Chapter 92: The Ming Old-Money Nobility (2K)

It was just past noon.

Zhang Weixian walked out of the Rear Military Commission and headed toward the Gate of Heavenly Succession.

Even as his steps hurried, his mind kept flashing back to the line the new sovereign had written in his own hand — "Dare to make the sun and moon exchange for a new sky."

Exchange for a new sky?

Zhang Weixian chewed over those three words in his heart, feeling a chill rise from deep within him, yet faintly tinged with a trace of heat.

The sky over the Great Ming was about to change — but in this coming storm, what role would the Ming nobility play?

In a flash he had reached the Gate of Heavenly Succession. The young eunuch Ma Wenke was already waiting at the entrance, a look of urgency on his face.

"My Lord Duke, you have finally come! His Majesty is waiting for you!"

A smile spread across Zhang Weixian's face as well. Without betraying any emotion, he stepped forward to meet him, and as the wide sleeve of his right robe gave a slight flutter, it brushed lightly against Ma Wenke's sleeve.

Yet just as he thought the matter was settled and prepared to withdraw his hand, he felt his own cuff sink slightly.

Surprised, he felt it carefully — the ten taels of silver had not been passed over; instead, there were ten taels more.

Zhang Weixian raised his head and met Ma Wenke's rather embarrassed face.

The young eunuch said nothing, merely waving a hand at him. "My Lord Duke, let us hurry — do not keep His Majesty waiting."

With that, he turned and led the way ahead.

Zhang Weixian hurried after him, momentarily at a complete loss.

What was this young eunuch's game?

One moment he takes money, the next he doesn't, and now he has simply returned it?

Had His Majesty's attitude shifted? Or was this young eunuch simply timid and afraid of trouble?

He watched Ma Wenke's back, suspicions multiplying in his heart, an inexplicable unease creeping in.

And Ma Wenke, walking ahead, could not help quietly wiping the sweat from his palms.

The Old Ancestor's cold, indifferent eyes seemed to surface before him once more.

"— Wenke, is your dream truly just these ten taels of silver?"

It was simply too chilling. Wealth was certainly lovely, but one's life was far more important!

Each preoccupied with his own thoughts, they walked the rest of the way in silence and soon arrived at Qianqing Palace.

Zhang Weixian gathered his wits. He had just stepped through the hall doors, before he could even adjust his robes and cap to kneel, when a figure hurried out from behind the imperial desk.

"The Duke has finally come. We have been thinking of you most earnestly!"

Zhu Youjian's voice carried a warmth that came from the heart. He strode forward in a few steps and caught Zhang Weixian by the arm.

"The Duke may dispense with ceremony. Come quickly with Us."

So saying, he drew him over to a brocade stool nearby and sat him down.

No sooner had he settled than several young eunuchs followed in utter silence, placing a few gently warmed brocade wraps one by one upon his knees, his back, his waist.

The entire sequence flowed as smoothly as drifting clouds and running water; Zhang Weixian could not find even a gap to speak.

"Your Majesty... your grace is heavy. This old subject..."

He cupped his hands, finally managing to find an opening.

But before he could finish, Zhu Youjian suddenly leaned in close, studying his complexion with a face full of concern.

"What is the matter with the Duke? Why is your color so poor?"

The rest of Zhang Weixian's words were choked back down.

In his heart, he was speechless for a moment.

Your Majesty, your Valiant Guard Camp fires muskets and cannons across the river every single day — how am I supposed to sleep well? When an old man cannot sleep well, how can his color be good?

He certainly did not dare speak these words aloud, so he could only answer vaguely: "In reply to Your Majesty, this old subject's chronic leg ailment has flared up these past few days. I cannot sleep soundly at night."

"Oh?" Zhu Youjian immediately put on a look of sudden understanding and nodded. "The Duke is a pillar of the state and must take good care of his health. This Great Ming realm still needs old subjects like the Duke to support it for Us."

They exchanged a few more words of pleasantries before Zhu Youjian finally came to the point.

He shifted his tone, and his originally relaxed expression tightened slightly.

"Duke, We recall that in your last audience, you counseled Us not to repeat the errors of the Shenzong Emperor."

"You also said that one may trust the Great Ming has nourished its scholars for three hundred years."

Zhu Youjian crossed his hands and placed them before his knees, his pair of deep black eyes fixed intently on Zhang Weixian as he asked with keen interest:

"Then We wish to ask the Duke — do these 'scholars' of the Great Ming include the noble houses?"

"Now, though We have the will to rise up and accomplish something for the dynasty, can these Ming nobles truly be of use to Us?"

