Chapter 141: Can I Catch Any Fish? (Begging for Monthly Tickets!)

The Fishing Terrace in the Western Park.

The lake surface was smooth as a mirror, reflecting the clear blue sky and the lakeside weeping willows just beginning to yellow.

(Image attached: scenery of the mid-lake pavilion at the Fishing Terrace, just in autumn — absolutely gorgeous)

A fishing rod extended out at an angle; the bamboo shaft held perfectly still in the faint breeze, only the gossamer-fine line dipping into the water, spreading a faint, barely-there ripple across the surface.

Behind the rod was Zhu Youjian, dressed in informal robes.

He did not hold the rod; both hands were tucked inside his wide sleeves, his body leaning slightly forward, his gaze resting on the float upon the water, his eyes distant — it was hard to tell whether he was watching for fish or simply taking in the lake's autumn scenery.

Before him, an inconspicuous groove had been cut into the white marble terrace, and the butt of the rod sat securely wedged within it.

Wang Tiqian stood hunched in attendance three paces behind him, eyes on his nose, nose on his heart, breathing as lightly as he could, fearful of disturbing this tranquility.

All around, apart from the occasional birdcall and the rustle of wind through the willow tips, there was not the slightest other sound.

A long while passed — so long that Wang Tiqian thought the Emperor had entered deep meditation — before Zhu Youjian's indifferent voice drifted out at last.

"Wang Tiqian, do you suppose there are fish in this lake?"

The voice was not loud, yet it rang exceptionally clear in the stillness.

Wang Tiqian hurried a step forward, the smile on his face humble and reverent.

"Replying to His Majesty, this living water of the Western Park has new fish released by the Directorate of Palace Attendants every year. Never mind ordinary fish — even rarities like golden-scaled carp and jade-tailed crucian are far from few."

"One supposes the night chill has sent the fish all sinking to the bottom to warm themselves, and they simply cannot be bothered to stir."

Zhu Youjian gave an "Mm," his gaze still not leaving the water.

"Then is it that the bait is not fragrant enough?"

Wang Tiqian bent his waist even lower, and the smile on his face grew all the more earnest: "His Majesty jests. The bait used by the Imperial Kitchens is choice millet blended with sesame oil and honey. Never mind the fish — even this slave finds it sweet and fragrant just smelling it."

"One supposes the fish filling this pool are all too dull-witted, failing to recognize the preciousness of the dragon's bait, and so miss out on this heaven-sent good fortune."

Zhu Youjian nodded and said nothing more, merely continuing to stare blankly at the fishing line.

The sunlight gradually slanted lower, stretching his shadow long and casting it across the white marble balustrade behind him.

He knew there were fish in the lake, and the bait was fragrant enough.

It was just that the fish were at the bottom, each with its own calculations.

Some were watching, some were testing, and some were waiting for another fish to take the hook first.

Still waters run deep; what hears the clamor is not the fish, but my own heart.

Was what he was waiting for, after all, really the fish in this lake?

At the same time, several dozen civil officials in robes of various colors, led by two junior eunuchs, were passing through gate after gate of the palace, making their way toward Huangji Hall.

At the very front of the procession was Han Kuang, the former Grand Secretary who had just been recalled to office.

Soon, Huangji Hall came into view.

The moment Han Kuang stepped across the great hall's threshold, he froze entirely.

The hall was not arranged as it usually was for the Daily Lecture, with only a single imperial desk; instead, as if for a palace examination, over a hundred desks and chairs had been set out in neat rows.

On every desk sat a cup of plain tea.

And beside the desks, at intervals, stood several screens — only the screens were covered with a layer of plain white paper, so one could not see what lay behind them at all.

(Image attached: the base image is from a real photograph of Huangji Hall)

Just as he stood in astonishment, Huang Liji beside him gave a light laugh and clapped him familiarly on the shoulder.

"Brother Yuchen, go find your nameplate — every desk has a placard on it."

