Chapter 82: The Human Mind is Perilous, the Dao-Mind is Subtle (4K Bonus Update

Back in Qianqing Palace, Zhu Youjian drank a few sips of tea before he felt that surging tide of emotion settle somewhat.

The strategist, by exploiting advantage, masters the balance of power.

A speech, in truth, is also a kind of battle — you must adjust its strategy and theme according to the mood and tempo of the audience.

Today's audience with the reward-dispensing personnel had truly exceeded his expectations, so much so that he had to adjust the tempo several times mid-course.

For instance, at one planned juncture, he had meant to tell them, "You are the sun at the hour of dawn for the Great Ming!"

But the atmosphere was so fervent that, after hesitating a long while, he ultimately dared not say it, afraid it would over-stimulate them to the point of explosion.

He would save that line for next year's speech to the new jinshi.

Or again, he had originally intended to urge them to keep their hands a little cleaner, but in the end he simply cut that part out.

On the one hand, the emotional atmosphere was not suited for saying such a thing.

On the other hand, it suddenly struck him — so what if the reward teams skimmed off a hundred thousand taels? (An exaggeration; they would not be the ones taking the lion's share.)

So long as they could truly transmit the real conditions from every region back to him, he would pay this information fee gladly and without regret.

At this thought, Zhu Youjian gave a faint, quiet sigh.

Intelligence — truly, one can never overstate its importance.

Counting on his fingers, for Shaanxi alone, he had already dispatched seven teams of men.

The Eastern Depot's search for Li Zicheng counted as one channel — setting aside the mischievous thrill of tracking a historical celebrity, a lowly post-station runner provided one perspective.

The elite Platoon Officers and shock-troop champions from the Nine Frontiers counted as one channel — the perspective of crack soldiers.

Later-generation famous military figures like He Renlong counted as one channel — the perspective of a mid-ranking officer.

Local civil officials like Hong Chengchou being summoned to the capital counted as one channel — the perspective of a mid-ranking civil official.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard men Tian Ergeng dispatched to inspect the Nine Frontiers counted as one channel — the perspective of the Guard and the Depot.

The Shaanxi-native officials among the Donglin Faction members to be reinstated counted as one channel — the perspective of purist civil officials.

And then today's final wave of reward personnel made up the last channel — the perspective of young-turk imperial envoys from the capital.

He had gone to such lengths that he had, as far as possible, played every single card in his hand.

All for the sake of getting a crystal-clear picture of the powder keg that was Shaanxi right now.

Has there been a drought this year or not? Why do the local Governors only report a shortfall in pay and never report a drought? If disaster relief is needed, what level of assistance would it require?

What exactly is the state of local livelihoods and military conditions — could they be even more dire than what he had just seen in Zhenyang County, Henan?

And those domestic-pig species, the imperial princes — just how much harm have they actually inflicted on their localities? What do the locals think of them? If he were to start slaughtering them, how should he harness the wind of public sentiment?

Every single one of these matters — without intelligence, none of them can be acted upon.

He could hardly stage a "Heavenly Emperor possesses my body" act, directly claiming he dreamed Shaanxi was about to suffer a great drought and frantically shipping grain there...

Even if those civil officials were forced to carry it out, with the justification neither proper nor orthodox, they would certainly resist passively.

Zhu Youjian turned it over in his mind for a moment, and felt that he had handled every aspect of this matter as thoroughly as could be — he had reached the limit of his ability.

A wave of relief washed over him at once. He turned his head toward Gao Shiming, who stood waiting at one side, and asked, "How were these men selected?"

Gao Shiming cupped his hands and replied:

"In reply to Your Majesty, everything followed your previous instructions. First, we used the rule of 'let men of native place investigate the affairs of their native place' to broadly delineate the pool of candidates."

"Then, we screened them one by one, taking reputation as the first priority, family background as the second, and age as the last."

"Among them, the list of Messengers was decided by Yang Lun, the Chief of the Messenger Office; the list of Secretariat Drafter candidates was jointly drawn up by the several Grand Secretaries; and the list of Embroidered Uniform Guard men was decided by Guard Commander Tian Ergeng."

