Chapter 116: The Dragon Appears in the Field, His Virtue Spreads Wide (Votes requested!)

Zhu Youjian rose to his feet. He did not speak at once, but slowly walked past the imperial desk and stood upon the imperial steps.

The hall was very still. Autumn sunlight slanted through the lattice windows, and one could clearly see the fine dust motes drifting in the air.

Every gaze in the room converged upon him.

Zhu Youjian's eyes swept slowly across the face of every minister below.

From the unruffled eyes of Chief Grand Secretary Huang Liji, to Ni Yuanlu's faintly forward-leaning frame — he made certain his gaze briefly met every single person's.

It was a wordless declaration, proclaiming that every word he was about to speak would be of the utmost importance.

"Our question is: why did Confucius choose benevolence? Why did the Old Text supplant the New Text? Why did the School of Principle choose principle? Why did the School of Mind choose mind?"

"To answer this, one must not first debate right or wrong, but first examine where the ancient sages stood, and what circumstances they faced."

Zhu Youjian paused, leaving room for reflection.

"Throughout his life, Confucius advocated restoring the well-field system and restoring the rites of Zhou."

"Yet, if Confucius were born today in our Great Ming, would he truly still say we must restore the well-fields?"

This question was like a great boulder hurled into a placid lake.

No one in the hall answered, but the beards of several senior ministers quivered, almost imperceptibly.

Ming Confucians were no longer Han Confucians.

After a thousand years of repeated disputation and exegesis upon the Confucian classics, in their hearts they had long ceased to believe in any old well-field system.

That was merely a banner for cloaking one's own ideas in antiquity — a banner used to expound one's own way of ordering the state and relieving the people's suffering.

His Majesty's words, though they sounded somewhat irreverent toward the Sage, were impossible to refute.

Only… His Majesty's argument — why does it sound somewhat like Wang Anshi's New Learning? Surely he does not mean to emulate that wild and impious Li Zhi?

Each man privately turned over his own conjectures.

Zhu Youjian's gaze settled upon one man. His finger lifted lightly and pointed at him.

"Minister Ni, tell us: what were the circumstances Confucius faced in his time?"

Ni Yuanlu, singled out by name, gave a start. He immediately stepped out from the ranks and said with solemn gravity:

"In reply to Your Majesty: in the Spring and Autumn period, rites and music had collapsed, the authority of the Zhou Son of Heaven was eclipsed, the feudal lords contended for hegemony, and all under Heaven was in chaos."

— If only you didn't have that black eye, you nearly made me break composure.

Zhu Youjian made an effort to build his aura back up. He nodded, then shook his head.

"It goes further than that."

He paced slowly, his voice carrying a hint of thought-provoking remoteness.

"In the chaos of the Spring and Autumn era, there was the Mohist universal love, the Legalist harshness, the Daoist non-action — the Hundred Schools contended, all seeking a path to order the world."

"A mere 'collapse of rites and music' cannot explain why Confucius uniquely chose benevolence, uniquely chose ritual."

The hall grew quieter still. Everyone held their breath and listened with rapt attention.

"Confucius was born in the state of Lu." Zhu Youjian's voice rang out again. "What was happening in Lu at that time?"

"Duke Zhuang of Lu died. Qingfu usurped power and murdered two successive rulers. Afterward, the Three Huan houses rose, and from then on governance lay not with the ruler but in the hands of those three great officer families."

"In the fifteenth year of Duke Xuan of Lu, the initial land tax by acre was instituted. From that point, the well-field system collapsed, private fields flourished, and so it has continued to this day."

Zhu Youjian let out a long sigh, as though he had crossed a thousand years of time and witnessed that history with his own eyes.

"These were the circumstances Confucius faced."

"By the time he reached his coming-of-age and began gathering disciples to teach, the authority of the Lu ruler had already been usurped for over a hundred years. And the well-field system had already been in collapse for more than fifty."

"What is called the collapse of rites and music, the eclipse of the Son of Heaven's name — one corner of Lu alone suffices to see it."

"When Confucius later traveled through the various states, it became even clearer: this was not the sickness of Lu alone, but the sickness of all under Heaven."

"When the ruler is not benevolent, his ministers are not righteous; when ministers are not righteous, all under Heaven collapses; when all under Heaven collapses, the people have no means of livelihood."

