Chapter 96: A Heart with Seven Apertures, Exquisitely Threading Nine Turns

A smile brimmed on Zhu Youjian's face — he was thoroughly satisfied with Sun Chengzong's performance in the first round.

His heart light, he decided to push this interview deeper still.

"Master Sun," he began, his voice quiet. "After the defeat at Liuhe, the court and the country were in an uproar. What does Master Sun think of those who impeached and pursued accountability back then?"

The hall fell silent in an instant; even Gao Shiming held his breath.

This was a question that cut straight to the heart.

Victory and defeat are common fare for soldiers, but the recriminations after a defeat wound the deepest.

Those impeaching memorials had come thick as snowflakes back then, every word and every phrase eager to nail him, Sun Chengzong, to the pillar of shame in Liaodong.

Now that the new sovereign was asking him face to face, it was both a chance to "settle scores" and a difficult test of his character.

Should he gratify his grievances, or set them aside for the greater good? Should he denounce his political enemies, or treat the matter with equanimity?

On Sun Chengzong's Guan Gong-like ruddy face, not the slightest ripple could be read.

As if he had not detected the trap in the Emperor's words, he merely hesitated a moment, then bowed deeply.

"In reply to Your Majesty, this old subject believes that my colleagues' hearts can be set beside the sun and moon."

His voice was as resonant as ever, yet carried an earnestness born of deliberation.

"Liaodong stretches ten thousand li, and the capital is far removed. Military intelligence, in its transmission, is often distorted."

"Those gentlemen sit in the court, their hearts burdened with the affairs of state. To grow anxious at news of defeat, to grieve at the loss of officers and men — this is ordinary human feeling, and also the mark of loyal service to the sovereign and care for the realm."

Zhu Youjian's expression remained impassive; he neither agreed nor disagreed, merely listening in silence.

He knew that most officials, when asked their opinion of colleagues, would choose to smooth things over and blend in.

Only a handful of the naive or the fiercely proud would speak their minds outright.

Sun Chengzong's answer was within expectations, yet it carried a forthrightness beyond the usual bureaucratic platitudes.

Sure enough, Sun Chengzong shifted his tone and actually took part of the blame upon himself.

"The Master said: The faults of a gentleman are like eclipses of the sun and moon — all men see them; and when he corrects them, all men look up to him."

"The defeat at Liuhe was, in the end, the result of poor planning by this subject and Ma Shilong and the others. We failed to hold fast to our original intent, and so success slipped away at the last."

"That the gentlemen at court, not knowing the full circumstances, voiced criticism — that too had its cause. If fault is to be assigned, its source still lies with us."

What a fine "its source still lies with us"!

Zhu Youjian silently applauded.

This reply was watertight.

It preserved his colleagues' dignity, displayed his own breadth of mind, and, more than that, dissolved a sensitive political question into a simple reflection on a military defeat.

He made no enemies, claimed no credit, and shifted no blame.

This Imperial Tutor was truly a man of exquisite discernment.

Yet what Zhu Youjian wanted went further than this.

"Gao Shiming." Zhu Youjian gave the order flatly.

Gao Shiming, who had been standing by with hands at his sides, understood at once. He picked up two memorials from the side of the imperial desk and, with mincing steps, respectfully presented them before Sun Chengzong.

"Master Sun, take another look at these."

Sun Chengzong bowed as he received them. His gaze fell upon the covers of the memorials, and his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

One was the Memorial of Mao Wenlong Stating Five Grievances; the other was the Memorial of Dongjiang Garrison Requesting the Issuance of Five Hundred Thousand Taels in Back Pay.

"Troop strength unclear, military merits falsely reported, refusal to relocate the garrison…"

Zhu Youjian's voice was no longer gentle. He recited Mao Wenlong's "crimes" word by word, and with each charge, the air in the hall grew heavier.

"Such arrogance and perversity — how closely it resembles An Lushan of the Tang, who clung to his troops and his power!"

At this point his tone suddenly rose, carrying the sharp edge and fury peculiar to a young Son of Heaven, echoing through the vast hall.

"Can a Dongjiang like this still serve to pin the enemy down?"

"Is a Mao Wenlong like this still a Mao Wenlong of our Great Ming?"

The string of interrogations came like a violent storm, crashing down upon Sun Chengzong's head.

Finally, Zhu Youjian's voice turned abruptly cold again, every word laced with bone-chilling ice.

"Master Sun, if you were appointed Supreme Commander of Ji-Liao, how would you deal with this?"

Sun Chengzong held the two thin memorials, yet they felt heavier than Mount Tai.

There were not many words on the pages; he could have taken them in at a glance, but he read with excruciating slowness, as if he meant to carve every word into his mind.

He knew the Emperor was waiting for his answer, and this brief silence was the only time he had to think through his response.

Dongjiang must absolutely not be abandoned!

It was a crucial "feint" in the present three-pronged disposition of Liaodong.

No matter how far Dongjiang had declined, it could still project power into southern Liaodong, still receive the displaced people of Liao, still keep the barbarian chieftain from daring to turn his full strength westward.

