Chapter 209: Rolling Up Sleeves, Caught Between Two Difficulties

Compared to newspapers, which require long-term maintenance and are like spring rain nurturing growth, petition sheets are tools of public opinion that can be used immediately, convenient and easy to handle.

They are also an extremely mature political struggle tactic in the Great Ming.

As early as August of the seventh year of Emperor Jiajing, the Military Censor Shi Limo submitted a memorial denouncing this phenomenon.

He said that when officials disagreed on state affairs, certain villains either hired storytellers to "proclaim their views publicly" or wrote petty essays to "post petition sheets in secret."

Meanwhile, upright gentlemen were left helpless: "The upright stand alone, while treacherous and secretive forces emerge and are hard to guard against."

Shi Limo hoped Emperor Emperor Jiajing would punish this behavior.

Emperor Jiajing heard him out and thought it made sense—disagreements should be aired in court, not in private essays spread among the people.

If you don't let the referee do his job, are you looking for a new one?

So Emperor Jiajing waved his hand, approved the censor's memorial, and ordered local yamens to "secretly investigate and apprehend those who submit anonymous documents."

Unfortunately, while Emperor Jiajing thought it reasonable, the ministers did not; the local yamens immediately distorted the implementation.

If the mastermind behind Zhang Bu's petition sheet was found to be a colleague, they turned a blind eye.

Meanwhile, they cracked down hard on commoners who came to appeal grievances, labeling their petitions as petition sheets and launching mass arrests and convictions.

Thus, "Shi Limo's memorial caused nothing but chaos."

As soon as the situation turned unfavorable, Emperor Jiajing immediately reversed course.

The previous policy was "completely rescinded," and Shi Limo, as a result, "could no longer remain in the censorate; he was reassigned to an external post."

After this futile reform, privately circulating petition sheets remained illegal, but under normal circumstances, the Prefectural Yamen would not dispatch personnel to pursue or arrest offenders.

Even as late as Emperor Longqing's second year, the Chief Censor Zheng Dajing and the Imperial Censor Zhong Yi still submitted memorials to Emperor Emperor Longqing—"Anonymous petition sheets are mostly tools of malicious revenge; the inner and outer enforcement officials must be strictly ordered to investigate and apprehend them."

Clearly, the Great Ming had always tolerated this practice.

As a result, even now, the Prefectural Yamen runners of every apprehension office paid no attention whatsoever when they saw petition sheets posted in the city.

Only when the Patrol Censor Huang Jiadong personally saw this petition sheet and hurriedly visited the Beijing Prefecture and the Five City Military Commands did the entire Beijing city begin, belatedly, to stir.

But of course, it was already too late.

Not to mention the common people, even among the candidates preparing for this spring's metropolitan examination, the uproar had already reached a fever pitch!

…

If one were to ask where, throughout history, minds are most active and debates most rampant, it would be none other than the schools.

Especially when the matter involves fairness in the imperial examinations and the privileges of the powerful.

The students of the National Academy were practically ignited at the slightest spark.

"I heard that Censor Hai couldn't bear it anymore—he wrote a letter to one of the chief examiners, Wang Wang Xilie, saying, 'I trust you uphold justice and would never favor Taiyue out of personal bias.'"

"Zhang Zhang Jiangling is truly taking advantage of the Emperor's youth, flaunting his favor!"

"Actually, setting aside whether or not this petition sheet manipulates public opinion, what word in it is false? What sentence is wrong?"

"Even if we, lowly and base individuals, dare not question the Chief Minister's reputation and character, surely the mere fact that he holds the reins of the state and influences the imperial examinations and policy essays needs no further explanation?"

"Exactly! The Chief Minister's own words and actions are leaking exam questions! As father and son, if one merely observes his conduct and grasps even a little, isn't that an unfair advantage over us?"