"This, in Our judgment, is the true reason Confucius chose 'benevolence' and chose 'ritual.'"

Zhu Youjian's voice reverberated through the hall.

"The ancient sages were not gods; they too partook of the world's common fare. Their learning and thought were all responses — standing in their own world — to Heaven and Earth and the myriad things."

"Setting aside right and wrong: Confucius simply perceived the malady of his age, and based on what he had learned, prescribed what he believed to be the remedy."

As his words fell, a deathly silence filled the hall.

The assembled ministers were all stunned.

They had toiled over the classics until their hair turned white, read enough exegetical works to fill carts and oxen — yet never once had anyone considered it from this angle.

Why did Confucius choose benevolence? Why did he choose ritual?

It was as if these things had always been so — unassailable truths requiring only exposition and obedience, never interrogation.

His Majesty's line of thought, though it seemed slightly "irreverent" toward the Sage, was a heaven-shattering revelation that opened an entirely new horizon for the whole field of classical studies!

For a moment, a tumult of emotions churned in every heart, a sense of shock as though struck by a thunderbolt.

Was the House of Zhu about to produce a great master of classical learning?

After a brief silence, Chief Grand Secretary Huang Liji was the first to react. He stepped forward at once and bowed deeply toward Zhu Youjian.

"Your Majesty's sagely insight — this subject humbly receives your instruction."

His bow was like a signal.

Every minister in the hall, whatever their private thoughts, uniformly stepped out from the ranks and bowed in salute.

"Your subjects humbly receive Your Majesty's instruction."

Their voices merged into a mighty torrent, surging through Wenhua Hall.

Zhu Youjian cast a satisfied glance at Huang Liji.

Old Huang, Old Huang — your political nose is truly beyond reproach.

"In that case," Zhu Youjian's voice sounded once more, "why did Han Fei choose law? Does anyone here have an answer?"

This was an entirely new question, yet it flowed seamlessly from the last — each link locked into the next.

Everyone in the hall felt a chill run down their spines.

Having just had the door to a new world flung open before them, they were all itching to try their hand.

But this new method of scholarship was still not entirely clear to them, and for a moment they all hesitated, none daring to speak rashly.

At that moment, a figure resolutely stepped forward from the ranks.

"Your Majesty, this subject begs leave to attempt an answer!"

Everyone turned toward the voice — it was Qi Xinxiao, a Junior Compiler of the Hanlin Academy.

His face was flushed crimson, and his eyes blazed with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism, like a believer who had found his life's calling.

Zhu Youjian nodded slightly. "Granted."

Qi Xinxiao drew a deep breath, his voice trembling faintly with excitement:

"Han Feizi was a prince of the Han royal house. The age he lived in was already the twilight of the Warring States — ritual and music had long since been swept away!"

"In that era, no one under Heaven still thought of restoring the Zhou. The only thought in every feudal lord's mind was to devour the other six states and unify all under Heaven!"

"Thus his teachings cast aside benevolence and righteousness, devoted solely to the art of the sovereign, and practiced the way of hegemony. This was not because his nature was inherently evil, but truly because the times had shifted and the circumstances had changed — he had no choice but to do so!"

"When the times shift, affairs change; when affairs change, preparations must change!" This last sentence he practically roared, though the mask muffled his voice into a dull boom.

Hearing this, Zhu Youjian could not help but want to applaud, but seeing the solemn silence all around him, he discreetly withdrew his hand and instead praised him in a ringing voice:

"Bravo!"

"Minister Qi's words — truly, it is so!"

As he spoke, Zhu Youjian actually descended the imperial steps, step by step, and walked among the assembled officials.

The Son of Heaven drawing near made the surrounding ministers involuntarily retreat half a step, their expressions growing ever more reverent.

Zhu Youjian paid it no mind. As he paced, he continued his "lecture" in a tone that was almost conversational.

"Later, the Han won the empire. The laws of Qin were harsh and the people had no means of livelihood. Thus in the early Han, the teachings of Huang-Lao were adopted — governing by non-action, letting the people rest and recover."

"Yet the Xiongnu gazed south, coveting our Central Plains. The Huang-Lao teachings were good for nurturing life, but useless for campaigns and conquest."