With that, Huang Liji glanced about for a moment, then walked straight to the very first desk on the left in the front row and seated himself unhurriedly.

Han Kuang hesitated briefly; behind him, a number of officials currently holding office had already found their places and taken their seats one after another.

Only he and a few others beside him, all ministers likewise just recalled, still stood where they were, somewhat at a loss.

Huang Liji, already seated, seemed to have grown eyes in the back of his head; he turned around and beckoned to Han Kuang.

"Brother Yuchen, come — your seat is over here."

Han Kuang looked in the direction he pointed and saw it was a place in the third row.

He walked over hesitantly and sat down.

The chair was made of fine rosewood and fitted with a cushion, thick and warm.

The moment he sat, he could not help but let out a comfortable sigh of relief.

Ever since he had been dismissed, Wei Zhongxian had further charged him with embezzling two thousand taels; he had sold off all his family property and borrowed from relatives and old friends before barely scraping together the fine.

In the end, he could only take wretched shelter in a thatched hut beside the ancestral graves.

It was only later, when the storm gradually subsided, that with the aid of old friends he was able to move back into a proper residence.

But that thatched hut had been dank and cold; in barely a year, it had left him with the affliction of icy, aching hands and feet whenever the weather turned cold.

He shifted his body unconsciously; the warm, comfortable sensation made him unaccustomed, but what he felt even more was a nameless unease.

As it happened, Lai Zongdao, the Minister of Rites, was seated just to his right-front.

Han Kuang frowned, lowered his voice, and said with a serious expression: "Brother Ziyou, this seems not to conform to the ancestral system. The Daily Lecture is a regular part of the Classics Colloquium, intended to resolve the sovereign's doubts — when has it ever been arranged like this?"

Lai Zongdao turned his head, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face, and for a moment did not know what to say.

This sort of matter — say it is important, it is not so important; say it is trivial, it is not so trivial.

Normally, the ancestral system was to be upheld, but the various ministers were hardly made of base bone; they still understood what was more comfortable.

In this Great Ming, whatever benefited the civil officials was always the ancestral system, and whatever did not benefit them was a malady to be reformed — where had there ever truly been such a thing as the ancestral system?

Out of concern for his reputation, he had submitted several memorials remonstrating; the Emperor had only replied with gentle words but never changed a thing, and over time he had grown too lazy to trouble himself further.

Just at that moment, someone nearby gave a light snort and said in a strange, barbed tone: "If every single matter must adhere to the ancestral system, then the Founding Emperor's punishment of flaying and stuffing with straw ought to be restored as well."

Han Kuang's heart surged with anger; he whipped his head around, but saw everyone around him sitting upright and proper — some looking down at their tea, some adjusting their robes and caps — and he could not tell at all who had jabbed at him.

His chest heaved for a spell, but in the end he forcibly suppressed his temper.

After years away from the capital, how have these juniors grown so utterly insolent!

One after another, the merit nobles, the Hanlin, and the Supervising Secretaries of the Six Offices of Scrutiny also filed in.

A motley gathering of over a hundred men in all.

Everyone found their nameplates and took their seats; acquaintances leaned across the gaps, conversing in hushed tones, until the hall buzzed with noise, taking on the clamor of a marketplace.

"What is this really about? Is it truly the Daily Lecture?"

"I doubt it. Since when does the Daily Lecture have this kind of scale? That last question about the problems of the Great Ming — if they're going to lay it all out today, it can only be the usual few items: official discipline, fiscal affairs, border matters. That being the case, could it be that new policies are to be decided today?"

"If new policies are to be decided, how can everyone be seated? What a breach of decorum!"

At this last remark, no one picked up the thread.

Just then, a junior eunuch stepped before the hall, flicked his horsetail whisk with a snap, and sang out in a piercing voice: "Silence!"

The civil and military officials, long drilled in protocol, shut their mouths almost by reflex, and the great hall fell instantly quiet.

Only then did Gao Shiming, the seal-holding eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, slowly emerge from the shadows at the side of the hall.

