Chapter 1088

Pan Yun said: "Yu Qian has been cracking down on official conduct for years, bringing much clarity to the imperial court—but once you investigate the Ministry of Personnel and the Censorate, you'll find many still drawing phantom salaries and acting recklessly. These are the cases that can be uncovered; when you go to the regions, you'll discover even more hidden abuses."

Thus, Cao Nai sought to reform official conduct, even gradually reducing the hereditary privileges of the nobility and high officials.

There was strong opposition in court; some ministers even pointed at Cao Nai's nose and shouted: "You're destroying the foundation of the state, forcing His Majesty to act cruelly and heartlessly, causing talent to flee the realm!"

Without hereditary privilege, how many great talents in the land would be willing to serve the Emperor?

Yet many in court also saw the flaws of hereditary privilege: since the founding Emperor, seven generations of emperors have accumulated too much dead weight, especially among the nobility and imperial relatives.

Civil officials' hereditary privileges lasted only one generation—when the man was gone, his influence vanished; ultimately, except for powerful ministers, their descendants had to pass the imperial examinations to rise in office.

But the nobility were different—they passed privilege from generation to generation, clinging to the nation's bloodline like parasites.

Their ancestors made great contributions to Great Ming and the realm; no one in court objected to granting their descendants privilege. But after three generations, their descendants multiplied endlessly, lacking both literary talent and martial skill, yet still occupying scarce positions—that was too much.

Three generations of privilege, three generations of accumulation—shouldn't their descendants at least be wiser and more astute than ordinary people?

After all, they had inherited resources from their ancestors: books, teachers, martial arts. If they truly applied themselves to the Six Arts of the Gentleman, wouldn't their families hire tutors?

But across the entire realm, in the civil and military examinations held every three years, how many sons of noble military families actually passed and entered office?

Ninety-nine percent entered solely through ancestral privilege, and once in office, they accomplished nothing—only indulging in drinking, feasting, and amusement.

Thus, civil officials generally looked down on the noble military families, seeing them as a band of brutes who couldn't educate their children, producing nothing but tumors feeding on the state's veins—just like the imperial clans who consumed state funds without contributing a single deed.

The military nobility, meanwhile, felt the civil official bloc was targeting their class.

They and their ancestors had risked their lives following the founding and second emperors to conquer the realm—why should these men now strip away the honors granted by the founding and second emperors?

These civil officials' guts are rotten—how much of the state's salary could even all their military descendants consume if they all entered office?

They probably couldn't match the amount consumed by a single corrupt official.

Reform official conduct, confiscate the wealth of corrupt civil officials, and the realm's administration will surely become clear.

The Emperor found both sides reasonable, so he selectively listened to their opinions.

On one side, he heeded the civil officials: he persuaded incapable, phantom-salary-drawing noble sons to return home, freeing up posts for capable men;

On the other, he heeded the military nobility: he continued cracking down on corrupt officials, especially local ones—once caught, punished severely and harshly. Indeed, this contributed significantly to Great Ming's treasury.

Of course, the military nobility's complaints couldn't be ignored; combined with the civil officials' outbursts, the Emperor decided not to let the military descendants run wild.

Pan Yun also feared these dismissed military descendants would flood the countryside and harm the people, so she bundled them all into the Military Academy.

They all came from military noble families—even if they were fools, they must have inherited some of their ancestors' genes.

All of you, read books! No age limit—first, go to the Military Academy and study for three years.

After three years, if you have no desire to enter office, leave the Academy and do whatever you wish;

If you wish to return to service, take the examination—pass it, and you may enter either the military or the court, depending on your results.

It's essentially using their stipends to fund their education.

Not only will this cultivate a large number of mid- and lower-level military officers, but the maximum cost will be only half their stipends.

Moreover, when the military nobility heard their sons would be cut from privileges, they were furious—but when they learned all would be sent to the Military Academy to study, their anger instantly faded, and they returned home to beat their sons and grandsons.

For a time, Jingcheng echoed with the wailing of military noble sons.

"Let those civil scholars see whether I can't teach my son!"

"Wasting such a big frame—you can't even lift two hammers! Listen up: if any of you make me look foolish before those sour scholars, I'll pound you to death!"

The wind in Jingcheng quickly spread to the regions; soon, every military noble family in Great Ming was whipping their sons and grandsons into shape.

Noble descendants who once strolled with dogs and cats now lived hard lives—either being beaten, or on their way to being beaten.

Seeing their rivals so fiercely driven, the civil officials involuntarily recalled Yang Shiqi.

Yang Shiqi lived a life of integrity, yet died tainted by his son's misdeeds.

With this precedent before them, and under the watchful eyes of the military officers, the civil officials too began pushing their own sons and grandsons to excel.

From top to bottom, riding this wave, the custom of disciplining children flourished; the court seized the opportunity to implement elementary education, and Empress Wang donated a hundred community schools at once—education and enlightenment spread throughout Great Ming.

Pan Hong returned to Changzhou during this wave.

The Pan family's ancestral home stood on Zheng Su Lane in Changzhou, not far from the canal.

Pan Tao was skilled in managing affairs; though not immensely wealthy, he had accumulated modest savings.

While Pan Hong and his sons were exiled to Datong, the Pan family annually sent money to the frontier—but during that period, Pan Tao had no surplus; he spent every quarter's savings entirely.

Fortunately, he spent only income from the family's land and his own salary, never touching his wife's dowry.

His wife, Wang Shen, managed her dowry herself, saving a little each year to improve their living conditions.

Grandmother Pan was well cared for by Wang Shen; seeing that she was both capable and uncomplaining about Pan Tao's quarterly frontier payments, she generously handed over her entire dowry to be managed by her.

She left word: "After I'm gone, my dowry will be split into two parts—one for Wang Shi, the other as Pan Yun's marriage portion."

Pan Tao strongly objected, suggesting his mother divide the dowry equally among the third generation: Pan Bai, Pan Yue, Pan Yu, and Pan Yun.

At the time, Pan Hong and his sons were still exiled in Datong; Pan Yun was said to be a Daoist priest on Mount Sanqing, though this had not been verified. Pan Tao's mind was fixed on the future: when his elder brother's family returned, his two nephews' marriages would be difficult—more bride-price might help them find wives.

Thus, his suggestion effectively took a portion from what should have gone to Wang Shi.

Wang Shi, ever easygoing, had no objection—but Grandmother Pan insisted: "Yue and Yu have studied since childhood; they are men, with vast worlds ahead of them. But women are different—Pan Yun has suffered the most. She was forced to leave home as a child, hiding her identity."

"Do you think being a Daoist priest is a good status? It's one of the lowest trades. Whether she returns to secular life or continues cultivating as a priest, she'll need money. Give her more—her life might be less bitter," Grandmother Pan said. "Your wife is a good woman. You now support two households, yet she never complains. We cannot take this for granted. Your brother and I owe her gratitude—this half of my dowry is solely for her."

"If you have a daughter later, fine. If not, she can leave it to her grandchildren—they'll decide how to use it."

Moreover, a mother-in-law's dowry given to her daughter-in-law, not her son, would become a celebrated story for Wang Shi.

"Don't learn the twisted sayings from books—'doing good without publicity is humility.' Pah! Those who do good and stay silent are noble in character; but if those who receive good remain silent, won't they crush the heart of the good?" Grandmother Pan said. "Your wife is virtuous—she must be praised, rewarded, and made known to all!"

Pan Tao opened his mouth wide—he was a reserved scholar and strongly disagreed with this view.

But he was also a filial son and dared not defy his mother.