Chapter 86: When the Worthy Hold Office, Appoint Them; When the Unworthy, Remove Them

The situation in Xuanfu and Datong has deteriorated to the point where it must be plowed over anew; it has truly become a frontier warlord system. Unless the Jin Party is utterly eradicated to serve as a warning and punishment, this warlordization will gradually spread to every corner of the Great Ming. Others, seeing the court’s helplessness, will surely imitate this practice.

The northeast, southeast, and southwest are all in turmoil.

Take Li Chengliang in the northeast—he already possesses the foundational conditions for warlordization. Once the court proves powerless against the Jin Party, Li Chengliang will fully embrace warlordization in the northeast: fostering bandits to strengthen himself, relaxing defenses, and colluding with enemies.

Zhang Juzheng did not wish to leave the young emperor an irreparable mess. Without imperial authority backing him, he could not relentlessly pursue the Jin Party. Fortunately, the young emperor now supports him, enabling him to act.

Zhang Juzheng wanted to force Zhang Siwei into rebellion.

Zhang Siwei was nearly driven mad.

Wu Dui was one of their Jin Party members.

In Longqing fifth year, Wu Dui was promoted by Gao Gong to Right Assistant Censor-in-Chief and dispatched to Xuanfu as Provincial Governor, subordinate to Wang Chonggu. In the matter of Altan Khan’s tribute submission, Wu Dui exhausted his energy and meticulously planned, cultivating ties with Altan Khan’s consort, San Niangzi. Whenever border smoke rose, he directly sought San Niangzi’s intervention. Wu Dui frequently sent rare gifts from the steppe to San Niangzi, eventually inviting her to visit and reside in Xuanfu.

When San Niangzi visited Xuanfu, she often lodged in Wu Dui’s military camp, entering and exiting his private quarters as if they were empty. She could freely take anything she liked—famous items included the Eight Treasures Crown, the Hundred Phoenix Cloud Robe, and the Red Bone Cloud Skirt. San Niangzi excelled at swirling dances, often performing at Wu Dui’s knees to show affection; when her dance reached its peak, she would collapse into his arms.

Truly: drunk and full, singing and dancing, forgetting to return.

Wu Dui’s close personal relationship with San Niangzi was also the primary reason behind the deception used by Ge Shouli.

Wu Dui indeed had an inside agent among the northern barbarians—San Niangzi, Altan Khan’s consort and the true ruler of Great Ming Gold.

Wu Dui’s “friendship” with San Niangzi was the primary means of mediating border conflicts. Wu Dui himself was the core figure in the Jin Party’s management of Altan Khan’s tribute submission and privileged border trade, the architect and founder of the tribute market system. If Wu Dui fails to survive this crisis, the Altan tribute and border market system will surely collapse.

As for the false report of barbarian intelligence, it was Wu Dui’s act of spite against the Grand Secretary for reneging on his promise to recall Zhang Siwei to court—he deliberately sought to prick the capital’s eye.

Zhang Siwei had to scramble to save Wu Dui. Upon hearing Wu Dui had been summoned to the capital for interrogation, he immediately mobilized the censorial officials to plead Wu Dui’s case. But the Jin Party’s censorial officials had first been controlled by Yang Bo and were now fully under the sway of the new Jin Party leader, Ge Shouli.

Ge Shouli had forced the Grand Secretary to change “inspection of troops” to “review of troops” during the emperor’s military parade—a rare victory for the Jin Party!

Zhang Siwei tasted the bitter reality of “when the man leaves, the tea grows cold.” When Wang Chonggu and Yang Bo were in the Wenhua Hall, these censorial officials addressed him as “Young Master” with abject flattery. But once Wang and Yang departed, when Zhang Siwei visited, they immediately changed the subject and refused to assist—even without a substantial bribe, he could not even enter their doors.

After half a day of frantic effort, Zhang Siwei found only two or three censors willing to offer lukewarm support. But such support was utterly powerless, for Wu Dui’s actions violated the fundamental rules of officialdom—the rules were firmly in place.

Bypassing the Regional Commander to report barbarian intelligence.

Times have changed; this is no longer the era of Gao Gong’s rule.

