Chapter 69: 068 Affairs of State

"Clang!"

"Clang, clang, clang — clang!"

Amid the bamboo grove.

Zhu Zhiyu held a long sword, Fei Ruhe gripped a heavy saber; the former's swordplay was exquisite, the latter's force fierce and weighty — the two fought to a standstill.

Zhao Han cheered them on from the side.

"Clang!"

Fei Ruhe hacked out with one stroke, sending Zhu Zhiyu's long sword flying.

Picking up his blade, Zhu Zhiyu was utterly pained — the edge already bore several notches. He could not help sighing, "With that strength of yours, it would be a shame not to become a general."

Fei Ruhe said, "I've thought about taking the military examinations too, but I just can't absorb book learning. I hear even the military jinshi exam requires scholarship."

Zhu Zhiyu said, "After that business last year, the essay is no longer so important for the military examination session. You can set your mind at ease and go take it."

Fei Ruhe scratched his head. "What happened last year? How come I don't know about it?"

Zhao Han, who read the court gazettes regularly, explained: "At last year's military examination session, there was a man who could wield a hundred-jin great saber — a fierce warrior worthy of the age. Yet he failed. The Emperor was enraged. The chief examiner and the proctoring officials were all thrown into prison, and twenty-two men from the Ministry of War were dismissed from office."

"Such a thing could happen?" Fei Ruhe was dumbstruck.

Chongzhen's statecraft and stratagems were no less than those of any political expert; many of his decisions were deliberate.

Dismissing twenty-two men from the Ministry of War conveniently allowed him to replace them with a new batch.

And seizing this chance, he announced the establishment of a palace examination for the military track, personally supervised by the Emperor. Henceforth, all military jinshi would be disciples of the Son of Heaven — Chongzhen wanted direct control over military officers.

Zhu Zhiyu glanced at Zhao Han, curious. "Zhuochen, how do you know of this?"

"By reading the court gazettes," Zhao Han said, smiling.

"That is a good method," Zhu Zhiyu said. "I have not read the gazettes for a long time. I only heard of the military examination matter from my elder brother."

Zhu Zhiyu's eldest brother, having utterly failed to pass the juren exam, had gone and become a military jinshi instead.

Zhu Zhiyu himself was equally capable of taking up a sword and cutting a man down.

Historically, in the eleventh year of Chongzhen, as a tribute student, he was recommended as first among all civil and martial talents and received a special summons from the Ministry of Rites.

Later, the Southern Ming rump court thrice summoned him to office, and thrice Zhu Zhiyu refused, unwilling to be drawn into the vortex of factional strife.

Yet he resolutely joined the anti-Qing resistance. With an aging body, he journeyed seven times to Japan and six times to Annam, raising funds for the loyalist armies and seeking foreign aid for the Great Ming. Defeated again and again, he fought again and again; at sixty-one, he still personally took the field to kill the enemy.

In the end, defeated and exiled to Japan, he was treated with nearly the honors of a national teacher.

His scholarship formed the "Mito School" in Japan, and the Mito School in turn gave birth to the "Reformist Faction," indirectly influencing Japan's Meiji Restoration.

From a certain angle, Zhu Zhiyu had a profound influence on Japan's Meiji Restoration!

……

Hearing that the military examinations no longer placed such weight on the written test, Fei Ruhe was quite stirred. He asked, "What skill does the Emperor value most nowadays?"

"Strategy, and mounted archery," Zhu Zhiyu answered.

Fei Ruhe cried out in alarm, "A disaster — I can't ride a horse, and I can't shoot a bow either. Tomorrow I'll go pay my respects to a renowned master; I must learn archery first, at the very least!"

With that, the fellow ran off, leaving only Zhao Han and Zhu Zhiyu in the bamboo grove.

The Great Unity Society was loosely structured, and Zhao Han had no other demands — he merely required members to do three things:

First, accept the "Theory of Ge-wei"; those who did not accept it could get lost.

Second, study the classics of the School of Principle, gather on the first and fifteenth of each month, and share their reading insights.

Third, practice martial arts and military strategy together every day.

