Chapter 108: Fishing Like Jiang Taigong — the Willing Bite the Hook

Inside the warm chamber of Qianqing Palace, only a single weak candle flame burned; the light was dim.

On the dragon bed, Zhu Youjian stirred slightly.

A palace maid keeping watch nearby noticed at once. She soundlessly drew closer and asked in a barely audible voice, "Your Majesty, do you wish to rise?"

Zhu Youjian gave an "Mm," and then, with extreme care, slowly drew his arm free.

Zhou Yu murmured a few indistinct sounds, turned over, and sank back into deep sleep.

Last night had been far too wild, and this body was still far too young…

Perhaps, once this initial busy period was over, he ought to find a few more people to share the burden of his overabundant vitality.

Zhu Youjian stepped barefoot onto the floor. The underfloor heating was burning at just the right level, the temperature perfectly comfortable.

He draped an outer robe over himself and walked out of the bedchamber.

The palace maids already waiting outside saw this and immediately clustered around him, their hands moving with practiced efficiency.

Before long, every giant tallow candle in the great hall was lit, illuminating the interior with brilliant, stately brightness.

He washed and rinsed with warm water; the towel was a soft cloth carrying the faint fragrance of soap-pod.

Gao Shiming was already waiting, body bent. He watched until the Emperor was fully dressed, then stepped forward and said in a low voice, "Your Majesty, a strong wind rose in the night. The weather has turned somewhat cold; it would be best to add one more heavy cloak."

Zhu Youjian did as suggested, letting the palace maids fasten a cloud-pattern brocade fur cloak over him.

Only then did he finally step out through the palace doors.

Outside the hall, the sky was barely beginning to lighten. A rising sun was just clearing the horizon, like a hazy salted egg yolk, giving off no warmth, merely hanging there uselessly.

The early-morning cold wind struck his face, carrying a bleak, desolate chill.

Zhu Youjian wrapped the brocade cloak tighter, yet still could not suppress a shiver.

He frowned slightly.

Today was the seventh day of the ninth month in the Great Ming lunar calendar.

As a modern man, he had never been good at converting between the lunar and Gregorian calendars.

What was more, this Great Ming lunar calendar seemed to have some problems — otherwise Xu Guangqi would not later have to revise the calendrical system.

But this period happened to have a reference point — the Mid-Autumn Festival on the fifteenth of the eighth month was usually not far from the National Day of later eras.

And it had only been twenty-some days since Mid-Autumn, so this should be around October 20th in the Gregorian calendar?

Was Beijing really this cold at this time of year? Or was this the effect of the Little Ice Age?

As a southern monkey, Zhu Youjian truly could not figure it out.

This chill, however, reminded him of another matter.

He turned his head and looked at Gao Shiming, who was following closely behind him. "Regarding the memorials on settling the famine refugees in the capital — has anyone continued to submit them?"

Gao Shiming paused, then replied respectfully, "In reply to Your Majesty, ever since you said that those submitting memorials must first take up a post in Shuntian Prefecture to handle the matter, the memorials these past few days have… grown far fewer."

He paused, then added, "Supervising Secretary Guo Xingyan of the Office of Scrutiny for Works, who was originally the most zealous, has also submitted no further memorials these past two days."

"We understand."

Zhu Youjian's tone was very flat.

Never mind the Great Ming — was it not the same in later ages?

Raising problems is the easiest thing. The moment one is asked to do the work, especially work that harms one's own interests, it becomes very difficult.

Still, if the Supervising Secretaries are unwilling, that does not mean the Bureau Directors, Bureau Secretaries, or even the probationary officials are unwilling.

Set out enough bait, and in the end, some fish will bite the hook.

Zhu Youjian raised his head and looked at the sky. That egg-yolk-like sun was still hazy.

He withdrew his gaze and said evenly, "Let us go. First, we inspect the Valiant Guard Camp and see the quality of these new elite troops from the Nine Borders. This matter can wait until after We return from the inspection to deal with."

At almost the exact same moment, inside a colonnade lodging near the imperial city, Qi Xinxiao slowly opened his eyes.

What met his gaze was the familiar ceiling, blackened by charcoal smoke.

He felt cold all over. After struggling for a long while in the icy bedding, he finally gritted his teeth and abruptly threw off the covers.

A wave of cold air instantly invaded his whole body, making him shudder involuntarily.

