Chapter 88: Jesus Can

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Dawn light glimmered faintly; the morning mist had not yet fully dispersed. Before Xuande Tower, drums and horns sounded together, announcing the morning court.

Zhao Yu, clad in a dragon robe and wearing a beaded crown, walked steadily toward the imperial throne.

In the court hall, civil and military officials stood in neat formation—civil officials to the east, military to the west—dressed in court robes, wearing black gauze caps, holding ceremonial tablets, their expressions reverent.

When Zhao Yu took his seat, all rose in unison, crying “Ten thousand years!”—their voices echoing through the hall, majestic and powerful.

After the rites, Chancellor Zhang Dun stepped forward first, his voice resonant: “Your Majesty has reigned for over ten days; affairs across the realm are now preliminarily settled, leaving only complex administrative matters requiring urgent organization.”

Zhang Dun then clearly reported recent matters of people’s livelihood and taxation.

Zhao Yu nodded slightly, listening intently, occasionally asking questions, occasionally answering, responding with calm composure.

The same occurred when other chancellors and ministers presented their reports.

What comforted and reassured the chancellors and ministers was that Zhao Yu knew how to focus on the big picture and delegate authority, yet also made decisive judgments.

At the same time, Zhao Yu seemed to understand everything—at least he knew something about everything. The chancellors and ministers could not deceive him; in fact, many things Zhao Yu knew were unknown to them, making them all cautious when speaking to him.

In appointments, Zhao Yu did not care whether one was from the New Party or the Old Party—he selected only the capable. Those who neglected duties, obsessed with factional strife, or spouted empty rhetoric, he would listen to, but after hearing them, he dismissed them, leaving them with the sensation of punching cotton, their grand speeches falling on deaf ears.

Many ministers realized Zhao Yu was a pragmatic emperor; those who only talked without acting were doomed to grow increasingly irrelevant.

A subtle tension and anticipation hung in the air.

The ministers knew well that although Zhao Yu was young, he was far from simple. His thoughts ran deep, his gaze sharp; his attitude toward governance was neither blindly harsh nor blindly lenient, but an ineffable precision and wisdom.

When urgent state affairs were nearly concluded, Vice Censor-in-Chief Huang Li stepped forward and bowed: “Your Majesty, Sima Guang and others ceded territory to appease the Xia, yet gained nothing—this is treason. Now, the Xia has allied with the Liao to display military force along our borders, pressuring our Great Song. This is the legacy of their misdeeds. I humbly beg Your Majesty to reopen the case of Sima Guang’s treason, to restore proper order and prevent the people from shame and the state from harm.”

Having spoken, Huang Li knelt and bowed his head to the ground, his expression resolute.

Next, Palace Censor Chen Cisheng stepped forward, detailing the grave corruption that had plagued the court since Sima Guang became chancellor under Emperor Zhezong, naming over fifty corrupt officials, and urging Zhao Yu to lead an anti-corruption campaign to cleanse the Song bureaucracy.

Zhao Yu had expected Zhang Dun and others to send some minor censor to ignite the matter—but he had not anticipated they would send Huang Li and Chen Cisheng.

These two were historically renowned censors. The former was a core New Party figure, famed for impeaching the Old Party, with clear political stance; the latter had served as censor through three reigns (Shenzong, Zhezong, and Zhao Yu’s), known for his integrity and bold speech, the annals noting: “Three times holding the duty of remonstrance, he never compromised his advice.”

The New Party had sent out two heavyweights from the start—clearly determined to win.

The Old Party, seeing this, immediately rose to defend Sima Guang and others, claiming they were virtuous loyal ministers whose actions were entirely for the Zhao Song dynasty, begging Zhao Yu to see clearly.

Then the two sides erupted into heated quarrels, hurling accusations at each other.

Unlike previous court sessions, where Zhao Yu had sat back and watched them fight.

This time, as soon as the argument escalated into personal abuse, Zhao Yu halted them: “Enough. Whether there is embezzlement—investigate and find out.”

Without waiting for the Old Party officials to defend themselves, Zhao Yu named Cai Bian and ordered him to investigate thoroughly.

Zhao Yu’s choice of Cai Bian, a core New Party member, to handle the case, clearly signaled his stance.

This relieved New Party members who had feared Zhao Yu might restore Meng’s position, some even growing excited, while Old Party members, who had believed their time had come, now felt dread, fearing this was a new purge targeting them.

After court ended, Zhang Dun and Cai Bian came to the Chui Gong Palace to meet Zhao Yu and discuss details.

Zhao Yu presented Zhang Chun’s suggestion: using Emperor Yongzheng’s anti-corruption methods to conceal the smashing of the savings jars.

