Chapter 768: The Ideal Sovereign

The sixth day of the seventh month.

The Chongzhen Emperor personally ascended the Zhengyang Gate to welcome Qian Shisheng's returning mission to the capital.

This was also a request Qian Shisheng had mentioned in the memorial he had sent by fast rider to the capital from Miyun.

Of course, in his memorial, Qian Shisheng had asked the Chongzhen Emperor to welcome not him, but the enemy heads being transported back — this was actually rather presumptuous, arranging things for the emperor himself.

But it couldn't be helped; Qian Shisheng no longer wanted to serve.

Before, like most officials, he had always held an idealized image of the emperor in his mind.

The emperor should possess lofty virtue and supreme status, offer advice and guidance to the Grand Secretariat and the Six Ministries, keep close to the worthy and shun the sycophantic, be frugal and love the people, and refrain as much as possible from interfering in the court's normal operations.

He always felt that with an emperor like that, everything could get better, and he had been persistently exhorting the Chongzhen Emperor in that direction.

But this diplomatic mission made him realize that whether it was Liu Chengzong or Hong Taiji, the Chongzhen Emperor's main rivals were all very formidable, yet they all ran completely counter to that image of the ideal emperor he had imagined — and the Chongzhen Emperor's style of doing things actually resembled theirs more closely.

They were all self-willed tyrants; sandwiched between those two inhuman figures, the Chongzhen Emperor's moral character was set off to appear flawless, even seeming so merciful as to verge on cowardice.

Hong Taiji goes without saying — killing his brother, dismembering his sister, burying his father's young consort alive with the corpse — it's hard to say he had any connection to morality whatsoever.

Liu Chengzong was even more jarringly shocking: appearing courteous and humble, but in truth brutal and cold-blooded, not even a twitch of the eyelid no matter how many people died before him.

This could not help but make Qian Shisheng, a Grand Secretary who had placed first in the palace examination, doubt his own understanding — the minister thought the sovereign was not wise enough, the sovereign thought the minister was not worthy enough.

But could it be that they had been dragging each other down with the emperor all along?

It was precisely this doubt that made Qian Shisheng genuinely want to quit, and the reason he wanted to quit was now different from before the mission.

Before the mission, he had felt the emperor's style was problematic, impossible to change, and immune to counsel — time to go home.

Now he suspected his own approach was the problem; others were more self-willed than his emperor and doing very well, so his emperor's approach was not the problem.

It was simply a matter of lacking ability.

This was even more despairing than the approach being wrong.

Then what was the point of being a Grand Secretary? Go home!

Therefore, the memorial he sent the Chongzhen Emperor was extremely bold, comprehensively demanding that the Chongzhen Emperor receive the enemy heads with great fanfare, set up an altar, and perform sacrifices for the fallen soldiers inscribed on the stone monument.

In order to erase the rebel symbol from Liu Chengzong, twist the people's perception into believing the Great Ming's Marshal's Office had won a victory beyond the frontier, and do everything possible to dissipate the prestige Liu Chengzong had gained from this battle in the capital region.

At the very least, he must not be allowed to gain enormous prestige in the capital region in his capacity as a rebel leader.

Beyond that, he also recounted the impact this battle beyond the frontier had brought to the realm, the opportunity gained for rest and recovery — if they could avoid provoking Liu Chengzong in these two years and attack the eastern slaves with full force, they could put an end to twenty years of Jurchen brigandage.

Qian Shisheng had originally thought that making such arrangements would anger the Chongzhen Emperor, but the result was exactly the opposite.

The Chongzhen Emperor was overjoyed.

Upon reading the memorial, the Chongzhen Emperor was astonished by Grand Secretary Qian's comprehensive arrangements — was Liu Chengzong's training effect really that good?

Look at Grand Secretary Qian — before he went, when he spoke, normal people couldn't understand him; now, having returned from his studies under Liu Chengzong and having seen what real villains look like, his speech had become pragmatic, and the man himself had grown expedient.

The word "expedient" was something the Chongzhen Emperor had recently learned from his court officials.

This year, he had called for donations for the fourth time, and everyone used this word to curse him.

The Chongzhen Emperor liked Qian Shisheng's current demeanor — this flavor was just right.

Now this was a good minister — just say how things should be done, present a detailed strategy, and whether to do it is my business.

Stop always fixating on my style of doing things, picking at my faults — who exactly is the emperor?

Qian Shisheng's memorial had resolved the Chongzhen Emperor's greatest hidden worry.