Here it comes!

Zhang Weixian's heart tightened, yet he also breathed a sigh of relief. This topic was still within normal bounds; it seemed that business with the young eunuch had been a mere coincidence after all.

He steadied himself and said with a solemn expression:

"Your Majesty holds the cosmos in your grasp, blazing like the sun at high noon. Before such an overwhelming tide, who would dare contend against Heaven's majesty?"

"The noble houses at court have received the state's grace for generations and eat the court's stipend. Who among them would dare not think of striving valiantly forward to repay the nation?"

At these words, the smile at the corner of Zhu Youjian's lips faded slightly. He leaned forward, his gaze sharpening.

"If that is so, then why do Our ears hear nothing but that the nobles have enjoyed peace for too many years, have long since lost their forefathers' edge, and know only greed, corruption, pleasure, and idleness — unfit for any great purpose?"

"Could it be that the officials of the outer court and the Depot and Guard are all deceiving Us?"

The question was weighted with extreme severity, and the atmosphere in the hall instantly dropped to a freezing point.

Zhang Weixian, however, did not panic. He merely sighed softly in his heart.

He knew that the fact the Emperor could ask such a question meant he did not truly intend to purge the nobles, but rather wanted to use them, intended to use them.

The reason he asked this way was simply to extract a stance from him.

Were the nobles corrupt?

Of course they are corrupt.

After the Tumu Crisis, military affairs were firmly controlled by the civil officials, and despite several struggles, the noble houses could do nothing about it.

The dukes, marquises, and counts of the court do nothing but sit idly in their halls each day, performing sacrifices on behalf of Heaven.

For all their honor and wealth, they truly have nothing to do.

Under such circumstances, their culture of graft and corruption burns even hotter than that of the civil official clique.

On this point, there is nothing to hide.

The question is how to speak of it so as to neither deceive the sovereign nor damage the face of the noble houses, while still winning them an opportunity — that is an art.

Zhang Weixian pondered briefly, carefully weighing his words in his mind, and only then slowly began to speak.

"Your Majesty, with your keen discernment, you will see that the corruption of the noble houses is in fact deeply tied to each family's inherited character and the manner of their title succession. It cannot be painted with a single brush."

"Oh? How so?" Zhu Youjian nodded, motioning for Zhang Weixian to continue.

"In this old subject's humble view, the noble houses of today can be roughly divided into three categories."

Zhang Weixian's voice was steady and clear, echoing through the silent hall.

"The first are those great houses enfeoffed during the founding of the dynasty or the Jingnan Campaign."

"Such families govern themselves with extreme strictness. They take the elder who inherits the title as the 'Lord of the Lineage.' Within the clan, both civil and military cultivation are governed by set rules. If a son of the house commits a minor offense, before the magistrates even inquire, he is dealt with directly by the ancestral hall and clan law — a practice that carries the vestiges of the ancient patriarchal system."

"Thus, while the sons of such families may not all be talents who can weave the heavens and order the earth, most are upright in conduct, keep to their proper station, and have some merit in both civil strategy and martial skill."

Listening to this, Zhu Youjian found it rather interesting.

This Zhang Weixian was a bit intriguing.

Wasn't this exactly what later ages would call "old money" aristocracy?

Deep foundations, an emphasis on heritage and education — perhaps a bit rigid, but their baseline was somewhat guaranteed.

The way he was laying it all out so cogently, could he be seizing the chance to sing his own praises?

Wasn't the Duke of Ying's household the very pinnacle of "old money" in this Great Ming dynasty?

Zhang Weixian, not noticing the amused look in the Emperor's eyes, continued:

"The second are the newly ennobled houses, raised up later through imperial affines or military merit."

"Such families rise suddenly. Whether they possess strict regulations or not depends entirely on each family's character, and they cannot be painted with a single brush."

"Among them are no few who strive vigorously, but also many who, having come into sudden wealth, act with ostentation and recklessness."

"Moreover, after a few generations of inherited titles, it ultimately still comes down to family discipline and character. Otherwise, the sons of such noble houses will in the end drift into cockfighting and horse racing, and will inevitably sink into decadence and be stripped of their titles one day."

Zhu Youjian nodded.

This he understood as well: "new money" nobility — or rather, the nouveau riche.

Their roots are still shallow, so naturally their conduct runs the full gamut.

He need look no further than his own father-in-law — wasn't he a textbook example of this sort of new nobility?

"The third are those whose titles were broken off for a generation, and then, many years later, a successor was chosen from a distant or cadet branch to inherit."