Zhao Yu proposed establishing a specialized financial audit body, the “Hui Kao Fu,” directly accountable to him, led by Cai Bian to investigate embezzlement in central and local finances. Through strict accounting audits, he would trace official corruption and dismantle the network of mutual protection among local officials.

From now on, all local tax payments, expense reimbursements, departmental expenditures, and funding claims must pass through the Hui Kao Fu for verification.

With this process in place, no official, no matter how high-ranking, could manipulate the system.

If superiors could no longer profit through their positions, subordinates could no longer bribe their way out of previous deficits.

Then Zhao Yu implemented Zhang Chun’s second strategy (in fact, Yongzheng’s second tactic): new officials investigate former ones.

Wasn’t the Zhao Song dynasty bloated with officials? Weren’t most officials without real duties?

Zhao Yu ordered Zhang Dun to recommend a morally upright man as Minister of Personnel, who, together with the moderate New Party official Li Qingchen and the “honest man” Su Shi, would re-evaluate officials without real posts and screen out capable talent.

Once these talents were selected, Cai Bian would personally lead them to investigate corruption; upon finding guilt, they would immediately replace the corrupt officials.

Of course, to prevent officials from falsely accusing others to gain posts, strict penalties for false accusations must be enforced.

Mutual protection among officials had become a chronic disease: new appointees often covered up their predecessors’ deficits, then left behind their own large shortfalls, forcing the next official to fill them—leading to worsening corruption, more holes, and larger ones.

But if the successor’s duty was to audit the predecessor, he would not cover for him, for that would only bring ruin upon himself.

Thus, under Yongzheng’s tactic, corrupt officials had nowhere to hide—they could only bow their heads, confess, and accept punishment. New appointees would not cover their deficits, nor would they shoulder their predecessors’ guilt, so even the predecessors’ predecessors’ embezzlement could not escape final punishment.

Of course, where there is policy, there is countermeasure. In this era, transportation was underdeveloped; court investigators needed time to reach the provinces. During this interval, corrupt officials might hear rumors and attempt to remedy the situation.

How? By borrowing money from local gentry, prominent clans, and wealthy families to cover the deficits.

Generally, local gentry and wealthy families had intricate ties with the government, forming a web of mutual interests; they would never refuse an official’s request for loans.

If these gentry and wealthy families successfully helped officials through the crisis, they would later receive greater compensation.

The court could directly issue an edict: any loan made to the government would be confiscated outright—in short, you lend, you lose.

Don’t blame the court for being ruthless; if you invest in officials, be prepared to lose everything.

And do you think this is all?

These gentry and wealthy families who bribed officials must be investigated to the end—they must return everything they stole from the state, and pay back double.

In short, Zhao Yu proposed a three-step approach: first, dismiss the official; second, demand restitution; third, confiscate the family’s property.

—Dismissal followed by restitution: requiring the official to repay the deficit within a deadline. This order prevents officials from plundering the people to cover their shortfalls.

Zhao Yu believed that in the audit, no one, regardless of past merit, would be spared. The principle was clear: merit is merit, crime is crime. Anyone involved in embezzlement, who owed the treasury, must repay—even relatives who had benefited from their official positions must be held accountable.

Additionally, establish a secret memorial system to strengthen oversight: expand the use of secret memorials, allowing officials at all levels to report directly and confidentially to Zhao Yu, including denouncing colleagues’ corruption.

—This system breaks bureaucratic information monopolies, enabling Zhao Yu to directly grasp local realities and control officials’ misconduct.

Of course, the matter must not be pushed too far: if an official repays the deficit within the deadline, punishment may be reduced; if he renders outstanding service, he may be pardoned entirely—otherwise, severe punishment and property confiscation.

Also, impose heavy penalties on corrupt officials and implement collective liability: superiors bear responsibility for subordinates’ corruption, forcing officials to monitor each other.

Originally, according to Zhao Yu’s plan, smashing the thirteen savings jars of Sima Guang and others would have sufficed.

But Zhang Chun said that treating ministers like piggy banks for money would damage Zhao Yu’s reputation, and the Empress Dowager also advised him to handle this matter carefully.

But punishing corrupt officials would achieve both goals: settling scores with the despised Sima Guang and securing funds, without leaving any traceable evidence.

Crucially, this might ensure the Zhao Song court would not lack funds for some time.

Moreover, it would somewhat alleviate the problems of bloated bureaucracy and excessive expenditures.

As for those thirteen individuals, they would certainly become prime targets. In short, “I’ve got them in my grip—Jesus himself can’t save them. I say so!”

Of course, these were merely Zhao Yu and Zhang Chun’s ideas; whether they could work, Zhao Yu still needed to consult Zhang Dun and Cai Bian—both staunch reformers and morally upright men.

