Chapter 102: Dividing the Spoils, When the Times Are Against You

Hai Rui’s southern campaign did not yield nearly as much silver as Zhu Yijun had imagined— the notion of a single salt merchant possessing hundreds of thousands of taels was pure fantasy.

The main reason was that these salt merchants were merely intermediaries; the bulk of their wealth had already been handed over, leaving little behind.

In comparison, the salt merchants themselves contributed far less than the transport commissioners, salt tax inspectors, and their deputies.

Combined, all the large and small salt merchants yielded a total of over sixty thousand taels in silver, jewels, and paintings.

Nearly a hundred officials were executed, yet their confiscated assets totaled one hundred thirty thousand taels!

Astounding!

Indeed, no matter how wealthy a merchant might be, none could match the riches of a clean prefect serving three years.

This figure was only what had been gathered before meeting Li Chunfang.

If we add the promised wealth of major salt merchants under Li Chunfang, the grain taxes withheld by the Ministry of Revenue, and the household assets of over ten high officials—including Xu Shi, the Grand Censor; Zhu Gang, the Prefect of Ying Tianfu ; Ji Lian, the Vice Minister of War; and the Prefect of Taizhou—we could easily reach another three million taels.

Together, that amounts to five million taels!

In the fifth year of Longqing, the state treasury’s annual revenue was only three million taels—this single campaign equaled nearly two years’ worth.

Beyond this, there would be additional annual revenues: tens of thousands of salt quotas, thirty percent of tea taxes, and recovered grain taxes.

Each year, at least several million taels would be added.

With such immense gains, Zhu Yijun couldn’t help but wish to repeat this every year.

Aside from salt administration, there were horse markets, maritime trade offices, border defenses, phantom troop payrolls, grain taxes, tea levies… even counting on his fingers, it would take a decade to clean them all up.

Regardless, with this much silver, he could finally act boldly!

Previously, even a skillful housewife could not cook without rice—he had been forced to maneuver cautiously within politics; now, things would be different.

With this silver, he could emulate the Wu Zong Emperor and seize control of the military!

The weapon of criticism cannot replace the criticism of weapons.

To cleanse the heavens and sweep away the dust of ten thousand miles, one must wield a thousand-jun staff.

Gu Huan had long stationed himself in the capital garrisons, holding his troops in reserve, waiting for funds and grain.

Only by forging the capital garrisons into a single force could he dare to challenge the Jin Faction and shake the southeast.

…

Wang Guoguang, breathless, arrived at the Chengguang Hall, his forehead slick with sweat—an unseemly sight, yet proof of how urgently he had come.

There was no choice; this was five million taels in silver!

The state treasury’s current reserves, after all calculations, amounted to no more than this sum.

If the Minister of Revenue wasn’t frantic over this, he ought to resign immediately.

Wang Guoguang accepted a towel from a eunuch outside the hall, wiped his sweat, straightened his robes, then entered.

Upon entering, he saw the Emperor, the Grand Secretary, and the Director of the Office of Eunuchs, each scribbling on paper.

Wang Guoguang glanced twice, then composed himself and stepped forward to bow: “Your Majesty.”

Zhu Yijun lifted his head slightly and nodded for him to sit.

He then turned back to Zhang Juzheng, arguing: “Grand Secretary, last time, to pacify the troops, the Inner Treasury lent out a full million taels!”

“My mother has scolded me repeatedly for it, saying that was the dowry reserved for my wedding to Prince Lu—nearly causing a rift between mother and son!”

“Grand Secretary, shouldn’t this money be repaid to the Inner Treasury before any division?”

Previously, upon hearing of the new emperor’s accession, the troops had rioted, demanding back pay.

To quell the unrest, the Treasury had paid thirty thousand taels, the Ministry of Imperial Stables had contributed thirty thousand, the Jieshen Treasury had given twenty thousand, and the Inner Treasury had provided one million.

This was now the basis for dividing the spoils.

Zhang Juzheng bowed respectfully: “Your Majesty, the Inner Treasury contributed one million, the Outer Court eighty thousand—thus, twenty thousand taels should be repaid to the Inner Treasury.”

Zhu Yijun spoke solemnly: “Grand Secretary, that’s not how it works. The troops rioted because of unpaid wages—these are old debts from previous years, unrelated to the Inner Treasury.”

Zhang Juzheng paused, then agreed: “True, old debts should not be charged to the Inner Treasury… yet…”

He turned to Wang Guoguang: “Minister Wang, I recall that during the reign of the Mu Emperor, the Ministry of Revenue was repeatedly borrowed from—do any of those old debts remain?”

Zhu Yijun fell silent.

Seeing Wang Guoguang about to answer, he quickly interrupted.