"When the father enters the hall and ascends the throne, the son gets a hereditary post—that's already a tremendous grace. But now some people aren't satisfied even with hereditary posts; they dare to meddle in the examinations and rob the poor of their last shred of purity. If this continues, why not just make it hereditary outright?"

"Exactly! This violates our dynasty's established precedents—how is it different from the ancient practice of recommending filial sons and selecting virtuous men, only to recommend one's own son?"

Inside the National Academy's lecture hall, the students clamored noisily, voicing their opinions on the petition sheet that had appeared in the capital.

But where there are many people, there are inevitably differing views.

While some criticized, others supported the Chief Minister's son taking the metropolitan examination.

Lü Xingzhou slammed his hand on the table and rose: "What established precedent? Our dynasty has no such precedent!"

"As early as the second year of Yongle, the top scorer Yang Xiang was the nephew of the Grand Secretary Yang Shiqi."

"In the first year of Tianshun, the second-rank Tong Jinshi Xu Qi was the son of the Deputy Grand Secretary Xu Bin."

"In the eleventh year of Chenghua, the second-rank Tong Jinshi Wang Yi was the son of the Nanjing Minister of Personnel Wang Jiuyu."

"In the fifth year of Emperor Jiajing, the Hanlin scholar Fei Maoxian was the son of the Chief Minister Fei Hong; the Hanlin scholar Mao Qu was the son of the Deputy Grand Secretary Mao Ji."

"In the thirty-eighth year of Emperor Jiajing, Wu Peng, Minister of Personnel, had his son Wu Shao pass the second-rank Tong Jinshi examination."

"These examples abound! Are you people fabricating our dynasty's precedents at will?"

His face flushed red, spittle flying.

Clearly, his views clashed with those of the clustered students.

The students who had just been passionately speaking turned around at the sound.

As soon as the students saw Lü Xingzhou, someone sneered: "I thought it was who—it's Lü Xianggong's eldest son. No wonder—you're defending Zhang Zhang Jingxiu to pave your own way."

"Your ass determines your brain. We understand you. Go play somewhere else."

The imperial examinations must be taken through official schools; students without official school registration were not eligible to sit for the exams, whether provincial or metropolitan.

All so-called students held official school registration.

Candidates preparing for the metropolitan examination either returned to their home province's prefectural school for further study or remained at the National Academy.

This was the most orthodox background for a candidate, called Ju Ju Jian.

In contrast, the National Academy also had Yin Ju Jian and En Ju Jian, mostly sons or nephews of officials, or those granted status as rewards for merit.

Though all were merely Ju Jian students, their origins differed, and thus their positions, views, and claims were worlds apart.

Lü Xingzhou was the son of Lü Lu Diaoyang; upon hearing him speak, the Ju Ju Jian students immediately classified him.

With such a tainted background, they didn't even bother arguing with him.

Lü Xingzhou, who thought he was merely presenting facts and reason, was inexplicably humiliated and flew into a rage.

He began speaking without restraint: "My father exhausts himself for the nation's rise and fall, serves the state and the Emperor with unwavering devotion—yet you vermin and weaklings, who have contributed nothing to the state, enjoy its grace and dare to attack my father!"

"Our dynasty's pillars, whose merits are outstanding, have yet to repay the Emperor's grace—yet you dare to arbitrarily strip us of our examination rights!"

"Where is my justice!? Have I committed a crime!?"

Unlike Yin Ju Jian, Ju Ju Jian received stipends.

In addition to annual allotments of cloth, silk, clothing, hats, and boots, they also received two sets of clothing for their children and two shi of rice.

That was why Lü Xingzhou deliberately struck this sensitive point.

As soon as he spoke, the Ju Ju Jian students turned pale with fury.

"How bold! You sons of the imperial court—do you have no heirs?"

It wasn't just shouting.

Some had already rolled up their sleeves, ready to leap forward.

The scene was about to spiral out of control.

From among the Ju Ju Jian, Yu Yu Menglin stepped forward.

