Chapter 1089

"In ancient times there was the Liu family; today there is the Wang family—both are virtuous households, proving that only virtuous women can prosper and pass on a family; chastity is hardly worth mentioning."

Because of these rumors, combined with the development of telegraph and newspaper industries, information spread faster, wider, and deeper, causing the custom of petitioning for chastity steles for widowed women to weaken among the people, and even vanish entirely in the Changzhou region.

Originally, chastity steles were indeed awards granted by the imperial court out of admiration and respect for chaste women.

But later, some people discovered they could profit from it: if a family had a chaste widow, not only could the woman marry better, but the family could also secure a better bride for their son, and even gain advantages for men pursuing their careers outside the home.

These advantages extended beyond the bureaucracy and applied to other industries as well.

Some families in the countryside even began competing over the number of chastity steles they possessed.

The Pan family had no chastity stele.

First, the Pan family did not have many officials, so they had no need for such a thing;

Second, parents and brothers could not bear to see their daughters and sisters suffer such torment, so if a daughter became a widow while still young, they would bring her home and arrange another marriage for her.

To speak frankly, the Pan family once wanted to petition for a chastity stele for Grandmother Pan, but she refused.

Because when Father Pan died, Pan Hong was already over fourteen, considered a young adult.

In another two years, her son could marry and have children, and she could enjoy peace and comfort—why should she remarry and bring herself more trouble now?

She had raised two sons; she was thoroughly done with child-rearing, and had no desire whatsoever for another husband.

So she did not remarry not because she wished to remain chaste for her husband, but because she did not want to endure hardship and abandon the happiness just within reach.

Grandmother Pan was a very honest woman; since she did not remain chaste for her husband, she had no wish to accept such an honor, so she refused.

Now, the Virtuous Stele has suddenly emerged, instantly replacing the importance of the chastity stele.

At Pan Yun's urging, the Emperor has abolished applications for chastity steles nationwide; if a woman is exceptionally virtuous, her family may report her to the imperial court, which will grant rewards based on the standards used for filial sons.

Great Ming has many refugees.

The Ministry of Revenue's records show only sixty million, but Pan Yun estimates the actual population has surpassed one hundred million.

Court ministers and the Emperor may well know this, but because vast tracts of farmland have been seized by powerful nobles and gentry, refugees are everywhere, so the court does not lack population—unlike in Hongwu's time, when the Emperor saw everyone as potential breeders to boost population numbers.

Recall that during Hongwu's reign, a census recorded 59.87 million people; by the end of Hongwu's reign, the registered population was 60.54 million, yet historically, by the Wanli era, the population remained unchanged at sixty million.

It is obvious that population was concealed, so the Ministry of Revenue's Yellow Registers were falsified—no one in the realm could truly know how many people Great Ming actually had.

But times have changed: first, the court's land survey and population verification policies have been underway for two years, with some regions already completed, releasing vast amounts of land and population;

second, industry is rapidly developing across the land, urgently requiring labor, and the large numbers of refugees and unregistered households can now be absorbed into industrial construction.

Though subtle, the Emperor has begun to vaguely sense the shortage of people across the realm.

Because prefectures and counties have begun competing to seize refugees.

Since last autumn, petitions from local officials over stolen refugees have reached his desk; this year, such petitions have increased, showing the labor shortage is growing worse.

People are not objects; if one region lacks labor, it can lure or seize people from elsewhere—but as Emperor, standing above it all, could he really snatch people from foreign lands to use?

Therefore, the fundamental solution must be to increase births.

If births are to be encouraged, then widows must be urged to remarry.

What sense does it make to lock young women in the inner quarters to preserve their chastity?

Let them all out: those who wish to remarry, remarry; those who do not may go work in workshops.

What is wrong with women?

Men till, women weave—each provides half the food and clothing; women hold up half the sky, so they must count as laborers.

Of course, the Emperor thinks this, but he cannot say it aloud, or he would appear beastly.

So this matter was entrusted to Empress Wang.

Empress Wang, in her capacity as Empress, proclaimed to all women of the realm that they must shoulder half the burden of the household: young women should learn to read, count, and study diligently—needlework, weaving, medicine… in short, women may learn any art under heaven;

after mastering these skills, they may marry, establish households, assist their husbands, raise children, and contribute to the state, the ruler, and the family—this is what makes a virtuous woman.

The common people felt the Empress spoke rightly, and so six- or seven-year-old girls now carried satchels alongside their brothers to community schools for early learning; twelve- or thirteen-year-old girls became apprentices in embroidery workshops, weaving mills, and clinics.

Empress Wang also established textile academies across the realm in the name of the imperial house, admitting almost exclusively female students, who could enroll free of charge and then work for at least five years in textile workshops owned by the imperial family.

During those five years, they received basic wages; those who performed well could be promoted and receive raises.

After five years, if they wished to leave, they were free to go.

But the strongest reaction was not from girls of this age group, but from young women aged twenty to forty.

Widows, one after another, stepped out from the inner quarters—either remarrying on their own or directly enrolling in the academies.

These women were mostly mature in mind and already skilled in weaving, learning new spinning and loom technologies with remarkable speed.