To respond to this barbarian intelligence crisis, the Grand Secretary dispatched court ministers across the Jingji region, ready to prepare for defense. What status did Wu Dui hold, to mock the Ming court’s nobles—including the Jin Party leader—and His Majesty?

Upon hearing this, Wang Chonggu wrote from Xuanfu to Ge Shouli, pleading for the party leader’s rescue. Ge Shouli did not reply.

Zhang Siwei was frantic as a ant on a hot pan. He went to the Quan Chu Guildhall to request an audience with Zhang Juzheng, but the Quan Chu Guildhall informed him that his quota of petitions for this year had already been used in prior inquiries about his return to court, and the guildhall was currently undergoing renovation, making it inconvenient to receive guests.

“Renovation means no visitors” was a good excuse.

The doors of the Quan Chu Guildhall were tightly shut, refusing to see Zhang Siwei.

Zhang Siwei had no choice but to bring two thousand taels of silver as a bribe to the Quan Jin Guildhall, begging Ge Shouli for help. Ge Shouli announced the bribe would be halved—but Zhang Siwei brought sufficient funds and insisted Ge Shouli assist him.

Ge Shouli allowed Zhang Siwei into the Quan Jin Guildhall—this was how the internal contradictions of the Jin Party were kept in a state of conflict without outright rupture.

“Master Ge, please save Wu Dui,” Zhang Siwei pleaded, bowing deeply, utterly devoid of his former arrogance, humbled and submissive, his demeanor extremely respectful—no matter how much he hated it inside, he had to endure it.

Once power is lost, even ghosts won’t visit. Before, Zhang Siwei, relying on his two uncles in court, had run around recklessly; now he suffered the bitter consequences.

Ge Shouli chuckled lightly and said, “Wu Dui is under my Quan Jin Guildhall. Naturally, I must save him. When Wu Dui was escorted to the capital, I went straight to the Ministry of Justice, then to the Northern Town Surveillance Office to see him. If I waited for you to come begging, Wu Dui’s corpse would already be cold.”

“Your uncle, Viceroy Wang Chonggu, sent me a letter. I replied, urging him to seek a solution from San Niangzi—a handwritten letter as evidence to prove Wu Dui was merely deceived, overly eager for merit, not threatening His Majesty. Then there remains room for negotiation.”

Zhang Siwei exhaled deeply and smiled: “This matter is easily resolved.”

But Ge Shouli waved his hand: “This matter is the hardest to resolve.”

“Zhang Siwei, don’t you understand?”

“Altan Khan and San Niangzi befriend our Jin Party because we are imperial officials who can sway court decisions, maintain border stability, and supply them with salt, iron pots, cloth, tea, and other goods. If we cease to be imperial officials, would San Niangzi still write this letter for Wu Dui?”

“Without the court, the Jin Party becomes the Tartars’ meal. Your money, your land, your grain, your servants—all are merely temporarily stored with you. The Tartars can seize them with a sword at any moment. If you fail to grasp this truth, relying on barbarian power to threaten the court, San Niangzi will surely laugh at you!”

“Altan Khan’s San Niangzi flatters Wu Dui—do you think she flatters our Jin Party?”

“If we forge this handwritten letter, and when Great Ming Gold’s envoys arrive in court and are asked about it, and no such letter exists, Wu Dui commits two offenses of deceiving the sovereign—he’d be lucky to be sent to the Dissection Hall.”

“If we beg the Tartars, the conflict between the Jin Party and the court becomes a joke to Great Ming Gold—they will surely look down on you. Zhang Siwei, even I understand this. Why don’t you?”

“This matter is very difficult.”

Zhang Siwei fell silent. Ge Shouli’s words struck him like a heavy hammer. If San Niangzi learned the full truth, this handwritten letter would be nearly impossible to obtain—even if obtained, the Tartars would henceforth look down on the Jin Party, on Wang Chonggu, on Zhang Siwei.

Falsifying a handwritten letter might deceive for a moment, but not forever.

“Now that you understand, go act. Once San Niangzi’s handwritten letter reaches the capital, Wu Dui’s stain will be washed clean. Go, go,” Ge Shouli sat calmly, having no intention of seeing Zhang Siwei off.

