Chapter 90: Chapter Ninety: Punitive Tariffs

I truly am not devoted to proper duties. Volume Ninety: Punitive Tariffs. Before Zhang Juzheng could speak, Zhu Yijun spoke first: he would not accept this money, no matter the outcome of the court deliberation. The palace will not take this money—do as you please!

Even if Zhang Siwei had no conditions attached, Zhu Yijun still would not take it.

In truth, silver is silver; no names are engraved on it, and there is no such thing as clean or dirty.

But Zhu Yijun knew for certain that Zhang Siwei’s money was the people’s fat and blood, the money of tears and suffering—he would not accept it.

Wang Jiaoping fell momentarily speechless and chose to remain silent. The palace was so poor it had to beg the outer court for funds, yet the Ministry of Revenue still refused to release this money. At this point, even the emperor refuses to take it—doesn’t that speak volumes?

It shows the emperor truly despises this political product called clan factions.

Forming factions is normal—people gather around a shared goal and common ideals. But clan factions make the emperor deeply wary.

Wang Jiaoping pondered the two characters “clan faction” once more, and could only conclude that Zhang Juzheng saw through things like a master, his vision sharp and precise. To distinguish so clearly between clan factions and partisan cliques, and to teach them to the young emperor—truly a man of unmatched talent.

Zhang Juzheng did not know Wang Jiaoping’s thoughts—he had never taught those two words. The young emperor himself had deduced them from observing court dynamics, comparing the Jin Faction and the Zhang Faction. Even Zhang Juzheng felt those two characters were exceptionally accurate!

Zhang Juzheng rose and bowed deeply: “Viceroy Yin Zhengmao has submitted a memorial: the Little Franks have illegally occupied Tumen Island, bribed Guangdong Maritime Deputy Commissioner Wang Bai and Regional Military Commissioner Huang Qing, and thus seized Macau. Viceroy Yin has dispatched fifty warships to besiege Tumen Island, forcing the Little Franks to abandon Macau and other areas.”

“The Red-Haired Barbarians have repeatedly refused to reform, repeatedly deceived the court. Viceroy Yin requests permission to impose higher taxes on the Little Franks: for their merchant ships, the customs duty shall rise from six percent to twenty percent, with all additional revenue going directly to the imperial treasury.”

Zhang Juzheng did not speak immediately—not because he had no answer, but because he had not yet had the chance. When Wang Guoguang asked him his stance on Zhang Siwei’s bribe to the emperor, he had not yet replied when the emperor himself declared he would not take the money.

A crucial memorial should not merely solve a problem—it should use that memorial as an opportunity to advance policy. This is the basic instinct of a mature statesman. He must continue pushing for the opening of the seas.

Since the court has already approved customs duties on foreign ships, Yin Zhengmao’s proposal to raise the Little Franks’ tariff from six percent to twenty percent is the court’s punishment against them.

Zhu Yijun paused—Yin Zhengmao’s proposal was precisely a punitive tariff.

A punitive tariff is an import surcharge, imposed by a nation with commodity superiority, to protect trade or to punish or penalize foreign traders.

Such punitive tariffs must be built upon commodity superiority; otherwise, it is like picking up a stone to smash one’s own foot.

Great Ming currently holds absolute commodity superiority, and this punitive tariff carries a strong hue of Huayi distinction.

Indeed, to enrich the state, the Great Ming court will constantly evolve within its own contradictions.

“Then let the court deliberate,” Zhu Yijun waved his small hand, clarifying why he had spoken up: he would rather starve than take money from clan factions—he found it filthy.

Starving makes one thin, but taking money from clan factions shatters one’s skull.

If this precedent is opened, clan factions will sprout everywhere across Great Ming, bribing the emperor. Seven hundred thousand taels of silver versus the complete collapse of state institutions—which is lighter, which heavier? Though young, the emperor still knows the difference.

Wan Shihé, upon hearing the court planned punitive tariffs, immediately protested: “There are nine canonical principles for governing the realm: self-cultivation, honoring the virtuous, cherishing kin, revering ministers, treating officials kindly, loving the people, welcoming artisans, soothing distant peoples, and winning over feudal lords.”

Calming distant peoples brings all four quarters to submit.

“Receiving guests with kindness, honoring the good and pitying the weak—that is how one soothes distant peoples.”

These are direct quotes from the Doctrine of the Mean. If a state fulfills these nine principles, it can surely secure peace and stability.

