Chapter 249: Minister Yuan, You Remind Me Very Much of Someone (With Thanks to Our Alliance Leader, Wo Wei Shu Kuang)

Yuan Chonghuan finished speaking, and despite himself, a faint unease stirred in his heart.

He knew well that the strategy he had just presented was a risky, radical, one might even say "untimely" proposal.

But the situation seemed far too dire to allow him to look ahead and behind—he had no choice but to stake everything on this gamble.

After receiving the summons to return to office in his hometown, he had immediately taken his servants and set out.

Yet as he traveled north along the post stations, issue after issue of the Great Ming Times came one upon another, and his state of mind shifted with them.

When he first departed, he was still brimming with confidence, certain that the Liaodong problem could not be solved without him.

By the time he reached the Jiangxi border and saw the paper's reports on the dispute over people and land, a surge of hot blood rushed straight to his crown; that very night at the post station, he wrote out his "Pacify Liaodong in Five Years" plan, his heart swelling with heroic fervor.

By the time he reached the Huguang border, word arrived that the new policies were to proceed according to the "cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, pacify the world" doctrine; he deliberated through the night and smoothly revised "Pacify Liaodong in Five Years" to "Pacify Liaodong in Seven Years."

By the time he reached the Henan border, he made a detour to Shangqiu to visit Hou Xun, who had once recommended him.

Only then did he learn that both Hou Xun and his brother Hou Ke had also been recalled to office and had long since entered the capital; only the elderly father, Hou Zhipu, and the youngest son, Hou Fangyu, remained at home. To find a friend absent, yet to see that old friends were finding success and fulfilling their ambitions—this was truly a fortunate thing.

But unfortunately, at Hou Zhipu's place he learned a piece of news that made his soul nearly flee his body in terror...

The slots for the new policy appointments would, in the twelfth month, be closed and locked!

The sky was falling!

This news so terrified Yuan Chonghuan that he no longer dared to travel at a leisurely pace, strolling along as if riding in a carriage.

He abandoned his carriage on the spot, switched to a fine steed, and drove himself day and night, racing a thousand li, and only just managed to charge into the capital in the first ten days of the eleventh month!

But it was only after entering the capital and meeting with his friends there that he realized just how much the Great Ming Times had left out!

And how much news he had utterly missed, unable to receive letters during his galloping journey!

Sun Chengzong had taken up his post in Jiliao, appearing to do nothing at all—merely appointing officers, conducting inspections, and broadly dispatching roving cavalry.

Yet by the weight of his past prestige, and riding the storm of the new policies, he had actually managed to press down on the surging undercurrents in Liaodong so hard that they dared not make a sound.

Everyone knew that the new Emperor's sword would eventually fall upon Liaodong, but when it would fall, where it would fall, and upon whom it would fall—of this they were utterly ignorant.

In the words of his own examination master, Mr. Han, this was precisely the posture of "a thunderbolt pressing down upon the head, drawn but not released."

And that thunderbolt, poised to strike but not yet striking...

Was the drill manual and training regulations that Sun Chuanting's military group was tinkering with.

Was the regulations and methods for clearing up military payrolls being discussed by Yuan Jixian's payroll-clearance team.

Was the self-purging, begun ahead of schedule, by Ma Shilong and those three thousand elite cavalry transferred from Liaodong who had just won their great victory at Qingcheng.

Was the Mongol entanglements and the matter of driving and employing them, pushed forward by Hong Chengchou and Wang Xiangqian at the Court of Colonial Affairs.

And even more, it was the matter, already gradually underway at the Ministry of War, of selecting and transferring a new round of elite Liaodong officers to the capital for concentrated training!

All these affairs, intertwined and interconnected, presented a grand and imposing spectacle—truly the momentum of Mount Tai pressing down upon one's head.

But the problem was... amid all these many affairs, where exactly was his, Yuan Chonghuan's, place?

His relations with Sun Chengzong and Ma Shilong had grown increasingly distant after the Battle of Liuhe.

Sun Chuanting, Yuan Jixian, and Hong Chengchou were juniors he had never even met.

All told, the only person he could speak to regarding Liaodong matters was Wang Xiangqian, who was merely doing transitional, supportive work at the Court of Colonial Affairs. Thus, it was not that Yuan Chonghuan did not understand that the proposal he had just presented was far too hasty.

But to fight for his own future, he could only do his utmost to expound to the new sovereign this one path—the path that only he, Yuan Chonghuan, could walk.