He got out of bed and glanced at the brazier in the corner of the room. The charcoal inside had indeed burned out completely, leaving only a pitiful trace of white ash.

The sudden cold these past few days had forced him to start burning charcoal.

But fearing charcoal poisoning, he had no choice but to leave the window open as well, and had spent the whole night alternating between hot and cold.

After five years living in the capital, this southerner still had not quite adapted to the bitter cold of the north.

He picked up the fire tongs and carefully searched through the ashes for a moment, then picked out a piece of charcoal that still held a dying ember and placed it into his hand warmer.

He hung the hand warmer against his chest, and a faint warmth finally spread through his body.

Then, he walked to the water vat in the corner, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and began his morning wash.

The towel, soaked with ice-cold water, wiped across his face and jolted his spirit; the early-morning drowsiness vanished like smoke.

After tidying himself up, he pushed open the wooden door.

The cold wind outside slashed at him like a knife, making him start. He hastily drew his head back in, returned inside to add an old padded gown underneath, and only then walked out again.

The small room he rented was one of the colonnade lodgings provided specifically for capital officials to lease. It was not only somewhat dilapidated, but in winter became barely endurable.

Its advantages, however, were its proximity to the government offices and its low rent.

If he did not wish to live here, he would have to rent a civilian dwelling on his own — an expense of over ten taels of silver a year was truly a bit too high.

He would rather save every bit of that money to buy books, paper, ink, and brushes.

Qi Xinxiao rubbed his hands together and could not help envying his colleagues in the Ministry of Rites.

The Ministry of Rites had good fortune. During the Hongzhi reign, Minister Lin took the lead in raising funds and also donated ten years of his own salary, and by sheer effort had thirty-plus free official dormitories built, all connected to underfloor heating — nothing could be more comfortable to live in.

It was a pity that in every reign since, the officials only grew more corrupt, yet no one ever mentioned such dormitories again.

Qi Xinxiao walked out of the narrow alley mouth; outside, it was suddenly bustling.

The cries of hawkers, the clamor of carts and horses, the chatter and laughter of passersby — all mingled together into the unique morning bustle of the capital.

He had not walked far before arriving at the mutton soup shop he often frequented.

As a southerner, he had never been able to adapt to the dry, bitter cold of the northern autumn and winter. Only this bowl of steaming mutton soup, eaten for five years now, had become a habit he could no longer shake.

Qi Xinxiao stepped into the shop, and a warm blast of air, thick with the scent of meat and pepper, hit him full in the face, lifting his spirits at once.

He swept a glance around the room.

At a table by the door sat several minor officials in blue robes, none of whom he knew well.

In a corner sat a solitary colleague — Wu Kongjia of the Hanlin Academy.

Qi Xinxiao's gaze lingered on Wu Kongjia for a single instant, then shifted away without a trace of expression.

This colleague Wu had been a notoriously active operative of the eunuch faction in the past.

Although the new sovereign seemed disinclined to settle accounts with the eunuch faction for now, who could say for certain? It was best not to get too deeply entangled.

He found an empty table and sat down, calling out loudly, "Proprietor! One bowl of mutton soup — with scallions, no coriander — and one sesame cake!"

The scalding mutton soup was soon brought to his table.

The broth was milky white, topped with emerald-green chopped scallions and a precious sprinkling of pepper. The large chunks of mutton had been stewed to a tender softness, and the few strips of tendon were satisfyingly chewy.

Qi Xinxiao first took a large mouthful of the broth. A surge of warmth instantly rushed from his throat into his stomach, then swiftly spread to his very extremities, driving out every last trace of cold from his body.

He let out a contented sigh, picked up a piece of mutton, and was just about to put it in his mouth when the murmured conversation of the blue-robed officials at the neighboring table drifted faintly over.

"Did you hear? Minister Xue of the Ministry of Works spoke up at yesterday's ministry conference — said the ministry must give full cooperation to Prefect Xue's road-building project," one voice said, lowered.

Another immediately sneered: "Full cooperation? You believe that? I heard the documents the Prefect of Shuntian sent to the Bureau of Forestry and Crafts have been held up for two days without approval."

"Not just the Bureau of Forestry and Crafts — the Bureau of Waterways is the same. Minister Xue's words are just for show."

The first speaker said, as if suddenly understanding, "So that's how it is. I was wondering..."