Using Zhang Juzheng’s chastisement of Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei to establish Ge Shouli’s authority within the Jin Party—this was Yang Bo’s method taught to Ge Shouli.

When the city gate catches fire, the fish in the pond suffer. The chaos created by Zhang Siwei and Wang Chonggu implicates the entire Jin Party.

Zhang Siwei was filled with resentment, yet gritted his teeth and left the Quan Jin Guildhall. This guildhall, which had nearly been his, was now nearly impossible to enter—simply because Yang Bo, upon departing, suddenly struck Zhang Siwei with such a blow that Zhang Siwei missed the party leader position by a hair’s breadth.

He who travels a hundred miles is halfway done at ninety. The moment one stands just one step from success is the most dangerous. Even the young emperor understands this. Zhang Siwei does not.

But Zhang Siwei’s greatest mistake was that, while Yang Bo was away, he activated the Quan Jin Guildhall and coerced Li Le without informing Yang Bo in advance.

Did he truly think Yang Bo had no temper?

Only by late October did Zhang Siwei, after exhausting every means and dispensing countless favors, finally obtain San Niangzi’s handwritten letter and deliver it to Ge Shouli. At court deliberation, Ge Shouli presented the letter and rescued Wu Dui. But Zhang Juzheng reassigned Wu Dui to Xuanfu: since he preferred drinking and singing, dancing and forgetting to return in Xuanfu with San Niangzi, let him remain there as Provincial Governor and continue his collusion with Wang Chonggu.

Better yet, rebel.

Zhu Yijun stamped the memorial. Wu Dui finally walked out of the Heavenly Prison.

After leaving the Heavenly Prison, Wu Dui did not seek Zhang Siwei. After bathing, changing clothes, and washing away his ill fortune, he first went to the Quan Jin Guildhall, presented two thousand taels of silver as a bribe, and begged to thank Ge Shouli for his rescue.

Wu Dui had barely sat down when he angrily exclaimed: “The Grand Secretary is outrageous! In Longqing second and fifth years, Fang Fengshi falsely reported military intelligence and suffered no consequences. Why must I endure a month in prison?”

Fang Fengshi falsely reported military intelligence in Longqing second and fifth years and suffered no consequences—he still serves as Provincial Governor in Datong. Why must I, for the same act, be thrown into the Heavenly Prison for over a month and endure such torment?

Ge Shouli looked at Wu Dui and knew he had no remorse—he didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong. The Heavenly Prison clearly hadn’t been enough.

He should have let Commander Zhu Xixiao subject Wu Dui to the Five Poisons Torture—let him suffer.

Ge Shouli pondered a moment and said: “Back then, Lord Gao ruled; now, the Grand Secretary rules. Naturally, things differ. You’ve been treated well already.”

“Stop complaining. The Grand Secretary is Xu Jie’s student. How did Xu Jie force Hu Zongxian to death in less than a month? We were all witnesses. Everyone knows what happened then.”

“You’ve had good food, good drink, good lodging in the Heavenly Prison for over a month. You weren’t subjected to the Five Poisons, weren’t forced to eat bran and drink thin gruel. Your cell was cleaned, free of snakes and insects. Say less. If the Grand Secretary hears this and truly gets provoked, and emulates Xu Jie—how long could you survive?”

Wu Dui finally showed fear, yet still stubbornly said: “How dare the Grand Secretary act so recklessly! He… won’t!”

Ge Shouli said matter-of-factly: “That’s precisely why we must honor His Majesty’s authority to bestow favor or punishment, preventing the Grand Secretary from intimidating His Majesty—and ensuring His Majesty restrains the Grand Secretary’s arbitrary actions!”

Wu Dui pondered long. This logic was flawless. He bowed his head: “Master Ge, your words are profoundly reasonable.”

“This is all thanks to Lord Yang’s teaching. I thought you’d rush to find Zhang Siwei first after your release—he’s been tirelessly campaigning for you,” Ge Shouli waved his hand, shifting to Zhang Siwei.