"Such cases are often attended by disputes over the title and false claims of succession, breeding a tangle of scheming hearts. As for how the inheritor conducts himself, that can only be seen from his own innate character."

"The recent struggle over the title of Earl of Xinjian is a case in point."

Earl of Xinjian?

A chord was struck in Zhu Youjian's memory.

He rapidly searched his mind. Earl of Xinjian… Wang Shouren!

It was actually the title of Wang Yangming, the great master of the School of Mind!

Zhu Youjian sighed inwardly. It truly bore out the saying, "The grace of a noble man lasts but five generations before it is cut off."

A man as broad-minded as Wang Yangming — his descendants, just the same, would fight tooth and nail, scrabbling in the dirt, over worldly power and profit.

Wasn't this just the "impoverished aristocrat fallen on hard times," a stock figure in all manner of tales?

Seeing the Emperor sink into thought, Zhang Weixian drew a deep breath and added:

"Your Majesty, this is in truth only a rough categorization."

"They may also be divided by whether the title is non-hereditary. Generally speaking, if it is a non-hereditary title, because it cannot be passed down in perpetuity, the corruption will always be worse — but such men will also often act more boldly, seeking only to win a single throw for a lifetime of wealth."

"They may also be divided by Nanjing and Beijing. The Nanjing nobles are more steeped in the literary culture of the southern capital, and are somewhat more refined; the Beijing nobles, situated at the hub of power, are more martial in spirit. But these are all only broad generalizations, and in the end, none can be painted with a single brush."

Having said this, Zhang Weixian rose to his feet, bowed deeply to Zhu Youjian, and said with earnest expression:

"Thus, Your Majesty asks: the noble houses are corrupt — can they still be used? This subject's answer is—"

He paused, as if making a difficult decision, and finally said frankly:

"If we speak of corruption, among the noble houses, the degree may vary from grave to slight, yet it can be said that wherever one looks, all are corrupt. Not one is absolutely clean."

At these words, Zhu Youjian's eyebrows rose.

But Zhang Weixian seemed as if he had laid down a thousand-jin burden, and a look of relief actually appeared on his face.

"Your Majesty's wisdom and martial brilliance surpass the former reigns. This subject dare not deceive you with empty words."

"Even… even in this humble subject's own household, in the daily round of comings and goings, there is no shortage of customary 'tokens of respect' that must be accepted."

He touched lightly on this point, but ultimately dared not say more of his own affairs, and with a turn of phrase, immediately skipped past it:

"Take for example Li Chengzuo, the Marquis of Fengcheng. In earlier years, he clung to the traitor Wei, petitioning on behalf of merchants for the profits of the Huai salt trade, and at the behest of those merchants, spoke of moving the Dongjiang garrison — conduct that was truly laughable."

"Yet this same man also submitted three memorials requesting the court to overhaul military affairs, and even volunteered to go beyond the passes and lead troops in service. Can this not be counted as a heart full of sincere patriotism?"

"Or take Li Chengming, the Marquis of Wuqing. He enclosed estate lands in the capital region and set up private tax stations, earning the contempt of all."

"Yet during the recent great construction works, he was also able to generously contribute thirty thousand taels of silver. Can this not also be counted as sharing the state's burdens?"

"It is just as in the physician's use of medicine: ginseng and aconite can both save a life and take a life — it all depends on how the physician combines them. So it is with the noble houses and the dynasty."

Zhang Weixian concluded:

"As for the matter of corruption, such is the state of the realm, and public morals decline by the day. It is not the noble houses alone who are thus."

"Compared to civil officials, the nobility may not dare claim to be more incorruptible — but they are no worse than birds of a feather!"

"And when it comes to loyalty, when it comes to governing the realm, among the nobility, though many scions of great houses may not possess the grand talents of the Hanlin gentlemen,"

"so long as Your Majesty is willing to select and appoint them, you can always find men of use, and there will always be those willing to exhaust themselves and die in Your Majesty's service!"

"How can one say the nobility are unusable simply because of their corruption?"

Having finished speaking, Zhang Weixian was slightly short of breath, sweat already visible on his forehead, but his aged eyes remained bright and intent, awaiting Zhu Youjian's final judgment.

The hall fell at once into dead silence.

Zhu Youjian said nothing, only his fingers tapped lightly and unconsciously against his knee.

His mind was racing.

Frankly, Zhang Weixian's speech had surprised him somewhat, but on reflection, it made perfect sense.

People of later ages, the moment they speak of European nobility, conjure up all manner of lofty images — chivalric spirit, aristocratic bearing.

