Chapter 10: Begin with This, End with This

Zhu Youjian summoned a junior eunuch, who brought in a brush, inkstone, and writing desk.

"Write. Write out the list you have in your mind."

Zhu Youjian paused, his tone turning somewhat icy. "What I want is that true ledger."

He smiled faintly, but it sent a chill through Wei Zhongxian. "If it later turns out this ledger is genuine, I'm afraid…"

Wei Zhongxian stood before the desk, his previously straightened frame involuntarily hunching again.

He raised his face, covered in bloodstains and tear tracks, and forced out a smile more hideous than a grimace.

"Your… Your Majesty… this old slave… this old slave…"

He hemmed and hawed for a long while, and finally, under Zhu Youjian's icy stare, managed with great difficulty to utter a truthful sentence: "This old slave… though I recognize a few characters, yet… yet writing them… is truly beyond me…"

At these words, even Zhou Yu, who had been keeping her nerves taut at his side, nearly burst out laughing.

Zhu Youjian clapped his hands together, inwardly embarrassed.

Throughout the preceding series of confrontations, he had appeared calm, but in truth, his heart had been clenched with tension.

In the midst of all that tension, he had actually forgotten that this Nine Thousand Years, whose power overshadowed the entire court, was in fact an illiterate.

He turned his head toward Zhou Yu beside him and tilted his chin in a gesture. "Changqiu, you will take dictation."

"Ah?"

Zhou Yu's heart fluttered with alarm, but she quickly composed herself.

Imitating Zhu Youjian's cold demeanor, she stiffened her small face, walked expressionlessly to the desk, and sat down.

She picked up the brush, her heart trembling within.

This was no ordinary copying of texts; every name recorded here could signify a storm of bloodshed in the court.

She steadied her nerves, fully soaked the brush in ink, and raised her head to look at Wei Zhongxian.

Wei Zhongxian made one final internal calculation and resolved to seize this last opportunity.

He cleared his throat and began his performance of "offering loyalty."

"Cui Chengxiu, Minister of War — this man… is monstrously corrupt. But it cannot be denied that he has ability, especially in divining His Majesty's intentions. The restoration of the Three Great Halls was handled by him alone, and it was done… to the late Emperor's great satisfaction."

Zhou Yu held her wrist suspended, her back ramrod straight, her brows set in a severe line, the brush tip rustling across the rice paper.

What she wrote was an exceedingly elegant script, delicate and graceful, bearing a touch of a maiden's gentle beauty.

Zhu Youjian took only one glance before reaching out and pressing down on Zhou Yu's wrist.

"Wait."

He took the brush and, on another sheet of rice paper, swiftly drew a table.

First row: Name.

Second row: Office.

Third row: Corruption.

Fourth row: Ability.

Fifth row: Deeds.

Clean, clear, like a sharp scalpel.

"Follow this format." Zhu Youjian handed the brush back to Zhou Yu. "This way, I can see it clearly."

Zhou Yu looked at this strange, never-before-seen format, a flicker of bewilderment passing through her eyes, but she still obediently nodded.

Wei Zhongxian looked at that table, a barely perceptible shock flashing through his murky eyes.

This new sovereign's mind was terrifyingly meticulous.

He hesitated no longer. Following the template the new sovereign had provided, he poured out the ledger in his brain like beans tumbling from a bamboo tube, recounting everything in full detail.

"Zhou Yingqiu, Minister of Personnel — monstrously corrupt. Ability… mediocre. Relies entirely on sycophancy."

"Xue Zhen, Minister of Justice — petty corruption. A meek and spineless man, unfit for any significant use."

"Wu Kongjia, Junior Compiler at the Hanlin Academy… This man is not corrupt. He acts with decisiveness and writes excellent essays."

Hearing this name, Zhu Youjian's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

Within the eunuch faction, there was actually someone who caught your eye, Wei Zhongxian, and was not corrupt?

Wei Zhongxian rambled on, speaking for nearly two full hours.

From the Grand Secretariat and the Six Ministries down to the provincial governors and grand coordinators, name after name spilled from his lips, each one filled into that cold table by Zhou Yu in her graceful script, neat and orderly.

By the time Wei Zhongxian's mouth was parched and he finally stopped, the paper before Zhou Yu had piled up densely over more than a dozen pages.

"Your Majesty, this old slave… this old slave can remember only these." Wei Zhongxian panted heavily, his voice hoarse. "The rest are not yet qualified to enter my sight."

His words even carried a trace of morbid self-satisfaction.

Zhu Youjian said nothing. He simply took those pages and leafed through them carefully.

He keenly noticed that, aside from the three agencies of the Directorate of Ceremonial, the Eastern Depot, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the other names were astonishingly concentrated.

