Chapter 241: Carrying Forward the Ancestral Enterprise, Rousing the Deaf and Awakening the Unhearing

With the three matters of Heaven, Earth, and Man settled, the full content of the Northern Metropolitan New Policies was now in order.

But the once-a-month grand assembly was not solely about the Northern Metropolitan New Policies.

Zhu Youjian struck his wooden gavel again and again, pulling out matter after matter in a flowing stream and nailing each one down.

For example, the previously glossed-over reorganization of the Capital Camps now had detailed rules and a final resolution.

It was decided to first select and purge, leaving ten thousand elite troops to serve as seed troops, then gradually expand from there.

Chief Supervising Secretary of the Office of Scrutiny for Personnel Yang Suoxiu took up the post of Capital Camp Military Administration Minister.

Directorate of Ceremonial brush-holder Cao Huachun took up the post of Superintendent Eunuch of the Capital Camps.

Xiangcheng Count Li Shouqi took up the post of Capital Camp Superintending Minister.

The Capital Camps' triumvirate was placed under Yang Suoxiu's overall charge, reporting directly to the Emperor.

And Huo Weihua, who had been acting head of the Ministry of War for two months, was today confirmed in the post, the word "acting" finally torn away.

From Left Vice Minister of War, he became the true Minister of War.

Next came the report on the new structure after the Ministry of Revenue's reform.

It mainly concerned the appointments of the heads of the various newly established bureaus and departments, as well as their work plans.

Among them, the newly formed Bureau of Fiscal Estimates submitted the first draft budget for the first year of the Yongchang reign.

In this draft, the Two Capitals and Thirteen Provinces no longer owed back taxes, Liaodong military expenditures had decreased somewhat, and with the possible tax increases from the Northern Metropolitan Region's land survey, the Great Ming could finally achieve an annual surplus of nearly one million taels!

This draft budget was thrown back by Zhu Youjian on the spot.

"With seas calm and rivers clear like that, what dream are you living in?"

The Yongchang Emperor issued his supreme directive.

"Fiscal estimates — do not consider how the money is to come in.

Report the facts objectively and impartially. Report all the facts, and nothing more.

The problem of money is for Us and the other departments to solve."

Therefore, on one hand, he demanded that annual revenues be re-determined under three scenarios: worst-case, average, and best-case.

On the other hand, he demanded that the ten million taels in troop pay arrears owed under the old pay system be set to a five-year debt repayment plan, gradually incorporated into each year's expenditures. In addition, there was discussion of the administrative task objectives for the Provincial Administration Commission teams in every province for the coming year;

the report and review of the latest official documents from the Liaodong Pay Audit Team;

the Ministry of Justice's report on the progress of the Huangshan case, the Yang Hao case, the Wang Huazhen case, and so on and so forth.

Tea breaks came and went, one round after another.

By the hour of You, with several agenda items still unfinished, a working meal was simply brought in directly.

Each person was handed a wooden tray, each with four dishes and a soup.

The Court of Imperial Entertainments had taken the ingredients directly and set up stoves near Wuying Hall to cook everything on the spot.

As for Zhu Youjian, he dined alone on noodles that Changqiu had personally prepared in the kitchen.

Sovereign and ministers ate as they listened to the newly appointed Regional Inspector of the Eight Prefectures of the Northern Metropolitan Region, Yuan Keli, report on the initial oversight mechanisms.

"The oversight mechanisms shall consist of three items: periodic inspection tours, county magistrate reporting, and village elders entering the capital..."

"The periodic inspection tours shall have two lines: open inspection and covert investigation..."

"Should a censor be corrupt, and the evidence verified, the accuser shall receive one red mark, the accused ten black marks, and the latter shall never be employed again..."

"This subject believes that at the beginning of these New Policies, it is necessary to overcorrect, for otherwise the previous culture of corruption cannot be rectified..."

As Yuan Keli spoke, the ministers below smacked their lips.

Some sipped soup, some picked their teeth, and Zhu Youjian himself slurped his noodles down with a storm-like inhalation.

Inside the whole of Wuying Hall, there was, one might say, not a shred of the ritual decorum befitting the pinnacle of Great Ming power.

Yet everyone was immersed in this frenzy — or perhaps exhaustion — of incessantly deliberating plan after plan.

The entire grand assembly, dealing with the New Policies to be implemented in the first year of Yongchang — some finalized, some debated and discussed, some assigned as tasks, and everything in between — did not conclude until the hour of Xu. When the heavy doors of Wuying Hall were pushed open once more, the newly appointed Grand Secretary Li Banghua stepped out and was immediately struck by a shiver from the cold wind. He looked up instinctively at the sky and saw a bright moon hanging high, the stars sparse. Only then did it dawn on him, with a start, that it was already deep into the night. Behind him, his colleagues filed out one after another.