Yet when they speak of the Ming nobility, or the Eight Banners scions of the Qing, it is all negative stereotypes — wastrels, decadent, parasites.

But hearing the Duke of Ying speak today, he realized this was a prejudice.

No group can be reduced to a simple caricature.

Old-money nobles, new-money nobles, lucky survivors of fallen houses — their mindsets, their ways of doing things, the lower limits of their abilities, are bound to differ.

To lump the Ming nobility, who have enjoyed a century of peace, together with the Manchu Eight Banners scions whose spirits were later utterly corroded by slavish ideology and opium, is itself not entirely reasonable.

That being the case, perhaps he really could dig out a few talents to use.

But… loyalty?

Let us not dwell on those two words. This sovereign does not recall, from later ages, many loyal nobles.

Let us stick to the matter at hand. If they can be used, use them; if not, plenty of new men would gladly drag you down from your horses.

His reflections complete, Zhu Youjian raised his head, his gaze warm yet resolute.

"My Lord Duke's meaning — We have fully understood it."

"But We wonder, in My Lord Duke's eyes, among the nobility today, are there any worthy and capable men who could share Our burdens?"

This was asking him to recommend talent.

A great stone in Zhang Weixian's heart finally settled to the ground. He knew he had, barely, blazed a narrow trail for the nobility.

As for whether this narrow trail could become a broad road to heaven, that would depend on each man's own fortune.

He promptly rose to his feet, adjusted his robes and cap, and toward Zhu Youjian solemnly cupped his hands and bowed.

Zhu Youjian also immediately stood and made a gesture of supporting him up, to show respect.

After the formalities, Zhang Weixian straightened himself and said earnestly:

"Your Majesty, this old subject has sat idly in his residence for decades. My daily tasks have been no more than performing sacrifices on Heaven's behalf and handling routine correspondence. My eyes are already dimmed — how would I dare recklessly pronounce who is worthy and who is not?"

"Your Majesty harbors great ambitions. You need only be utterly single-minded, hold fast to the mean, and press forward with the majestic force of righteousness — employing the worthy, dismissing the mediocre."

"In this way, as men shift with the momentum, and the world's customs gradually change, why worry that the nobility cannot be used!"

"Well said — 'the majestic force of righteousness'!"

Zhu Youjian clapped his hands in admiration, his estimation of the old Duke rising several notches in his heart.

The words were perfectly watertight — they returned the authority to recognize and employ men entirely to the Emperor, while also pinpointing the core of the problem.

— The key lay in whether the Emperor himself could create that "momentum."

"Then, regarding the matter We entrusted to My Lord Duke a few days ago — recommending noble scions to enter the Capital Camps for tempering — how has that progressed?" Zhu Youjian asked further.

Zhang Weixian smiled. "That matter is even simpler. This subject is old and frail, of shallow experience — how could I fully recognize all the young heroes? It would be better for Your Majesty to personally set tests and examine them. When the time comes, men of worth will naturally be like an awl in a sack — its point will pierce through."

As he spoke, before Zhang Weixian's eyes flashed the image of his own son, Zhang Zhiji, his gaze brimming with fervent longing.

His heart softened, and in the end, he could not resist adding one more sentence.

"It is only… Your Majesty, the dynasty has long been at peace. The noble scions of today may not all be proficient in archery and horsemanship. On the contrary, quite a few have labored hard at poetry and prose. When Your Majesty examines them, please categorize them by their aptitudes and teach according to their abilities — then perhaps all the talents may be selected."

"What My Lord Duke has said are truly the words of one devoted to the public good and the state."

Zhu Youjian nodded, detecting no hidden subtlety within. He merely stepped forward and personally helped the Duke sit down.

"Having My Lord Duke at Our side — it is truly as the saying goes: an elder in the family is a treasure in the house."

He looked at Zhang Weixian, his tone growing more cordial.

"In summoning My Lord Duke today, there is in fact one final matter in which We wish to request My Lord Duke's assistance."

"Your Majesty, speak — this subject would not refuse even ten thousand deaths!" Zhang Weixian declared at once.

And so, Zhu Youjian broadly outlined his plan to repair the capital's roads and his hope that the noble houses would contribute funds and donate a portion of their stipends.

Zhang Weixian, having heard this, did not answer immediately but sank into thought.

Road repair — that was a good thing.

The capital's roads — dust all over on a clear day, mud all over on a rainy day — had long been a subject of complaint.

Nobles qualified to ride in sedan chairs were, after all, a minority; most people, when they went out, suffered the same jolting and congestion.

What was more, the Emperor had promised that after the roads were repaired, the names and merits of the donors would be carved into stone tablets and erected by the roadsides, for all the people to look up to and for their names to be preserved in history.