It was like a sharp stone inside a boot — left long enough, it could draw blood.

As for Mao Wenlong, he did not necessarily have to be kept, but he could not be removed too hastily.

Dongjiang Garrison lay far off in a remote sea, with many men of Liao among its ranks; its foundation rested largely on personal loyalty.

And that loyalty, for the most part, was concentrated in the person of Mao Wenlong.

If he were rashly taken down, Dongjiang Garrison would likely not recover for years.

Yet the Emperor's tone was so resolute — he clearly loathed Mao Wenlong to the extreme.

If he himself wanted to turn this around, where could he even begin?

Time slipped away in the silent exchange of glances.

At last, Sun Chengzong set down the memorials.

He raised his head, the wrinkles on his brow knotting into a deep character for "river."

"Your Majesty, Mao Wenlong rallied a desperate force and thrust alone deep behind enemy lines, recovering the southern Liaodong islands, winning the great victory at Zhenjiang, and seizing back southern Liaodong in the silence that fell after Sarhū."

"Afterward he established garrisons at Pidao and Tieshan, rallied the people of Liaodong, and harassed the barbarian chieftain. His courage and loyalty are witnessed by all under Heaven."

He spoke — and his very first words affirmed Mao Wenlong's achievements.

This was the art of speech: first praise, then censure; first give, then take.

Zhu Youjian's face was expressionless, betraying neither pleasure nor displeasure.

Sun Chengzong drew a deep breath and continued:

"That said, as Your Majesty has rightly observed, the barbarian chieftain is no bumpkin. He has long managed Liaodong and has newly subdued Joseon. Now his frontier defenses are gradually stabilizing, and the Dongjiang raids have indeed grown steadily weaker."

"Moreover, the garrison is a jumble of soldiers and civilians, the island's fields are barren and cannot sustain it, and the cost of troop pay and provisions grows year by year — a drain on the state treasury. This too is an indisputable fact."

He frankly admitted the reality of Dongjiang's wastefulness, and even brought up on his own the predicament of Pidao's worsening situation after this year's Joseon campaign.

All this seemed to follow the Emperor's drift, piling up reasons to remove Mao Wenlong.

Even Gao Shiming, standing to the side, thought that Master Sun was about to push the boat with the current.

But at that very moment, Sun Chengzong's tone suddenly veered.

"However!"

He weighted his voice, and it rang out strong and forceful once more.

"Pidao's position — holding Joseon to the east, spying on Kuandian to the north — its strategic importance is irreplaceable!"

"The people of Liaodong, under the barbarian chieftain's rule, suffer beyond endurance. This turning of hearts — toward us or away — cannot be ignored!"

"So long as Dongjiang stands, the hearts of the Liaodong people have a place to rest. So long as Dongjiang stands, the barbarian chieftain cannot fully possess the lands of southern Liaodong!"

"Therefore, Dongjiang's purpose is a feint of containment, a deft move of balance. Place this one piece, and the whole board comes alive. The day the barbarian chieftain is not yet eliminated is the day Dongjiang cannot be abandoned!"

He paused, fixed his burning gaze on Zhu Youjian, and said, weighing every word:

"Your Majesty, Dongjiang is Dongjiang, and Wenlong is Wenlong. Does Your Majesty accept this principle?"

He was cleaving "Dongjiang" apart from "Mao Wenlong."

What he sought to preserve was the place, not the man.

A fine line of reasoning! A deft touch!

Zhu Youjian smiled inwardly, but his face remained as still as water. He nodded, as if accepting the argument — then immediately pressed with a single question that shattered the defensive line Sun Chengzong had just built.

"And what of Mao Wenlong?"

This question could not be evaded.

Sun Chengzong seemed to have anticipated it long ago. He drew another deep breath.

This time his tone grew complex — regret, ruefulness, and a barely perceptible edge.

"Your Majesty, the way of handling generals lies in blending grace with authority, and still more in understanding their aspirations and using their strengths."

He was finally deploying the argument he had prepared.

"Mao Wenlong's family fell into decline; half his life was hardship. He was nearing fifty when the Liaodong crisis broke. He seized the moment, and the victory at Zhenjiang made his name known across the realm."

"What he has sought day and night ever since is to boast his merits, win a marquisate, and bring glory to his ancestors."

"But Dongjiang's troops are weary and its people weak. The Zhenjiang victory was, after all, a flash in the pan."

"His ambition finds no outlet, his achievements no completion. With that knot in his heart, his conduct naturally turns extreme, and his mouth fills with bitter words."

He looked at Zhu Youjian, his gaze earnest and sincere.

"Your Majesty, this subject believes that Mao Wenlong's heart is, in the end, a heart of the Great Ming."

"And this so-called Dongjiang is absolutely the Great Ming's Dongjiang — not Wenlong's Dongjiang."

"If this subject is entrusted with the matter, he will first appeal to his old aspirations, bind him with imperial grace, and lay out the stakes, so that he may find his way back from the maze and once more serve the court!"

