Chapter 122: The Ancient Family

April 15.

In the Western Garden, beside the Taiye Pool.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sat on a low stool, fishing beside the Taiye Pool.

As one of the few remaining pastimes, it was also a good way to regulate his mood.

Zhang Hong came to report matters and was handed a fishing rod as well.

"Besides money, Minister Xu has ordered officials trained in arithmetic and Embroidered Uniform Guard personnel to remain and teach for half a year, to help him expand enrollment."

Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled with satisfaction.

He's full of energy.

Just this one move shows he's truly serious about getting things done.

Whether it's an academy or a salt administration, in the early days of establishing a new bureau, the first thing is to build buildings and allocate funds—to create tangible assets.

Immediately following that comes the issue of staffing.

Xu Jie walked in and immediately demanded control over the funds for the academy, going to great lengths to fill temporary positions—clearly, he's not cutting corners.

Zhu Zhu Yijun ordered: "Do as Minister Xu suggests."

"But every quarter, send someone to audit the use of funds, and at year-end, summon the Ministry of Revenue and the Censorate for a joint review—make it a fixed procedure."

The expenditures going forward will certainly be substantial; we cannot leave glaring loopholes in the early stages of establishment.

Zhang Hong responded and accepted the order.

Zhu Zhu Yijun remembered something and asked: "Has Wang Wang Shizhen arrived in the capital yet?"

He was reinstated by imperial decree before the New Year; these people are too sluggish.

Zhang Hong hurriedly replied: "Your Majesty, Wang Wang Shizhen observed mourning for his mother and only concluded it this year; he is already on the way."

Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded in understanding.

He then felt a touch of helplessness—when it comes to officials you need, mourning rituals are such a nuisance.

But there was no good solution.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zhang Hong watched the emperor lost in thought and subtly tugged his fishing rod, scaring off the fish about to bite, so as not to catch one before His Majesty did.

He continued reporting: "The imperial decree granting Hai Hai Yushi the right to preside over the palace examination has been red-penned and sent to the Ministry of Rites."

"But… Zhang Siming says our dynasty has no precedent; how to implement it still requires careful deliberation."

That was ambiguous, evasive.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sneered.

He understood perfectly—it was a subtle nudge.

Zhu Zhu Yijun said coolly: "Has Yang Bo submitted another petition to retire?"

Zhang Hong had already prepared his reply: "He submitted it this morning; as per Your Majesty's instructions, it has been held back."

Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded: "Convey my encouragement to Yang Bo—tell him to rest well. He may recommend a senior minister to temporarily handle affairs in the Grand Secretariat; he can return once recovered."

Everyone knew who he would recommend.

Zhang Hong noted it down.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had not caught a fish in a long while and felt his position was poor; he rose and moved to another spot.

He asked casually: "What has been the response from the nobles impeached in yesterday's court session?"

Zhang Hong carefully tugged his rod and replied: "Hui'an Bo Zhang Yuanshan and Cheng'an Bo Guo Yingqian have submitted petitions requesting to retire to their homes; today they have closed their doors to visitors."

"Xiangcheng Bo Li Li Yingchen and Xincheng Bo Zhao Zhao Zuzheng… have gone to seek support from the Duke of Ying and the Duke of Cheng."

"The two dukes ignored them, so they sent their wives to the palace to appeal to the two Empress Dowagers."

Zhu Zhu Yijun frowned—this was incredibly foolish.

It wasn't just their own stupidity; their households had not a single intelligent person among them.

No wonder they could commit the foolish act of imprisoning constables without authorization.

He spoke with distaste: "Order Hui'an Bo and Cheng'an Bo to remain in seclusion at home."

"As for the other two fools, hold all impeachment memorials without issuing them."

Holding memorials back meant not only shielding them but also signaling intensified pressure—let the court ministers interpret it themselves.

Zhang Hong noted it down again.

He added cautiously: "This morning, the overall commander of the capital troops, Gu Gu Huan, submitted another impeachment."

"The reserve commander Li Li Chengen has still not reported for roll call at the camp today."

"The mobile corps commander Chen Xiong of the Divine Engine Camp gathered men for gambling last night."

"The Assistant Regional Commander Hou Department Magistrate of the Divine Authority Camp has defied discipline."

