug the leaks.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng handed the emperor a prepared memorial—long, but its essence was one sentence: Yanxing's gambling corruption isn't the trade house's fault—it's the moneylenders'.

Moneylenders knew exactly where their usurious loans went, yet for triple profit, they ignored the money's destination; it was the moneylenders' irregular practices that doomed the trade house, no matter how tightly regulated.

Analyzing the issue reveals: moneylenders lend without caring where the money goes—or whether it's repaid. From the start, they care only for the collateral.

Many think moneylenders care about interest—but they're after the principal, aiming to seize the borrower's ancestral land and home.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng smiled: "My solution begins with capping moneylender interest and ends with taxation."

"The court must cap interest: loans must not exceed 25% annually; otherwise, they receive no legal protection—meaning, if interest exceeds 25%, the court won't support debt collectors, and borrowers may sue to reclaim the excess."

"How do we ensure a loan contract is legally protected? Both parties must bring the loan agreement to the Southern Yamen for review; only after approval is the loan valid."

"We must distinguish: loans over 5,000 taels require Southern Yamen review; loans under 5,000 taels may purchase a tax stamp, affixed to the contract with a seal across the seam, to validate the loan."

"The tax fee mustn't be too high or too low—three ten-thousandths is ideal."

Zhu Zhu Yijun's eyes lit up as he studied the memorial: "Your method is brilliant! With taxes, the Tax Inspection Bureau can now audit."

"Your Majesty is enlightened—that's precisely my intent," Zhang Zhang Juzheng bowed.

Wang Wang Chonggu and Shen Li exchanged glances again—earlier fears were baseless.

Look at this pair of colluding emperor and minister!

What sin had the Ming's powerful gentry, magnates, and local elites committed to be saddled with this pair? They'd drawn eighteen lifetimes' worth of bad luck—these two foxes, one old, one young, turned their eyes and conjured a scheme!

The real design here was to introduce the powerful Tax Inspection Bureau as an interventionist force—all else was smoke and mirrors!

Without a powerful bureau, even the finest institutional design is useless; with its intervention, even crude designs can be refined through practice.

For commoners, they may never deal with taxes—but these moneylenders' loan contracts: those over 5,000 taels must be reviewed and taxed by the court; those under 5,000 taels must bear a tax stamp from the Tax Inspection Bureau, or they'll be deemed tax evasion.

To be targeted by the Tax Inspection Bureau is to be stripped bare; their collection notices are true death warrants.

Thus, moneylenders can no longer wield promissory notes as weapons. Previously, they could seize homes and land because interest was so high—fail to pay, and the entire family, including wife and children, became collateral.

Under Zhang Zhang Juzheng's plan, if someone defaults, moneylenders must sue in court with the contract—otherwise, ancestral homes and fields remain the borrower's, for the memorial explicitly states: ownership changes for loans over 5,000 taels require Southern Yamen review; those under 5,000 now require tax stamps!

Otherwise, the household offices of prefectural and county yamens won't process title transfers—the name on the land deed remains unchanged.

When moneylenders revert to relying solely on interest, they must become cautious: if they can't recover the principal, they must sue in court, and even if they win, the process takes years—time is cost.

"Your Majesty, regulating moneylenders won't happen overnight—it requires time and institutional refinement. In three years, we may see a prototype; in five, we may expand it—starting in the capital," Zhang Zhang Juzheng explained regarding the policy's formation.

A policy takes at least five years to show results, for it must be refined through practice.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng didn't promise immediate change—he could only persistently push for regulation.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's method was stamp duty: affixing tax stamps or seals on legal documents, securities, contracts, and loan agreements to signify taxation, thereby granting them legal force.

The Great Ming Code had been completed, with tax law appended—but that didn't mean tax law couldn't be further refined.

"Then let it be as you say," Zhu Zhu Yijun agreed, smiling: "What do you two gentlemen think?"

"Your Majesty is enlightened," Wang Wang Chonggu and Shen Li bowed. They had entered Tonghe Palace with Zhang Zhang Juzheng, yet remained silent on Yanxing's closure—they'd already stated their views in memorials; the emperor had read them carefully, weighed all opinions, and still chose to close it.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's method was the stamp tax: applying stamp impressions or affixing tax labels to legal securities, negotiable instruments, contracts, loan agreements, and other documents to indicate taxation, thereby granting legal validity to contracts and agreements.

