Chapter 997

Gao Qi informed the Emperor that Shen Shixing was concerned; the entire Great Ming, inside and out, showed profound unease toward this colossus, for Great Ming had no experience dealing with such matters.

Zhu Yijun pulled out several memorials and handed them to Gao Qi, saying: “The several Censors who previously impeached Wang Qian for establishing school rules and mottos—upon arriving in Songjiang Prefecture—all expressed deep approval of Wang Qian’s policies, even arguing that what he had done was insufficient.”

“All students should be regularly sent to the Navy for rigorous training; even these Censors believe loyalty must be used to resist this erosion by materialism.”

“That’s too extreme.”

Wang Qian imposed school rules and mottos on Songjiang University and Songjiang’s three-tier academies, centralized procurement of all materials to prevent extravagance and competition from entering campus; Zhu Yijun initially thought Wang Qian went too far, but immediately endorsed him upon seeing the young eunuchs dressed in his style.

These Censors opposed Wang Qian’s discipline of students and Zhang Juzheng’s narrative of imperial grace, yet upon reaching Songjiang Prefecture, they displayed extreme fear, even arguing the court must guard against this erosion—shifting instantly from extreme conservatism to extreme radicalism, even proposing to use the narrative of imperial grace to counter materialism’s assault on human hearts, ethics, and public morality.

Shen Shixing and Gao Qi’s vigilance, and the Censors’ reactions, were concrete manifestations of this profound unease.

Great Ming had no experience responding to such change; the transformation brought by commodity economy had left the court and the people alike disoriented.

In the process of commodity economy’s transformation, money demonstrated near-omnipotent power: with silver, gold, or Golden Treasure Notes, one could buy every commodity in the world; if something could not be bought, it was simply because one lacked sufficient money.

Under this magic of money, people began assigning prices to everything; thus began the objectification, commodification, and monetization of all things—even virtue could be openly priced, which people could not accept, and so they cried out that it was demonic.

Great Ming was a dynasty whose fiscal system was inherently flawed; even today, it struggled to fully comprehend land taxes; this system was destined to clash inherently with such change.

After reading these memorials, Gao Qi’s mood was not good; they all proved Shen Shixing was not exaggerating, but had genuinely perceived the looming crisis.

“There is no need to worry excessively; this still falls within the scope of land consolidation. I will not allow this colossus to surface.” Zhu Yijun smiled, offering Gao Qi a reassuring promise.

“Your Majesty is wise.” Gao Qi exhaled in relief; he had spoken precisely to alert the Emperor—should the moment come, the Emperor must sacrifice his own reputation and strike this colossus with a crushing blow.

Gao Qi felt even more relieved: he had feared the Emperor, secluded in the inner palace, might not grasp the danger—but the Emperor had already prepared to overturn the table, clearly understanding its gravity and remaining highly vigilant.

Great Ming’s current monopolistic capitalist economy remains in its infancy.

Even monopolistic capital that has achieved market concentration, production concentration, and capital concentration still lies within Great Ming’s comprehension, for monopolistic capital remains in its early stage.

Free competition, the alienation of competition leading to price wars, profit squeezed toward cost, thin margins, dual pressure from high costs, bankruptcy of small workshops, market concentration, control of markets and channels by a few, mergers and acquisitions, dominance by a few capitals, production concentration, and capital becoming highly concentrated through mergers.

Ultimately forming monopolistic capital with concentrated markets, channels, and production.

The process of extreme land concentration and the formation of monopolistic capital showed striking similarity.

Monopolistic capital remains in its early stage because this colossus still fears the court or ruling class’s strangulation, and market changes brought by new technologies.

Shen Shixing’s summary of four characteristics was correct.

To survive, this colossus will do everything possible to block new technologies from entering the market, demand that any new technology benefit it, buy it outright and lock it away, or simply use its scale, cost advantages, and advantage in public opinion to hunt down new technologies.

To survive, this colossus will endlessly expand, absorb every newly emerging workshop, continuously increase production scale, until overproduction occurs.

Whether acquiring technology or workshops, it requires massive financial support.

At this point, monopolistic capital enters contradictory yet mutually beneficial relations with moneylenders and money-holders; through prolonged struggle, finance and monopoly converge, cross-control emerges, forming financial capital.

Financial capital is the intermediate form of capital.

At this stage, financial capital no longer fears new technologies disrupting the market, because no matter how novel the technology, to reach any scale, it requires financial backing; as financial capital, they no longer fear new technologies, but instead invest financially, assimilating them into their own structure.

But financial capital still fears strangulation by power.