"The right deputy commander Liu Zhi of the Five Armies Camp has been involved in private brawls."

"The central officer Yang Yang Shikai led his troops in cuju…"

With each sentence Zhang Hong spoke, Zhu Zhu Yijun's expression darkened further.

The emperor cut him off: "What does the Ministry of War say?"

Zhang Hong hesitated, then replied carefully: "The Ministry of War's deliberation was returned—claiming the capital troops have always been like this; Gu Gu Huan should merely reprimand them."

"General Gu privately asked Your Majesty whether martial law can be applied."

Li Li Chengen is the son of the Grand Princess; Liu Zhi is the nephew of the Duke of Cheng Yi; Yang Yang Shikai is from the household of the Duke of Zhangwu.

Li Wenquan is even my own maternal uncle.

In short, these assistant commanders and deputy commanders are either imperial relatives or protected by the Ministry of War.

To apply martial law, one must first consider the political consequences.

It's truly bound hand and foot.

After a moment's thought, Zhu Zhu Yijun still shook his head: "Have the Jiangxi Circuit Censor Su Shirun submit an impeachment memorial."

"Also tell Ge Ge Shouli and Li Li Zaiting—the censors and remonstrators—should be more forceful in impeaching these nobles; don't spare my uncles or cousins; stir up the wind first."

The capital troops have long been inspected by censors and remonstrators; currently, it is Censor Su Shirun, a man under Ge Ge Shouli's influence.

Martial law would cause too much commotion; Gu Gu Huan cannot bear it alone.

Better to submit impeachment memorials, riding this wave to deal with them all at once.

Fine them in copper, transfer them, or order them into retirement.

But… we still have to get past the Ministry of War.

He turned and asked: "Who is currently eyeing the position of Vice Minister of War to assist in managing the capital troops?"

It was obvious to all that Zhao Zhao Kongzhao's retirement was certain.

Those hoping for the post should already be stirring.

Zhang Hong thought back, then ventured: "Your Majesty, the Ministry of War seems to favor Shi Mao to assist in managing the capital troops."

Zhu Zhu Yijun frowned upon hearing this.

Previously, when Wang Wang Chonggu had not yet arrived in the capital, the Ministry of War had remained vacant; Shi Mao had seized control, gaining considerable seniority and prestige.

If he were appointed to assist in managing the capital troops, he would likely carve out his own domain, making it hard for anyone to interfere.

Zhu Zhu Yijun pressed: "Anyone else?"

Zhang Hong listed them off: "The Chief Grand Secretary and Lu Grand Secretary Zhang favor Wang Wang Xilie for this position."

"Gao Yi has reviewed the writings of Vice Minister Wang Wang Daoqin."

Zhu Zhu Yijun fell silent after hearing this.

After a long while, he spoke: "Have Xu Jie and Yang Bo also recommend candidates."

Zhang Hong bowed deeply in response.

Seeing the emperor say nothing more, he wisely set down his fishing rod and turned to carry out his duties.

…

In the afternoon, a light rain fell; the streets of the capital were especially fresh and cool, carrying the clean scent of earth, refreshing the spirit.

But there were exceptions.

This guesthouse of the Ministry of Rites for Foreign Affairs, used to host barbarian envoys, had been defiled over the years by uncouth foreigners; the smell was far from pleasant.

Outside was bad enough; inside was worse.

Minister of Rites for Foreign Affairs Tu Tu Yiying covered his nose with his sleeve, a flicker of revulsion crossing his eyes as he looked down at the envoys of the Duoyan Guard.

The eunuch Wei Chao smiled sweetly: "Gentlemen, receive your imperial gifts."

Officials from the Guesthouse for Foreign Envoys kindly translated into Mongolian.

One envoy muttered: "I understand; no need for your translation."

He turned and spoke Mongolian with the other envoys.

Having lived through the Mongol Yuan and two centuries of Ming warfare and diplomacy, cultural exchange was inevitable; many were bilingual.

After the translation was confirmed, the lead envoy understood the Ming's meaning.

Bulin Batu Oden frowned: "We don't want silver—we want cloth, grain, and fine salt!"

"And it's too little!"