He gave a light cough, swept his gaze across the assembly, and declared in a clear voice:

"Now that everyone is present, this slave shall announce the agenda for today's Daily Lecture."

"Ten days ago, His Majesty left a question, saying: 'What is the problem of the Great Ming today?' Many Hanlin masters took pains to submit several dozen statecraft essays. After reading and annotating them, His Majesty was greatly pleased, finding much of benefit within, and even declared that a 'Number One Magnificent Essay Under Heaven' has emerged. Unwilling to enjoy it alone, His Majesty has therefore summoned all you ministers to appreciate it together."

The moment his words fell, a wave of barely suppressed exclamations rippled through the hall.

The section where the Hanlin Academy sat was especially stirred in an instant. Every Hanlin Academician, Expositor-in-Waiting, and Junior Compiler straightened his back, his eyes darting eagerly left and right, his face brimming with anticipation and self-regard.

Number One Magnificent Essay Under Heaven!

Could it be my own?

It must be!

My essay — replete with classical allusions, cutting to the bone — who else but me?

"Silence!"

The junior eunuch shouted again, this time needing three shouts in succession before the gradually unraveling scene quieted once more.

The Emperor was absent, this "Daily Lecture" was no traditional Daily Lecture, and Gao Shiming was no Wei Zhongxian, a powerful eunuch with years of accumulated authority; the mood of the crowd had, without their quite realizing it, relaxed considerably.

Gao Shiming showed no irritation. He waited until complete silence fell before continuing.

"The Hanlin Academy submitted a total of thirty-seven statecraft essays in response to this question."

"The Scriptorium of the Directorate of Ceremonial has, by decree, printed them into bound volumes. You are all requested to finish reading them before His Majesty arrives. The time allotted is two shichen."

"His Majesty will arrive at Huangji Hall at the initial quarter of the shen hour to deliberate with you all."

Gao Shiming waved a hand, and several dozen junior eunuchs immediately filed in, distributing thick stacks of volumes, still carrying the scent of ink, to everyone present.

Han Kuang received his volume and felt his arm sink sharply under the weight.

It was over a foot thick!

Gao Shiming, observing the shocked expressions of the crowd, added in a measured tone: "Gentlemen, please begin."

The moment his words fell, the hall erupted in an even more intense buzz of discussion than before.

"Two shichen? To read through a volume over a foot thick? How is that possible!"

"Statecraft essays nowadays are all like this — they emphasize empirical evidence and data. Without ten thousand characters as a foundation, one is too embarrassed to call it an essay," a young Hanlin explained to the person beside him, rather smugly.

"Look, the ink on these pages doesn't seem fully dry yet. Were they truly printed overnight?"

"Huh? Why are none of these policy essays signed?"

Han Kuang did not join the discussion. He raised his head and swept his eyes across the clamorous hall; his gaze happened to meet Liu Hongxun's diagonally opposite. Both men saw in the other's eyes a trace of deep bewilderment.

He lifted his head again, looking toward the dragon throne at the very front of the hall — high above, yet empty — and his brows furrowed tightly.

Is this the newly enthroned sovereign?

Why… does he conduct affairs so unconventionally?

Governing the state requires steadiness. Such frivolity, even if accompanied by leniency and clever ingenuity, ultimately does the realm no good.

He shook his head, put aside further thought, and reached for the topmost memorial.

A line of bold, sweeping title instantly met his eyes.

Memorial on Official Indiscipline as the Foremost Malady Under Heaven

The title alone exuded an air of judgment that brooked no doubt.

Han Kuang drew a deep breath and opened to the main text.

The opening was a commanding, soul-stirring statement that set the theme from a commanding height.

"To set right the branches, one must first straighten the root; to purify the stream, one must first cleanse the source."

"Officials are the root of the state and the source of governance. For the affairs of the realm, the difficulty lies not in establishing laws, but in ensuring the laws are enforced; the worry is not a lack of worthy men, but the failure to elevate the worthy."