Hai Rui, hearing Wan Shihé speak, immediately replied: “We’ve already been too lenient. It didn’t work. The barbarians do not cultivate virtue. The court has showered the Little Franks with grace, yet they do not repay it with goodwill—they press forward, repeatedly raising armies. Don’t you know this, Minister Wan?”

“Too lenient?” Wan Shihé froze—he should never have opened his mouth!

Again, Hai Rui silenced him with a single sentence.

Hai Rui plays a crucial role in court—he is the outer court’s censor, tasked with silencing opponents.

“Minister Wan doesn’t know?” Hai Rui smiled—a calm, gentle smile, yet dripping with mockery. As Minister of Rites, and with the Honglu Temple serving as the empire’s foreign ministry, how could Wan Shihé not know of the conflict between Great Ming and the Little Franks? What good is he as minister?

Go home and sell sweet potatoes.

“Minister Wan truly doesn’t know,” Tan Lun frowned, and began recounting the past.

The history of enmity between Great Ming and the Little Franks—that is, Portugal—is long and tangled, like a child without a mother, hard to recount. In short, it stems from Portugal’s deeply rooted colonial mindset: they came to Great Ming’s territory to cause trouble, and were beaten back.

In the eighth year of Zhengde, Portuguese merchant Jorge, without imperial authorization, erected a stone pillar bearing the Portuguese royal crest on Tumen Island, claiming the land as Portuguese territory.

In the twelfth year of Zhengde, the Portuguese king dispatched court apothecary Tomé Pires with twelve four-masted sailing ships to conduct “peaceful and mutually beneficial” communication with Great Ming.

In September of the twelfth year of Zhengde, the Portuguese fleet bombarded Guangzhou. The thunder of cannons shook the land; Deputy Surveillance Commissioner Gu Yingxiang reported it to court.

The Portuguese envoy was granted an audience with Emperor Wu Zong of Ming. The envoy, Huo Zhe Yasan, was kept at court, and Wu Zong even learned foreign languages from him.

That same winter, Portuguese commander Simão de Andrade led soldiers in Guangzhou to burn, kill, and plunder. The son of the King of Malacca came to the capital to weep and accuse Portugal of atrocities in Malacca. The court ordered Portugal to return the territory to Malacca.

The confrontation between Great Ming and Portugal had officially begun.

In the first year of Jiajing, the Portuguese envoy Huo Zhe Yasan was executed. In the third year of Jiajing, the Portuguese court apothecary Tomé Pires died in prison.

In the third year of Jiajing, Guangdong Maritime Deputy Commissioner Wang Rong assembled fifty warships and expelled the Portuguese from Tumen Island.

In the fourth year of Jiajing, Defense Commander Ke Rong and Battalion Commander Wang Ying’en defeated the Portuguese commander Martim Afonso, sank two enemy ships, killed thirty-five, and captured forty-two. Only so few heads and prisoners were taken because many drowned and were too hard to recover.

Until the thirty-second year of Jiajing, the Portuguese bribed Guangdong Maritime Deputy Commissioner Wang Bai and Regional Military Commissioner Huang Qing, and thus secretly settled in Macau.

Yin Zhengmao arrived in Guangzhou just two years ago, busy suppressing bandits and pirates. He discovered the banditry and Japanese pirate activity were both tied to Wang Bai and Huang Qing, and submitted a memorial accusing them of colluding with pirates, demanding their arrest and transport to the capital.

Tan Lun did not waste many words—he remembered these events clearly. In his view, Japanese pirates, northern barbarians, and Red-Haired Barbarians were all the same: beat them once, and they become docile; if you can’t beat them, they burn, kill, and plunder.

Zhang Juzheng smiled at Wan Shihé: “Minister Wan, do you still have doubts? You speak of soothing distant peoples—but we have soothed the Little Franks. What did they do? Burned and plundered in Guangzhou, consorted with Japanese pirates in Zhoushan, seized land illegally, and stole Macau. We soothed them—but it did no good. What do you say?”

Wan Shihé hurriedly shook his head: “No more! No more! I didn’t know these things—the Shizong Veritable Records are not yet completed—I—I…”

“My fault—the records were compiled too slowly,” Zhang Juzheng replied gently. The Shizong Veritable Records had indeed taken too long; Wan Shihé had no access to such information.