A somewhat more seasoned voice cut in, carrying a lecturing tone: "The way of officialdom — inaction is action, not doing is doing. Some things need no open word. That His Excellency the Minister did not nod — that is the greatest refusal of all."

The remark was oblique, but everyone at the table was a wily veteran of officialdom and grasped the meaning instantly.

Someone lowered his voice and said, with a touch of mockery, "That 'Xue the Statesman' is probably going to run into a hard wall this time. No matter how florid his essays, when it comes to real action, isn't he still hemmed in on every side?"

The nickname "Xue the Statesman" was clearly a jab at Xue Guoguan's essay "The First Model of Statecraft Prose," which the Emperor himself had praised.

But someone immediately objected: "You can't say that. That essay was genuinely well-written. I read it three times — the arguments were clear, and it truly opened a new style of statecraft writing."

"So what if it's well-written?" The first man curled his lip. "His Majesty opened his golden mouth and sent him to Shuntian. Ha — throwing away a perfectly good Supervising Secretary post to go wallow in the quagmire of Shuntian. Isn't that ruining his own career?"

"Exactly. His Majesty handled this rather rashly. The new policies should have been placed under the Six Ministries to be done properly. Shuntian, after all, is merely an attached prefecture — how can it accomplish great things?"

Qi Xinxiao's jaw, working on the tendon, unconsciously slowed.

He listened in silence, committing every word to memory.

At that moment, another voice joined in: "I wouldn't be so sure. Even if Xue the Statesman crashes into a brick wall this time, this road-building business will probably still go forward. I sense His Majesty's emphasis on practical achievement is no casual whim. When the time comes, the assignment will likely fall back onto the Six Ministries after all."

At these words, the atmosphere at the table grew subtly charged.

Someone shifted the topic and asked, "Speaking of which — if His Majesty values practical achievement so highly, will the path of the Hanlin still be esteemed in the future?"

"Who can say for sure?" someone answered vaguely. "The Hanlin's prestige lies in being able to attend upon the sage's presence at all times. Where the imperial heart inclines — that is the root of everything. In the future, the emphasis may simply differ, but to say it will no longer be esteemed — that's going too far."

At this point, someone seemed to sense the indiscretion and coughed lightly, tugging at the speaker's sleeve.

The group fell silent at once, having noticed Qi Xinxiao and Wu Kongjia at the next table — both Hanlin officials.

They smiled somewhat awkwardly and swiftly changed the subject.

"Speaking of which — this road-building won't require the officials to donate their salaries again, will it?"

"Please, no! Last year, for the Three Great Works, I donated my entire year's fuel-and-silver allowance!"

"I heard from someone in the Bureau of Forestry and Crafts that the whole road project is estimated at only about four hundred thousand taels. It shouldn't require anything drastic — maybe donating one or two months' fuel-and-silver allowance will suffice."

"Let's hope so," one man sighed deeply. "We've been scraping by in poverty for years now. I had planned to bring my wife and children to the capital this year — I hope it won't be delayed again."

"Then why not simply request a provincial posting? Three years in the provinces, and a thousand gold pieces in your purse — what's so hard about that!" someone teased.

The man immediately shot back a glare: "You take a provincial posting! Your whole family can take provincial postings!"

Though provincial posts were lucrative, they also meant being far from the center of power, with a bleak future ahead. In the eyes of capital officials, it was practically a curse.

The group of blue-robed officials finished their breakfast and dispersed in a noisy flurry.

Qi Xinxiao lingered a moment longer, until he saw Wu Kongjia in the corner also settle his bill and leave. Only then did he rise and unhurriedly follow behind, always keeping a distance of a dozen or so paces.

Just as he rounded a street corner, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Brother Junqiu! What a coincidence!"

Qi Xinxiao turned to look — it was none other than Ni Yuanlu, also of the Hanlin Academy.

"Brother Yuru!" A smile spread across Qi Xinxiao's face as he fell into step beside him.

"For this afternoon's Daily Lecture, which text has Brother Yuru prepared?" Qi Xinxiao asked.

Ni Yuanlu chuckled, looking rather pleased with himself: "Academician Yang selected me to lecture on The Great Learning."

He lowered his voice: "I spent days on this draft, refining it over and over, striving to make it both exquisite and accessible!"

Qi Xinxiao's eyes filled with envy at these words.