"The accumulated ills of the Great Ming today are tangled and manifold, a thousand threads in disarray, yet when one traces them to their root, they all stem from the impurity of official discipline."

"Offices are bloated and affairs neglected; personnel are superfluous and governance slack. Good policies from above do not reach the common people; the sufferings of the common people do not reach the sovereign."

"If this malady is not excised, then new policies cannot be implemented, the national treasury cannot be replenished, and the border cannot be pacified."

"Therefore, your subject holds that the problems of the Great Ming today, numerous and complex as they are, have one paramount issue: official indiscipline, and that alone!"

Han Kuang could not help murmuring a word of praise.

Could this be that Number One Magnificent Essay Under Heaven?

He could not resist narrowing his eyes. He turned to the second page and drew the volume closer.

"Data on Graft Among County Magistrates of This Dynasty — Table 1"

And then, dense rows of figures arrayed in a table.

Han Kuang drew a sharp breath.

He raised his head and looked around. The crowd was absorbed in reading, and the noise had gradually subsided.

He looked down again at this booklet.

A moment later he opened the other several booklets, flipped through them briefly, and found that indeed every page was filled with tables.

This…

This, this, this?!

How is this statecraft document different again from Xue Guoguan's road-building document?!

The Western Park, Fishing Terrace.

A junior eunuch ran up behind Zhu Youjian and announced, "Your Majesty, things have already begun over at Huangji Hall."

Zhu Youjian nodded, but placed a finger to his lips and gave a soft "Shh."

"Keep your voice down. Don't startle my fish."

The eunuchs and palace maids attending nearby, hearing this, all at once held their breath, not daring even to exhale heavily.

Heaven and earth stretched vast and still; only the sound of wind, the chirping of birds, and the rustle of leaves brushed by the breeze remained.

Two hours passed in a flash.

Inside Huangji Hall, the atmosphere gradually grew lively again.

Some of the quicker readers had already set down their booklets and begun conversing in low voices with those seated beside them.

The slower readers still furrowed their brows, carefully savoring every word and every line.

"Truly well written! Incisive and penetrating, rousing and enlightening!"

"They always say Hanlin officials can only flourish a pen and dabble in ink, never doing any real work. Seeing this today, I now know how grossly mistaken that saying is. Several pieces among these — without profound insight into local governance, they absolutely could not have been written."

"What is so surprising about that? Though they reside in the capital, they can consult the memorials of past years at any time, and they have fellow graduates, fellow disciples, and fellow townsmen serving in the various ministries whom they can inquire of. With a little more diligence, producing these is hardly remarkable."

Some were deeply worried: "These thirty-seven essays have touched upon nearly every malady of our Great Ming. If we attempt to advance new policies on all fronts simultaneously, it may prove too hasty — going too far is as bad as not going far enough."

"Indeed. Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish. Such breakneck speed, I fear, is no blessing for the altars of state."

Still others shook their heads and pointed out with piercing clarity: "Fine as these essays are, the matters they discuss are, after all, confined to particular corners. His Majesty asked about the problems of 'all under Heaven.' These policy essays, it seems, do not yet quite live up to the title of 'the finest writing under Heaven.'"

"Speaking of which — do you all think His Majesty's examination topic for selecting scholars this session might also be this?"

The moment these words were spoken, the area around that man fell silent for an instant, and then erupted into a discussion more intense than any before.

Just at that moment, a crisp crack of the whip sounded from outside the hall.

Immediately after came the junior eunuch's shrill, drawn-out announcement.

"His Majesty — ascends the hall —!"

Huang Liji and the other serving officials rose to their feet almost instantly, strode quickly to the open space of the central aisle, lifted their official robes, and knelt.

The rest, seeing this, followed suit one after another, leaving their seats to kneel.

In the blink of an eye, the hall was a dense, dark mass of kneeling figures.

"His Majesty — takes the throne —!"