He waved his hand: “Enough. The palace and the court are one entity—no need for such formalities.”

“Let’s follow the standard procedure: assets seized by the Embroidered Uniform Guard go to the Inner Treasury; those seized by government offices go to the Outer Court; the surplus grain taxes shall be divided equally among all.”

This was unusual—no one outside the Embroidered Uniform Guard had yet intervened in these confiscations.

Zhang Juzheng shook his head: “Your Majesty, though these are labeled as private wealth, they are in fact embezzled salt taxes.”

“My suggestion: when salt tax revenue enters the capital, seventy percent goes to the Ministry of Revenue, and the remaining thirty percent is split equally between the Ministry of Imperial Stables and the Inner Treasury.”

The two continued to argue, deadlocked.

After watching for a long while, Wang Guoguang could no longer hold back: “Your Majesty, Grand Secretary, state affairs must come first—why not first settle the urgent financial needs before debating the rest?”

If they continued bickering like this, no resolution would ever be reached.

Wang Guoguang immediately offered a practical solution.

Both men paused their argument upon hearing him.

After a moment of silence, they both reluctantly nodded.

Zhu Yijun spoke first: “Use the assessment system as the standard—first, partially pay the back salaries owed to officials at all levels.”

“Pay the arrears in the two capitals and one province first; set aside funds for other provinces as well.”

“This year’s performance bonuses must be reserved for the Inner Treasury.”

“In total, this will amount to roughly ninety thousand taels.”

Cleaning up official corruption requires spending—without money, men are driven to desperation.

Only after paying them can we enforce decisive measures.

Zhang Juzheng immediately agreed: “No wisdom surpasses Your Majesty’s.”

It wasn’t that they disagreed over the division of spoils—merely over the use of the funds—but both agreed the money should go to the Assessment System.

Yet with one word, ninety thousand taels vanished.

Zhang Hong picked up his brush and wrote “salaries,” noting five million beside it, then subtracted ninety thousand, leaving four hundred ten thousand.

Zhang Juzheng continued: “Your Majesty, if we test two more quarters, by August it will be a full year.”

“I request to pilot the Assessment System in Huguang, Shandong, Henan, and Shaanxi provinces.”

Zhu Yijun glanced at Zhang Juzheng—he knew this was an attempt to begin land surveys as soon as possible.

He thought for a moment, then slowly nodded: “I am not versed in state affairs—discuss it with the Grand Secretariat and the court ministers.”

“But… when the time comes, thoroughly review all shortcomings and defects, and draft a refined plan.”

On matters of concrete detail, he would not interfere.

He would only guide the broad direction.

Zhang Juzheng bowed deeply in assent.

When they finished, Wang Guoguang could not wait to speak: “Your Majesty, the grain transported via the Grand Canal has arrived in the capital—two million seven hundred eleven thousand one hundred and one shi and one dou.”

“This is forty thousand shi less than last year, and twenty-nine thousand shi short of the expected warehouse receipts.”

“May Your Majesty grant mercy and allow us to purchase some grain from local households around the capital?”

This shortfall resulted from sunken canal boats and Wang Zongmu diverting part of the grain for maritime transport.

These were supplies meant for frontier garrisons—this deficit must be made up.

The “local households” meant the wealthy landowners, for the capital region had far too many tax-exempt estates.

Zhu Yijun and Zhang Juzheng exchanged a glance.

This loss had to be acknowledged—no taking gains while ignoring losses.

Zhu Yijun considered, then said to Wang Guoguang: “Pay eighty percent of market price, but the accounts must still pass through the Ministry of Revenue.”

The Ministry of Revenue’s grain inventory consisted of mixed grains—hulled rice mixed with wheat.

The price per shi varied—sometimes two cash, sometimes one tael two cash.

But with only minor famines this year, prices were not yet high—the market rate near the capital was seven cash per shi.

At eighty percent, that comes to sixteen thousand taels.

Zhang Hong picked up his brush and wrote “grain silver,” estimated the amount, then subtracted sixteen thousand from the remaining four hundred ten thousand, leaving three hundred ninety-four thousand.

Wang Guoguang had no objection and immediately thanked the Emperor.

But he did not leave—he spoke again: “Your Majesty, this year’s imperial clan stipends have risen sharply—the Inner Treasury now requires over ten thousand taels more…”

With so many demands, they simply listed every expense and asked for whatever was needed.

But Zhu Yijun could not agree to this.

He refused outright: “Minister Wang himself previously said to settle urgent expenditures first—imperial clan stipends follow established precedent; this is not the time to raise them.”

Though Zhu Yijun knew Wang Guoguang was right—the Inner Treasury’s annual take had grown steadily under the pretext of rising clan stipends.