A path distinct from Sun Chengzong's slow accumulation of momentum, more thorough, and more in tune with the new policies!

Yuan Chonghuan drew a deep breath and waited for this young sovereign's question—or... his choice!

He had already designed responses for every eventuality.

No matter whether the new sovereign refuted or agreed, he had corresponding rhetoric prepared to make his case.

The key was to speak of how deeply mired and stagnant Liaodong affairs were, and to demonstrate his own, Yuan Ziru's, steely resolve, so as to prove that he was the man most suited for Liaodong! So long as he could make these two points clear, and demonstrate them clearly, even if he did not obtain great authority for the moment, he would eventually, step by step, gain the chance to paint on the Liaodong canvas! This was precisely the importance of the first question between sovereign and minister!

Yet, after hearing him out, Zhu Youjian merely shook his head gently.

"Minister Yuan, this view of yours is rather interesting."

"Indeed, governing the Northern Metropolitan Region and governing Liaodong, though the specific matters and personnel differ, share the same underlying principles."

"However..."

Zhu Youjian paused.

"Time is limited today; let us set aside the detailed strategy for now. I shall ask you about something else."

"Minister Yuan, aside from Liaodong affairs, is there anything else you wish to do?"

"If we speak of domestic governance, managing the people, purging the bureaucracy, or finance and taxation are all discussable; if we speak of foreign enemies, the Mongols, the southern barbarians, or the various Western tribes are also discussable. Or any other matter—all can be discussed."

Hearing these words, Yuan Chonghuan's heart instantly turned to ice.

Neither refutation nor agreement—he had simply skipped over Liaodong affairs entirely, without even discussing them?

Did he not understand?

Yuan Chonghuan gritted his teeth and, clinging to a sliver of hope, decided to express himself even more bluntly.

"Your Majesty, Liaodong is a mortal affliction at the very heart of our dynasty, devouring six or seven-tenths of the realm's wealth and taxes."

"Since this subject passed the imperial examinations, aside from two years' experience as a County Magistrate, all his time has been spent in Liaodong; all his thoughts, all his reflections, all the energy of his heart have been devoted to Liaodong." "In all matters—military corruption, the dereliction of military farmland, arrogant officers and indolent troops, flagging morale—there is none I am not intimately familiar with, none I do not thoroughly understand!" "Therefore, Your Majesty, for this subject to do any other task would be inferior to doing the task of Liaodong. This subject is confident he can cut the Liaodong levy to four million taels, and then select and train elite troops..." "Minister Yuan, do not be hasty." Zhu Youjian laughed heartily, cutting him off. "I said, today we shall not discuss detailed strategy."

He looked at Yuan Chonghuan and pressed on with his question.

"Aside from Liaodong affairs, then?"

"Even if today Minister Yuan is absolutely certain he must do Liaodong affairs, supposing that ten years hence Liaodong is pacified—what affairs would Minister Yuan wish to undertake then?"

"By then you will only be fifty-three; surely you would not simply retire to the countryside?"

Yuan Chonghuan fell silent.

After a long while, he finally rose to his feet, stepped away from his seat, and prostrated himself, his voice heavy.

"Your Majesty, this subject's aspiration, this subject's lifeblood, lies in Liaodong alone. Beyond this, there is no other matter in my heart!"

He lifted his head, struggling to keep his tone even, but the rims of his eyes had already reddened.

"If Your Majesty doubts this subject's ability, I can follow the path of the statecraft documents and submit a Liaodong strategy — by tomorrow, no, within this very day — that will be lash after lash of blood, blade after blade striking bone!"

"If Your Majesty reads that document and still feels this subject is not the talent to govern Liaodong, then I... have nothing more to say!"

"But if Your Majesty can truly trust this subject, I am willing to sign a military pledge!"

Yuan Chonghuan's voice suddenly rose, his eyes bloodshot, as he spoke each word with deliberate force.

"If I cannot pacify the Liaodong affair and exterminate the barbarian chieftain, then let my head be struck off to warn all the reckless boasters under heaven!"

"This subject is willing to proclaim this to the world, and with the resolve to burn the boats and break the cauldrons, pursue this matter with no turning back!"

With that, he bowed his head and kowtowed again, and did not rise for a long time.

The great hall fell utterly silent.

Time seemed to pass for a very long while — so long that the grief in Yuan Chonghuan's heart began to transform into a thread of unease.

Then, a tremendous force seized his arm, and he was practically lifted from the ground without the slightest power to resist.

