Chapter 78: When Every Man

Zhu Youjian set down the last memorial and looked up at the water clock — the time had quietly slipped toward noon.

He let out a long breath, his eyes full of exhaustion.

Gao Shiming, seated on a brocade stool to one side, exhaled in relief almost at the same moment as the Emperor.

He dared not make any large movements; he merely used the posture of bowing forward to stretch his long-stiffened back and waist, as discreetly as possible.

Attending this new sovereign as he reviewed memorials was far more exhausting than attending the Tianqi Emperor had ever been.

The Tianqi Emperor had reviewed memorials too, but he usually looked only at the important ones and tossed all the rest to the Directorate of Ceremonial to handle.

Not like this lord, who wanted to ask about nearly every matter, discuss nearly every matter, as if brimming with a sense of novelty.

"The affairs of the realm divide among the four quarters and converge at the central hub, yet the smallest branches and trickling streams can also choke the main current." Zhu Youjian's fingertips tapped the desk, his voice edged with impatience. "But as I see it, these tributary streams of the realm are now converging with no sense of priority whatsoever!"

Gao Shiming could not quite fathom Zhu Youjian's meaning for the moment and dared not answer rashly, so he simply kept silent.

Yes — he, the apex of this Great Ming main current, was now nearly clogged to death by these trivial minutiae.

To Zhu Youjian, the daily work of the Great Ming Emperor offered a cost-effectiveness ratio so low it was maddening.

Today's one hundred and seventy-three memorials had taken him over two hours, and in the end not a single one actually required him to make a decision.

Not that there were absolutely none — one military dispatch from Ningxia was somewhat more significant: "The western barbarians raided Zhenshuo Fort in Ningxia; Hongguang Garrison Regional Commander Wu Jinzhong repelled them."

A victory report? Zhu Youjian sneered inwardly.

He had specifically asked Gao Shiming about this; phrasing like "repelled them" was, bluntly put, nothing more than a small-scale border skirmish.

Ever since the enfeoffment and tribute pact with Altan Khan in the Longqing era, the Great Ming and the Mongol tribes to the west had entered a period of relative peace.

But peace among the big chiefs above did not mean peace among the little chiefs below.

The Mongol tribes were a loose confederation to begin with; the great chieftain above might call for peace, but he could not stop the lesser tribes below, short on clothing and food, from crossing the border now and then to steal a few horses or abduct a few commoners.

More interestingly, the border troops would also slip out from time to time to go make trouble for these lesser tribes.

For a while it was hard to say who was right and who was wrong.

But no matter what, the frontier generals henceforth had an unending stream of meritorious deeds.

Three enemy heads, five enemy heads — any of it could be written up as a victory report and sent up to claim credit and rewards.

Zhu Youjian could even picture how that Regional Commander Wu must have written this memorial with such feigned gravity, and how it traveled through layer upon layer of relay stations, consuming untold manpower and resources, only to arrive before him at last — all for the sake of winning a hearing in the heavens above.

And he, the Emperor of the Great Ming, had to waste his mental energy on such trivial nonsense.

The moment he thought of the realm's impending collapse and then looked again at this "victory report" whitewashing the peace before him, Zhu Youjian felt a surge of irritation.

His gaze drifted among the memorials on the desk, and he casually picked up another.

"Regional Inspector of Huguang Wen Gaomo petitions that the four seasonal sacrifices at the Xianling Mausoleum continue to be performed by the Circuit Intendant as proxy."

More of this sort of rubbish.

The Xianling Mausoleum was the tomb of the Jiajing Emperor's father, Prince Xingxian.

A Huguang Regional Inspector had submitted a memorial requesting that the local Circuit Intendant perform the sacrifices in his stead.

Zhu Youjian practically wanted to laugh.

If you want to perform the sacrifices, then go perform them — at worst you might embezzle a hundred catties of cold pork, all right?

But this matter, as it happened, touched upon "ritual regulations." In the eyes of the civil officials, ritual law was greater than heaven; even the pettiest affair had to be memorialized for the Emperor to decide.

He could almost see that Regional Inspector Wen stroking his beard, composing his words with the utmost solemnity, writing this memorial concerning "ancestral dignity" in the most florid prose.

Could you not at least report on the local work? Taxes, litigation, military organization, armaments, granaries — which of these is not more important than this matter?

He was truly fed up with this insane institutional design of the Great Ming.

The Emperor could either turn a selectively blind eye, delegate power to the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial, enjoy a life of leisure, and plant the seeds of authority slipping from his grasp.

Or he had to be, as he was now, worked to death by an endless flood of paperwork.

He opened another one — this memorial was somewhat different; it came from Zhejiang.

"Judge Li Sancai of Hangzhou Prefecture submits a memorial stating that his mother is advanced in years and begs leave to return home and care for her…"

A rank-seven Judge, requesting to resign from office and go home to support his mother.

Zhu Youjian's gaze softened slightly.

This was the most human-hearted memorial he had seen all day. He could even imagine that Judge Li's conflicted longing as he wrote the letter by lamplight.

He picked up his brush and wrote a single character on the memorial: "Granted."

But this fleeting moment of warmth was quickly overtaken by an even greater sense of absurdity.

Even the resignation of a rank-seven official required his, the Emperor's, approval!

What difference was there between this and discovering the office had run out of toilet paper, only to have it reported level by level all the way up to Jack Ma for a decision?

He set down the memorial in his hand, his gaze falling on the tree outside the window.