Not only Wan Shihé was unaware—Ge Shouli listened like someone hearing a tale, stunned by Tan Lun’s recounting of the sea’s turmoil. He had not realized the Japanese pirates and Red-Haired Barbarians were not the same!

In the first year of Jiajing, the Little Frank envoy Huo Zhe Yasan had already been beheaded. At that time, Ge Shouli and Wan Shihé were both deaf to worldly affairs, devoted only to reading the sages.

To most Ming officials, Red-Haired Barbarians and Japanese pirates were treated as one and the same.

Ignorance is not a crime. Zhang Juzheng did not press further.

“Then, does anyone still object to this tax increase?” Zhang Juzheng surveyed the court.

Ge Shouli spoke: “Master Zhang has said the silver from foreign ships concerns the implementation of the Single Whip Law. What if the Little Franks stop bringing silver?”

“Let them come or not,” Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang smiled. “If they have the nerve, don’t come. It’s them begging us to sell them things.”

Ge Shouli nodded with a look of obvious understanding: “Indeed. Our Celestial Kingdom is rich in treasures—foreign ships naturally must come.”

Zhang Juzheng’s expression turned grave. How long could Great Ming’s commodity superiority last?

Once that superiority vanished, how much silver would Great Ming need to sustain its vast population?

If no silver entered Great Ming, could the Single Whip Law still function?

This led to a deeper question: regarding the silver trade—the empire’s economic lifeline—should Great Ming control it itself?

Suddenly, a vision flashed before him: the young emperor holding a triangular prism, scattering white sunlight everywhere—“With little effort, great results.” The phrase kept repeating before his eyes.

No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he could not forget it—instead, he remembered it more clearly.

A seed of strategy seemed to sprout within him.

“Master Zhang?” Ge Shouli ventured cautiously. “I have no talent for economics—I only asked because I didn’t understand. I have no opposition. Please don’t misunderstand.”

Seeing Zhang Juzheng silent for so long, Ge Shouli thought he had been misunderstood. He had no connection to the Red-Haired Barbarians—he simply didn’t know and asked.

Zhang Juzheng finally came to his senses and nodded: “Mm.”

The Grand Secretary of Great Ming drafted the imperial edict. The memorial reached the young emperor’s desk. Zhu Yijun stamped his seal on the punitive tariff memorial.

The court deliberation continued, concerning the disposition of Guangdong Maritime Deputy Commissioner Wang Bai and Regional Military Commissioner Huang Qing. These two had accepted bribes, allowing the Little Franks to establish themselves in Macau, set up illegal checkpoints, and privately collected twenty percent from foreign ships. The final verdict: arrest and transport to the capital.

Once interrogated and procedures completed, the outcome was clear: execution at the marketplace as a warning.

Their crime was treason—abandoning territory. The Red-Haired Barbarians’ unchecked growth in Macau was territorial loss.

This was the first case in Great Ming history with a named official, eyewitnesses, physical evidence, and written proof: a local official colluding with local gentry and wealthy merchants, secretly forming alliances with barbarians, establishing illegal checkpoints, secretly collecting duties, and profiting immensely. The case was exceptionally heinous—and confirmed one fundamental truth: the court’s opposition to opening the seas, the claim of “competing with the people for profit”—who were they really competing with?

Feng Bao, furious, said: “In Longqing’s first year, when His Majesty approved the memorial from Fujian Provincial Governor Tu Zemin requesting the opening of Yuegang, he said:”

“It is these local gentry who want to trade, fearing that adding a customs post would hinder their own profit. They seize public wealth above and prey on the common people below. They opposed establishing the Yuegang Maritime Office and the Imperial Revenue Pavilion. They relied on court ministers and censors to claim it harmed the people. Had there been no benevolent men in court, Yuegang would never have been opened.”

“Now look again—our late emperor still thought too well of the gentry. See how these local officials collude with gentry, tolerate corruption, bribe ministers, stir up noise, and cause chaos. Remarkable! Truly astonishing!”

“Minister Wan, what do you say?”

Wan Shihé was scolded again. He had just invoked the sages’ teachings on soothing distant peoples, claiming Yuegang’s closure would solve everything—now Feng Bao dredged up the past. These eunuchs were truly detestable—always digging up old grievances!

Wan Shihé, utterly helpless, said: “Er… Eunuch Feng speaks wisely.”