"After this old subject received the lists, I, together with Wang Tiqian, carefully checked and reviewed these men's past records, adjusted a few unsuitable candidates, and only then finalized the list."

Zhu Youjian nodded with satisfaction — no wonder the result had been so good.

There were vanishingly few old slickers in that hall; nearly all of them were hotheaded young firebrands.

And, unexpectedly, the ones on the older side seemed to be even bigger firebrands.

In his later life, at his company, he had been through similar pep rallies and pre-post training sessions — if not a hundred times, then at least eighty.

He had faced young people fresh out of school, and also middle-aged people who had spent years in the workplace, but not once had he ever witnessed a scene as astonishing as today's.

That pent-up frustration of being suppressed at the bottom, of having talent unrecognized (whether or not the talent was real).

That thrill of suddenly beholding the imperial countenance and being entrusted with a heavy responsibility.

That desperate resolve of "a gentleman will die for the one who knows his worth"...

All these emotions intertwined, and the power that erupted from them was truly soul-shaking.

When hearts are united, even Mount Tai can be moved.

In this classical era, though it lacked the great dreams of later ages, it possessed a dream of peace that belonged uniquely to this age.

This thought, passed down from generation to generation and engraved into the very being of the Chinese nation, was, in a certain sense, far nobler than those Western ideologies.

This nation, this country, has never lacked men of hot blood, men willing to lay down their lives for an ideal.

Reform requires hotheaded firebrands; balance requires crafty old hands. How true, how true indeed!

"My ministers, you have truly labored hard." Zhu Youjian could not help but voice his admiration. "We are extremely satisfied."

He pondered for a moment, then said to Gao Shiming, "Inform the Princess Consort to add the names of Yang Lun, Chief of the Messenger Office; Guo Yunhou, Minister of Revenue; Guard Commander Tian Ergeng; and Wang Tiqian of the Eastern Depot to the festival gift list. From now on, at every festival, they are to receive the same rewards."

Having said this, he himself chuckled and added, "Remember — send them that portion of crabs as well."

"This subject obeys the edict." Gao Shiming acknowledged the order with a face full of smiles, then turned to instruct a junior eunuch.

Not long after, a junior eunuch hurried in and presented two routine memorials.

Gao Shiming took them and glanced at them, then stepped forward and said, "Your Majesty, the new court-recommendation list for Minister of War and Xue Guoguan's memorial on road-building in the capital have been submitted together."

Zhu Youjian reached out to take them, opening the memorial containing the Minister of War list first.

On the list were three names:

Wang Yongguang, Sun Chengzong, Zhang Heming.

The corners of Zhu Youjian's mouth could not help but curl into a satisfied smile.

Han Feizi said: The ruler must not reveal his desires; if the ruler reveals his desires, the ministers will carve and polish themselves accordingly.

These words could not be more true.

The edicts he had issued to summon Wang Yongguang and Sun Chengzong to the capital had only gone out a few days ago, and already the list from this court recommendation had immediately pandered to his preferences.

In this feudal empire, where all power rests in one man, the emperor's every move, every word and deed, is scrutinized by all under heaven at every moment.

But for him, this was actually a good thing.

If all the civil and military officials of the realm could truly hit upon his preferences in every matter, and handle affairs to his satisfaction, then what worry would there be that the realm could not be well governed?

However, he already knew about Wang Yongguang and Sun Chengzong.

But this third man, Zhang Heming — who was he? What virtue or ability did he possess, to be ranked alongside those two?

With a trace of curiosity, Zhu Youjian read on carefully.

And then, he was struck by a thunderbolt right out of the gate!

Zhang Heming, a native of Fengyang Prefecture in the Southern Metropolitan Region, a jinshi of the twentieth year of Wanli, of military household origin…

Present age: seventy-six?!

A bellyful of mockery stuck in Zhu Youjian's throat, with nowhere to spit it out.

Good heavens! Has the Great Ming truly become a "geezer's paradise"?

Qiao Yunsheng, Minister of Justice, is probably about to lose his throne as longevity champion.