One sparrow was pecking at food; several others chased it relentlessly, fighting desperately for a share.

A meaningful smile tugged at the corner of Zhu Youjian's mouth.

— The art of checks and balances lies not in dividing power, but in dividing minds. When every man's heart is set on a different course, fairness and justice will manifest of their own accord.

"Companion Gao." Zhu Youjian spoke, his voice now restored to calm.

"This subject is here." Gao Shiming answered at once, rising and bowing, awaiting his instructions.

"In your view, of this desk full of memorials, how many truly require my personal attention?" Zhu Youjian asked, as if casually.

Gao Shiming was momentarily taken aback; he had not expected the Emperor to ask this.

He pondered briefly, then answered with extreme caution: "In reply to Your Majesty, if we speak of vital military and state affairs, no more than one or two in ten. But if we speak of ancestral regulations and official dignity, then… then it is hard to say."

This reply was perfectly watertight — it spoke the truth while offending no one.

Zhu Youjian nodded, then asked: "Ordinarily, how do the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial screen the memorials for me?"

Gao Shiming replied: "The Grand Secretariat drafts the rescripts; the Directorate of Ceremonial endorses them in red. Usually the Grand Secretaries read them first, placing the urgent ones at the front and the ordinary ones at the back. The Directorate of Ceremonial, for its part, presents them to Your Majesty in that same order."

"Then what counts as urgent and what counts as ordinary — is there a fixed rule?"

"There is… no explicit rule. It is entirely at the discretion of the Grand Secretaries and the seal-holder eunuchs."

"Discretion?" Zhu Youjian smiled. "Discretion is a bad thing. The ruin of any matter often begins with discretion."

Gao Shiming felt a chill in his heart. He said nothing more, merely waiting quietly for instructions.

Zhu Youjian did not press him further. Shifting his tone, he spoke at a measured pace: "Notify the Grand Secretariat that henceforth, all memorials submitted are to be divided into four grades for Us."

"Grade One, the highest. All urgent military intelligence, major disasters, and the appointments and dismissals of officials of the fourth rank and above, as well as all Supervising Secretaries of the various circuits and Censors, shall fall into this grade."

"Grade Two, the next level. All routine military intelligence, local disasters, transfers of officials of the sixth rank and above, and the appointments and dismissals of County Magistrates in critical posts such as Yingtian, Shuntian, and the Nine Border Garrisons, shall fall into this grade."

Zhu Youjian paused here, feeling somewhat at a loss as to how to continue fabricating the rest. He simply waved a hand:

"Grades Three and Four — handle them as you see fit. In sum: first draw up a draft of this grading system, then take it to the gentlemen of the Grand Secretariat for discussion and settle on a final set of regulations. From now on, all memorials submitted by the Grand Secretariat must be pre-sorted by grade. Once they reach the Directorate of Ceremonial, they shall be verified once more."

"When the time comes, We shall only review memorials of Grades One and Two, as well as any memorials where the Directorate of Ceremonial and the Grand Secretariat have assigned differing grades."

The more Gao Shiming listened, the more ingenious it seemed.

Once the boundaries were clarified, the power of both the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial suddenly shrank by a measure.

And the Emperor, who had acquired that portion of power, would actually see his workload reduced?

Zhu Youjian continued: "First draft Our intent into a proposal. Present it to Us for review, and then forward it to the Grand Secretariat."

"This subject obeys the decree." Gao Shiming, already growing somewhat accustomed to having power stripped away, simply clasped his hands in acknowledgment, turned, and prepared to carry it out.

"Wait," Zhu Youjian called him back. "No need for such haste. The hour is late; it is time for the meal. Go down, finish your meal, and then write it."

He rose, walked to Gao Shiming's side, and patted him on the shoulder, his tone softening: "These past few days have been so full of affairs that even We have eaten at irregular hours. You, having to attend and serve throughout, must be even more fatigued. Take good care of your health. We still hope to work alongside you for many years, and to see this realm at peace once more."

Even though Gao Shiming had long grown accustomed to this new sovereign's alternating tactics of striking and soothing, at this moment he could not help but feel a warmth in his heart.

"Many thanks for Your Majesty's gracious kindness. This subject… this subject should first order the servants to relay the meal. Do not let Your Majesty's meal be delayed."

With that, he withdrew hurriedly to first relay the meal order.

Zhu Youjian watched his departing figure, his gaze turning profound once more.

Why have the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial grade memorials together?

On one hand, he truly could no longer bear having his time wasted by these trivial matters.

But on a deeper level, it was to erect a firewall at the very nerve center of power.

So long as there was no heaven-shattering combination like Feng Bao and Zhang Juzheng — an inner chancellor and outer chancellor in seamless harmony — and so long as the Grand Secretariat had more than one Grand Secretary and the Directorate of Ceremonial had more than one eunuch, this dual-review system could, to the greatest extent possible, prevent the blocking of information and favoritism or fraud.

Finally, this grading system would also conveniently lay a foundation for his subsequent reforms of the Capital Gazette and the military intelligence grading system.

Though it did seem rather unfair to Companion Gao — every day, it was always power being taken from his hands.

Thinking of this, a tiny twinge of guilt stirred in Zhu Youjian's heart.

Let us see what the future holds. Perhaps what you gain will prove greater than what you lose?

After all, who ever said that upon the Pavilion of Soaring Mist, there could not be a place for a eunuch?

Merit and fault lie in the deed, not in the person. Truly, that is a sound saying.