"And so Dong Zhongshu drew upon the Gongyang school, combined it with the theories of portents and apocrypha, dismissed the Hundred Schools, and venerated only Confucianism. Only then could Emperor Wu of Han sweep through the enemy's lair and seal the Wolf Mountain altar — an achievement unmatched through the ages!"

"Is this so, or is it not?"

His gaze swept across face after face, each alight with excitement.

The Hanlin officials' eyes were all shining, their breathing quick and shallow.

They could dimly sense that a great body of learning — one worthy of founding an entire school — was slowly unveiling itself before their very eyes.

"At the end of the Han, the great classical-scholar clans monopolized official posts, keeping their learning secret and using character judgments to seize the levers of power."

"Thus the Old Text classical school rose up, shattering the master-disciples' house rules and breaking the scholastic cliques' hold on the gates of office!"

"Is this so, or is it not!"

No one answered. Everyone's mind had already been seized by the Emperor's sweeping, majestic discourse. They simply watched his figure in silence, following his footsteps.

Zhu Youjian drew a deep breath and slowed his pace slightly, letting this torrent of ideas settle a little.

He stopped walking, turned around, and asked:

"Then why did the Cheng-Zhu school seize upon Principle? Who can answer this?"

Before his words had faded, a figure burst violently from the crowd, his voice so agitated it cracked.

"This subject can answer it!"

Zhu Youjian had his back turned and was startled by this sudden outburst.

He turned around, and when he saw Ni Yuanlu's face flushed deep red from sheer over-excitement, he could not help but laugh.

Smiling, he raised a hand. "Minister Ni, please speak."

Ni Yuanlu swallowed hard with excitement, striving with all his might to steady his voice — but that tremor could not be concealed no matter what.

"At... at that time, it was the transition between the Northern and Southern Song, the court clinging to a corner of the realm. Within the court, society was steeped in extravagance and the officials were rotten to the core; beyond the court, the barbarian chieftains of the north watched with tiger-like covetousness!"

"Under such internal and external troubles, the two masters Cheng and Zhu thus sought upward in Principle — to preserve Heavenly Principle and extinguish human desire — all for the sake of rectifying men's hearts and rebuilding morality!"

Zhu Youjian nodded with satisfaction.

He did not go on to explain why the Cheng-Zhu School of Principle would later hold sway throughout the Yuan and his own dynasty.

Some words, though true, would be far too shocking to speak aloud at this moment — and would do more harm than good.

After all, he was still only a weak emperor, and he still needed certain things to adorn his crown.

— But sooner or later, he himself would be the crown itself!

Zhu Youjian swept his gaze over the assembly once more and cast out his final question.

"Then why was Master Wang Yangming's learning able to blaze an entirely new trail beyond the Cheng-Zhu School of Principle, stirring up such towering waves?"

This time, he did not wait for anyone to answer, but answered himself.

The proliferation of the School of Mind was tied to the rise of urban commoner power, to the rise of humanism.

If one truly wanted an eternal, unchanging dynasty, the best choice was, in truth, still the Cheng-Zhu School of Principle.

By the same token, he could not spell this point out either, and could only cite the currently prevailing view.

"Since the founding of our dynasty, the School of Principle has gradually hardened into rigid dogma. Scholars use it to pass the examinations, reading only the examination essays and never the principles behind them. They speak constantly of investigating things to extend knowledge, yet they always investigate first and extend later — or even investigate without extending, or neither investigate nor extend!"

"Thus Master Yangming rose up with a rallying cry: the unity of knowledge and action, the extension of innate knowledge — that was the remedy he prescribed for his age!"

At this point, Zhu Youjian shook his head again.

"And yet, if Master Yangming's remedy were truly a good prescription, how could the realm have fallen into such decay!"

In the hall, whether of the School of Principle faction or the School of Mind faction, no one cared any longer about this plainly disparaging assessment.

They only wanted to know the final answer!

Having spoken, Zhu Youjian turned and walked, step by step, back up the imperial steps.

Every eye in the hall followed him.

He came to a halt once more, looking down upon the finest minds of the Great Ming assembled in this hall, and his voice took on an unprecedented gravity and seriousness.

"So—why did Confucius choose benevolence? Why did the Old Text supplant the New Text? Why did the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi choose principle? Why did Wang Yangming choose mind?"

"In the final analysis, it all comes down to a single sentence!"