He was tall and muscular, radiating brute force; his voice made the eunuchs and officials before him instinctively cover their noses.

Without needing a translator, Minister Tu Tu Yiying shook his head: "Transporting grain and tea is too troublesome; it's hard to move."

"Silver is convenient—it can be exchanged for grain, tea, anything."

He didn't even bother addressing the complaint about quantity; they hadn't lost a battle, so a token gesture sufficed—why complain it was too little?

After hearing the translation, Oden said firmly: "Even if you gave it to us, we have no place to buy with it!"

The Great Ming only opened border markets with Altan Khan; Tumeng Khan, due to years of warfare, received no such privilege.

The Minister of the Honglu Temple, Tu Tu Yixing, smiled: "You may go to the Prince Prince Shunyi."

Prince Prince Shunyi is the title granted to Altan Khan and the only leader among the Altan Khans permitted to engage in border trade.

Tu Tu Yixing paused, his expression subtle: "Or perhaps have your tribe's commander, Du Zhang Ang, represent you and negotiate border trade with our court."

His voice was low, yet everyone present heard it clearly.

Wang Wang Chonggu, the Minister of War, who had been listening from the adjacent room, also heard it.

The Mongols had sent envoys to request rewards; as Minister of War and the original architect of the plan, Wang Wang Chonggu naturally had keen interest in eavesdropping—to gauge the situation.

He had even brought along his nephew, who was soon to enter the Grand Secretariat.

Zhang Zhang Siwei whispered beside him: "Uncle, will this really work? Zhang Ang's father was killed by our court—patricide is a blood-deep grudge…"

Wang Wang Chonggu shot Zhang Zhang Siwei a sharp glance.

Without a word, he rose and walked out of the room.

Seeing his uncle no longer listened, Zhang Zhang Siwei hurried after him.

"Aren't we listening anymore?"

Wang Wang Chonggu glanced at his nephew, who had lately grown arrogant, and said coldly: "If I let you eavesdrop, abide by the rules."

"They're still deliberating next door—how dare you speak so casually…"

"Aren't you becoming too conceited?"

He had spent years stationed at the frontier and hadn't seen this nephew in ages; he never imagined the boy had already forgotten himself so completely in his presence.

Zhang Zhang Siwei's heart leapt at the reprimand.

He quickly apologized: "Uncle is right—I have erred."

Zhang Zhang Siwei knew full well what had propelled his rapid rise.

Even though he now stood on the verge of entering the Grand Secretariat, he dared not show disrespect to his uncle.

Wang Wang Chonggu snorted and strode out of the Honglu Temple.

Zhang Zhang Siwei, a court official with a frail physique, could only scurry after him in small steps.

"Your nephew has learned his lesson—Uncle, don't anger yourself; it's not worth harming your health."

Seeing Zhang Zhang Siwei panting and his tone genuinely contrite, Wang Wang Chonggu's anger subsided and he slowed his pace.

Yet he still scolded: "Don't grow dizzy with pride just because you're about to enter the Grand Secretariat."

"The Tartar threat is a matter of state—every move affects the empire's safety; you cannot afford to be frivolous."

"If things go truly wrong, even the Emperor could be captured—let alone a mere Grand Secretary!"

Though Wang Wang Chonggu was greedy and factional, he always maintained a proper stance on frontier affairs.

That was precisely why Gao Gong and Zhang Zhang Juzheng valued him.

Zhang Zhang Siwei reaffirmed: "Your nephew lacks experience and needs your constant guidance. Today's words I shall remember forever."

Wang Wang Chonggu finally let it go.

After this exchange of reprimand and apology, they exited the Honglu Temple and entered their sedan chairs.

Riding together, Wang Wang Chonggu finally addressed Zhang Zhang Siwei's earlier question: "You think the father's murder stands in the way—that even if Zhang Ang gains power, he'll never reconcile with our court?"

Zhang Zhang Siwei nodded.

Wang Wang Chonggu sighed and shook his head: "You ought to pay more attention to frontier affairs. Even the Emperor, who met me yesterday, understands the Tartars better than you."

He paused, then explained: "The Tartars are not like the Central Plains—Khans don't issue decrees with imperial authority. Their tribal leaders are fragmented and disunited."