Wu Dui said sincerely: “Had you not braved the danger to visit me in the Heavenly Prison and admonish me face-to-face, I might have said something wrong in my fear—and even your great power could not have saved me. I must first thank you, Master Ge, for saving my life, then thank Zhang Siwei for his efforts.”

Ge Shouli lifted his teacup—this signaled dismissal. He smiled: “Yes, when you reach Xuanfu, be careful. Xuanfu is no longer solely our Jin Party’s domain. The Zhang Party and Zhe Party have both extended their hands in. Don’t give them any leverage—or even I cannot save you.”

“Farewell, Master Ge,” Wu Dui knelt and kowtowed, then slowly departed.

Ge Shouli sipped his tea and muttered: “A snake-and-rat creature, carved from the same mold as Zhang Siwei.”

Ge Shouli was blunt, not a fool. Wu Dui and Zhang Siwei were cut from the same cloth—snake-and-rat opportunists, selling favors to both sides. When real trouble comes, men like Wu Dui speak only for money.

Yang Bo saw people with uncanny accuracy. Having chosen Ge Shouli, he knew Ge Shouli would carry out his instructions well.

The Jin Party, under Ge Shouli’s management, was taking shape.

After Wu Dui’s case concluded, Zhang Juzheng deepened his understanding of dialectics. The next day, during the lecture session, he did not discuss the Analects, but expounded on the “Diagram of Contradictions.”

To help the young emperor grasp the essence of dialectics, Zhang Juzheng drew illustrations to aid the emperor’s visual understanding.

Zhang Juzheng stood straight, hands clasped, and said: “A thousand-li dike collapses from an ant’s burrow. A thousand-li dike, vast and strong, is often destroyed by the tiny act of ants building nests. The dike is the shield; the ant’s burrow, the spear. The ant is minute and weak, yet water drips through stone—eventually piercing rock.”

“Your Majesty, the water that erodes cliffs and rocks begins as a mere trickle; the towering tree that shades the sun begins as a tiny green shoot. The rise and fall of all things follows the principle of growing from small to great, from hidden to manifest.”

“Yet people often ignore small, trivial matters, allowing them to grow into disasters. This is why we must prevent small evils before they grow. The same applies to personal conduct: today you rest because of rain or heat; tomorrow you slack off from laziness; eventually, you accomplish nothing.”

“Today, clan factions coalesce due to northern border threats. Ice three feet thick does not form in a day. To purge poison, we must advance inch by inch, treat severe illness slowly, gradually eroding their power over rituals, military, and wealth—only then can we uproot them.”

Zhu Yijun smiled and said: “Thank you, Master, for your teaching.”

“I dare not claim credit for heaven’s merit. I have merely gained insight through Your Majesty’s divine wisdom. My words are crude.”

Zhang Juzheng continued: “Your Majesty, contradictions exist everywhere, at all times. Their opposition and unity, their conflict and reconciliation, inevitably lead to ceaseless struggle between them.”

“Just as within the Jin Party, Ge Shouli and Zhang Siwei clash; the Jin Party and San Niangzi clash. Where there is contradiction, there is fissure; where there is fissure, there is opportunity. Exploit these moments to accumulate seemingly minor contradictions until they trigger a rupture within the Jin Party. On the day of complete rupture, the clan faction will perish.”

Zhang Juzheng felt it necessary for the emperor to understand the timing of action. After the emperor assumes personal rule, he will inevitably face such chaotic situations. Knowing when to strike, how to exploit contradictions and sow discord, to establish his own authority—these are skills the emperor must master.

Zhang Juzheng did not believe eunuchs possessed such talent or ability to exploit contradictions and expand gains.

“Your words, Grand Secretary, are sound,” Zhu Yijun understood clearly: Zhang Juzheng was not merely explaining dialectics, but demonstrating how to use it for political struggle—and had just demonstrated it using Wu Dui’s case, showing precisely how to incite and deepen enemies’ internal contradictions.

A concrete embodiment of theory applied to practice.

Zhang Juzheng began explaining the Analects: “The Master said: ‘The gentleman understands righteousness; the petty man understands profit.’ ‘Understand’ here means ‘comprehend.’ ‘Righteousness’ is the realm of heavenly principle; ‘profit’ is the realm of human desire. Here, ‘gentleman’ and ‘petty man’ are distinguished by virtue.”