Every face was etched with exhaustion, yet hidden between their brows was a trace of indescribable excitement.

The crowd gradually dispersed.

The four Grand Secretaries of the Grand Secretariat walked together, but for a moment they were all too tired to speak.

They walked the long palace path in silence, and only when the towering outline of the Gate of Accepting Heaven was in sight did Zheng Sanjun finally let out a long sigh and speak first, his voice tinged with hoarseness.

"This... has the New Policies assembly procedure always been like this?"

Huang Liji and Li Guopu stopped in their tracks simultaneously at his words.

Li Banghua also came back to his senses and looked at these two "old veterans" with a last shred of hope.

In the night breeze, Huang Liji sighed with a bitter smile.

"Otherwise, why do you think those in the New Policies get three days of rest a month, while those in the old government get only one?"

That single sentence left Zheng Sanjun and Li Banghua speechless.

Indeed, with deliberations of such intensity, without sufficient rest, even a man of iron could not endure it.

The four men continued on their way in silence.

As they reached the Gate of Accepting Heaven, Li Guopu, seeming to want to lighten the mood, forced a smile and said:

"Actually, for this kind of grand assembly, by convention, there is no need to report for duty tomorrow morning, so it counts as an extra half-day of rest."

But no one paid him any attention.

The other three simply trudged on with their heads down, single-mindedly thinking of home.

That pointless remark was swept away by the night wind, vanishing without a trace.

The hour of Hai.

Lingji Palace, separated from Rabbit Hill in the Western Park by a single wall.

This was the temporary lodging of the newly appointed Court Historian Zhang Maoxiu.

After bathing and changing, the old man, nearing seventy, did not retire. Instead, he sat beneath the lamp, carefully leafing through and pondering the minutes of today's meeting. The handwriting in the notebook began neat and orderly, gradually dissolved into running script by the middle, and by the end had become a wild, soaring tangle of cursive — a scrawl fit for a dog, a clear sign of the meeting's rapid pace and the density of its agenda.

He thought and thought, recalling certain details, and was about to take up his brush to correct and supplement the illegible passages, lest tomorrow he himself could not make out what he had written.

Tap, tap, tap.

The door was gently knocked.

"Granduncle, have you retired?"

A vigorous young voice came from outside the door.

A trace of a smile appeared on Zhang Maoxiu's face. He spoke: "Come in. I have not yet slept."

Before the words had faded, a young man with thick brows, a bristling beard, and a spirited, heroic bearing eagerly pushed open the door and entered — none other than the newly enfeoffed Duke of Xingguo, Zhang Tongchang. He strode to the desk in a few steps, first glancing down curiously, and asked, "Granduncle, are you organizing the minutes of today's meeting?" Zhang Maoxiu nodded and said gently, "Since I have taken up the post of court historian, I must devote myself to it fully. I cannot bring shame upon your great-grandfather's illustrious name." "Mm!" Zhang Tongchang responded, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

His eyes were startlingly bright. Unable to contain himself, he pressed on with his questions: "Granduncle, His Majesty has ordered me to enter the palace for an audience tomorrow. What do you say... will be discussed? I am now a member of the merit nobility — could it be that he intends to assign me to military affairs? The Capital Camps? The Front Guard of the Fu-jun Garrison? Or the Valiant Guard Camp? Surely he wouldn't send me directly to Liaodong? What is your view, Granduncle?"

"Or perhaps it may not be military affairs at all? I could serve in the new policy offices as well! The Secretariat? Or as a subordinate officer to a Regional Inspector Censor in Northern Zhili? What is your view, Granduncle?"

"Right! Should I write a statecraft policy essay on the land equalization in Huguang? I know the local abuses best! If I could enter the Secretariat on the strength of my ability, rather than merely by virtue of a noble title, would that not be far better? What is your view, Granduncle?"

"And also..."

At first, Zhang Maoxiu had listened with a smile.

For a young man to possess keen spirit and drive was, after all, a good thing.

Had he himself been even a few years younger, and had His Majesty made him merely a recording historian, he too would certainly have argued his case with all reason.

Alas, the years spare no one. Now, nearing seventy, he could indeed only watch the surging tides of the new policies and sigh with idle emotion.

But as he watched Zhang Tongchang grow more and more excited, his thoughts more and more unmoored, Zhang Maoxiu's brow finally furrowed deeply, beyond his control. He said not a word, merely stopped the brush in his hand and looked at him coldly.