The Ministry of War, the Ministry of Works, the Court of the Imperial Stud — these offices were packed densely, almost entirely with men of the eunuch faction.

Zhu Youjian looked at Wei Zhongxian and asked, "Why are they all in the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Works, and the Court of the Imperial Stud?"

Wei Zhongxian, hearing this, cupped his hands with self-satisfaction.

"The late Emperor valued nothing more than two matters: the Liaodong campaign, and the great construction works."

"We, as his subjects, naturally must share our sovereign's burdens. Whatever the late Emperor valued, we naturally had to do well."

His face once again assumed that expression of simple honesty and humble weakness.

"The Three Great Halls were erected and completed within two years — a vast project achieved at modest expense, costing no more than 5.96 million taels in total, saving several million taels at the very least."

"The Liaodong campaign, though it had decayed daily since Sarhu, has now, against all odds, produced the great victories of Ningyuan and Ning-Jin, so that the Jianzhou barbarians no longer dare to lightly assault the passes."

"Within only a few years of the late Emperor's ascension, the Donglin faction was entirely dismissed, factional strife ceased in the court, and thereafter, with vigorous governance, the affairs of state have been improving by the day."

Zhu Youjian listened to his recitation of merits without comment, merely asking coolly, "And what of the Ministry of Revenue?"

He fixed his eyes on Wei Zhongxian and asked, spacing each word deliberately, "Why is there no one from your faction in the Ministry of Revenue?"

Wei Zhongxian, hearing this, suddenly stammered, "That… the national taxes are difficult; the Ministry of Revenue is truly not a desirable post."

"Those who have attached themselves to us, after all, seek speed and advantage, and so most are unwilling to go to the Ministry of Revenue."

He had already sensed something was wrong, and his tone shifted.

"Yet we, your ministers, have also recognized the insufficiency of state funds and have one after another donated our salaries to aid the national coffers, to share the late Emperor's burdens, and to demonstrate our loyalty to the altars of the state!"

Zhu Youjian's face remained noncommittal, but inwardly he was already growing impatient. He waved his hand and posed his final question.

"In your view, how stand the affairs of the realm today?"

Wei Zhongxian's spirit rallied. He knew this was the final assessment — and his last chance at survival.

He did not answer immediately, but instead adjusted his robes and cap, as though he were not replying to a question but expounding a policy essay on statecraft and governance.

"In reply to Your Majesty, the affairs of the realm are turning for the better."

His voice was not loud, but it was extraordinarily firm, carrying an unquestioning self-assurance.

"In Liaodong, Ningyuan and Jinzhou are impregnable as metal and boiling water; the Jianzhou barbarians can advance no further. In Sichuan, the She-An rebellion has been put down; the southwest can be assured of safety. All of this was driven to completion during the late Emperor's reign."

"The realm's greatest difficulty lies in state revenue. The Donglin faction delights in stirring up partisan strife and knows only empty talk, yet refuses to share the realm's burdens."

"The summer tax and autumn grain from every region have fallen into arrears year after year, yet these hypocrites can only say 'exempt taxes, exempt taxes,' never understanding the hardships of state affairs."

"Had the late Emperor not been sagely discerning, wielding the reins of power with sole resolve, and ordered us inner servants to collect commercial taxes and mining taxes to supplement state funds — from where would the military pay for Liaodong and the winter clothing for the Nine Garrisons have come? This realm, I fear, would long since have been ablaze with beacon fires everywhere."

At this point, a trace of genuine reverence and sorrow showed in his eyes.

"His Late Majesty… he was the one who truly saw the great currents of the realm. He knew that to keep this Great Ming turning, one could not rely solely on those civil officials who only spout empty talk. This old slave… was merely a blade in His Late Majesty's hand — a sharp blade, nothing more."

"It is only a pity that Heaven did not grant him more years…"

He let out a long sigh, his expression desolate, as though genuinely grieving the late Emperor's passing.

Zhu Youjian listened quietly, his face betraying neither pleasure nor anger.

He had to admit, Wei Zhongxian's speech was delivered with exceptional skill.

He had attributed all his own deeds to the late Emperor's "sagely discernment" and "having no alternative," casting himself as a solitary minister who bore infamy for the sake of the state.

This speech was at once a recitation of his merits, a probe, and, even more, an attempt to bind himself irrevocably to the Tianqi Emperor.

But this speech also exposed that this Wei Zhongxian was truly a man of only mediocre ability. His talents, I fear, were entirely concentrated on inner-court intrigue and how to secure imperial favor.

The affairs of the realm — how could they be a matter of simple either-or?

The Great Ming is on the verge of collapse, and you stand here telling me state affairs are gradually improving?

Zhu Youjian picked up his teacup and gently blew on it.

Then he raised his eyes and looked at Wei Zhongxian with a calm gaze.