Outside Zhengyang Gate, Daiching's great banner, military flags, and the ritual-vessel heads were presented one by one, along with the gold bars Liu Chengzong had asked him to pass on to the emperor; Qian Shisheng even, in front of the welcoming court officials, solemnly and loudly relayed Liu Chengzong's declaration that there was only one emperor under heaven while describing the stone monument recording the achievement.

However, Qian Shisheng played a sly trick.

Liu Chengzong's original words: This battle was fought by the people of the realm for the people of the realm; there is only one emperor under heaven, and there is no place for Chongde.

What Qian Shisheng said was: There is only one emperor under heaven; this battle was fought by the people of the realm for the people of the realm, and there is no place for Chongde.

Never mind the irrepressible grin on the Chongzhen Emperor's face up on the gate tower.

Tian Hongyu, the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard standing in attendance with his guardsmen, nearly jumped up when he heard this — this fellow provincial was crooked to the core!

How domineering.

Liu Chengzong's original words emphasized that the throne had nothing to do with Chongde — it was a matter between him and the Chongzhen Emperor.

But by swapping the order, Qian Shisheng made it sound as if the emperor need not trouble himself — Chongde had recklessly declared himself emperor, so the people of the realm had taken him out.

With that single line, the Chongzhen Emperor up on the gate tower was practically floating to heaven with delight, even looking at Qian Shisheng's old face with a trace of pleasure, and on the spot wanted to bestow upon him a python robe and colored silks right there at Zhengyang Gate.

This had not been prepared in advance; the eunuchs in the imperial city were running so hard their legs were practically smoking.

The moment Wen Tiren saw the expression on the Chongzhen Emperor's face, he knew things were bad.

He had originally thought that Qian Shisheng's diplomatic mission — best if he never came back, and if he did, he'd most likely be finished.

Even just yesterday, he had been preparing, once Qian Shisheng was finished, to invite his junior colleague Xue Guoguan into the Grand Secretariat.

Who could have known that a single memorial from Qian Shisheng would completely reverse the emperor's entire impression of him, and even turn black into white, making Liu Chengzong's great victory beyond the frontier seem as if the Great Ming had won a great victory beyond the frontier.

What does that have to do with us, Your Majesty? That's an enemy who wants to seize your throne!

The key point was, if Qian Shisheng advanced instead of retreating, wouldn't his own position as Chief Grand Secretary be in danger?

Wen Tiren grumbled inwardly: this Liu Chengzong was no good either — such a perfect opportunity, how could he not have gotten Qian Shisheng killed?

Slaying eighteen thousand of Daiching in battle counts for nothing as real battlefield skill; furiously killing a Grand Secretary of the Great Ming — that would make him a true hero among the roving bandits!

He even wanted to have Xue Guoguan send a secret report back to their home province of Shaanxi, to accuse Qian Shisheng of erasing Marshal Liu's achievements.

But at this moment, whatever Wen Tiren thought was useless; he was very good at reading the imperial will, and the Chongzhen Emperor was a man of exceptionally clear-cut loves and hates, which made him especially easy to control.

His greatest trait was that no one could sway his thinking when it came to employing people.

The Chongzhen Emperor had many shortcomings in ability, but his strength lay in employing people — and it was absurdly strong.

In the entire Great Ming, there was no emperor better than the Chongzhen Emperor at employing people; there was never a single official who, after demonstrating talent, was not promoted or given major responsibilities by the Chongzhen Emperor — he was making exceptional appointments every single day.

The ancestral institutions of the court, the rules of officialdom — to the Chongzhen Emperor, they were like farts.

As long as one showed talent and ambition, a civil official could serve as a Regional Commander, a military examinee could enter the Censorate, and even if it were a dog, the Chongzhen Emperor could give it an official post as a gate guard at the Meridian Gate.

Chongzhen's problems were impatience, extremism, and cruelty — he could keep using a man until trouble broke out, mistakes were made, and the funeral was held.

The rewards for promotion were absurdly heavy, and the punishments for error were just as absurdly heavy.

Those who deserved scolding, he punished; those who deserved punishment, he imprisoned; those who deserved imprisonment, he killed.

Thus Wen Tiren understood perfectly: whether Chongzhen liked a man or loathed a man, one must never oppose him — and there was no need to oppose him either.

One only had to wait for that man to make a mistake. Then, with a slight nod beside him and a single "His Majesty is supremely wise," endorsing the Emperor's punishment, that man was as good as dead.

For precisely this reason, Wen Tiren generally never volunteered proposals when at Chongzhen's side. When matters arose, he would simply say, "This old minister is dull and foolish, and can only hope Your Majesty will decide."

He could not afford to make mistakes either.