Financial capital's next step is mutual contradiction and mutual benefit with power; through prolonged struggle, monopoly, finance, and power merge, you in me and me in you, evolving into bureaucratic oligarchic capital.

I am power; power is me; thus, there is no longer any need to fear strangulation by power.

Bureaucratic oligarchic capital is the advanced form of capital, but still not its final form.

The “Final Owner,” who completely controls everyone’s fate, is humanity’s fantasy of capital’s ultimate form.

(Schematic outline)

Currently, Songjiang Prefecture in Great Ming remains on the brink where small workshops have not yet gone bankrupt; even someone as exceptional as Shen Shixing can see only the silhouette of monopolistic capital—not because he lacks ability, but because he has never seen such things before.

Zhu Yijun had seen them firsthand, so he understood these matters well.

“Either establish clear laws to restrain them, or open new commercial avenues to divide their power, and must also widely deploy eyes and ears, deeply embed claws and teeth in provincial commercial ports. Your suggestions are all excellent, Young Minister; these methods are all sound. This matter need not be rushed—proceed gradually.” Zhu Yijun assigned Gao Qi a task: do this slowly, step by step.

Maintaining the vitality of small and medium economic entities benefits the efficient operation of the market.

The invisible hand is formidable, but Great Ming’s visible hand—the Great Ming Army—is formidable on a physical level.

Generally speaking, only under bureaucratic oligarchic capital does imperial power face threat.

But Zhu Yijun is a man of fierce disposition, greedy, fond of silver, and always overestimates his enemies; the moment monopolistic capital appears, Zhu Yijun will strike—his Imperial Grace Shatters Earth Fist will smash it, forcibly ordering its breakup, forbidding any de facto monopoly.

Because once a de facto monopoly forms, they will begin demanding political power, daring to defy imperial authority; how could Zhu Yijun tolerate anyone defying him? It would render all twenty years of diligent governance, twenty years of martial training, and twenty years of frugality utterly meaningless.

Moreover, once a de facto monopoly forms, artisans in workshops cannot live like human beings, not even like oxen or horses—for when oxen or horses fall ill, their masters still send for veterinarians; oxen and horses still go to the People’s Medicine Bureau themselves.

The harm of de facto monopoly is that it reverses production relations, regressing from free employment to forced personal dependency; people become worse than oxen and horses, their lives as worthless as grass.

This has nothing to do with morality, nor is it alarmist rhetoric; Zhu Yijun seeks justification for his Imperial Grace Shatters Earth Fist—the relationship between local gentry and tenant farmers in Great Ming is irrefutable proof.

Under a highly closed and inefficient small-farm economy, after gentry monopolize land, how do they treat tenant farmers? Make them wear mourning for dogs, make them weep at dog graves, make them observe mourning for dogs.

This is likely the limitation of highly centralized power under the commandery-county imperial system: Zhu Yijun, as Emperor, dislikes monopolistic capital, and will not permit this colossus to emerge.

Zhu Yijun and Gao Qi thoroughly discussed the Dinghai Education System; currently, its implementation focuses mainly on establishing normal schools; to realize the three-tier academy system, massive funding must be invested in normal schools to train teachers.

According to Gao Qi’s Dinghai Education System, Great Ming must establish one normal school in every county, each capable of training five hundred teachers annually; yet building one normal school per prefecture already exceeds Great Ming’s current fiscal capacity.

This outcome leads to: Great Ming cannot establish sufficient elementary schools at the village, town, or township level.

Zhu Yijun rubbed his forehead, slightly pained, and shook his head: “I’ll think of a way to solve the money problem—think again. The construction of academies cannot stop; the stipends for students cannot stop; the interest-free loans to universities cannot stop.”

Gao Qi’s suggestion was to reduce the number of academies built, cut student stipends, and reduce interest-free loans to universities, to increase the number of normal schools and train more normal school students.

This is a compromise: reducing any one of these raises the barrier to knowledge, making it harder for more common people to enter.

Once the interest-free loans are reduced, students with sufficient talent but unable to afford university will be immediately filtered out.

“I am guilty,” Gao Qi said with a worried expression: “When drafting the Dinghai Education System, I was overly optimistic; I knew education was expensive, but I never imagined it would be this expensive.”

Gao Qi certainly knew it was expensive—but to this degree? It surpassed his expectations entirely.

Last year, Great Ming’s total education expenditure officially exceeded military spending: education funding reached 15.77 million taels, while the entire military budget—including the Emperor’s extra grants to the Capital Garrison and Navy—was 14.32 million taels.