"In that case… did my Imperial Brother know?"

As the words fell, the air within the great hall seemed to freeze solid in an instant.

Every expression on Wei Zhongxian's face — confidence, sorrow, loyalty — shattered completely in that moment.

He stood frozen in place, as though struck by lightning.

That question, like the sharpest of swords, had in an instant pierced through all his pretenses and psychological defenses.

Did the late Emperor know?

Did he know that I was utterly loyal, or did he know that my power overshadowed the court?

Did he know that I was sharing the realm's burdens, or did he know that I was exploiting the moment to amass wealth?

Countless thoughts flashed through Wei Zhongxian's mind in an instant.

He recalled how the Tianqi Emperor, while listening to reports from the Directorate of Ceremonial, would work on his handicrafts at the same time, appearing to pay no attention to anything, yet taking note of everything.

He recalled how Tianqi had held his hand, gently called him "Companion Wei," and personally bestowed the seal reading "Loyal Minister Entrusted with the Mandate," and how on his deathbed he had entrusted the orphaned sovereign to Prince Xin, saying that Zhongxian could be employed.

He recalled the time he had ridden his horse before the imperial presence, only to have Tianqi shoot the horse dead on the spot and reprimand him.

A terror unlike any he had ever known surged up violently from the deepest recesses of his heart.

He had always believed himself to be the Emperor's sharpest blade, but… was it possible that he was merely a chamber pot the Emperor had soiled and was ready to discard at any moment?

Cold sweat instantly soaked through the back of his robe.

A deathly silence filled the great hall; he could hear the frantic pounding of his own heart.

A long while passed — so long that Zhu Youjian thought he would not answer.

Only then did Wei Zhongxian, as though mustering every last ounce of strength in his body, force out a few words from his throat, his voice hoarse and bitter.

"This old slave… does not know."

"Very good."

Zhu Youjian nodded and rose to his feet.

"We are most satisfied. What We promised you earlier — it all stands."

He raised his voice toward the outside of the hall: "Attend us."

Two young eunuchs who had been waiting outside the hall immediately ran in and knelt on the floor.

"Take the Depot Intendant away," Zhu Youjian's voice carried not a trace of warmth. "Let him… depart with some dignity."

"No! Your Majesty! Your Majesty, spare my life!"

Only at this moment did Wei Zhongxian finally realize that death had truly descended upon him.

All his calculations, all his hopes — in this instant, they turned to utter nothingness.

He threw himself violently to the ground, trying to rush toward the imperial desk, but the two young eunuchs held him fast.

Zhu Youjian tapped the table and said softly.

"Depot Intendant, I imagine you still remember Wang An?"

"What begins by the sword, must end by the sword."

"Leave yourself, and leave my imperial brother, one last shred of dignity."

With that, he waved his hand.

The two junior eunuchs, terrified to their very core at carrying out such a momentous task, still steeled themselves against the fear, seized the struggling, wailing Wei Zhongxian, and began dragging him out.

But Wei Zhongxian wanted no dignity. He screamed desperately, his cries piercing and ghastly beyond measure, echoing through Qianqing Palace and making one's hair stand on end.

One junior eunuch shot an anxious look at Zhu Youjian, scared out of his wits. In his desperation, he reached out directly and clamped his hand over Wei Zhongxian's mouth.

But the strength of a man facing death is immense — how could a mere hand hold it shut?

Pushed past his limit, a flash of ruthlessness crossed the junior eunuch's eyes. He clenched his fist and, aiming at Wei Zhongxian's mouth, smashed it down with brutal force!

A muffled "thud," accompanied by several teeth coming loose. Wei Zhongxian's wailing dissolved into a garbled, indistinct gurgle.

Still not stopping, the junior eunuch actually shoved his own fist straight into Wei Zhongxian's mouth, plugging every sound with deadly finality.

Wei Zhongxian's body twisted violently, his limbs thrashing in mad convulsions. Those murky old eyes bulged wide, brimming with boundless terror and unwillingness.

Soon, everything returned to stillness.

In the great hall, only a faint trace of blood remained in the air.

Zhu Youjian stood quietly, as if nothing had happened.

He turned and looked at Zhou Yu beside him, whose lovely face had long since gone deathly pale, frozen in shock like a wooden chicken.

"Changqiu, don't be afraid. I am here."

"Come, first accompany me to see my imperial sister-in-law. When we return, I'll show you what this Qianqing Palace really looks like."

Zhou Yu's body gave a slight tremor as she finally woke from the dream. She looked at the husband before her and nodded blankly.

"Ah? Oh… all right."

Zhu Youjian took Zhou Yu's hand and turned to leave.

But he suddenly noticed that where their hands clasped, it was drenched in sweat.