He suddenly raised his voice, his gaze blazing like a sword drawn from its scabbard!

"—Every age has its own problems! And the sages of every past generation devoted their entire lives to trying to answer the problems of their own age!"

"To read history, one must possess the imagination to commune in spirit across a thousand years—and, still more, the mind to perceive the ills of one's own time!"

"What I seek has never been right or wrong—it has only ever been a single 'why'!"

"And if there is a new sage of this present day who wishes to attain the highest good for this age, then he must first answer the question I pose today!"

He took a step forward, his dragon robe billowing, his voice like rolling thunder!

"That question is—"

"—What, truly, is the problem of the Great Ming today!"

A new sage!

The highest good for this age!

Those words, like a spark, instantly ignited the whole of Wenhua Hall!

The passion and fervor that had long been pent up in the hall erupted completely in that moment.

"Your Majesty!"

"This subject—"

"The great ill of the realm lies in—"

Almost simultaneously, more than ten men below burst from the ranks, each scrambling to be first, cupping their hands and eager to speak.

The entire hall dissolved into utter chaos, voices drowning one another out, all solemn court decorum gone.

Wang Zuoyuan, standing to one side, only now recovered from his immense shock.

Watching the nearly uncontrollable scene before him, he broke out in a frantic sweat and hastily bellowed, "Silence! Silence! Such loss of composure before the throne—what sort of conduct is this!"

Only after he had shouted several times did the hall gradually quiet down.

Yet the officials who had stepped forward all stood with necks stiff and faces flushed, none willing to withdraw back into the ranks, still poised as if ready to leap forward at any moment, their eyes gleaming with an unprecedented light.

Only then did Wang Zuoyuan turn back and bow to Zhu Youjian. "Your Majesty, the Hanlin academicians, in their concern for the affairs of state, forgot themselves for a moment. This subject begs Your Majesty's forgiveness."

Zhu Youjian, however, smiled and shook his head.

"The loss of composure among my ministers springs from love for me and love for our Great Ming. It gladdens my heart—how could I possibly take offense?"

He raised a hand in a calming gesture and said gently, "Yet this question cannot be exhausted in a single word, nor answered in a single day. All of you, return to your places."

Only then did those who had stepped forward reluctantly cup their hands and withdraw one by one back into the ranks.

Zhu Youjian watched them, then slowly walked back to the side of the imperial desk.

Every eye followed his steps, as if following the inaugurator of an era.

He turned around and asked:

"Gentlemen, have any of you read the statecraft public notices posted these past few days?"

Most of those below nodded at once; only a few showed embarrassed expressions.

Zhu Youjian nodded; this did not surprise him.

"Today I entrust this question to you all. You may each submit a memorandum in the manner of the statecraft public notices, to resolve this perplexity for me."

"…This time, let us set a limit of ten days."

He paused, swept his gaze around the hall, and a faint, meaningful smile appeared on his face.

"Gentlemen, this time, do not submit any more empty phrases like 'the ten great ills of the realm.'"

At these words, the assembled ministers below first stared blankly, then broke into a wave of knowing laughter.

The atmosphere in the hall relaxed at once.

The smile on Zhu Youjian's face, however, slowly faded. He adjusted his robes and cap, then faced the assembled ministers and, with grave formality, cupped his hands in a slight bow.

"Masters, please take the soup and rice."

The moment these words were spoken, every last laugh in the hall came to an abrupt halt.

The ministers fell to their knees in unison, their cries of gratitude rising like a mountain roar.

By the time they raised their heads again, the Emperor's figure had long since vanished behind the screen at the rear of the hall.

The atmosphere in the hall was silent for only a brief moment.

Then, in an instant, it boiled over into a roaring tumult!

Standing behind the screen, Zhu Youjian listened to the surging clamor of voices rising behind him, and the corner of his mouth curved into a smile.

His earlier inquiry for counsel at Wuying Hall had seemed the same as today's—both were questions about the ills of the realm.

Yet the people, the setting, the momentum, the mood—all were utterly different now!

No hurry, no hurry.

Take it slowly, bit by bit. In the end, everything will get better.

After all, just the thirty-some top-tier jinshi in this courtyard alone formed a cohort that the Later Jin and the rebel armies could not assemble in ten years of trying.

The advantage is mine—how could I possibly lose!