“The Master said: The gentleman acts according to heavenly principle; the petty man acts according to human desire.”

“The Master often contrasts gentleman and petty man—this is metaphysical common sense. Now, with the doctrine of contradictions, heaven and Dao are constantly changing—this is empirical truth. The gentleman and petty man are not sharply divided; they have points of unity.”

Zhu Yijun smiled and asked: “Master, you’ve made all the good and bad arguments yourself. You’re always right. So how should I govern?”

Hearing the emperor’s question, Zhang Juzheng realized: the days of ease since the emperor grasped dialectics had barely begun—and now the emperor’s probing came again!

He thought carefully, gravely: “Heaven changes; people change. Today’s self is not yesterday’s self. To know men and govern affairs, one must appoint the capable when they are worthy, and dismiss them when they are unworthy.”

Zhu Yijun’s expression turned solemn: “Grand Secretary, I have a question.”

Zhang Juzheng took a deep breath. That indescribable feeling was so familiar—so familiar he’d grown numb. He knew the emperor’s next words would be hard to answer. He bowed: “Your Majesty, let us look at the Illustrated Mirror of Emperors. It has pictures—vivid and engaging.”

Children belong at the children’s table. Children should do children’s things. Constantly asking questions, endlessly probing!

Look at the Illustrated Mirror of Emperors!

Stop asking.

Zhu Yijun said earnestly: “Grand Secretary, if action lacks constancy, one grows weak. Doing everything halfway, abandoning tasks midway, robs one of courage to face difficulties, turning one timid. To lack breadth and resolve is to be a coward. You, Grand Secretary of the Great Ming, are learned and worldly, a broad-minded and resolute scholar. Are you courageous?”

Zhu Yijun threw back a boomerang: this was a principle Zhang Juzheng himself taught. If Zhang Juzheng now evaded, he betrayed his own inner conviction—not the conduct of a true gentleman.

Answer my question. Don’t try to escape!

“I shall resolve Your Majesty’s doubt,” Zhang Juzheng said, slightly resigned.

I should’ve known better than to put so much effort into teaching—look at the young emperor’s sharp tongue; he’s both heartened and helpless. Heartened because this is what he’s become under my tutelage, helpless because I may have pushed too hard.

Zhu Yijun said with a puzzled expression: “Master said that to know men and assign duties is to promote the worthy and dismiss the unworthy. But what makes one worthy? What makes one unworthy? When is one worthy? When is one unworthy? Surely it cannot be that I say someone is worthy, and thus he is. By what standard do we judge and measure?”

Zhang Juzheng felt only a slight pressure, bowed his head, and said: “The distinction lies in the fine margin between public and private interest. When one acts for public good, he is worthy; when for private gain, he is unworthy. Use the former, dismiss the latter.”

Zhu Yijun smiled—a bright, radiant smile. He had been waiting for this. “Master Yuanfu,” he said, “what is public good? What is private gain? What is public? What is private?”

“Public good… public…” Zhang Juzheng immediately stalled.

Confucian rites and laws speak only of personal conduct—as if becoming a sage through personal virtue solves all problems. Yet looking through the writings of past sages, there is no clear definition of “public.”

The “Gao Yao Mo” speaks of nine virtues; the “Hong Fan” speaks of three virtues; the “Analects” speaks of gentleness, goodness, reverence, frugality, modesty; of self-restraint and restoring propriety; of loyalty, trustworthiness, sincerity, and reverence; of few reproaches and few regrets; of firmness, resolve, simplicity, and reticence; of knowing fate and understanding speech; the “Great Learning” speaks of knowing when to stop and practicing solitude; of avoiding deception and seeking contentment; the “Doctrine of the Mean” speaks of diligent study, earnest action, and a sense of shame; of caution and fear; the “Mencius” speaks of nurturing the heart and cultivating nature; of self-reflection and extending forbearance.

All of these are personal conduct. All are private.

Following the Analects’ habit of pairing opposites—public versus private—what then is public? The classics offer no clear definition. The concept of “public good” is exceedingly vague.