The result was dismal — it held for only a few days, and then no one came to the bamboo grove to train anymore.

Only Zhao Han, Fei Ruhe, and Zhu Zhiyu, who had long since made martial practice a habit, felt off if they missed a single day.

☢тTk дn ☢￠ 〇

Zhao Han had replaced his spear with a new one, properly forged by a blacksmith.

Thrusting the spear into the ground, Zhao Han sat cross-legged and said, "Brother Chuyu, what is your view on the roving bandits of the northwest?"

Zhu Zhiyu sheathed his sword and said, "I lived through the great disaster in Zhejiang. It reached the point of people exchanging children to eat, and still the common folk did not rise in revolt. That was only because if they endured through that stretch, there was hope of survival the next year. One can well imagine that the people of Shaanxi have already given up all thought of a next year. If they do not rebel, they are certain to die when the next year comes."

"Do you think the roving bandits can be exterminated?" Zhao Han asked again.

Zhu Zhiyu shook his head. "The common people — divided and heeded separately, they are foolish; united and heeded together, they are divine. Once their hearts have changed, rivers burst and mountains crumble. To quell the chaos of the northwest cannot be settled by military means alone. The people must be able to fill their bellies!"

Zhao Han pressed further: "In your view, how can the people be made to fill their bellies?"

Zhu Zhiyu thought carefully, then said:

"First, promote moral transformation and rouse the spirit of virtue. Not that hypocritical virtue, but true virtue."

"Second, rectify local governance, purge the culture of corruption, and root out muddle-headed rule. Officialdom today suffers from two great maladies. One is greed, the other is incompetence. Inside and outside the court, men are both greedy and incompetent — they have no ability to govern, but every ability to line their pockets."

"Third, radically reform from the root and advocate practical learning. The scholars of the realm must not engage in empty talk. The Yangming School of Mind has already degenerated into Chan Buddhism, and Master Zhu's School of Principle is likewise distorted beyond recognition. I hold that the Dao lies in daily utility — what benefits the state and the people is the Dao; what brings no benefit to the state and the people is a heretical path! These past few days, reading Master Zhu, I have had great realizations — many principles are already stated with perfect clarity!"

Zhao Han asked further, "Of these three, which can be accomplished?"

Zhu Zhiyu's expression darkened. "None of them. The Great Ming's ills have accumulated beyond remedy."

Zhao Han pressed on: "If the court summoned you to office, would you be willing to accept the edict and enter service?"

"I would not."

Without a moment's hesitation, Zhu Zhiyu said, "If I were made a county magistrate, by the first year I would be making arrests. By the third year, the common folk would sing my praises, and my superiors would commend me. And then, I would inevitably be charged with a grave crime, my life and family forfeit! If I stayed in the central government as a censor or remonstrance official, I fear I would be thrown into prison within two or three months!"

"Ha ha ha ha," Zhao Han could not help bursting into laughter. "You, sir, truly know yourself."

Zhu Zhiyu sighed. "Factional strife does not cease; the state has not a single day of peace. My elder brother, a mere military officer, was once caught up in factional strife and dismissed for several years. For any civil official who genuinely wishes to accomplish something, how can he possibly keep himself unsullied?"

Zhao Han asked, "With a sage sovereign presiding over the court, has factional strife not ceased?"

"Heh."

Zhu Zhiyu found it laughable and did not even care to explain further.

At that moment, in the imperial court, the six great factions were besieging the Bright Summit... ah, wrong script. Chief Grand Secretary Zhou Yanru was allying with the Donglin Faction to launch a collective assault on Second Grand Secretary Wen Tiren.

Grand Secretary Wen said, "I'll take on a hundred of them myself!"

So half a year later, the Donglin Faction would be thrown into utter chaos — Chief Grand Secretary Zhou Yanru was forced to resign, and Wen Tiren gleefully succeeded him as Chief Grand Secretary.

There were no factional disputes, only political brawls.

Entering officialdom under such conditions, you either did nothing at all, or you joined the political brawls, or you devoted yourself loyally to your duties and ended up reviled by all sides.

Whoever did real work died the fastest!