This investment was simply too massive; opposition to the Dinghai Education System had already emerged in court.

Great Ming already had an education system: private academies and family schools; even though Wanli Reforms drastically increased demand for talent, the Dinghai Education System’s investment was too enormous, and its returns would not materialize for two or three decades.

Some accused Gao Qi of squandering court silver to burnish his own reputation; the cost was indeed excessive, and this accusation was deeply cutting—but Gao Qi could not refute it.

“Ten years to grow trees, a hundred years to grow people”—such long-term, large-scale investment had even caused Gao Qi himself to harbor doubts about the Dinghai Education System.

Is this path truly right? A traveler lost in fog, facing a fork with no visible path ahead, inevitably feels confused and self-doubt.

Even Gao Qi, who had endured mountains of corpses and seas of blood, asked himself: this was not a lack of resolve, but the crushing weight of the cost that made him fear the unknown.

Fear stems from the unknown.

Zhu Yijun was different: before his eyes lay no fog; his gaze pierced six hundred years of time—he knew this was right, never doubted the path ahead, knew the returns of massive investment would far exceed the cost, benefiting all of Great Ming.

“I’ll find a way, Young Minister, don’t worry excessively.” Zhu Yijun pondered deeply, then suddenly recalled Shen Shixing’s colossus.

Even if monopolistic capital had formed, in Zhu Yijun’s eyes, it looked like a fat, ready-to-be-slaughtered pig; once desperate, he would surely raise the butcher’s knife.

He realized that under feudal imperial rule, ultra-large-scale monopolistic capital was inherently difficult to form; too many people were watching this pig—was the Emperor hungry? Were the officials and powerful elites not hungry?

Moreover, in most cases, those who eat meat always eat—even when not hungry.

Eating only when hungry is for animals; Great Ming’s meat-eaters never felt they ate too much.

“Your Majesty, if we do not cut stipends, interest-free loans, or construction costs, each new academy built adds another expense; the silver required is simply too vast,” Gao Qi said with great difficulty: “Your Majesty, this is not a temporary shortage—it is a constant one; the more academies we build, the more we lack; the more the Dinghai Education System advances, the more we lack.”

Zhu Yijun shook his head: “But if we cut these, what difference remains between public and private academies? Won’t only the children of masters be able to read and write? Our people are human too—I understand your thinking. I’ll think again, first get through the immediate crisis.”

Gao Qi feared the silver deficit would swell as the Dinghai Education System expanded; cutting these would indeed bring the problems the Emperor mentioned, but later, when tax revenues increased, compensation could be made—adding extra subsidies from elementary to middle academies.

“I take my leave.” Gao Qi bowed deeply and left the Tonghemen Imperial Study.

He had presented four matters to the Emperor: the metropolitan examination, Sun Kehong, monopolistic capital, and the Dinghai Education System; the Emperor had made concrete decisions on the first three, but remained hesitant on the last.

Originally, according to Gao Qi’s plan, profits from overseas expansion could fill this educational deficit—but now he saw he had vastly underestimated education’s cost.

At current spending levels, all of Great Ming’s tax growth could not fill the deficit caused by the Dinghai Education System; the deficit would only grow larger.

He had even doubted whether he was, as the Censors claimed, a corrupt minister seeking fame.

Gao Qi’s proposal was correct, based on Great Ming’s current fiscal reality; he was not a corrupt minister who forgot the people—he was simply facing a Great Ming whose meager productivity could not support the implementation of this imperial ambition.

After deep deliberation, Zhu Yijun ultimately decided on the cuts—specifically, Gao Qi’s recommended reduction level: halve it. The court must expand the scale of the Dinghai Education System to provide sufficient talent for Great Ming’s use.

“Human effort has limits; all things are beyond one’s control; clinging is futile.” After writing his vermilion annotation, Zhu Yijun laid down his brush and handed the memorial to Feng Bao, instructing him to forward it to the Grand Secretariat and Ministry of Rites.

In fact, Grand Secretaries, Ministers of Wenhua Hall, and Ministry of Rites had long reached consensus on the cuts—no one dared mention it to the Emperor.

The Emperor’s private treasury was never infinite; the Dinghai Education System currently

No one dares mention it, but the practical difficulties are right here.

“Heaven and earth are unjust, but I refuse to yield—eighty-one trials are but a mere trial.” Zhu Yijun rallied his spirit.

He knew full well he would face hardship and resistance; he knew this path had never been smooth—it was courage to walk it that mattered most. Every policy must be continually refined in practice; there has never been eternal life, nor anything unchanging for ten thousand generations.