Feng Bao sighed: “Mencius, Gaozi II, says: ‘Virtue conquers vice, as water conquers fire. Today’s virtuous men are like using a cup of water to extinguish a cartload of burning firewood. When the fire does not go out, they say water cannot extinguish fire. Such people are no different from the vicious—indeed, even more hateful. In the end, the world will perish.’”

“Mencius said virtue must conquer vice, as water extinguishes fire. Today, the virtuous are few. When they act, it is like using a cup of water to put out a cart of burning wood.”

“If they see the fire won’t go out and say water cannot extinguish fire, virtue cannot conquer vice—such people are no different from the vicious, even more hateful. The world will surely perish.”

“Had there not been benevolent men who repeatedly pleaded and clarified the stakes, where would Yuegang be? The realm would be in peril.”

The unvirtuous are evil.

But those who, seeing a cup of water fail to extinguish a cart of fire, cry out that water cannot extinguish fire and virtue cannot conquer vice—they are foolish.

Feng Bao was calling Wan Shihé both evil and foolish. Wan Shihé’s selfishness made him evil; his constant recitation of the sages like scripture made him foolish.

By comparison, Ge Shouli was merely blunt.

Wan Shihé exhaled a long, foul breath—he needed more reading. To be constantly scolded by eunuchs using the sages’ words, unable to raise his head—it was humiliating for a minister.

When Zhang Juzheng and Yang Bo appointed Wan Shihé as Minister of Rites, they had half-jokingly thought: put a dog in the Ministry of Rites to keep the government running.

Zhu Yijun, hearing Feng Bao’s long speech, smiled. Feng Bao was defining right from wrong.

The evils of bribery and indulgence were the greatest ills of governance. Feng Bao’s speech clearly traced the pattern.

How did the southeastern merchants collude with local officials to protect their interests—that was indulgence. How they used brokers and compradors to bribe court ministers—that was bribery.

Without eliminating indulgence and bribery, how can governance be improved? Without governance, how can new policies succeed?

Then Feng Bao used the Mencius parable of “a cup of water to extinguish a cart of fire” to confirm this approach as wrong.

Only with clear standards of right and wrong can one judge them, no?

Zhang Juzheng smiled. Feng Bao’s insults were as harsh as ever—and still left no one able to reply.

“Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi Yin Zhengmao has submitted a memorial concerning the Guangzhou naval forces.”

“For over a decade along Guangdong’s coast, pirate and Japanese threats have surged, leaving the people destitute.”

“This stems from lax defense, allowing bandits and pirates to exploit weaknesses. Though I have occasionally captured and killed them in the far south, it has done little to heal the damage. Now I propose establishing clear regulations, organizing land and naval defenses, enforcing rewards and punishments, and ensuring patrols are strictly observed. Though no major captures or kills have occurred, the security achieved is substantial.”

“Generals Zhang Yuanxun, Deputy Commissioner Liu Wen, and others have shown loyalty and diligence. They deserve commendation and promotion. Yin Zhengmao has pacified the mountain bandits of Huizhou; upon receipt of the victory report, I request the court review and grant special commendation.”

Yin Zhengmao had pacified the Huizhou mountain bandits, requesting court rewards for General Zhang’s pacification achievements, while also petitioning to establish coastal defenses. The Guangzhou naval forces had three primary duties.

The first is to prepare naval and riverine defenses against Japanese pirates and bandits, ensuring local stability;

The second is to enforce the court’s system of rewards and punishments: the Emperor’s edicts reach Guangzhou, yet far from the capital, no one pays them any heed;

The third is to prepare for disaster relief during flood season—locust plagues, floods, droughts—when the people suffer and are most prone to rebellion; thus, it becomes the navy’s duty to use its forces to restrain and organize relief efforts.

This demand is entirely reasonable—who else but Yin Zhengmao has consistently won in Guangdong and Guangxi?

Minister of War Tan Lun frowned and said: “There is a risk of regional warlordism.”

With the Jin Party’s precedent of establishing the Guangzhou Navy in the far south, how could the court possibly feel secure?

Tan Lun’s concern left everyone momentarily silent; Yin Zhengmao’s proposal touched upon an unavoidable issue: territorial division and feudal enfeoffment.

The army would fall under Yin Zhengmao’s control, and Guangzhou has long been a hub of illicit maritime trade with the South Seas; with wealth, power, and troops, what else is Yin Zhengmao if not a regional warlord? Can we rely solely on his loyalty to approve such a policy?