Zhang Tongchang had been speaking until his mouth was dry, pouring forth in an endless torrent. Only after a long while did he finally sense that something was amiss in the atmosphere.

Gradually, his words trailed off. Meeting his granduncle's stern gaze, his heart gave a sudden thump.

Both his grandfather and his father had died young.

He had been raised and taught single-handedly by this granduncle since childhood, and toward him he felt both reverence and fear.

"Granduncle..." He hurriedly bowed. "I... your grandnephew has been rash and impertinent."

Only then did Zhang Maoxiu slowly nod, yet he still did not speak, merely sighing softly.

That single sigh at once made Zhang Tongchang fidget and squirm, utterly at a loss, more agonizing than a direct scolding would have been.

After a long while, Zhang Maoxiu spoke again, his voice tinged with reminiscence.

"The way you are now — it is exactly the way I was in my youth."

He paused, then continued: "Only, back then, your great-grandfather wrote a letter to me with his own hand."

"Would you like to read it?"

Zhang Tongchang's heart finally eased a little. He quickly cupped his hands respectfully and said, "Your grandnephew would naturally wish to read it."

"It is good that you wish to read it," Zhang Maoxiu nodded. "At least your eyes have not yet been entirely blinded by this sudden flood of rank and fame."

With that, he made to rise and fetch the letter from the bookshelf, but the moment he turned, he froze in place.

A moment later, he turned back, shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile: "I had forgotten — this place is no longer our old home in Jiangling. That family letter is not here."

"No matter. I shall tell you of it."

Zhang Maoxiu clasped his hands behind his back and paced, his expression distant, and began to speak slowly.

"It was a matter of the first year of Wanli."

"I was barely fifteen then, and had already passed the juren examination. For a time, my arrogance swelled. I believed myself possessed of unmatched talent, peerless under heaven, and that all the realm's honors were mine for the taking, as easily as plucking an object from a pouch."

At this, he cast a sidelong glance at Zhang Tongchang.

"My father did not wish me to sit the metropolitan examination at once, believing my mastery was insufficient, my learning not yet mature. But how could I listen then? I insisted on taking it. My two elder brothers, doting on their youngest brother, ultimately persuaded Father otherwise."

"And yet..." He sighed. "My learning was insufficient. It truly was insufficient."

"In the second year of Wanli, I went to the capital for the metropolitan examination. I failed."

"In the fifth year of Wanli, I sat the examination again. I failed again."

"Seven years, twice falling into the dust of Sun Mountain — how could I not begin to doubt myself? And so I shut myself in my study, reading bitterly without rest, nearly to the point of madness. It was then that your great-grandfather wrote me that letter."

Zhang Tongchang was utterly absorbed. He could not help but press the question: "What... what did Great-Grandfather write in the letter?"

Zhang Maoxiu's gaze grew deep and distant. That letter, long since engraved into his very bones, surfaced in his mind word by word. He sat down first on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside him: "Sit. Your granduncle is old, and cannot stand for so long."

Once Zhang Tongchang had sat down as bidden, he began to speak slowly.

"Your great-grandfather said in the letter that he, too, had passed the juren examination at fifteen."

"In his elation and pride, he looked down not only on his peers and elders, but even on the ancient worthies — Qu Yuan, Song Yu, Ban Chao, Sima Qian — he thought them nothing special. He believed the honors of the imperial examinations were his for the asking, and so he abandoned the core study of the classics, turning instead to gallop after those seemingly profound ancient texts." At this, he glanced again at Zhang Tongchang.

Though he said nothing, it was as if he had said everything.

Zhang Tongchang's face instantly flushed red.

His great-grandfather had passed the juren at fifteen. His granduncle had passed the juren at fifteen. And he himself, already nineteen this year, had just failed the provincial examination.

In natural talent, he was far inferior to his elders, yet earlier he had been so wildly arrogant — truly the ugly display of a petty man puffed up by success.

Seeing that he understood the crux of the matter, Zhang Maoxiu did not press further. He merely continued in an even tone:

"But that, in truth, was not the most critical point."

"Your great-grandfather went on in the letter: 'Our family rose by the Odes and the Documents. All my life I have endured hardship and striven in conduct, wishing to set an example for later generations. I dare not think myself inferior to those ancient houses of virtue.'"

"'I had hoped that you would inherit this resolve, carry it forward and make it great, that you might stand alongside worthy ministers and famed chancellors like Yi Yin and Fu Yue, your names recorded together in the annals of history! Did I merely wish for you to steal a degree of rank, to bring luster to the door of our Zhang clan, as simple as that?'"

At these words, Zhang Tongchang was even more overcome with shame, nearly burying his head in his chest.