He steadied himself and patiently read on.

Skipping over Zhang Heming's fairly decent early career, the experience that most defined this man was, surprisingly, in Liaodong.

In the first year of Tianqi, this man served as Minister of War. He formed a feud with the then Military Commissioner of Liaodong, Xiong Tingbi, and stubbornly withheld two hundred thousand taels of military pay, forcibly pushing his own crony Wang Huazhen into power.

As a result, Wang Huazhen abandoned the city and fled during the Battle of Guangning, causing the entire Liaoxi Corridor to be lost.

To atone for his crime, this Zhang Heming volunteered to go to Liaodong and clean up the mess.

As a result, setting out from the capital, he dawdled and dragged his feet, actually taking seventeen days just to reach Shanhai Pass.

Then, Zhang Heming stopped at Shanhai Pass and went no further. After loafing on the spot for several months, he directly submitted a memorial pleading old age and requesting to retire to his hometown, and Wang Zaijin took over his post.

Zhu Youjian read this with his eyes wide and jaw dropped, utterly speechless.

What breed of vermin is this? The longevity-branded kind?

You of the eunuch faction, even if you're clutching at any doctor in a desperate illness and trying to save yourselves, was there any need to recommend such a cur to me?

Among your stashed-away candidates, is there truly not a single person who can put up a bit of a fight?

Suppressing his anger, he continued reading.

During the period when Wei Zhongxian held power, Zhang Heming was restored to office.

First he served as Governor of Pian-Yuan, and then…

He was appointed Governor-General of Sichuan, Guizhou, Yunnan, Huguang, and other regions, with command over military affairs?!

Zhu Youjian's heart gave a violent leap.

That dog-fucking Wei Zhongxian!

Is this how you handled the affairs of state?

So long as someone clung to you, knelt down and acted as your dog, could any piece of trash, no matter how worthless, be given important posts?

The Sichuan-Guizhou region, with the rebellion of the Shuixi chieftains — that was military business of the utmost importance and the utmost peril!

And you dispatched this seventy-six-year-old relic, who fled the battlefield in Liaodong and loafed on the spot, to serve as Governor-General?

Zhu Youjian let out a long breath, truly speechless at this traitorous eunuch's methods and means of governing the state.

Fortunately… fortunately, in his memories from later ages, he had seen the existence of a formidable man named Zhu Xieyuan, and had made arrangements in advance.

Were it not for that, the Sichuan-Guizhou situation, in the hands of such vermin, might well have festered into a second Liaodong!

He rubbed his chin, forced himself to calm down, and after pondering for a moment, said to Gao Shiming:

"This list, hold it at the palace for now. When Master Sun arrives, I will discuss it with him before making a decision."

He then pointed at Zhang Heming's name on the list.

"As for this old relic, now that Zhu Xieyuan has already gone, let this man return to his native place to retire and live out his remaining years in peace."

Having dealt with this vexing matter, Zhu Youjian picked up Xue Guoguan's memorial again.

Opening it, a thick blast of Great Ming era character hit him full in the face.

Although it had indeed been narrowed from "Ten Strategies for the Capital" to "Ten Strategies for Road Building,"

it still did not meet his standards for official documents.

The entire memorial was brilliantly written, with perfectly balanced parallel prose, replete with classical allusions, running on for thousands of words in a grand, sweeping style.

But a closer look at the content revealed that the crucial matters — money, personnel, and materials — were all glossed over in vague terms.

Zhu Youjian shook his head, but did not get angry.

Take it slowly. Reforming official writing, compared to launching some ancient-style prose movement or new learning ideology, would meet with far less resistance.

How bureaucratic essays are written has always been a matter of "what the superior favors, the subordinates will outdo."

It was just that they truly needed a solid, concrete "model essay" before they could figure out his preferences.

If they cannot discern my preferences, how are they to carve and polish themselves?

His mind made up, Zhu Youjian closed the memorial and instructed Gao Shiming: "Summon Xue Guoguan to enter the palace for an audience at once."

Gao Shiming went off to attend to this, which need not be recounted.