Most court ministers remained silent; the Jin Party had its own filth on its backside and dared not accuse others, for the frontier garrisons in Xuanfu and Datong in the northwest already held unified military, political, and financial power—and had even dared to falsify military reports and torment the court.

Other ministers feared Zhang Juzheng’s authority; Yin Zhengmao was Zhang Juzheng’s most trusted protégé, the core among cores—in the minds of most court officials, Yin Zhengmao was Zhang Juzheng’s sharpest spear against Gao Gong.

Precisely because Gao Gong’s disciple Li Qian could not pacify Guangdong and Guangxi, while Yin Zhengmao could, Zhang Juzheng firmly secured his position as Vice Grand Secretary and ultimately triumphed over Gao Gong.

Yin Zhengmao’s proposal for the Guangzhou Navy is Zhang Juzheng’s move to secure benefits for Yin Zhengmao.

Earlier, Zhang Suiwei had asked Li Le a question: how could one be so certain that once Zhang Juzheng solidified his position as Grand Secretary, he wouldn’t become the next Gao Gong?

This very question haunted the hearts of Ming court ministers.

“The Grand Marshal speaks wisely; we must issue a stern reprimand to Yin Zhengmao and forbid him from expanding his forces,” Zhang Juzheng said without hesitation upon hearing Tan Lun’s objection, wrote his opinion on the floating slip, and submitted it to the Emperor’s desk for approval.

Zhu Yijun fell silent for a moment; Zhang Juzheng’s refusal to let Yin Zhengmao expand the navy surprised him. He asked curiously: “Guangdong and Guangxi lie far to the south—a single memorial takes over 180 days to travel back and forth. If war breaks out in Lingnan, how can the court decide? If we impose taxes on the Little Franks, and they revolt, after just quelling the Japanese pirates, we face another foreign threat—what forces will we use to resist?”

Taxation will inevitably provoke resistance; given the Franks’ nature, armed rebellion is certain, and the possibility of renewed warfare in the southeast is high—this must be guarded against.

Establishing the Guangzhou Navy raises fears of warlordism; not establishing it means imposing taxes, which will inevitably spark foreign invasions. Ming state affairs are always such dilemmas—how can one resolve them?

Zhang Juzheng quickly bowed and said: “Your Majesty, Guangdong and Guangxi are extremely distant; the Grand Marshal speaks wisely. Why not establish a navy in Songjiang Prefecture? In case of war, station the Ming navy at the Penghu Police Inspectorate to guard against unrest along the southeastern coast.”

“The Southern Capital retains the Six Ministries, making oversight easier—this resolves both dilemmas.”

Zhu Yijun finally understood what Zhang Juzheng intended to achieve by exploiting the palace’s financial deficit.

He was slowly implementing the contents of Hai Rui’s “Memorial on Securing Peace and Order,” step by step, with meticulous, interlocking precision.

Zhu Yijun remarked with deep feeling: “Your Excellency’s foresight is thorough—this is the great fortune of the state.”

“Your Majesty overpraises me; I merely fulfill my duty to Your Majesty,” Zhang Juzheng bowed again in thanks for the Emperor’s praise.

Hai Rui’s political ideals were excellent, and he was willing to bend low to seek solutions; yet in handling affairs, he was too rigid. The political principle “yielding preserves completeness” was known to Hai Rui—he simply refused to compromise.

Zhu Yijun stamped his approval on the memorial rejecting Yin Zhengmao’s proposal.

Zhang Juzheng issued an order to the Ministry of Personnel, archived the approved memorial, sent it to Guangzhou, and would follow with an imperial edict reprimanding Yin Zhengmao’s warlord-style navy.

Yin Zhengmao was constantly reprimanded, for he was a notorious corrupt official, known throughout the realm; Guangzhou’s Dianbai Harbor had nearly become his private customs office.

Yin Zhengmao was both a capable general and a voracious thief, yet most court officials avoided discussing this—not out of fear of Zhang Juzheng, but because Guangdong and Guangxi’s situation still required Yin Zhengmao’s leadership.

Moreover, Yin Zhengmao’s corruption seemed designed to reassure the court: he sought wealth, not territorial independence or to become King of Lingnan.