Yuan Chonghuan raised his head and met the gentle eyes of the new sovereign, who was gripping his arm with one hand and merely shaking his head with a sigh. Yuan Chonghuan's heart plummeted to the abyss in an instant.

"Your Majesty..."

But Zhu Youjian dragged him back to his seat with such strength that he could not resist.

"Sit. Speak while seated." Zhu Youjian pressed him down, then turned and began pacing. "Let me think about how best to put this to you." Zhu Youjian sighed inwardly.

An interview, at its core, is about assessing whether a person's overall qualities are suited to a particular job.

Those qualities include ability, integrity, experience, attitude, and temperament.

For Zhu Youjian now, the assessment of ability, integrity, and experience had gradually begun to be delegated to the secretariat, the committees, and the Ministry of Personnel. After all, one man's energy is limited.

Since his enthronement, through document classification, he had released a portion of the authority to review and decide on memorials.

Later, he released a portion of the authority to review statecraft documents.

And now, he was beginning to release a portion of the authority to review, examine, and select talent.

His energy was increasingly turning toward improving and governing this talent-selection system itself.

Therefore, today's questions did not probe the detailed strategy.

Because the detailed strategy for Liaodong would naturally be forged by the combined efforts of all parties and ultimately presented to him.

Once the final version was set, whether right or wrong, they would simply execute it resolutely and maintain observation and adjustment.

No matter how grandiose, how critical, or how correct Yuan Chonghuan's detailed strategy might be, it still had to compete against Sun Chuanting, Yuan Jixian, and Ma Shilong, and only then be submitted to him in unified form.

He, Zhu Youjian, was no longer Liu Bei now.

He did not need a Zhuge Liang to present him with a Longzhong Plan. He only needed a pile of seventy-point men to present him with seventy-point plans, and then ensure a seventy-point attitude in execution — and he could crush the Later Jin openly and honorably.

Besides, whether these subordinates of his really only rated seventy points was hard to say.

One must always have the confidence that the present surpasses the past — not just for oneself, but for one's subordinates as well.

So, in interviewing Yuan Chonghuan today, he set aside all ability, integrity, and experience, and looked only at attitude and temperament.

As for attitude, it went without saying — a complete pass, even so much so that it surprised him somewhat.

The entire strategy presentation, and even the subsequent analysis, could almost be said to have erased all his past Liaodong thinking and become entirely centered on the sovereign.

One must understand that what Yuan Chonghuan had always striven for was not some pooling of collective will — because that was Sun Chengzong's path.

What he had hoped for was complete delegation of authority, allowing him to advance the Liaodong affair entirely according to his own plans in every respect.

The entire approach of the Northern Zhili New Policies was almost certainly the kind he disliked most.

This working method — where the upper and lower levels prepare in tandem, affairs are unified at the top, and those below can only exercise initiative within the framework — should have been quite uncomfortable for him. As for temperament...

Ah, it really did not quite pass muster.

Too impatient, too rash, too eager, even too arrogant.

Exactly as he had discerned from the floating texts and the memorials.

A double-edged sword, its edge too exposed — before it wounds others, it often wounds its wielder first.

How was he to place a blade this excessively sharp?

Yuan Chonghuan sat in his chair, watching the Emperor pace back and forth, his brow furrowing one moment and relaxing the next, a smile flickering across his face one moment and a shake of the head the next. It left his heart in turmoil.

At last, Zhu Youjian halted his steps and turned his head. "Minister Yuan, do you know — in my mind, you closely resemble someone."

Yuan Chonghuan's heart stirred.

Does Your Majesty mean Zeng Xian? That man who recklessly advocated the recovery of the Hetao, only to be beheaded by Emperor Shizong and have his wife and children exiled?

Sun Chengzong had indeed once admonished him with the story of that man's aspirations and his fate.

It would not be surprising if His Majesty had heard this story from Sun Chengzong.

But then Zhu Youjian spoke again, and his words left Yuan Chonghuan frozen on the spot.

"It is Mao Wenlong."

Zhu Youjian sighed softly.

"The more I think about it, the more I feel the resemblance is simply too strong."

He turned and walked back toward the imperial desk, speaking as he went.

"Back then, when Liaodong fell and ten thousand horses stood mute, Mao Wenlong, by the strength of one man, rallied a hundred valiant warriors and won the great victory at Zhenjiang — truly a voice in the empty valley. And later, in the sixth year of Tianqi, when Gao Di ordered the withdrawal from the passes and all believed Ningyuan could not be held, you, Yuan Chonghuan, swore a blood oath and won the great victory at Ningyuan with a lone army — deeply sufficient to restore pride to the frontier."