Soon, Chongzhen received Qian Shisheng and held a banquet within the palace, specially entertaining the great meritorious official who had undertaken mission after mission.

Even Qian Shisheng felt the Emperor's treatment of him was absurd.

He thought to himself: Look at that — a trip to Liu Chengzong really was useful. Coming back, the Emperor is so pleased, it's as if the man's very nature has changed.

Only, Chongzhen's delight lasted but a moment. During the banquet he asked a few questions about the border campaigns, and the moment the banquet ended, he summoned Qian Shisheng to the Platform.

The memorials from every province accumulated over nearly three months of his mission were piled in front of Qian Shisheng, leaving Grand Secretary Qian crushed under mountainous pressure.

To be honest, over at Liu Chengzong's, Grand Secretary Qian had truly experienced a taste of what one calls leisure.

Domestic affairs required no attention, military affairs were beyond his purview — every day was the dull, flavorless routine of eating his fill, drinking his fill, and marching on the road.

He only needed to occasionally spot omissions and fill gaps, offering a little intelligence support, and the battles were won, glory abounding.

The moment he returned, everything was different.

He had eaten and drunk his fill and hadn't even digested yet when he was forced into mandatory duty.

The first memorial bore the signature of Liu Zongzhou, Vice Minister of Works.

The moment Qian Shisheng saw that name, he laughed. Without even opening it, he knew what was written inside: scolding Chongzhen for neglecting proper affairs.

He opened the memorial and looked — sure enough, it was a denunciation of Chongzhen for instituting "voluntary contributions," saying the Emperor's mind was filled with nothing but ignoble schemes.

Had anyone else delivered such a scolding, Qian Shisheng would have thought the other man was in the wrong, but when Liu Zongzhou scolded like this, Qian Shisheng felt he was right to do so.

Because you truly could not blame Liu Zongzhou.

This man had never been keen on holding office to begin with; he loved scholarly pursuits, but he was very famous, and he had both talent and moral integrity.

In the final years of the Wanli reign, sensing that court politics had grown too chaotic and factional strife was imminent, he went home and lived there for seven years, so poor that when he fell ill he had no money for treatment, surviving on loans.

With no money, he came to take office. In the Tianqi years he served as Transmission Commissioner in the Ministry of Rites, only to offend Wei Zhongxian and be struck from the rolls.

When Chongzhen first ascended the throne, he summoned him back and made him Prefect of Shuntian. He had barely been in office when Chongzhen launched "voluntary contributions" at court, declaring that officials who esteemed righteousness and gladly contributed would receive preferential commendation and promotion.

But Liu Zongzhou had no money — he was counting on his salary to repay his loans.

Yet if he did not contribute, with everyone else contributing and him not, he would lose face. So he submitted a memorial, saying: Your Majesty, this matter you are handling is wrong. If they donate money and receive preferential commendation, this is luring officials with profit, corrupting the public morals.

Chongzhen did not care to hear such words. He read the memorial and issued no reply.

Liu Zongzhou took one look at how this official post was going — working without earning money, the Emperor trying to extort his meager salary, and on top of that leaving his memorial read but unanswered — and resigned on the pretext of illness, returning home.

This year, Chongzhen remembered such a man and appointed him Vice Minister of Works, having him continue in office.

As it turned out, with the year only half over, Chongzhen had already launched three rounds of "voluntary contributions," infuriating Liu Zongzhou to the point of explosion.

When I'm not in office, I live on loans; when I am in office, my entire salary gets donated to the Emperor and my loans grow even larger — and to top it off, the State Uncle Zhou Kui is, damn it all, a professional moneylender… The more Liu Zongzhou looked at this Ming officialdom, the more it resembled a high-speed perpetual motion machine!

The Ministry of Revenue issues salaries, the Emperor forces donations, the State Uncle extends loans, court ministers borrow money — relying on the palace's beasts of burden to complete a bloody primitive accumulation. This capitalism has done far more than merely sprout!

He had given the Emperor another scolding and was clearly planning to go home again.

Qian Shisheng knew that Liu Zongzhou also carried in his heart an image of an ideal monarch, one nothing like the present Emperor.

He advised the Emperor: "Vice Minister Liu's doctrine of 'vigilance in solitude and sincerity of intent' is not suited to Your Majesty. Since he is unwilling to serve, Your Majesty should not force him."

Chongzhen sighed at these words. He was no fool — after nine years as Emperor, he had come to understand that scholarly doctrines were things for officials to study, not for the Emperor.

The reason he kept wanting to employ Liu Zongzhou was precisely that a man of such character made an excellent official.

Only, he was far too rigidly idealistic.