Those willing to do real work — regardless of ability, regardless of private morals — were all true men of sterling worth.

Zhu Zhiyu suddenly caught himself. Why was he discussing such weighty affairs of state with a boy in his teens?

Yet Zhao Han's words and bearing always made one forget his age.

Zhao Han pressed on, "Since none of these three paths can restore the court's discipline, is Great Ming beyond saving?"

Zhu Zhiyu fell silent. He truly saw no hope.

In his eyes, Great Ming had long since contracted a terminal illness; it was only a question of how much longer it could linger.

What Zhu Zhiyu had mastered most deeply was neither the School of Principle nor the School of Mind, nor pre-Qin classical prose, still less poetry and verse — he had devoted over ten years to the study of history… Taking history as a mirror, what sort of wretched state was Great Ming in?

Zhao Han said, "I rather think Great Ming's root disease lies not in the court, but in the extreme concentration of land. The rich hold fields stretching across the horizon; the poor lack even ground enough to plant an awl. In such circumstances, how can taxes be collected? With an empty treasury, how can the court do real work? The emptier the treasury, the heavier the exactions. The heavier the exactions, the more chaos across the realm."

Zhu Zhiyu was quite astonished. "Such insight — you could be called a prodigy!"

Zhao Han asked, "Brother Chuyu, what if all the land under heaven were taken into state ownership, and the court then distributed it to the common people? Would that bring lasting peace and order?"

Zhu Zhiyu laughed. "The equal-field system of the Sui and Tang used exactly the method you describe — adult men were allotted land upon reaching maturity. It worked well at first, but by the time of Emperor Gaozong it was already failing. Wu Zhou struck against the great clans and restored it somewhat, but by Emperor Xuanzong's reign it had utterly collapsed. Where do you think the military commissioners came from? The court had no money for military operations, so it left the regions to fend for themselves. Is there any land system under heaven that can bring lasting peace?"

Zhao Han smiled. Equal-field distribution truly would not work — the moment population grew, it would collapse.

After all, the land under heaven was finite. A thousand mu of land — first divided among ten people, then a hundred, and finally a thousand. Could it possibly stretch that far?

Twenty-first-century China had solved the problem of land saturation through industrialization.

That could not be mechanically transplanted onto the late Ming.

Even red ideology could not be mechanically transplanted. For Marx teaches us that the economic base determines the superstructure — forcibly imposing red ideology in the seventeenth century would violate the laws of social development.

One should seek truth from facts, integrating theory with national conditions.

Zhao Han finally asked, "Are we scholars simply to sit by and watch the state crumble?"

"What else can we do, beyond that?" Zhu Zhiyu said with a rueful laugh. "If holding office cannot save Great Ming, then should we raise rebellion and found a new dynasty?"

Zhao Han said nothing.

Zhu Zhiyu, seeing something amiss in Zhao Han's expression, said with sudden alarm, "Are you planning to follow the path of the Yellow Turbans and the Greenwood rebels?"

"I said no such thing — don't frighten me, Brother Chuyu." Zhao Han denied it at once.

This man was not easy to fool; his thinking was far too clear.

And the slogan of equalizing land was far too radical — unless Jiangnan descended into chaos, there was no hope of persuading a scion of a great clan like him!

Just as the atmosphere grew awkward, Fei Chun came running over. "Brother, the first issue of the Goose Lake Ten-Day Journal has finally sold out. Guess who bought the most copies?"

"Who?" Zhao Han could not be bothered to guess.

Fei Chun grinned. "Merchants from out of town. They have plenty of money, and nothing to do while waiting for their goods to be loaded. Many of them have been pressing me to hurry up and publish the second issue — they're still waiting to read The Legend of the Condor Heroes."

Zhao Han brightened at once. "Raise the price and print more. The first issue was only five hundred copies, and the price was far too low — we lost over ten taels of silver on it. For the second issue, print eight hundred copies and double the price outright. Otherwise, we'll lose every bit of our capital."

"Doubling it still loses money. Raise the price even more ruthlessly," Fei Chun proposed.

"Slowly, slowly — let the fish bite of their own accord."

(End of chapter)