"However..."

"Were those two battles truly great victories?"

"They were, in truth, no more than that rare, precious gleam of brightness amid ten thousand mute horses and boundless darkness."

"The victory in those two battles was not a victory of our dynasty's military strength, nor a victory of planning and deployment — it was a victory of the Chinese people's surging spirit! These two victories can truly be called spirit that pierces the clouds, but they cannot be called spirit that swallows ten thousand li."

Having said this, Zhu Youjian finally sat down again behind the imperial desk and looked at Yuan Chonghuan.

"Minister Yuan, do you think you resemble him?"

Without waiting for Yuan Chonghuan to answer, he continued speaking.

"After that, Mao Wenlong, from his one corner of Dongjiang, constantly claimed great victories — was this to deceive the throne, to build himself up, or to collude with the enemy?"

"At present, I still cannot see it clearly."

"But reasoning from his temperament — might it be that in his heart, unless he did so, he could no longer strike a heroic pose, could no longer achieve the great enterprise he envisioned?" "In Mao Wenlong's heart, I fear he saw himself as the man fated to settle the Liaodong affair."

"And you, Minister Yuan…"

Zhu Youjian's words were soft and distant, yet they pierced straight to the heart.

"In your heart, I fear you also feel that the Liaodong affair cannot be done without you."

Yuan Chonghuan opened his mouth.

He wanted to refute it, yet for a moment he found he did not even know where to begin.

Was there any flaw or omission in this comparison?

There certainly was!

The two men's status, age, origins, background, career records, and strategic conceptions were entirely different — how could they be mentioned in the same breath?

But…

Looking only at the word 'temperament'…

Yuan Chonghuan was silent for a moment, and in the end only repeated the Emperor's last sentence.

"I have indeed always felt that the Liaodong affair cannot be done without me."

Zhu Youjian nodded and said:

"Temperament is not wrong, nor should it be condemned."

"But if one's heart holds only temperament, one's actions will become distorted."

"Minister Yuan must also have read the histories of past dynasties, and should know: to be entrusted with a regional command, one's ability may be merely average, but one's character must be steady." "I am not the sort of ruler who makes his ministers guess his thoughts. At this moment, I may as well tell you plainly."

He paused, and sighed.

"Minister Yuan, to speak frankly, I am somewhat disappointed in you."

"When many in the capital jointly recommended you, I came to speak with you holding great expectations."

"But after our talk today — setting aside talent for the moment — in temperament and disposition, you are truly unfit to serve as a regional commander."

"If you handled civil administration, haste and impatience would still leave room to make amends. If you set a tax wrong, you simply correct it; if you open the granaries to distribute grain, the common people will not, after all, be killed by rash impatience."

"But if you handle military affairs, a single mistake means the lives of tens of thousands of officers and soldiers thrown away in a single morning, a hundred cities and a thousand walls reduced to rubble."

"Therefore, the requirements for the two are not the same."

"Therefore, I asked you whether you had any other aspirations."

"You may go to Liaodong." Zhu Youjian did not wait for his reply, but directly gave the assignment. "Starting tomorrow, you, Sun Chuanting, Yuan Jixian, and Ma Shilong will discuss the Liaodong affair together. Do not handle it with the same rash haste as the Northern Metropolitan new policies — take it slowly, take it steadily."

"When the matters are settled, you will set out together for Liaodong and relieve Wang Zhichen."

"Henceforth, the grand strategy for Ji-Liao will rest with Master Sun; the Liaodong campaign and defense will be decided by Ma Shilong; and you will be solely in charge of civil affairs, military supplies, pacification and rewards, espionage, and city-building." Watching Yuan Chonghuan's stunned, wooden expression, Zhu Youjian shook his head and added a few more words.

"Minister Yuan, Liaodong is but a corner of the realm, and the barbarian chieftain is no once-in-a-millennium genius like Genghis Khan. Our defeats in Liaodong, in the final analysis, are defeats at our own hands and nothing more."

"This realm under Heaven is vast and boundless — why must a heroic man fix his temperament solely upon Liaodong?"

"You are only forty-three this year. Should you not be contemplating grander things?" "Think it over carefully… do not let Liaodong trap you."

"Step out of it, and only then can you find your true self."

With that, he waved his hand, picked up his great tea vat, and gulped down another fierce draught, signaling that the interview was over.