When he finished, even Sun Chengzong, long tempered by storms, could not help a thin film of sweat seeping into his palms.

He had done his utmost, without provoking the Emperor's wrath, to fight for a last thread of life — for Mao Wenlong, and for the stability of Dongjiang.

He had attributed Mao Wenlong's insolence to the personal cause of "frustrated ambition," not to the political ambition of "holding troops to assert power."

This gave the Emperor a way down, and gave Mao Wenlong a chance to "turn over a new leaf."

Yet Zhu Youjian seemed to have no wish to step down that way.

He had heard Sun Chengzong's words from the heart, but his face still wore that noncommittal look.

He was silent for a moment. That moment of stillness sank Sun Chengzong's heart to the very bottom.

"And if We… simply want you to arrest him and replace him with another?"

Zhu Youjian finally spoke. His voice was light, but carried an irresistible will.

"Master Sun, how would you then proceed?"

The dagger was bared at last!

Sun Chengzong felt a violent jolt in his heart, and an indescribable pain surged through him.

The Liaodong enterprise was the first great task he had taken up after assuming office, and the dream of his life.

Must he now, after all, cut off his own arm?

The new sovereign was indeed astute and martial — but why must he act with such reckless haste?!

Sun Chengzong knew that once Mao Wenlong was taken, Dongjiang's morale would scatter, and the so-called three-pronged strategy would instantly become empty words.

To restore it afterward — how impossibly difficult that would be!

And yet…

When a sovereign demands a subject's death, how dare that subject not die?

A long sigh rose from the depths of Sun Chengzong's heart.

He slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, all the struggle, regret, and unwillingness in them had turned to utter calm.

He bowed deeply to Zhu Youjian, and his voice came out dry and hoarse.

"This matter… is also simple."

"When this subject, by imperial decree, takes up his post in Jizhou and Liaodong, he need only send a single letter summoning Mao Wenlong to the pass to discuss military affairs."

"Once he enters the city, his crimes shall be read out on the spot, he shall be charged and seized, and he can be sent under escort to the capital at once."

He laid out the plan for the arrest with crisp simplicity, without the slightest hesitation, as if speaking of a matter that had nothing whatever to do with himself.

Only, after he had finished, he paused a moment, and in the end could not hold back from making one last effort, in a flat tone that was almost a statement of fact.

"Only, once Wenlong is taken, the hearts of his subordinate forces may well grow disordered. This subject shall devise means to divide those forces, each checking the other, so as to prevent mutiny."

"Even so, amid such upheaval, the morale of the army cannot be restored in a day. For Dongjiang to possess fighting strength again, I fear… it will take several years."

His words ended there.

He had made the consequences perfectly clear.

Within Qianqing Palace, a long silence fell once more.

Zhu Youjian gazed quietly at this old minister, his beard and hair already white, and felt a stir within his own heart as well.

Faced with so unreasonable a command, Sun Chengzong had struggled, had remonstrated, had hinted.

He had done the duty of an old minister.

But when pressed harder with a show of force, he had in the end not chosen to resist head-on, but instead produced the most effective — and the most cold-blooded — solution.

He understood compromise, and understood obedience even better.

When a thing can be done, do it with all your strength.

When a thing cannot be done, I have done my strength.

In that moment, Zhu Youjian at last saw clearly to the very bedrock of this former Imperial Tutor's character.

A face like a dark jujube, as awe-inspiring as Lord Guan — that was his surface.

A heart with seven apertures, exquisitely wrought through nine turnings — that was his interior.

There is no perfect character, only the right employment.

Such an old paperhanger, such a sly old fox — a man who could get things done and who commanded respect — was he not precisely the ideal candidate in his mind for the present strategy in Jizhou and Liaodong!

Master Sun — you have passed my second trial as well! —

Let me set down my view of Dongjiang; attach a map and it becomes clear at a glance.

Dongjiang's function lay in controlling the coastline of southern Liaodong and in threatening Kuandian and Fenghuang City (as well as, of course, receiving the people of Liaodong, espionage, and the like).

But to say that it posed any truly great threat to the Later Jin is an exaggeration. Its lines of advance were all through mountainous terrain — the old tribute route from Joseon to the Great Ming, easy to defend and hard to attack. (Joseon lost quite a few envoys on that road back then; it was only slowly developed later.)

Thus after the seventh year of Tianqi, once Later Jin rule had stabilized, the harassing threat posed by Mao Wenlong grew steadily weaker.

Yet his position, which hemmed in Joseon, remained a constant thorn, and it could also radiate along the coast while simultaneously controlling southern Liaodong — one cannot say it was unimportant.

As for why the advance on the southern Liaodong front was so critical, a glance at the map makes it clear: push all the way up and seize Gaizhou, and you have a position easy to defend and hard to attack. This was also the route the Ming army took when it drove north to expel the Northern Yuan in the Hongwu years.

(White is the plain, green is the mountains, haha — I trust everyone understands that.)