Zhu Yijun rallied his spirit and reviewed all memorials. He picked up the Court Gazette—the second article in the previous "On Civilization" series. "On Civilization" had explained why the Great Ming was the Celestial Kingdom; this time, it discussed iron.

Besides examining iron-smelting techniques and steel quality, it focused heavily on steel production.

The Great Ming’s current iron output, from both civilian forges and official smelters, totals six hundred million jin (300,000 metric tons) annually; its steel output, however, is low—under twenty million jin—because the Great Ming defines steel with strict criteria: only material meeting standards for fracture, hardness, and toughness qualifies as steel, not mere iron.

Steel is primarily used for cannons, firearms, armor, and long and short weapons, hence the strict definition.

If measured by the standard of Western plate armor, the Great Ming’s steel output could exceed sixfold.

And what is the current steel output of the West? Even combined, the entire West falls far short of the Great Ming’s mere fraction.

In fact, Spain is the strongest Western nation the Great Ming has observed so far, calling itself the Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets—but even with all its colonies, its steel output amounts to only twenty million jin.

This figure is still an embellishment by Lí Yáshí for Prince Felipe; the Great Ming estimated Spain’s total output by multiplying its verifiable steel production by five—a crude, blunt calculation, and the twenty-million-jin figure is grossly inaccurate.

Steel is productivity; iron bones and steel sinews are the nation’s backbone.

Insufficient steel means insufficient productivity—farmland, daily cooking, weapons, and military equipment all require steel. Each subject of the Great Ming receives four to five jin of iron for use; each Westerner receives less than two jin.

The Hanlin academician editing “On Civilization” learned from those near the Academy of Investigation that the Xishan Coal and Steel Joint Official Factory had invented a “burning steel” method, replacing the old stir-frying technique, dramatically increasing crude steel output and greatly shortening the production process for high-grade steel.

Vast quantities of crude steel ingots have laid a solid foundation for the rapid development of the Great Ming’s machinery.

“Is this ‘burning steel’ method the technology competing with the mosquito repellent incense for the Chonggu Progress Prize next year?” Zhu Yijun flipped through the “On Civilization” gazette and asked Feng Bao curiously.

Feng Bao hurriedly replied, “I inquired with the Ministry of Works. They say the matter is still at its first step—once stabilized, they will report it to His Majesty.”

All memorials submitted for the Emperor's review were first queried by the Directorate of Palace Affairs regarding the progress of each department, so His Majesty could understand the specifics and make decisions at any time.

“Tomorrow, take Zeng Tongheng and Xin Zixiu with you to inspect the Western Hills Coal Bureau.” Zhu Yijun knew the Academy of Investigating Things was collaborating with the Western Hills Coal Bureau to boost crude steel output, but the project had not yet reached the acceptance phase, so it was too early to present it as an auspicious omen.

Zeng Tongheng was Minister of Works; Xin Zixiu was the senior official overseeing the Ministry of Works. Xin Zixiu managed all affairs of the official workshops and had previously served as Provincial Governor of Baoding. When Lin Fu went to Baoding, Xin Zixiu leveraged this imperial envoy to resolve many issues there.

“This… I humbly obey Your Majesty’s command.” Feng Bao whispered: “Ministers leak information to Hanlin Academicians to silence them, but clearly some problems remain unresolved. If His Majesty visits, it may bring pressure.”

Feng Bao did not believe this was the right time for His Majesty to inspect. When the Ministry of Works and the Western Hills Coal Bureau felt secure, they would naturally present the auspicious omen.

“With nothing else to do, let’s visit the official workshops—ask about the burning-steel method, just a side matter.” Zhu Yijun’s visit to the workshops wasn’t only about the burning-steel method; more importantly, he wanted to observe the changes brought by the Great Ming’s shareholding system reforms.

“Your Majesty is wise.” Feng Bao ceased his objections. The entire realm belonged to His Majesty—wherever His Majesty wished to go, he could go!

The next morning, after the imperial court session, the Emperor summoned Zeng Tongheng, Xin Zixiu, and Shen Shixing, and they journeyed together to the Western Hills Coal Bureau.

Zhu Yijun remained at the Western Hills Coal Bureau for two full hours, even eating lunch there. He learned of all the changes after the reform, inquired about the disbursement of startup funds, met with over a dozen master craftsmen, artisans, and apprentices, and learned about workshop conditions, children’s schooling, and more.

After Wang Chonggu’s death, the Great Ming Emperor’s visits to the official workshops increased noticeably.