Yuan Chonghuan walked out of the hall in a daze.

After walking along the palace road for a while, his thoughts gradually returned.

The new sovereign's final words about character and temperament turned over in his mind for a moment, then were cast aside once more.

These words were nothing new.

Sun Chengzong had said them to him, Han had said them to him, Cheng Jiming had said them to him too.

It was only the comparison of him with that wretch Mao Wenlong that was too absurd.

No matter what, as long as he could work on the Liaodong affair, as long as he could work on the Liaodong affair! Everything else was no great matter!

The cold wind blew against his face, as if carrying him back to that ice-and-snow land he had left many days ago.

The Sancha River… it must be frozen over by now?

After taking up his post, where should he begin? Building cities? Training troops? Military supplies? Rooting out corruption? Auditing pay and provisions?

What were the temperaments of Sun Chuanting, Yuan Jixian, and Hong Chengchou like?

Did Ma Shilong still bear a grudge over his denunciation after the Battle of Liuhe?

And Master Sun? How would Master Sun regard him?

A thousand thoughts surfaced one by one in Yuan Chonghuan's heart.

It was only when a burst of noise reached him that he was startled awake.

He raised his head and realized that, without knowing it, he had walked all the way back to the row of duty rooms where the Northern Metropolitan county magistrate interviews were being held.

The two interviews had ended at exactly the same time.

Two county magistrates, crestfallen, came out like wilted eggplants; they merely cupped their hands toward each other and hurried off their separate ways. But the Imperial Academy students and juren who had been auditing in the two rooms were full of spirit and had gathered together to discuss.

"The questioning was far too detailed! How could they ask in such detail!"

"Don't you know? Half an hour ago, His Majesty came in person and personally rebuked them for conducting the interviews in a shallow and perfunctory manner."

"Then the Secretariat immediately copied out and circulated the new interview requirements, and also announced rewards for a dozen or so interviewers and punishments for a dozen or so interviewers. After that, the interviewers all changed their questioning approach."

"But that's far too fast — it's only been half an hour."

"Ah, don't you know? That's what His Majesty has been calling 'new-policy speed'!"

"Huh? What sort of term is that? When did it appear? How come I don't know it?"

"Ha ha, I heard it from the elders in my family too."

Yuan Chonghuan stood to the side and listened for a moment.

Silently committing the phrase "New Policies speed" to memory, he strode away.

Strange to say,

this new sovereign's conduct sometimes seemed utterly rash, yet at other times as steady as Mount Tai.

Which of these, after all, was his true character?

A teenage Son of Heaven should not be like this...

At this thought, Yuan Chonghuan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He turned around, his gaze first sweeping past the cluster of scholars gathered together, then settling on the bell and drum atop the Gate of Heavenly Succession.

A notion stirred softly in his mind.

"Seventeen years old?"

A shadow of misgiving suddenly settled over his heart once more.

The new sovereign's final words about character and spirit surfaced again.

If he truly will not change...

Could it be that in this life, he will never have any opportunity at all?!

He pondered in silence for a moment, then set off on foot, deciding first to seek out a few more old friends and discuss the New Policies in greater depth, and also to sound out the new sovereign's character and inclinations.

What Yuan Chonghuan did not see, and could not possibly have seen, was this.

The eight juren and Imperial Academy students in the two rooms, after chatting idly for a while, each went their separate ways.

Some returned to the Imperial Academy, some to the temples where they lodged, and some to the provincial guild halls.

After returning to their lodgings, nearly all of them did the same thing.

That was to write out from memory, in full, everything they had heard that day: the county magistrates' submitted governance outlines, and the questions posed by each of the interview examiners.

Then they summoned their page boys, sealed the letters, and sent them home or to the residences of old acquaintances.

Those with ample means, and where the matter directly concerned their native village or clan, dispatched them by fast horse.

Those with relatives holding office borrowed official relay passes.

Those with neither influence nor money could only entrust them to merchant caravans or fellow provincials and old friends for delivery.

But however it was done,

letter after letter, some fast and some slow, thus set out from the capital, flying to every corner of Northern Zhili, and even to Shandong, Henan, and Southern Zhili. The New Policies were drawn but not yet released; the new sovereign was cultivating himself, ordering his family, governing the state, and bringing peace to all under heaven; the many county magistrates of the New Policies were still in the midst of their interviews. Everything seemed still at the moment when the storm first gathers. Yet across the realm, a great ferment was already beginning to boil.