The Great Learning was little more than a thousand characters, yet every word was a gem.

Its doctrine of "cultivating the self, regulating the family, ordering the state, and bringing peace to all under heaven" could be called the very primer of Confucian education. To lecture the sovereign on this text was a matter of extraordinary significance.

"Brother Yuru, you are truly impressive," Qi Xinxiao praised sincerely.

Ni Yuanlu waved a hand modestly: "It's nothing, nothing."

Qi Xinxiao smiled faintly and said, with restrained pride, "I am lecturing on the 'Wei Zheng' chapter of the Analects."

At this, Ni Yuanlu rolled his eyes: "You got the 'Wei Zheng' chapter, and you still say I'm impressive? 'He who governs by virtue is like the North Star — it dwells in its place and all the stars turn toward it.' The weight of this chapter is no lighter than my Great Learning!"

Qi Xinxiao laughed heartily, then sighed: "A pity, though — with a sage sovereign before us, Youxuan is missing this opportunity."

Ni Yuanlu clapped him on the shoulder and consoled him: "No matter. Brother Youxuan's mourning leave expired long ago. It is only because the eunuch faction ran rampant at court that he could not yet return."

"I asked Hanlin Yang yesterday — his name is already on the recall list. But Fujian is a long journey; by the time he reaches the capital, I fear it will already be spring of next year."

Chatting and laughing, the two men entered the Hanlin Academy and returned to their seats.

Before long, the officials in the hall gradually assembled.

Reader-in-Waiting Wang Zuoyuan struck the chime on his desk. The hall instantly fell silent, and everyone rose and stood solemnly.

Wang Zuoyuan cleared his throat and began the roll call.

"Zhu Jizuo."

"Present."

"Ni Yuanlu."

"Present."

"Sun Zhixie."

"Present."

The roll call finished, Wang Zuoyuan looked around the room. "This afternoon is the Daily Lecture. Everyone on the list must thoroughly rehearse the court rites one more time."

His voice rose slightly and turned stern. "Absolutely do not imitate Huang Youxuan. If anyone commits a breach of decorum before His Majesty, Hanlin Yang will be implicated along with you!"

"We understand!" everyone answered, cupping their hands in salute.

Wang Zuoyuan nodded and sat down; the others followed suit.

Silence returned to the Hanlin Academy, broken only by the rustle of turning pages.

After an unknown stretch of time, a clamor suddenly rose from outside.

Wang Zuoyuan's brow furrowed.

The others also raised their heads curiously.

The noise grew louder. Wang Zuoyuan gave a dry cough and said to Ni Yuanlu, who sat near the door, "Yuru, go out and see who is making such a racket."

Ni Yuanlu went out as ordered. Moments later, he came hurrying back at a quick step.

"Your Excellency! A column of eunuchs has come out from Chengtian Gate. They've posted a new notice right next to that 'Statecraft List'!"

Wang Zuoyuan understood at once. Stroking his beard, he said, "It must be another statecraft document released. I only wonder whose work has caught His Majesty's discerning eye this time."

He paused, then added, "Do not all rush out to look. Last time a notice was posted, everyone scrambled to see it. Supervising Secretary Wu of the Office of Scrutiny for Rites submitted a memorial specifically impeaching the heads of the various ministries, saying we failed to maintain discipline and allowed official decorum to lapse."

His gaze swept the room, and he named a few men. "Ni Yuanlu, Qi Xinxiao, Fu Guan — you three have the finest calligraphy. Take a desk, paper, and brush, and go copy the notice for us."

The three men obeyed, carrying a desk to the front of Chengtian Gate.

Though the crowd was smaller than last time, seven or eight desks were already set up there, and in the distance, more people were carrying desks over.

The three quickly set down their desk and claimed a spot, then stepped forward together to read.

To their surprise, it was not a new statecraft document. Instead, a smaller notice had been posted beside the Statecraft List, with several large characters written in vermilion:

Capital New Governance Affairs Solicitation

Below it, several lines of smaller text explained:

"From the founding of the dynasty to the present, ministry affairs, capital affairs, and guard affairs have been layered and overlapping, with authority and responsibility unclear, leading to redundant work and indolent officials."

"Now, with the implementation of the new governance, Shuntian Prefecture shall assume overall command and re-delineate authority and responsibility."