The imperial household spent millions, but the portion truly used by the Inner Court, compared to clan stipends, was only three to seven.

A silver-sucking beast!

Yet knowing this did not help—he had just ascended the throne; now was not the time to challenge the imperial clan.

His tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Wang Guoguang, seeing this, fell silent.

Zhang Juzheng then took up the thread: “Your Majesty, the military expenditures for Guangdong, Guangxi, Ningxia, and Xuan-Da still have a shortfall of seventy thousand taels—we have repeatedly petitioned the Ministry of War.”

Frontier garrison needs were, without doubt, the most urgent demand.

Zhu Yijun shook his head: “I know about Guangdong and Guangxi, but Xuan-Da…”

He really didn’t want to let Xuan-Da bleed him dry anymore.

The words stuck on his tongue and he paused.

After all, he truly didn’t know whether these people were inventing excuses or genuinely short on funds.

What if it was the latter?

Zhu Yijun thought for a moment, then waved his hand in concession: “Very well, seventy thousand taels total for the three regions.”

Zhang Hong wrote “border garrisons” on the paper, added 3,940,000, subtracted 700,000, leaving just 3,240,000.

Zhu Yijun had no stomach for calculating these figures.

His immediate feeling now was that Xuan-Da demanded far too much money!

Yesterday it was “horse feed and forage: in addition to regular allocations, add one month’s supply per horse annually for feeding.”

Today it was “funds for guest troops in Xuanfu Garrison.”

Tomorrow it would be “completion of repairs to border fortresses and watchtowers.”

Each request was only thirty or eighty thousand taels—not much individually—but far too frequent.

In the fifth year of Longqing, border garrisons spent 4,209,192.62 taels; Xuan-Da alone accounted for thirty percent!

In contrast, grain transport of 946,986.57 shi amounted to only fifteen percent.

To outsiders, one might think they ate silver instead of grain.

Thinking of this, Zhu Yijun asked: “Why hasn’t Wang Chonggu arrived in the capital yet?”

Last year he was promoted to Minister of War, but he claimed the Tatar raids along the border required his presence and requested to delay his entry to the capital.

The central government naturally urged him politely, insisting he must come to the capital after the New Year to assume office.

It’s already the seventeenth of the second month—still not done?

He’s taken four hundred li to feel like three thousand.

Zhang Juzheng, seeing the emperor slightly angered, gently advised: “He should be arriving soon; the other day, Grand Secretary Yang requested retirement.”

Yang Bo’s seat in the Grand Secretariat is meant for Zhang Simei.

The emperor and the chief grand secretary have plainly stated they no longer wish to see the Jin faction hold three seats in the Grand Secretariat, Ministry of War, and Ministry of Rites.

For Wang Chonggu to enter the capital, Yang Bo must retire.

Conversely, since Yang Bo has requested retirement, Wang Chonggu should now come to the capital.

Zhu Yijun still muttered: “I’ve been laying groundwork for half a year, and it feels like you’re tricking me into bringing him here to kill me.”

Zhang Juzheng gave the emperor a strange look but refrained from rebutting.

Instead, he brought up another matter: “Your Majesty, the Viceroy of Xuan-Da must be replaced.”

Zhu Yijun looked at Zhang Juzheng: “Chief Grand Secretary, do you have a recommendation?”

For matters aligned with his interests, he would respect whoever the Grand Secretariat proposed.

He trusted Zhang Juzheng implicitly on Xuan-Da affairs.

Zhang Juzheng paused, then said: “What of Tan Lun? Former Right Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, concurrently Left Vice Minister of War, assisting in the capital military affairs?”

Zhu Yijun fell silent in thought.

He was indeed within his expectations.

A jinshi graduate, yet a seasoned battlefield commander.

Among civil officials commanding troops, Qi Jiguang, Liu Xian, and Yu Dayou all served under his command and were recommended or promoted by him to varying degrees.

Among military achievements, there was the great victory at Haiwei during his governorship of Fujian, where over ten thousand enemies were slain, quelling the Japanese pirate threat in Fujian.

In terms of official experience, he has served as Provincial Governor of Sichuan, Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi, and Viceroy of Ji-Liao—nearly every major post in north and south central command.

As it is said, “He spent thirty years in warfare, tallying over 21,500 enemy heads—truly a pillar of the realm.” His concrete battlefield record places him among the top generals and statesmen of the age.

Yet, he is a capable man—just in poor health.

Zhu Yijun asked anxiously: “I’ve heard Tan Erhua suffers from a chronic illness?”

For some reason, lung disease was especially common in this era.

Zhang Juzheng’s father, Zhu Xizhong, and Tan Lun all suffered from it.

