Chapter 457: Mutual Tug-of-War

The old emperor wished to strip all the wild scholars of their scholarly titles; as soon as he spoke, every court minister opposed him—even Yu Zhaoan, who always flattered, disagreed.

"If the wild scholars had stormed the yamen and trampled on the dignity of the court, stripping their titles would be justified. But they merely visited a Daoist temple during their holiday and accidentally sparked a conflict; they got into a brawl at the Jiang household due to a dispute between host and guest—these are private quarrels. Morally and rationally, they should not lose their titles over such trivial matters."

"Scholarly titles are so precious, so hard-won—after more than a decade of bitter study under the lamplight, they've reached this point. How can Your Majesty strip them of their titles over personal grudges?"

"Your Majesty, we all know your loyalty to Jiang Tu and your desire to avenge him. But have you considered this: what begins as a private grievance, once titles are stripped, becomes a matter of national consequence, a court case watched by every scholar in the land?"

"The north and south are already unstable; now is not the time to lose the people's hearts over Jiang Tu alone."

"Your Majesty, the hearts of the people are of utmost weight!"

"Your Majesty, the wild scholars act out of sincere devotion, fearing you are being deceived by villains. Please, in light of their pure intentions and their failure to undermine court order, pardon them this once."

Each one spoke in turn, all urging the old emperor to see reason.

I know you cherish your favorite minister Jiang Tu and want to avenge him—but vengeance isn't delivered this way; you cannot treat scholarly titles as a joke.

These are academic titles that concern the future prospects of a group of people and the future of countless families.

Believe me, if you strip their titles today, tomorrow they'll raise banners and rebel.

Prince Chu is desperate for scholars, for propagandists. This move would be handing ammunition straight to the enemy.

Not to mention Guo Dachun in the north—he's learned from the failures of the Great Ming Prince and is now aggressively recruiting talent. Any scholar who defects to him gets an official post—starting as deputy county magistrate, even county magistrate.

Today, scholars still favor the court. To punish Jiang Tu, a corrupt minister, and strike a few Daoists—how insignificant compared to the hearts of the people?

The old emperor is making a mountain out of a molehill; clearly, he's growing more unhinged, acting without a thought for consequences.

Had it not been for the old emperor's overwhelming authority, the ministers would have leapt up to curse him to death. A younger emperor on the throne would never entertain such a thought—even if he did, he'd crush it immediately, never daring to clash with a crowd of fervent scholars.

If you dare to take them seriously, the scholars will teach the whole realm what solidarity means, what public opinion means, what hearts mean, what infamy across the land means.

Whoever holds the brush holds the battlefield of public opinion.

Even the court ministers would sympathize with these students and secretly aid them.

Does the old emperor not understand these truths?

He understands better than anyone.

But he has been emperor for fifty years—arrogant, stubborn, now at an age where he believes he must do whatever he wants.

If I can't be happy, no one will be.

As the saying goes: to do something despite knowing it's impossible.

The old emperor kicked over his stool and flew into a rage before the ministers, cursing the wild scholars as disloyal and unfilial, vowing he would not relent unless they were severely punished.

The ministers exchanged glances, communicating silently.

"Then lock them up for a few days to reflect."

This was the harshest punishment the ministers would accept. If the old emperor still refused, they wouldn't coddle him.

Both sides make a concession.

The old emperor agreed to this plan.

Once they're locked away, when they're released is no longer up to these ministers.

The old emperor intended to imprison the wild scholars in the Imperial Prison and hand them over to the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

The ministers argued fiercely, sparking another round of tug-of-war.

After much persuasion, they finally convinced the old emperor to lock the wild scholars in Tianlaomiao.

Thus, before Chen Guanlou had finished his holiday, a group of wild scholars were thrown into Tianlaomiao—forcing him to cut his leave short and reluctantly return to handle official duties.

Twenty-odd wild scholars, all devoted followers of Zhao Mingqiao; staring into their clear, burning eyes, Chen Guanlou felt as if he were seeing Zhao Mingqiao himself from years past.

Passion, dreams—these things are deeply contagious.

Moreover, Zhao Mingqiao wasn't acting—he was genuinely fervent. That kind of intensity was unstoppable; only seasoned veterans like Chen Guanlou remained unaffected. How could any young scholar hear it and not be dazzled, swayed?

The prisoners were locked in groups of two or three.

Chen Guanlou specifically instructed several head wardens to treat them well—they were scholar seeds, and among them might be future chancellors. If they offered money, fulfill their requests as much as possible. Do not humiliate them.

The head wardens all agreed, assuring him they knew their limits and understood how to handle different kinds of people.

Humiliating these fanatics brings no benefit—it only invites trouble. Once released, they'll write essays slandering Tianlaomiao and spread them far and wide. They're energetic, idle, perfect for such dissemination work.

As expected, Chen Guanlou was visited by Zhao Mingqiao.

Zhao Mingqiao came to deliver money—to pay the scholars' contributions.

Chen Guanlou teased him, "Twenty-odd men? That's no small sum. Did you embezzle it, Master Zhao?"

"Don't mock me, Warden Chen. These funds were pooled by everyone. I know Tianlaomiao has its rules—I dare not ask you to bend them. So here, I've delivered the exact contribution per head. I beg you, Warden Chen, to show them some leniency, and spare them excessive suffering."

"You've been in Tianlaomiao yourself—you know its conditions. Even with my protection, hardship is unavoidable. All I can guarantee is they won't freeze to death during the late winter chill, and the guards will treat them civilly and fulfill reasonable requests. Beyond that, nothing—unless you pay."

Chen Guanlou adopted the face of a man who only acted when money changed hands—official business, no personal favors.

Zhao Mingqiao nodded understandingly. "In short, everything rests with you."

Chen Guanlou summoned Qian Fugui to collect and record the money.

After finishing official matters, he turned to private ones.

"All this effort—what's the point?"

Zhao Mingqiao, sharp-eyed and clear-minded, replied firmly: "How can you say it's pointless? The meaning is immense. Several high-ranking officials in court have already taken notice of us and are willing to offer support. We've successfully made our voices heard—and the old emperor has heard them. Isn't that meaning? Not everything must yield tangible gains—gold, silver, promotion. Making your voice heard is profoundly important."

Zhao Mingqiao remained as passionate as ever, yet his mind was far calmer now. Clearly, before inciting these wild scholars, he had weighed every angle.