"The various new governance affairs are hereby listed. Whoever can submit a memorial setting forth a clear and thorough analysis may personally assume one affair, enter Shuntian Prefecture, and carry it out with full authority."

"If the affair undertaken is accomplished, one to five red marks shall be added, according to its difficulty."

At the very bottom was another line of small text:

"The newly cast seal of Shuntian Prefecture has been issued. All memorials concerning new governance affairs shall be sent directly to the palace, to be supervised jointly by the Directorate of Ceremonial and the Grand Secretariat."

Further down, over ten new governance affairs were listed:

Capital famine refugee resettlement, Capital gambling investigation and purge, Capital banditry suppression, Capital Nine Gates commercial tax overhaul, Capital clerical criminal case rectification…

Among them, the lowest, such as the Nine Gates commercial tax overhaul, was marked "one red mark added."

The highest, the Capital banditry suppression, was marked "five red marks added!"

All three were men of quick wit. They exchanged a glance, briefly divided the task, and then concentrated on memorizing in silence.

In the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, they had committed the entire notice to memory.

They returned to their desk, took up brushes, and wrote rapidly. In a few moments, they had reproduced the notice without a single error.

When they laid down their brushes, they realized the area around them had long since become a boiling cauldron of voices, the buzz of discussion rising like steam.

The three opened their mouths, then realized that unless they shouted, the person next to them could not hear a word.

They exchanged a look, decisively picked up their desk, and left, putting that clamorous place behind them.

Only after walking a hundred paces did they stop.

Fu Guan studied the copied notice, pondered a moment, and spoke first. "What exactly does this 'red mark' mean?"

Ni Yuanlu and Qi Xinxiao both turned to look at him, expressions incredulous.

Ni Yuanlu said, "Were you not at court that day? Grand Secretary Li received one red mark for his forthright remonstrance. You should know of this."

Qi Xinxiao added, "Minister Guo of the Ministry of Revenue, I hear, also received one during the summoned audience at Wuying Hall."

Fu Guan shook his head and smiled. "Of course I know that. What I mean is — what does this 'red mark' actually represent?"

The other two fell silent.

Indeed. Since the Emperor ascended the throne, red marks had been given only twice, yet he had never explicitly stated what this "red" truly was.

Was it promotion? A salary increase? Or did it count toward seniority?

No one could say for certain.

But this time, each affair was explicitly and clearly tied to a specific number of red marks.

Ni Yuanlu mused, "Could it be the counterpart to the 'green mark'? Before Grand Secretary Zhang was stripped of his official status, wasn't he given ten green marks?"

Fu Guan stroked the short beard on his chin, but in the end, he only shook his head.

"This thing has nothing to do with salary or seniority. On the surface, it seems only an empty title reflecting His Majesty's favor."

"And yet, it is never stated plainly. I rather think it resembles… Jiang Taigong fishing — the willing take the hook."

He turned his head and glanced toward the Gate of Accepting Heaven, then sighed. "Those administrative officials grinding out seniority in the various ministries and bureaus — by now, I fear they will all go mad."

Ni Yuanlu picked up the thread, his tone carrying a trace of natural superiority: "Isn't that so? They are not like us remonstrating Hanlin. Sunk in departmental business day after day, their promotions depend entirely on a single word from their bureau chief. Now that this chance to reach the imperial ear directly has appeared, how could they not go mad?"

He paused, then smiled. "But that is no concern of ours. We had best prepare diligently, assist our sovereign with classical principles, and enlighten His Majesty's mind — that is precisely the duty of you and me as Hanlin."

Fu Guan did not argue. He merely smiled and nodded, saying, "Brother Yuru speaks truly. The Hanlin are pure and noble precisely because of this. Doing one's own duty well — that is the proper path."

Qi Xinxiao opened his mouth, but in the end, no words came out.

In the end, he simply remained silent, silently lifting one corner of the table.

The three men spoke no more. Lifting the table, they walked together toward the Hanlin Academy.

Another great gust of wind swept past, billowing their robes.

Ni Yuanlu wrapped his robe tighter around the warm fine-cotton lined jacket inside. Fu Guan's silver hand-warmer radiated a cozy warmth.

As for Qi Xinxiao, only then did he notice that the hand-warmer against his chest had, at some unknown moment, already gone ice-cold.

The same blue robes — different linings beneath.

The same road to the Hanlin — different forks ahead.