Zhang Juzheng could easily evade the young emperor with a flood of useless words—but he wanted the emperor to grow. He could not afford such evasion.

“Your servant is dull-witted. Allow me time to reflect and provide Your Majesty with a proper answer.” Zhang Juzheng admitted his own knowledge had gaps. Since the emperor’s question had revealed this issue to him, he must find a way to give it a clear answer.

“Then read the Illustrated Commentary on the Imperial Mirror.” Zhu Yijun was not in a hurry. He gave Master Yuanfu time to observe carefully.

Zhang Juzheng finally exhaled. Watching the young emperor shift from the ineffable back to a ten-year-old sovereign, he wondered: Was the ineffable, indescribable, unspeakable thing the emperor? Or was this sunlit ten-year-old sovereign the true emperor? Or were both truly him?

The emperor is contradiction. He is opposition and unity. The emperor is the emperor. The ineffable and the ten-year-old sovereign—both are the emperor.

The lecture continued. Zhu Yijun’s hammer blow today had struck Zhang Juzheng’s mental imprint hard, forcing him to seek answers to public and private through contradiction.

“Thank you, Master, for your teaching.” Zhu Yijun rose and bowed slightly.

Zhang Juzheng hurriedly bowed low: “Your servant is unworthy of such praise. I humbly see Your Majesty out.”

Zhu Yijun stepped out of the Wenhua Hall and saw Feng Bao lost in thought. “Feng Daban, what are you thinking so deeply about?”

Feng Bao quickly replied: “I was pondering: when are ministers worthy? When unworthy?”

“And what is your answer, Feng Daban?” Zhu Yijun asked with a smile. “By what standard do we judge worthiness and unworthiness?”

Feng Bao thought long before answering: “I dare to say, I believe one is worthy if loyal to Your Majesty, unworthy if disloyal. Worthiness and unworthiness are not for these ministers to decide!”

Feng Bao was Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Palace Affairs. His duty was to guard imperial power—he would bite anyone who touched it. So for him, worthiness meant loyalty to the emperor.

Zhu Yijun smiled broadly. “Your answer has already outpaced Master Yuanfu’s.”

Feng Bao beamed. He had never before outthought the Grand Secretary on principle—it stunned him. For Feng Bao, the emperor’s praise was his lifeline. He bowed low: “Thank Your Majesty for your glorious praise.”

“Come, let’s go fishing at Taiye Pool. Before lunch, let’s practice our aim.” Zhu Yijun did not return to the Qianqing Palace but went to Taiye Pool, shooting fish with a slingshot.

His swimming skills were refined. He stood close to the marble railing of Taiye Pool—just a nudge, and he’d fall in.

Zhu Yijun was fishing. But he was also waiting—for someone to push him into the pool, triggering a purge that would shake the entire Great Ming.

But no one pushed. Zhang Hong and Feng Bao were locked in a struggle over protecting the emperor—both were utterly devoted. No enemy could get within ten paces, let alone three.

He didn’t fall in. He was deeply disappointed. That’s it? That’s all? He’d been so irresponsible, done so many heretical things—something strange, something to set all things right, should’ve happened by now.

He’d left such a gaping opening—he was practically jumping in himself! Didn’t anyone want to give him a shove?

Today, again, he didn’t fall in.

When Zhang Juzheng returned to the Former Chu Society Hall, he was surprised to see someone lingering with a visiting card—it was Wu Dui.

Zhang Juzheng stepped from his sedan chair and walked over, smiling: “Huanzhou, why are you here? Have you visited the All-Jin Society Hall?”

Wu Dui tucked away his card and bowed: “I have. Thank you, Grand Coordinator Ge, for saving me. And thank you, Master Yuanfu, for sparing my life.”

Wu Dui had come to thank Zhang Juzheng. This case was under Zhang Juzheng’s supervision—whether he passed or failed depended on whether Zhang Juzheng had shown mercy.

San Niang’s letter had taken so long to reach the capital—was Wu Dui deceived? Or was he deliberately feeding the court poison? Both were ancient foxes; everyone knew the truth.