Zhang Juzheng shook his sleeve and pulled out a memorial: “The Regional Governor of Nanjing, Song Yangshan; the Regional Governor of Songjiang, Wang Daoqun; and the Left Grand Marshal of the Songjiang Police Inspectorate, Yu Dayou, have submitted a memorial proposing the establishment of a Songjiang Navy Garrison to defend the southeast, secure land and water defenses, enforce rewards and punishments, and complete flood-season preparations.”

“What are your views?”

The most critical appointment here is Left Grand Marshal Yu Dayou: first, establish the Songjiang Garrison according to the Nine Border Garrisons’ standards. Only by planting a sword at the heart of the Southern Capital can subsequent policies—investigating land encroachment, restoring farmland, eliminating corruption and entrenched abuses, building shipyards, establishing customs offices, and opening trade routes across nine provinces—be implemented.

This is what is meant by “enforcing rewards and punishments.”

Benevolence must triumph over cruelty, but benevolent men grow scarce; when benevolent men’s efforts are like a cup of water thrown on a burning cart, we must find a way to make the benevolent take up arms!

Make the cruel listen to the benevolent’s reasoning!

Zhang Juzheng’s core governing philosophy remains those four words: enrich the state, strengthen the military—gradually enriching, gradually strengthening, step by step, slowly transforming the Ming’s weakness to restore its glory.

Zhang Juzheng’s approach to governing a great state like cooking a small fish made Gao Gong and Xu Jie seem clumsy.

Gao Gong pushed too hastily: he openly demanded the abolition of the Directorate of Ceremonial, provoking fierce palace resistance. And behind Gao Gong stood the Jin Party—was his move truly against the eunuchs, or something more sinister?

The Empress Dowager in the palace did not wish for strange intrigues.

Ge Shouli wanted to attack, but after trying many angles, he could not find a way to criticize Zhang Juzheng.

Accuse him of usurping the sovereign’s authority? But Yu Dayou was Imperial Faction—he was recalled to court by the Emperor’s own edict, recommended by Hai Rui, ostensibly to lead potato seedling reclamation, yet secretly planted this massive bomb.

Accuse Zhang Juzheng of forming cliques? Wang Daoqun had worked tirelessly to clear Hu Zongxian’s name and grew close to the Zhe Party’s Shen Yiguan; if Wang Daoqun truly aligned with a faction, he was Zhe Party, not Zhang Party.

The only one who could be called Zhang Party was Nanjing Regional Governor Song Yangshan—but Song Yangshan was stationed in Nanjing, near Songjiang but not directly in charge.

There was not a single benefit for the Jin Party here.

As party leader, Ge Shouli naturally sought advantage for the Jin Party, yet after much thought, he realized he was too far from the southeast to intervene.

Wan Shihé opened his mouth to speak, but Wang Jiaoping pulled him back, signaling silence. Even Wang Jiaoping, fellow Jin Party, could no longer endure Wan Shihé; Wan Shihé’s humiliation dragged the entire Jin Party down with him.

If the Jin Party consisted only of men like Wan Shihé, how could it ever stand as the main force to counter the Grand Secretary’s overwhelming authority?

Ge Shouli looked regretfully at Wang Guoguang; the credit for investigating land encroachment in the southeast should have belonged to the Jin Party, for Wang Guoguang was from Shanxi and once a core Jin Party figure—but Wang Chonggu and Zhang Suiwei had acted so disgracefully that Wang Guoguang severed ties with the Jin Party entirely.

When Ge Shouli became the new party leader, he sent Wang Guoguang an invitation; Wang Guoguang dispatched servants to offer congratulations.

“No objections?” Zhang Juzheng scanned the room; seeing no dissent, he affixed a floating slip to the memorial and submitted it to the Emperor.

The court deliberation continued, primarily condemning Wang Chonggu’s folly in spending vast silver to plug holes by giving money to the poor; eventually, an order was issued to the Ministry of Revenue to oversee it.

Zhu Yijun sat on the throne, diligently reading; he had nearly finished this copy of the Analects, yet Zhang Juzheng had not sent him a new commentary on the Four Books.

“We take our leave,” the ministers bowed and departed the Wenhua Hall after the deliberation ended.

Zhu Yijun looked at Zhang Juzheng and asked: “Master, earlier I asked you what is public and what is private—have you thought further on this?”

“I am guilty; I have not yet clearly resolved it,” Zhang Juzheng bowed. The definition of public versus private could not be settled overnight—he must reflect seriously, not offer the young Emperor a vague, evasive answer.