"Long live His Majesty! Long live! Long live ten thousand years!"

A sound like roaring mountains and surging seas echoed through Huangji Hall.

Zhu Youjian walked slowly up the imperial steps, seated himself upon the dragon throne, and raised his hand.

"My ministers, rise. Be seated."

The crowd rose one after another. Huang Liji and his colleagues, long accustomed to this, went straight back to their seats and sat down.

Han Kuang hesitated a moment, then also returned to his seat.

The feeling this time, however, was even stranger than before.

Whether the Emperor was present or not — the act of sitting was the same, yet the feeling was as different as heaven and earth.

Zhu Youjian spoke no pleasantries, merely saying flatly, "Companion Gao, proceed to the next segment."

Gao Shiming bowed to receive the order, then waved his hand. At once, a dozen or so junior eunuchs walked to stand solemnly before those screens covered with white paper.

Gao Shiming cleared his throat, and his voice carried to every corner of the great hall.

"His Majesty has finished reviewing all thirty-seven statecraft documents. His Majesty has said: unless a matter is thoroughly explained, no submission is permitted. Thus, after being sent back for revision many times, each document is now limited to discussing a single matter."

"The various Hanlin masters each expressed their own views, each had their own specialized research, but in summary, it all comes down to no more than three matters: official governance, military administration, and fiscal taxation."

"The Directorate of Ceremonial has already collated them according to the frequency with which these three matters were mentioned. Gentlemen, please look to the screens."

Gao Shiming gestured toward the screens, and the dozen or so junior eunuchs immediately reached out and, in unison, stripped away the first layer of plain white paper covering them!

The civil and military officials in the hall looked up instinctively — and in the next instant, every man's pupils sharply contracted.

There upon the screens was drawn, stark and bold, an enormous and peculiar "cake."

This "cake" was divided into three sections, each a different color, with clear annotations written beside them in standard script.

Gao Shiming's voice rang out again at just the right moment.

"This is a 'pie chart,' invented by His Majesty, used to express visually the relative proportions of things."

"The blue portion represents 'official governance,' mentioned a total of nineteen times, accounting for half."

"The yellow portion represents 'fiscal taxation,' mentioned a total of eleven times."

"The red portion represents 'military administration,' mentioned a total of seven times."

Looking at this novel chart, nearly everyone understood its meaning at first glance.

Visualized charts inherently align with humanity's most intuitive cognitive habits; being easy to understand and clear is precisely their greatest strength.

Yet before they could even marvel at the ingenuity of such an invention, an even more momentous piece of news followed hard on its heels.

Gao Shiming continued: "His Majesty is of the view that, although the Hanlin masters are full of ardent zeal for country and people, they have, after all, long dwelt in their studies and have not experienced local governance firsthand. What they say may, perhaps, always be somewhat biased."

"Whereas all of you present here are the pillars of our Great Ming's court, the beams of the state. His Majesty also wishes to see the inclinations of each of you. Only thus will these be true words of state counsel."

As his words fell, he waved his hand once more.

Several junior eunuchs immediately carried up a long table, upon which were placed three green bamboo tubes half the height of a man. On the tubes were written, in characters the size of a bushel: Official Governance, Fiscal Taxation, Military Administration.

Several more eunuchs pushed over a number of screens, enclosing the long table and leaving only a small opening on one side, just wide enough for one person to pass through.

Gao Shiming announced clearly, "In a moment, each of you, my lords, will be given three red beans. You may enter behind the screens one by one and drop your beans into the bamboo tubes you deem most important."

"The three red beans may all be cast into a single tube, or divided between two or three tubes, entirely according to each lord's own judgment."

With that, he bowed deeply toward Zhu Youjian on the dragon throne and withdrew to one side.

Only then did Zhu Youjian slowly speak:

"Gentlemen, you may begin."

"Let me see what my Great Ming's pillars of state truly think of these great ills plaguing the realm."

Not to institute democracy — you'll never guess what I'm actually going to do.