During the second hour, Zhu Yijun listened to the Academy’s resident scholars and master craftsmen’s proposals for improving the Great Ming’s steel-pouring method. He highly praised the artisans’ active participation in improving tools and techniques, and affirmed their spirit of relentless refinement.

The burning-steel method had, in fact, already been approved by Zhu Zaiyu, Director of the Academy of Investigating Things, and numerous scholars. Four experimental furnaces had been built to verify all hypotheses. The reason it had not yet been presented as an auspicious omen was because they were conducting practical production to ensure its effectiveness and prevent the grave crime of deceiving the Emperor.

The burning-steel method derived from the steel-pouring method: molten iron flowed from the smelting furnace into a square pond lined with wet clay ash, where craftsmen stood along the edge, stirring the molten iron continuously with willow sticks or iron rods, like stir-frying food, to further reduce impurities and carbon content.

The burning-steel method built upon this principle, using bellows to blow air into the furnace, causing carbon and oxygen to react, further raising the furnace temperature, then releasing nearly-steel wrought iron, which was further processed into the various steels needed by the Great Ming.

Zhu Yijun personally witnessed a burning-steel process: after removing the slag, the molten iron glowed a bright red. When the bellows began blowing, the red glow shifted toward white, and a layer of brown smoke rose from the molten iron—this change signaled the iron’s temperature rising further.

Master craftsman Wei Youshan of the Western Hills Coal Bureau, with regret, told His Majesty: “Your Majesty, the master craftsmen originally intended to smelt wrought iron or steel directly inside the blast furnace, producing crude steel ingots outright—but the master craftsmen and resident scholars failed.”

The burning-steel method was a compromise born of necessity. The craftsmen had wanted to achieve their goal in one step, but reality told them it was impossible.

“Why did they fail?” Zhu Yijun pressed for details.

“The furnace temperature was insufficient—it may need to be raised much further to succeed,” Wei Youshan pondered, then shared this uncertain reason with His Majesty.

The craftsmen could only speculate. The resident scholars and master craftsmen were present at nearly every furnace, observing the molten iron’s color. No matter how hard they tried, they could not raise the temperature further—this bright white glow could only be achieved in the front furnace.

If they could produce industrial-grade oxygen, the craftsmen’s goal would be achieved. Zhu Yijun knew the root cause: it wasn’t that the craftsmen lacked effort, but that they were like a skillful housewife unable to cook without rice—blowing air versus blowing oxygen produced entirely different combustion effects.

“Next year, two Chonggu Progress Prizes.” Zhu Yijun recognized the significance of this innovation to the Great Ming—it was entirely worthy of one Chonggu Progress Prize as an outstanding achievement in scientific advancement, to be recorded in history; all who participated would be immortalized.

“Thank Your Majesty for this great grace.”

Wang Ji, Director of the Western Hills Coal Bureau, led all workshop personnel in thanking His Majesty.

Wei Youshan was not the inventor of the burning-steel method; there was no single inventor. It was the result of countless nights and days of research by the entire workshop’s master craftsmen, resident scholars, and artisans—the crystallization of collective wisdom. This honor belonged to all the workshop personnel.

The promotion effect of the shareholding system on technical improvement was obvious, but according to Shen Shixing’s observation, it was not necessary to go this far—previous artisans had already been deeply satisfied with the workshop’s conditions.

Before leaving the workshops, Zhu Yijun stood for a long time beneath the statue of the God of Water and Fire erected at the entrance. Wang Chonggu had fought desperately for his posthumous reputation; on his deathbed, he invested all his wealth into the Great Ming’s maritime opening, using annual dividends as bonuses to reward artisans with Progress Prizes.

Wang Qian inherited none of his family’s property—indeed, he was wealthier than Wang Chonggu himself. His holdings in the Suiyuan Expressway Certificates were extremely rare and valuable assets, issued only by the court due to its financial desperation.

The Great Ming Emperor stood in the spring breeze, speaking at length in his heart to the deceased Wang Chonggu, before boarding the imperial jade carriage and departing the workshops.

The emergence of the burning-steel method would surely cause a dramatic surge in the Great Ming’s steel output—this surge would support the Emperor’s ambition to expand territory.

Maritime trade and colonial plantation economies would feed back into the Great Ming, ensuring the stable and orderly implementation of all Wanli Reforms.

“Your tutor is too strict—even Shen Shixing and Wang Xiyuan are on his inspection list?” Zhu Yijun, watching Zhang Juzheng’s inspection roster, felt a headache coming on.

Xu Chengchu had thoroughly investigated Shen Shixing and Wang Xiyuan. This internal purge left no one untouched.