Both fame and profit — this was a venture worth undertaking.

The sole difficulty lay in that sum of four hundred thousand taels of silver.

It was no small amount.

He silently calculated in his mind, running through the financial reserves of every major noble household in the capital.

A moment later, he raised his head, a plan already formed in his eyes.

"Your Majesty, the road repair project benefits the state and the people."

"As for these four hundred thousand taels of silver — with the thirty thousand taels of seed grain silver donated by the two Empress Dowagers and Your Majesty as an example set before them, if the noble houses of the capital each contribute a share and make up the greater part of it, it should not be difficult."

He rose to his feet, and on his aged face, a trace of a smile finally, rarely, appeared.

A shortage of talent and rampant corruption were the real problems plaguing the hereditary nobility, which they could only half-conceal — when it came down to it, they lacked real confidence.

But when it came to contributing money, what was so difficult about that? The Ming nobility might lack everything else, but they had plenty of silver!

Zhang Weixian opened his mouth and took the whole burden upon himself:

"Though this old subject is aged and frail, this old face of mine still carries a measure of standing among the nobility. This matter — I beg Your Majesty to entrust it to your humble subject!"

"Within three days, this subject shall give Your Majesty a satisfactory answer!"

"Good! Good! Good!"

Zhu Youjian said the word "good" three times in succession, his heart elated, and stepped forward to support Zhang Weixian.

"With the Duke himself taking charge, We are at ease!"

Sovereign and subject exchanged a smile, the atmosphere reaching the height of harmony.

At that very moment, a junior eunuch hurried in from outside the hall and whispered a few words into Gao Shiming's ear.

Gao Shiming's expression flickered. He strode swiftly to the imperial presence, bowed, and reported:

"Your Majesty, the dispatch rider has returned at full gallop with word that after receiving the summons, Lord Sun Chengzong disregarded his family's dissuasions, took only two servants, and set out traveling light, racing here by relay horse."

"By our reckoning, he is expected to reach Gujie Relay Station tonight, and can enter the capital early tomorrow morning."

"Oh?!"

When Zhu Youjian heard this news, he was instantly overjoyed beyond expectation, the smile on his face no longer containable.

"Good! Excellent! Worthy of Master Sun!"

In his excitement, he momentarily forgot Zhang Weixian beside him and began pacing the great hall by himself.

As for Zhang Weixian, the moment he heard the three syllables "Sun Chengzong," the smile on his face quietly faded away.

The surge of heroic spirit that had just welled up from settling the road-building funds was as if a basin of cold water had been poured over his head — instantly chilled.

He stood quietly where he was, watching the exhilarated young emperor, his gaze growing complicated.

It is said that the sovereign is the boat, and the subjects and people are the water.

But how many more currents of water must this great battleship of an emperor accommodate, beyond the single stream of the hereditary nobility?

The Ming nobility, after all, was no longer what it had been at the founding of the dynasty — they could only ever pick at the scraps and leftovers behind the civil officials.

A tumult of emotions surged in Zhang Weixian's heart, but he still forced himself to rally.

He stepped forward, cupped his hands, and said: "Your Majesty, since the matter is settled, this old subject… shall take his leave first and go at once to raise the road-building silver for Your Majesty."

Zhu Youjian had by now recovered himself and realized he had been somewhat carried away.

It could not be helped — this was probably the first time since his transmigration that he would "see with his own eyes" a true top-tier Ming SSR talent, and he had indeed been a little beside himself.

He looked at Zhang Weixian, saw that his expression was composed but that a trace of desolation was hidden deep in his eyes, and understood at once.

But when it came to the nobility, the key still lay in the nobility's own mettle — otherwise, no matter how much trust he placed in them, they could not be propped up.

Zhu Youjian did not offer further explanation. He merely nodded and said gently, "Very well, then We must trouble the Duke. This matter is of great importance — the Duke must also look after his health."

"This subject obeys the decree."

Zhang Weixian saluted once more, then slowly withdrew from Qianqing Palace.

The autumn wind outside the hall carried a chill. It blew against his heated face, sobering his muddled mind a few degrees.

He looked back at the palace. Inside, the young emperor was brimming with vigor, preparing to welcome another of his pillars of state.

Zhang Weixian sighed faintly and drew his court robes tighter about him.

"Civil officials… hah."

Attached: Sun Chengzong's entry into the capital — like a sharp blade sweeping in!

Fatuous tyrant! Take a sword strike from Old Sun! (Writing is exhausting, just a silly joke haha)