"Tartar raids along the border aren't about the Confucian notion of Yuan-Ming legitimacy, nor are they driven by the blood-deep vengeance you mentioned."

"At root, it's about survival—food, cloth, salt!"

"The barbarians plague China merely to secure clothing and food—that's why our court has long relied on rewards."

"As long as we offer food and clothing, even if Zhang Ang wishes to continue raiding, he may not command the loyalty of his tribe's nobles."

Of course, this was only a slight appeasement—border markets were out of the question; it was merely offering Zhang Ang a hollow promise.

Zhang Zhang Siwei fell into thought.

But he had no real interest in the matter and didn't bother to press further.

The two shifted to casual conversation.

From Wang Wang Chonggu's son, who had entered the Imperial Academy by patronage, to the Jin merchants' share of profits this year.

Soon, the carriage jolted to a stop at Yang Bo's residence.

They stepped down and were led inside by servants.

Yang Bo's residence was, of course, magnificent.

Yet now, many decorations and objects had been removed, as if preparing to return home.

Yang Bo himself was in the courtyard, wearing coarse linen, moving flowerpots.

Vigorous and robust, showing no sign of illness.

Seeing Wang Wang Chonggu and Zhang Zhang Siwei enter, Yang Bo took a towel from a servant, wiped his sweat, and apologized: "I became so absorbed I lost track of time."

"Let me change my clothes first."

Wang Wang Chonggu bowed politely and gestured for him to go ahead.

Yang Bo bowed again and returned to the inner chambers.

Wang Wang Chonggu and Zhang Zhang Siwei were led to the study.

Servants brewed tea, and after a short wait, Yang Bo emerged wearing everyday robes.

"Xuefu, you are the pillar of the state. Since arriving in the capital, you've been summoned everywhere—I haven't yet hosted a welcome feast for you. Tonight, please make do with a modest meal at my home."

Xuefu was Wang Wang Chonggu's courtesy name.

Yang and Wang were both from Puzhou in Shanxi—nearly the same county—and had both risen to the highest posts; their bond needed no explanation.

Wang Wang Chonggu rose to bow, smiling wryly: "I haven't yet apologized for the Golden Book Edict."

The Golden Book Edict was the iron warrant of immunity.

It bore inscriptions such as: "We still grant you this oath: except for treason, if you commit a capital offense, we shall pardon you once, in reward for your merit."

It was a genuine imperial pardon—Gao Gong had two.

Wang Wang Chonggu himself had never received one; possessing it would be useless.

But after Yang Bo entered the Grand Secretariat, he quietly obtained one and gifted it to Wang Wang Chonggu as a keepsake.

Then, in February, the matter came to light; censors impeached Yang Bo, bringing him disgrace.

Yang Bo, however, took it lightly—he was about to retire anyway, and giving a favor to a fellow townsman before leaving brought him pleasure.

He waved his hand: "No matter. When Ziweng enters the Grand Secretariat, get me a Golden Book Edict to play with."

All three sat down.

Only then did they turn to serious matters.

Yang Bo asked: "How is things in Three Xuan-Da?"

Wang Wang Chonggu was meticulous; after such careful planning, he shouldn't have made a mistake—but Yang Bo wouldn't rest until he heard it confirmed.

The former nodded calmly: "It should be fine. Within three years, Altan Khan will recognize only my men."

"If trouble arises, San Niang will bolster my position."

San Niang was Altan Khan's wife; she married him at nine and, through her wisdom and valor, rose in tribal prestige.

After receiving rewards from the Great Ming, her power rivaled Altan Khan's—she was one of the most formidable figures in the tribe.

It was San Niang and Wang Wang Chonggu who jointly brokered Altan's tribute submission—the most solid alliance of mutual interest.

Yang Bo remained uneasy: "The Emperor has sent Tan Lun to Three Xuan-Da—he's no pushover."

Wang Wang Chonggu thought a moment, then shook his head: "The situation in Three Xuan-Da is too complex. Even with my backing, I dare not make bold moves—anyone sent would face the same."

"Besides, the Emperor may not be as cunning and cruel as you imagine."

Yang Bo's expression changed: "After yesterday's court session, when you met the Emperor alone—what did he say to you, Xuefu?"

(End of Chapter)