The corner of Zhu Youjian's mouth, however, curled into a wicked smile.

Let me properly train these Great Ming court officials in exactly how this "excellent proposal" ought to be written.

If after the training is complete, they still hand me this kind of flowery "Ten Strategies for Governing the State" nonsense, they'll all get the green slip!

After Zhu Youjian withdrew from Wuying Hall.

The Ushers and Secretariat Drafter-officials filed out of Wuying Hall in a steady stream.

Every face still bore the flush and excitement that had not yet faded.

Unconsciously grouping themselves by their usual degrees of closeness, they gathered in twos and threes, lowering their voices in animated conversation.

"By the way — earlier, His Majesty said, 'As the ancients put it: when those above govern, if they grasp the sentiments of those below, there is order; if they do not, there is chaos.' Those words truly awaken the deaf!"

"Exactly! Only… I wonder which ancient text that comes from? My learning is shallow; I have never come across it."

"Ah? You have not heard it either, brother? I thought I alone was ignorant. In the hall just now, I dared not ask further."

"Could it be… that His Majesty coined it himself?"

"Silence! Do not speak recklessly. It is said that when His Majesty was at the Prince Xin Residence, he never let a scroll leave his hands. Otherwise, where do you think those stories — Cao Cao burning the books, sweeping away all past traces — came from? If we have not heard it, I imagine it is simply not found within the Four Books and Five Classics."

The crowd buzzed and murmured, their discussion unceasing.

Passing through the Meridian Gate, the Secretariat Drafters cupped their hands in farewell one after another and turned into the duty offices of the Secretariat.

The remaining Ushers had to continue on through the Gate of Accepting Heaven and return to the Ushers' Office.

With fewer people, the discussion gradually died down. The party grew quiet, leaving only the uneven sound of footsteps echoing along the empty palace thoroughfare.

Suddenly.

Yuan Jixian, walking in the middle of the group, turned his head to the side.

He stopped, tugged at Ma Maocai, and said earnestly, "Brother Qingjiang, the silver I borrowed from you — I fear I can only repay it after my humble wife arrives in the capital."

Ma Maocai turned at the words and saw Yuan Jixian's face full of grave sincerity, his gaze clear and unfeigned.

A thought stirred in his heart. Turning it over in his mind for only a moment, he understood the implication behind the words.

This was Yuan Jixian laying his heart bare to him, and also testing his attitude — on this mission to distribute rewards, he would absolutely take no ill-gotten gains.

In truth, Yuan Jixian was also asking: Brother Ma, are you and I truly men of the same path?

In the past, he would never have touched a topic where shallow acquaintance met deep confidence.

In officialdom, the greatest taboo was speculating on another man's mind. One less matter was better than one more; keeping one's mouth shut was the long and steady way.

But today — whether because His Majesty's words had stirred him too deeply, or because Yuan Jixian's youthful spirit was too rare and precious — he found himself, as if possessed, opening his mouth.

"Jitong, what you say is… perhaps a little too pure and upright."

Ma Maocai's voice was pressed extremely low, as if squeezed from his throat, tinged with a trace of helplessness.

"Water too clear holds no fish; a man too perceptive keeps no followers."

"You and I both know: after His Majesty's summons, this journey to the Nine Frontiers is nominally to distribute rewards, but in truth it is to investigate."

"If you truly keep your sleeves free of dust and take not a single coin, tell me — will those local officials and army officers respect you, or will they fear you?"

He paused a moment, and from the corner of his eye caught Yuan Jixian's brows tightly knitted, as if pondering his words. Then, in an even lower voice, he added a few more sentences.

"If they fear you, they will guard against you, keep you at arm's length. When that time comes, you and I will be blind men, deaf men — seeing nothing, hearing nothing. And how, then, can we fulfill His Majesty's charge?"

"There are certain conventions — they do not grace the tabletop, they are even somewhat filthy — but you cannot refuse to acknowledge them. Take that share which is 'due,' and you are one of them. Refuse it, and you are an outsider."

"And an outsider will never glimpse the inner workings of the world."