Wang Wang Chonggu spoke of Wang Wang Jiaping's return to court and his promotion of trade unions in state-run factories—results were more optimistic than expected. The factories' problem was their excessive isolation; this fundamental trait caused unions to rapidly degenerate.

"How can the water be so clear? Only because of its living source." Since Wang Wang Jiaping took charge, renewed purging and renewal had revitalized the factories.

In Wang Wang Chonggu's view, purging and renewal mattered more than establishing unions.

Shen Li then outlined plans for the Wan Guo Society in Guangzhou and Songjiang.

"This Wan Guo Society idea is excellent—host more events, display all manner of curiosities," Zhu Zhu Yijun frowned. "As for Li Li Yashi's claim that the Ming hoards all benefits—I have no good answer. If they can't farm as well as the Ming, that's not the Ming's fault."

Li Li Yashi accused the Ming of monopolizing trade, but sometimes it wasn't the Ming's fault—it was their own incompetence.

When Wan Shihé was alive, he once tried to rank nations, during discussions on global division of labor.

He planned to shift low-profit, labor-intensive industries the Ming didn't need overseas.

High-value-added processing and innovation would remain in the Ming heartland; low-value-added processing would go to overseas governorates; primary processing and raw materials to foreign kingdoms; dangerous work like mining to barbarians.

Four-tiered standards: heartland, periphery, the six directions, and the eight wildernesses.

In Wan Shihé's plan, lands beyond the Ming governorates should all farm to feed the Ming, and no foreign power should ever threaten Ming military strength.

But Wan Shihé abandoned this plan, settling for today's monopolistic approach.

Wan Shihé found that even in the West, most people couldn't farm properly—they couldn't sustain such division of labor. Since the Ming had so many people,

The four-tiered classification system: heartland, the four quarters, the six directions, and the eight wildernesses.

In Wan Shihé's plan, the six directions and eight wildernesses outside the Great Ming Viceroyalty should all be cultivated to feed Great Ming, and no military force capable of threatening Great Ming should arise overseas.

But in the end, Wan Shihé abandoned this plan and adopted the current approach of monopolizing the spoils.

Wan Shihé discovered that even in the West, most people could not cultivate properly and were ill-equipped to fulfill such a division of labor; since Great Ming had so many people,

Might as well do it all ourselves.

The Emperor rescinded the edict to shut down Yanxing Tower, and everyone in the capital rejoiced; countless scholar-officials saw it as a great victory, having once again blocked the Emperor's petty whim.

Wang Qian was scolded once more—he was clearly incompetent, yet insisted on persuading His Majesty to shut down Yanxing Tower, acting like a bully because his father was the Deputy Grand Secretary.

Of course, the money houses immediately faced hardship; as the pilot site for the stamp tax, it was as if the sky had fallen upon them.

As Shen Li said, the wealthy merchants who had stepped onto the historical stage had further fragmented society—could the court not control these rich merchants, if it could not even control the common people of Great Ming?

The owners of the money houses, upon hearing that loan contracts without tax stamps would be forcibly seized by the Tax Inspection Bureau, panicked—inspection was to begin on the first of June—and immediately began studying the new tax laws.

The Emperor and the Grand Tutor's regulation of business meant forcing money houses to profit through lending, not through seizing others' property.

Inspection was to begin only on the first of June; before that date, old practices applied; after that date, new rules took effect, granting a grace period for adjustment.

Policy stumbled forward through trial and error, while the sixth global trade expedition of Great Ming arrived at the port of Naha, under the Governor-Generalship of Liuqiu.

Today, Naha was no longer the humble fishing village it once was; the entire Shuri Prefecture had a population of 730,000, and Naha Port alone held over 400,000.

With 400,000 people, Naha would be a major county even within Great Ming; nearly all ships bound for Great Ming stopped at the Wan Guo Hai Liang, whether Western sailing ships, three-masted junks heading to Japan, slave ships traveling from Japan to Liuqiu then onward to Great Ming or Lu Song, or cargo vessels from the Southern Seas—all had to dock at Naha.