“No rush, no rush, take your time,” Zhu Yijun waved his small hand, indicating he was not urgent—merely reminding the Grand Secretary not to forget.

“Your Majesty, I dare ask: why do you refuse Zhang Suiwei’s silver?” Zhang Juzheng asked, puzzled.

The young Emperor’s direct refusal was understandable; at that moment, Zhang Juzheng’s intervention would have turned a simple matter into a complex web: the conflict between imperial authority and ministerial power, between Emperor and Grand Secretary, between Zhang Party and Jin Party, between inner and outer court.

So the young Emperor spoke first, reducing what could have been a complex conflict into a simple one: the Emperor versus Zhang Suiwei personally.

Could one disregard a ten-year-old sovereign and yet still respect the millennia-old principle of sovereign-subject hierarchy, the supreme authority of the throne?

“I dislike his silver,” Zhu Yijun said firmly. “I find his silver filthy. Silver is silver—but Zhang Suiwei’s silver is filthy.”

The Emperor spoke with such reason that Zhang Juzheng had no reply.

From a material standpoint, all silver is silver; from a moral standpoint, Zhang Suiwei’s silver truly is filthy.

“I congratulate the Ming state: the eradication of bribery begins with Your Majesty,” Zhang Juzheng said with deep feeling.

Taxing the Little Franks to fund the palace is institutionalized public support—not the Emperor accepting bribes from ministers. During the Zhengtong era, Emperor Yingzong… Zhang Juzheng shook his head; Emperor Yingzong’s conduct was so rare in history that it was not worth mentioning.

Zhu Yijun said calmly: “I once heard that ugly men cannot serve as officials.”

“When Emperor Ai of Han ascended the throne, Chancellor Xue Xuan and Attendant Shen Xian were enemies. To prevent Shen Xian from remaining in office, Xue Xuan sent men to hide outside the palace gate; when Shen Xian arrived for court, they slashed his nose and lips, carving eight wounds into his face—Shen Xian could never serve again. Is this true?”

Zhang Juzheng frowned and said: “It is true.”

Why did the Emperor bring up this incident?

Zhu Yijun said calmly: “Wang Chonggu spent nearly two million taels to plug holes; Zhang Suiwei, to regain office, even repaired the palace’s deficit. If he is willing to spend silver, what won’t he do?”

Zhang Juzheng turned pale, glanced at Feng Bao, then at Zhang Hong, and bowed deeply: “Your Majesty, a gentleman finds such conduct shameful—a reckless repetition of past folly. Xue Xuan was dismissed, and his family suffered ruin. If this precedent is opened, the state will collapse. Those who utter such seditious words must be executed!”

Yang Bo wanted to oppose Qi Jiguang’s enfeoffment but refused even to raise a charge of malicious intent, immediately retreating to maintain a state of conflict without rupture—this was political wisdom.

Such a remark—disfiguring a man to render him unfit for office—is indeed slander.

Factional strife is factional strife, but such tactics are base and ineffective, and may provoke violent backlash. The sovereign is young, the state uncertain; if such poison is employed, the only result will be that the realm doubts its ruler.

At that point, the state would be in grave danger.

Seeing Zhang Juzheng’s nearly murderous expression, Zhu Yijun quickly explained: “Master, your ‘Illustrated Discourse on Imperial Precedents’ mentioned Emperor Ai of Han, so I read the Book of Han and learned this anecdote—no one advised me. Master, please stop staring at Feng Da and Zhang Da—they did not speak.”

Zhang Juzheng was struck again by his own boomerang: his own chapter on “Perverted Precedents” had led the Emperor to read history—and stumble upon this tale.

Zhang Juzheng bowed again: “Emperor Ai of Han died at twenty-five; Wang Mang seized absolute power thereafter, Your Majesty.”

“Then forget it,” Zhu Yijun said seriously. “You are better versed in state institutions—follow your advice.”

A child grabbing a frog by its head—if Zhang Suiwei grows impatient, Zhu Yijun will show him what a child’s cruelty truly means.

Zhu Yijun truly is a child.

At worst, he will recite a self-reproachful memorial in the ancestral temple—after all, the Grand Secretary will never publish the edict of repentance throughout the realm.

I am merely a ten-year-old child who, out of personal preference, committed some not-too-extreme misdeeds—surely the ministers can forgive me? I am truly just a child! Please vote for me, woof!!!