With roving bandits at the heart and border threats at the elbow, and annual military expenditure exploding from the former four million taels to the present thirteen million taels — how was Chongzhen supposed to practice "vigilance in solitude"?

"When We instituted voluntary contributions, We were hardly counting on the paltry salaries of court ministers. If he does not wish to contribute, let him not contribute — but he always has to submit a memorial, as though We were forcing him to donate his salary."

Chongzhen felt deeply wronged too. What he wanted was the money of the imperial clan nobles, the imperial relatives by marriage, the idle eunuchs, the consorts and princesses — but there was no proper justification to demand it openly. He could only launch "voluntary contributions," urging people to donate more, trading nominal recognition for tangible profit.

The estates granted away by previous emperors — mainly by his grandfather Wanli, who ran a reverse "Decree of Extended Grace" — cost the Ministry of Revenue nearly a million taels in land tax payments to those estate holders every year.

Just for Wanli's two married-off daughters, there were over six hundred thousand mu of granted fields in Shuntian Prefecture alone, requiring the Ministry of Revenue to pay out twenty thousand taels of silver annually — and it had been paying for forty years already.

This money — to demand it, he had no grounds; not to demand it, he could not resign himself!

"Enough. When We return, We shall directly demand loans by name and put an end to this court-wide contribution business."

Chongzhen shook his head and pointed at the memorials. "Grand Secretary, continue reading. In the days you have been away from court, We have been sorely vexed."

"The Prince of Tang, raising troops to come to the Emperor's aid?"

Qian Shisheng's brow furrowed, the creases on his face wrinkling like a steamed bun. Inwardly he thought: If the man could just sit tight in his fief and refrain from doing anything stupid, that would already be helping the court. "Is this not simply making trouble?"

These words soothed Chongzhen immensely. Shaking his head in exasperation, he said: "Making trouble — Grand Secretary speaks far too lightly. First he beat his royal uncle to death with a staff, then he led troops away from his fief without authorization. With that ragtag thousand-odd self-recruited force of his, if the Eastern Brigands capture them, where shall the imperial clan's face be put? And if the Brigands use him as a hostage to assault cities, how are the local officials to handle themselves?"

Chongzhen cursed: "This madman!"

Only then did he sigh.

To be honest, if the Prince of Tang actually had the ability to save the realm from peril, and wanted to raise the banner of rebellion, Chongzhen would gladly abdicate on the spot.

The problem was, he had no such ability. As a mere feudal prince, simply because others failed to show him proper respect, he had already brought down several county magistrates and one prefect — and had even submitted a memorial savagely cursing out Lu Xiangsheng, a grand coordinator leading troops to suppress rebels, because Lu had not made a detour during his campaign to pay a special visit.

Had Chongzhen not used all his power to protect him, even Lu Xiangsheng could have been thrown into prison under the regulations for managing the imperial clan.

The Prince of Tang's performance as a feudal prince fell far short of Chongzhen's own as the Prince of Xin.

How could Chongzhen possibly believe that the Prince of Tang, once emperor, would do a better job than the Prince of Xin? More likely, if their positions were swapped, the Prince of Tang would be even more impatient than he was.

As if the throne of the Great Ming was something Chongzhen was so eager to hold.

A few years ago, he had indeed been eager. But now, he truly was not. The moment he saw news of some bastard feudal prince, he recalled his own days as the Prince of Xin — how free and unrestrained those times had been. Being Emperor was practically turning him into a madman.

The matter of the vassal prince was something Qian Shisheng couldn't well comment on either, so he shook his head and set it aside.

He'd look again.

The Daiching army was plundering in Northern Zhili, the peasant army was raising havoc in the Central Capital, and Southern Zhili… Qian Shisheng's eyes went wide — people were freezing to death in Southern Zhili.

Just last month, Liu Chengzong's troops had been fighting east of the mountains, so hot they were stripped to the waist, yet in Zhenjiang Prefecture of Southern Zhili, snow fell in the sixth month. The common folk had all put on padded clothes; those without were even freezing to death. Neighboring prefectures like Yangzhou dispatched Gaoyou Guard Commander Zhang Yichuan, under orders to ferry padded clothes and grain across the river for disaster relief.

What the hell kind of weather was this!

Qian Shisheng thought to himself, this is bad. With weather like this in Jiangnan, he feared Shaanxi would see trouble again — please, don't let Liu Chengzong have just returned with his army only to come charging out again right after.

Just at that moment, he spotted a name.

Wait… Zhang Yichuan?

Qian Shisheng blinked. That name felt inexplicably familiar, as if — as if he'd heard it somewhere around Liu Chengzong?

?? Good evening!

? (End of chapter)