What troubled Zhao Yu was that his plan perfectly suited Zhang Dun and Cai Bian’s hidden desires—they had long sought an opportunity to purge the Old Party. This was like a pillow appearing just as they fell asleep.

Zhang Dun and Cai Bian immediately praised Zhao Yu’s plan with perfect understanding, calling it the best solution to the Zhao Song dynasty’s current crisis, and pledged immediate and resolute execution.

Zhao Yu could guess with his heel what schemes Zhang Dun and Cai Bian were hatching.

But even knowing this outcome, Zhao Yu had to take the risk. Who else had he inherited this utterly ruined mess from?

—Kangxi had left Yongzheng eight million taels of silver. But Zhao Xu had left Zhao Yu nothing but mountains of debt. The Zhao Song dynasty Zhao Yu inherited was a gilded shell—glittering on the outside, utterly hollow within. So this step, Zhao Yu had to take—or die waiting.

Yet, Zhang Dun and Cai Bian’s eagerness made Zhao Yu uneasy.

So, upon returning to the inner palace, Zhao Yu sent for Zhang Chun.

Because of the truce, Zhang Chun, exhausted from days of scheming, planned to rest for a few days before deciding how to win Zhao Yu over.

But Zhang Chun did not seek Zhao Yu—Zhao Yu sought her.

Though reluctant, how could Zhang Chun refuse when Zhao Yu summoned her?

Helplessly, Zhang Chun came to see Zhao Yu.

Upon meeting, Zhao Yu bluntly told her he had ordered Zhang Dun and Cai Bian to execute her strategy.

Zhang Chun, who had been listless, immediately perked up at hearing Zhao Yu had adopted her plan, and began discussing it enthusiastically.

Zhao Yu did not hide anything—he told Zhang Chun everything: Zhang Dun and Cai Bian’s attitudes, and his own concerns.

Zhang Chun listened, then swore solemnly: “My strategy hinges on institutional reform, economic methods, and strict laws, combining mercy and authority. Implemented, it will swiftly revive our Great Song’s finances and cleanse the bureaucracy.”

Seeing Zhao Yu still uneasy, Zhang Chun added: “Though my strategy may seem harsh and reliant on imperial power, it will firmly lay the foundation for reform.”

Zhao Yu voiced his greatest fear: “But if Zhang Dun and Cai Bian carry out this strategy, they will surely use it to purge the Yuan You faction.”

Zhang Chun smiled faintly (had she held a feather fan, she would have waved it), then shook her head and said:

“With penalties for false accusations, the men sent by Chancellor Zhang and Chancellor Cai will dare not fabricate charges.”

“As for Your Majesty’s concern that Chancellor Zhang and Chancellor Cai will only punish Old Party officials—no matter. Once they finish investigating Old Party officials, Your Majesty can appoint Chancellor Han and Chancellor Su to investigate New Party officials using the same method.”

“By alternating this several times, we will not only resolve our fiscal deficit, but also achieve a clean bureaucracy, curb official corruption, and soon eliminate redundant posts and reorganize inefficient, corrupt departments.”

“Yet to guard against contingencies, Your Majesty should appoint talent without regard to background, personally promoting officials who are capable or upright and pragmatic.”

“Moreover, promote anti-corruption ideals through official texts, requiring officials to govern with ‘public heart,’ viewing integrity as a moral duty. Use state media to expose corruption cases, conduct public trials as warnings. Suppress scholarly elite dissent against anti-corruption, reinforcing imperial authority.”

“Also, beware that high-pressure policies may cause officials to become passive or falsify reports…”

Finally finding her place, Zhang Chun poured out everything she could think of—including cautions—leaving nothing unsaid.

This eased Zhao Yu’s mind somewhat.

They spoke until late night, Zhang Chun tirelessly answering his doubts and soothing his worries.

Seeing Zhang Chun’s earnest efforts, Zhao Yu could no longer withhold his affection. When their conversation ended, he said to her: “Your Highness has worked hard. Stay tonight to attend me.”

At these words, Zhang Chun nearly wept.

She had not expected her long pursuit to be granted so easily?!

But the problem was—she could not tonight!

‘Is heaven playing with me? Or is Zhao Yu playing with me?!’

Zhang Chun was nearly mad.

Seeing Zhang Chun hesitate, Zhao Yu said: “If you still have reservations, we may wait until next time.”

Zhang Chun quickly explained: “It is not that I refuse—I have come… I have my monthly flow.”

Zhao Yu was equally surprised! He had not expected Zhang Chun’s path to court attendance to be so fraught.

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Yu said to Zhang Chun: “Never mind, I have a plan.”

With that, Zhao Yu scooped Zhang Chun up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom…

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(End of Chapter)