When Tan Lun’s lung disease flared, he coughed up phlegm constantly during court sessions, drawing accusations of impropriety from censors, which led him to retire.

Now sending him to Xuan-Da—fearing he might die there.

Zhang Juzheng weighed his words: “His role is merely to use his prestige to deter Xuan-Da and the Tatars; direct combat is unlikely.”

Zhu Yijun considered it and finally agreed.

Finally, he added: “First, inquire. If his health truly cannot bear it, don’t force him. These are national pillars—they deserve a proper end.”

Zhang Juzheng fell silent, bowed, and replied: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zhu Yijun sat up slightly and looked at Zhang Juzheng: “Chief Grand Secretary, seventy thousand taels have been allocated to Guangdong-Guangxi, Ningxia, and Xuan-Da—I say nothing. But…”

“The capital garrison’s pay must be issued!”

Zhang Juzheng hesitated, then explained: “This matter requires consultation with the Ministry of War.”

Some garrisons didn’t receive pay due to lack of funds; others were deliberately withheld.

Not all officials wished for the emperor to possess a powerful, direct army.

Zhu Yijun understood perfectly.

Precisely because he understood, he had taken no action after recalling Gu Huan.

Only when funds could be released could he even raise this issue.

He said earnestly: “As for the Ministry of War’s side, we’ll wait until Wang Chonggu arrives. Right now, I need one and a half million taels!”

Zhang Juzheng showed no reaction, but Wang Guoguang and Zhang Hong both flinched inwardly.

Guangdong-Guangxi, Ningxia, and Xuan-Da had just taken seventy thousand taels—and now the capital garrison alone demanded one and a half million.

Could he be planning to expand the army?!

Zhu Yijun knew exactly what they were thinking.

Before Zhang Juzheng could speak, he explained: “The funds aren’t just for pay—they’re also for craftsmen, firearms, and rewards. I’m not speaking recklessly.”

Zhang Juzheng’s expression remained neutral; after a moment’s thought, he said: “Your Majesty, we have only five million taels total. One and a half million is too much.”

“The Imperial Household Treasury, the Ministry of Imperial Stables Treasury, the Frugal Reserve Treasury—all still owe accounts.”

“Especially the Ministry of Works’ Frugal Reserve Treasury: this past half-year, it’s funded imperial tombs, the Yellow River, and Your Majesty’s order for Minister Zhu to build ships.”

“Your Majesty… please understand.”

He knew the emperor wished to reorganize the capital garrison; craftsmen and firearms—he didn’t mind the details.

But funds were limited; he must also consider the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of Revenue, who hadn’t even been seated at the table.

Wang Guoguang added: “Your Majesty, last year Ningxia and Shaanxi suffered earthquakes; relief funds were drawn from local treasuries and remain unpaid.”

Zhu Yijun sighed helplessly—why were there so many places needing money?

Shipbuilding couldn’t be cut; he knew the Ministry of Imperial Stables still owed horse subsidies and guest troop funds.

Disaster relief was even less debatable.

Zhu Yijun sighed: “One and two hundred thousand taels. I cannot go lower, Chief Grand Secretary.”

Seeing the emperor concede, Zhang Juzheng bowed in apology.

Zhu Yijun waved his hand dismissively.

Zhang Hong quietly noted “capital garrison” on the paper: 3,240,000 minus 1,200,000 left 2,040,000.

Finally, seeing no further demands from the emperor or Ministry of Revenue, he added: “Remaining 2,040,000 taels: to be allocated by court deliberation among the Imperial Household Treasury, the Grand Granary, the Imperial Household Kitchen Treasury, the Ministry of Imperial Stables Treasury, the Frugal Reserve Treasury, etc.”

Zhang Juzheng, seeing the slightly aggrieved emperor, couldn’t help but advise: “Your Majesty, this is only the beginning of your new reign; salt policy has already been reformed, yielding over a million taels annually—this hardship won’t last.”

“Your Majesty’s life is long; there’s no need to rush.”

He meant: you’re still young, better days lie ahead.

Zhu Yijun nodded, accepting the words.

But after a moment’s thought, he emphasized again: “Yet, these funds must not be distributed without the Viceroy’s authority.”

Previously, the Marquis of Zhangwu was ineffective; sometimes the capital garrison received pay, yet subordinates didn’t even inform him.

Now that Gu Huan has taken over, this loophole must not be reopened.

For soldiers, whoever issues the pay holds authority.

Bypassing the capital garrison Viceroy to distribute pay—that’s simply too much.

Zhang Juzheng nodded and agreed.

Seeing the emperor still uneasy, he looked at him seriously: “Your Majesty, if you harbor doubts, perhaps… you should inspect the troops yourself!”

(End of Chapter)