Chapter 960: The Prince of Zhou Enters the Capital

The next day, An Chen sent a telegraph report stating that Nanchang had no intention of rebellion, for although they possessed large numbers of private soldiers not on official rolls, what they held in hand were not swords or guns, but hoes, sickles, and shovels.

These private soldiers were all military households hidden away, entirely used by local garrison commanders as tenant farmers and laborers to till land and conduct commerce.

Indeed, these men were also forced to haul cargo, build houses, and repair roads for the generals.

They not only used them themselves but also rented out these private soldiers to local gentry and powerful clans—anyone needing to build a house, repair a road, or transport goods could summon them; the wages earned were split half to the soldiers and half seized by the generals.

One assistant regional commander named Zhu Liu was even harsher: his soldiers were treated like oxen and horses, sent out to smash stones and build houses for the gentry, and not a single copper coin of their wages was given to them—only their three daily meals were guaranteed.

The emperor was furious, roaring in the Qianqing Palace: “Are my Ming soldiers utterly devoid of spirit? How can they still not rebel, after enduring this?”

The empress: “...Your Majesty, you are the emperor—how can you ask them to rebel against you?”

“Not against me,” the emperor scanned the room, saw no one else, and whispered: “Whoever makes my life unbearable, I’ll make their life unbearable too. If they rebel against those generals, I’ll learn sooner of their suffering.”

Pan Yun slowly set down her teacup and said: “Your Majesty, they still have families. These garrison troops differ from border troops—they’ve been soldiers for generations, their families live together, able-bodied men serve nearby, and some are drafted to frontier garrisons.”

“As for those sent to the frontier, forget them. Those left behind have grandfathers, fathers, and brothers all serving in the military; their mothers, wives, and children till military farmland outside the camp—who dares rebel, and who could?”

The emperor opened his mouth, but could not speak for a long while.

Pan Yun lowered her gaze, turning her teacup in her hand: “Your Majesty, the military household and artisan household systems must be reformed. Father begets son, son begets grandson, grandson begets son—generation after generation, they remain military households. Once, they could earn promotion through battlefield merit, but now, they are doomed to become tenant farmers and laborers for profit-seekers across generations.”

“Soldiers are the shield protecting the nation and the sovereign. Now that the tuntian system has decayed, how much combat strength will remain in our million-strong army if this continues? When another force like the Oirats invades from the north, can the Ming still defend its borders and its capital?”

The emperor fell silent for a long while, then asked: “Did they foresee this too? Is that why this military audit is being carried out?”

Pan Yun said: “Your Majesty must thank the Duke of Ying—he foresaw this future even in Datong, and paved the way for you in advance. You must walk it, and walk it well, or his efforts will have been in vain.”

Abolishing the military and artisan household systems and reforming the military structure cannot be accomplished overnight, nor can it be done now.

But they can prepare in advance—at least, a consensus on military reform must be built.

The emperor decided to speak with civil and military officials during this period, first asking who had good ideas, and simultaneously screening ministers who supported reform—those to be promoted, those to be reassigned.

Then, when the timing was right, he would act.

The State Preceptor once said: state affairs must be stable, not rushed—especially reform.

Otherwise, the damage caused by hasty reform could be ten or even a hundred times worse than clinging to outdated norms.

Besides civil and military officials, he also needed to learn the views of the imperial clan.

Fortunately, his birthday was approaching, and many regional princes would come to Beijing to pay homage.

The emperor’s birthday was on the third day of the eighth month.

The Prince of Zhou and his heir also arrived in Beijing to celebrate.

The Prince of Zhou’s line was direct imperial descent, and his status among the regional princes had always been peculiar. The first Prince of Zhou was Zhu Yuanzhang’s most favored son, granted a fief directly in the Central Plains.

Thus, after Zhu Yunwen ascended the throne, the prince he most feared was the Prince of Zhou.

Even after Zhu Di succeeded in the Jingnan Campaign, the brother he most guarded against was this same Prince of Zhou, his own full brother.

The Prince of Zhou surely knew this, so he lived his life with extreme caution, never meddling in military or political affairs, devoting himself entirely to medicine.

Later, the title passed to his son—the old Prince of Zhou whom Pan Yun had met—who, like his father, loved medicine, but also had another passion: drama composition.

He personally authored thirty-one zaju plays; though none were famous and their ideas were backward and feudal, he truly never burdened the local commoners at all.

Unlike the Prince of Qin, who abducted women, castrated boys, and imposed oppressive taxes, or the Prince of Lu, who used young boys as medicinal ingredients to brew elixirs for immortality, he genuinely loved writing scripts, hiring performers, and often gave free performances to promote his plays—truly causing no harm whatsoever, even enriching the lives of local people.

Thanks to two generations of cautious and tolerant rule by the Princes of Zhou, and with successive emperors now seated on the dragon throne, the heir with higher succession priority than the Prince of Zhou was now the Prince of Xiang; thus, both previous and current emperors had lowered their guard against him.

This new Prince of Zhou was named Zhu Zijin; the old Prince had no sons, so he was adopted as the heir.

He owed his succession in part to Pan Yun’s efforts.

So upon entering Beijing, after paying respects to the emperor, empress, and two empress dowagers, he brought his son to the Imperial Astronomical Bureau to seek out Pan Yun.

The official in charge of spring affairs came out to meet him and replied respectfully: “Your Highness, the State Preceptor is not at the Imperial Astronomical Bureau—she left early this morning for the Ministry of Works. But her two junior disciples are at the Taiyi Academy.”

Upon hearing this, the Prince of Zhou thanked the official, left his visiting card, and turned to leave with his son.

Zhu Tongqie was already a half-grown youth; seeing his father about to leave the palace, he halted.

Zhu Zijin turned back to him and asked gently: “What is it?”

Zhu Tongqie said: “Father, since we’ve entered the palace, why not visit the Taiyi Academy?”

Zhu Zijin: “We don’t know her junior disciples.”

Zhu Tongqie: “But our Prince of Zhou lineage has practiced medicine for generations—don’t you wish to republish Grandfather’s ‘Herbs for Famine Relief’? And ‘Puji Fang’ and ‘Pocket Formulas’? Why not ask the Taiyi Academy physicians for help? If they have additions or deletions, we can include them in the new edition—it would be a great good deed.”

Zhu Zijin hesitated, then shook his head: “I know your intentions, but we can also seek help from skilled physicians outside. We are regional princes—we should avoid the Taiyi Academy, not seek them out.”

Zhu Tongqie: “Father, our Prince of Zhou line has now reached the third generation, and the current emperor is kind and gentle—he won’t suspect us.”

“The emperor is upright, of course he won’t suspect us—but we must still be cautious,” Zhu Zijin said, having lived through the cruelest imperial power struggles. He looked at the bright-eyed youth before him and gently patted his head, whispering: “Your great-grandfather and grandfather were wise and cautious, yet still suffered exile and reprimand. We are far inferior to them—our only option is to be even more careful.”

Zhu Tongqie could not persuade his father, and hung his head as he was led out of the palace by him.