Only then did Zhang Maoxiu look at him and ask:

"The title of Duke of Xingguo — is it your achievement, or your great-grandfather's achievement?"

Zhang Tongchang could sit no longer. He rose abruptly and bowed deeply with clasped hands: "It is Great-Grandfather's achievement."

Zhang Maoxiu continued to ask: "Do you now possess the talent to order the heavens and the earth, the learning to secure the state and bring peace to the realm?"

Zhang Tongchang's head drooped even lower: "This grandnephew... has not. I failed the juren examinations; my scholarship is lacking."

Zhang Maoxiu pressed further: "Then are you now proficient in bow and horse, thoroughly versed in the military affairs of the nine border zones, and keenly aware of the strengths and weaknesses of every strategic garrison and military system across the realm?"

Zhang Tongchang's voice had dwindled to the faintest mosquito hum: "This grandnephew... is not. My bow and horsemanship are passable at best, and of military affairs I am utterly ignorant."

Zhang Maoxiu's voice turned abruptly stern!

"Your merit does not match your title, your learning does not match your name, your virtue does not match your station — where in the world does this arrogance of yours come from?!"

By this point, Zhang Tongchang was drenched in cold sweat, thoroughly sobered.

He bowed deeply once more, all the way down: "I beg Granduncle to show me the way out of this maze!"

Only then did Zhang Maoxiu step forward, raise him up, and resume a gentle tone.

"Tomorrow when you enter the palace for audience, you must on no account behave with such wild arrogance. In all things, hold fast to one word alone: 'sincerity.'"

"What you know, what you do not know — say it plainly. That is sincerity."

"What you can do, what you cannot do — reveal it clearly, without pretense. That is sincerity."

"Among the things you know and the things you can do, choose what you are most confident in and most willing to undertake, and report it plainly to His Majesty. This too is sincerity. Do you understand?"

The confusion and fevered passion in Zhang Tongchang's eyes faded entirely, replaced by clarity and resolve. He cupped his hands solemnly: "This grandnephew understands!"

"Good," Zhang Maoxiu nodded with satisfaction and waved him off. "Go now, rest early. When you enter for audience tomorrow, do not bring shame upon the Zhang family name." Zhang Tongchang saluted and withdrew.

Yet when he reached the door, he suddenly stopped and turned back around.

Zhang Maoxiu had already lowered his head, preparing to resume sorting his record book.

Then he heard Zhang Tongchang say: "Granduncle, when this grandnephew's arrogance flared up just now, in truth... it was not solely for this title of Duke Xingguo."

Zhang Maoxiu's hand paused, but he did not look up.

"This grandnephew's arrogance is not for the glory or disgrace of one man alone, nor for the rise or fall of one family!"

"In truth, the present age is a transformation unseen in three dynasties, a great enterprise unmatched in a thousand years!"

"This grandnephew is fortunate to be born into such a flourishing moment — how could my heart not surge, how could I not be stirred to action!"

"Therefore, of the arrogance Granduncle reproved, half this grandnephew acknowledges, but the other half I cannot concede."

"I, Zhang Tongchang, am no mere seeker of titles and enterprise. I, Zhang Tongchang, will most certainly never disgrace the Zhang family name!"

Only then did Zhang Maoxiu raise his head and look at his grandnephew in the doorway.

There stood the nineteen-year-old Duke Xingguo, poised between the shadow of the doorframe and the lamplight within the hall, his figure ramrod-straight.

Zhang Maoxiu shook his head with a smile and said, "I understand."

"Yes!" Zhang Tongchang nodded earnestly. Only then did he gently close the door and withdraw.

Zhang Maoxiu smiled and shook his head once more, then sat back down beneath the lamp and opened that record book.

He had intended to make a few revisions before sleep, lest he forget the details upon waking tomorrow.

But looking at those messy, dog-scratch characters, he froze for a moment.

That family letter — how could it have contained only what he had told Zhang Tongchang?

Over these fifty years, he had forgotten many things, yet that letter alone was carved into his very marrow; he had not forgotten a single word.

— Now that you wish me to leave you unquestioned, I naturally dare not lay heavy reproaches upon you. But you ought to reflect more deeply, and not be content to abandon yourself.

— Take the single matter of calligraphy: I nagged and exhorted you earnestly for several years, yet your writing remains slovenly and error-ridden, with hardly the slightest improvement. Can this too be ordained by fate?

— Is a mere trifling skill something that requires years of grinding away to master?

My words end here. You ponder them.

"Father..."

Beneath the candlelight, Zhang Maoxiu could not restrain his emotions, and once more tears fell unbidden.

"I have practiced calligraphy for decades, and never imagined that even now, it would still be this slovenly..."