Liu Ji, wrapped in a great cloak, stood at the bow, gazing at the harbor, filled with emotion—he had first come to Naha in the fifth year of Emperor Wanli, a man from Mizhou in Shandong, a fugitive, more precisely, a fourteen-year-old bandit.

A fourteen-year-old bandit was somewhat laughable, but in Shandong beneath the Kong family's domain, not becoming a bandit meant death.

The closer one got to Lingshan, the more it became hell.

When the Maritime Academy was founded, he was admitted on special grounds due to his excellent swimming, becoming one of the first boatmen of the academy, arriving in Liuqiu.

At that time, the Shimazu clan of Kyushu in Japan was pressuring the Liuqiu royal family to send a royal hostage to Shimazu and insisted that the king's son-in-law succeed the throne, refusing to allow Prince Shang Jiu to inherit from his elder brother.

After repeated deliberations, Shang Jiu decided to cut all ties and fled to Great Ming, becoming an offline king.

With Shang Jiu's departure, Liuqiu formally established a Governor-Generalship; his leaving brought Liuqiu a new beginning.

More than a decade ago, Naha was still a fishing village, with no docks along the coast—only fishermen's nets spread out to dry.

Today, Naha Port was shrouded in countless sails; towering cast-iron cranes pierced the morning mist; curved concrete breakwaters stretched east and west like the arched backs of whales guarding the bay.

Six granite piers extended into the azure waves; moored beside Pier Three were two fast sailing ships.

One was sounding its horn—a fast sailing ship named Feiyun, equipped with four Princess Shengping No. 4 iron horses and propellers, its chimney belching white steam that startled flocks of seabirds; the other was a warship dispatched to garrison the old port of Yehai, a three-decked vessel bristling with cannons, chilling to behold.

There was also a uniquely special vessel, being towed away from the harbor by a lighter—it was the Starwatcher, just returned from the central New World, tasked with surveying the feasibility of a new canal.

The results were poor—terribly so. With Great Ming's current technology, success was nearly impossible; even with a fifty-year construction period, a lock canal remained too challenging. But a level, direct canal was feasible—though it would cost countless laborers their lives.

This would further tarnish the Emperor's reputation.

Beyond the harbor lay dozens of orderly, wide streets, bustling with carts and crowds, all built to serve the merchants of arriving ships—shops lined the roads, offering every imaginable good; there were many brothels, divided into distinct districts by regional flavor—even Red Barbarians and Golden Barbarians could be found.

According to Liu Ji, the owners behind these brothels were all wealthy merchants from Zhejiang and Fujian.

During this voyage, Liu Ji planted many seeds, establishing Ming Halls in numerous ports as required by His Majesty; the establishment went smoothly—once the local governor or lord was bribed, one could directly purchase a house and set up a Ming Hall.

The reason for such smooth establishment was not that the lords feared Great Ming less, nor that they deemed it harmless, but because more and more followers of the Great Brightness Religion lived in their cities; even if the lords opposed, Great Ming's global trade fleet could still secretly establish Ming Halls through the religion's influence.

Seven Ming Halls were built within the Wise Men's Houses of the Great Brightness Religion, operating under the title of Holy Fire Envoy.

The Holy Fire Envoy was subordinate to the Left and Right Envoys of Light, a ceremonial title created by the Great Brightness Religion specifically for Great Ming envoys, with no involvement in the sect's internal affairs; within the Great Brightness Religion's structure, the Left and Right Envoys of Light ranked equally with the Grand Patriarch, and the Holy Fire Envoy ranked equally with the Grand Bishop, but in practice, they were not subordinate to each other and had no mutual influence—merely allies in the same camp.

Today's Naha Port was precisely what the future Ming Halls would look like; Liu Ji sincerely hoped so.

Liu Ji had led Great Ming's fleet on six global trade voyages; as the number of voyages increased, he became ever more certain of one truth: if Great Ming did not claim the vast oceans, the Red Barbarians and Golden Barbarians would.

In this race of maritime exploration, Great Ming must win—by any means necessary, at any cost.

The victor is never judged, at most criticized morally; the loser sinks forever into endless hell.