In truth, Zhang Juzheng had not pursued him relentlessly. Otherwise, Wu Dui would’ve been stripped to the bone. That letter—if Zhang Juzheng accepted it as evidence, it was evidence; if he rejected it, then holding it for half a month without physical proof could be grounds to convict Wu Dui.

Add to that the charge of conspiring with barbarians, and Wu Dui could be sent to the Dissection Courtyard to be flayed alive.

Besides, Wu Dui had once offended Zhang Juzheng.

“We once had ties, exchanged letters frequently. But our paths diverged. Since you’ve come today, I give you one piece of advice: stop clinging to delusions.” Zhang Juzheng finished, ignored Wu Dui, and entered the hall.

That was all.

Wu Dui and Zhang Juzheng had once been allies during the late Jiajing and early Longqing eras. Later, they drifted apart.

After lunch, Zhu Yijun planned to rest briefly before martial practice. After testing Zhu Yijun’s studies, Empress Dowager Li sighed: “Wu Dui was originally Master Yuanfu’s man—more precisely, his fellow traveler. But over time, he strayed.”

“Huh?” Zhu Yijun was stunned. He’d never known this.

Empress Dowager Li said with a sigh: “In early Longqing, both the Great Ming and the Tatar were exhausted from war and wished to negotiate peace. The court fiercely opposed it. At the time, both Gao Gong and Zhang Juzheng supported peace. Gao Gong appointed Wang Chonggu, and Wu Dui was among his supporters. Master Yuanfu was already Vice Grand Secretary, so he recommended Wu Dui to Xuan and Da.”

“They were meant to walk together—but they drifted apart. Specifically, once the tribute market was formally established, wealth stirred hearts. People inevitably changed.”

“So that’s how it was.” Zhu Yijun finally understood—the deep connection between Zhang Juzheng and Wu Dui, the favor of recommendation.

Wu Dui had never formally become Zhang Juzheng’s disciple, but he strongly supported the tribute market and held unique views on it. Zhang Juzheng recommended him because of this. Wu Dui went to Xuanfu and Datong, and there became entangled with the Jin Party.

This wasn’t Zhang Juzheng misjudging him. Wu Dui managed the tribute market excellently—he did his duty well. But their ambitions diverged. They drifted apart. Letters ceased. Time passed. Now, all was changed.

In the Northern Ya , Wu Dui’s case was temporarily closed. He was accused of credulously believing barbarian words and banished back to Xuanfu and Datong.

Meanwhile, in the Southern Ya , the investigation into powerful elites seizing land was slowly unfolding.

Yu Dayou, Wang Daoqun, Zhang Cheng, and others arrived in Songjiang Prefecture. Upon arrival, they did not immediately begin returning land. Instead, they retrieved the case files from Hai Rui’s tenure as Regional Governor of Nanjing, cross-checking Xu Jie’s land seizures. The land to be reclaimed was based on Hai Rui’s records—no matter whose name the land now bore, it must be returned to the court.

Yu Dayou waited—for imperial orders to send southern troops to Songjiang. Until then, Wang Daoqun had no intention of openly breaking with Xu Jie.

If they pressured too hard before troops arrived, unrest might erupt, giving enemies an opening. The one who should be anxious was Xu Jie—not the imperial commissioner assigned to this case.

Zhang Juzheng’s letter, sent from the Nine Dragon Relay Station in the Southern Ya , reached Huating in Songjiang, arriving at Xu Jie’s residence.

Xu Jie’s estate lay in Jinze, Qingpu, covering over two hundred mu, a lavish Jiangnan garden. Before even entering, one saw a Grand Master Tower. Xu Jie had retired as Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince, entitled to such a monument to display his status. This massive archway spanned three courtyards, five bays wide, with two stories in the gatehouse.

All visitors to this archway must dismount and walk in. Only after passing the Grand Master Tower did one enter Xu Jie’s estate—the Jinze Garden.

Carved beams and jade pillars, pavilions and terraces filled the grounds. Upon entering, a Taihu stone screen bore the inscription: “Heaven and earth are one; nature is inherently good.”

The messenger handed Xu Jie the letter from the capital. After months of anxiety, he finally received it. He tore it open—and turned ashen.

What had to come, had come.

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