He first blocked his companions, holding them back, then bowed to all around: "Let us speak calmly. Gentlemen use words, not fists."

After calming everyone, he turned to Lü Xingzhou, speaking calmly and clearly: "Lü Young Master, let us stop the angry words and discuss the matter on its merits."

Lü Xingzhou snorted, turning back from where he had begun to walk away.

Yu Yu Menglin maintained his courtesy and continued: "You claim our dynasty has no such precedent, citing examples from During Hongwu to today to prove that sons of ministers may sit for the metropolitan examination."

"But I ask you: are these cases truly in accordance with regulations, or merely because the Emperor turned a blind eye, or even because someone deceived him?"

"Let us begin with the case you mentioned: Wu Shao, son of Minister Wu Peng, who passed the second-rank Tong Jinshi examination."

"He cheated! Everyone in the empire knows this—surely you, Lü Young Master, are not unaware?"

"At that time, 'hired proxies took the exam, and everyone on the road knew—but no censor dared speak out.' Wasn't this precisely because Minister Wu Peng held such a powerful position that he dared commit such a massive examination fraud?"

"Was this Emperor Emperor Jiajing being deceived, or has cheating now become acceptable?"

"Moreover, this petition sheet also mentions that when two sons of Grand Secretary Zhai Luan passed the examination, Emperor Emperor Jiajing immediately dismissed and investigated him—why do you avoid this point? Isn't this precisely an example of our dynasty's precedent punishing such conduct?"

"Doesn't this prove that punishment conforms to the regulations, while inaction is the Emperor's unlawful leniency?"

"As for arbitrarily stripping rights—that's even more laughable."

"Is the imperial examination, the great pillar of our state, the fairness of eight thousand candidates, more important—or is your privilege as sons of ministers to sit for the examination more important?"

"When Emperor Emperor Jiajing condemned Zhai Luan, he said, 'Even if your two sons possessed the talent of Su Shi and Su Zhe, they could not be used.' If even Su Shi and Su Zhe's talent could not be accepted, then how could Zhang Zhang Jingxiu, or you, Lü Young Master—even if you truly possessed the talent of a Tong Jinshi—be allowed any leniency?"

His rebuttal and argument together left the Ju Ju Jian students feeling as if they'd found their perfect voice, their expressions brightening.

They cheered in unison.

"Well said! You didn't disgrace us!"

"Isn't that right? Back then, they still tried to hide it—but now these spoiled rich kids are brazenly flaunting it!"

"These people are selfish and self-serving—when have they ever cared about the great fairness?"

United in righteous indignation.

Lü Xingzhou, isolated and outnumbered, grew increasingly frustrated.

Earlier, when facing the Ju Ju Jian students' outbursts, Lü Xingzhou could dismiss them as jealous, envious, and merely suppressing competition.

But Yu Yu Menglin was different.

The National Academy had six halls: Shuaxing, Xiudao, Chengxin, Zhengyi, Chongzhi, and Guangye.

Though Yu Yu Menglin came from poverty, his scholarship was the best among all six halls.

At this level, passing the Tong Jinshi examination was certain—he had no need to suppress anyone.

His rank and his argument left Lü Xingzhou in an awkward position.

Realizing he had lost the momentum was deeply frustrating.

Especially the hardest part: he had no answer to how fairness could be guaranteed when ministers' sons took the examination—if one relied on character, our dynasty had already produced Yan Song.

Lü Xingzhou could find no rebuttal, and grew even more furious.

He struggled to gather his thoughts, about to speak.

At that moment, the academy gate creaked open.

Everyone assumed the professor had arrived; they fell silent in unison, turning toward the door, ready to rise and bow.

They looked closely.

It was no teacher—it was Zhang Zhang Jingxiu, the eldest son of Zhang Zhang Juzheng, the very subject of their gossip!

Zhang Zhang Jingxiu pushed the door open, stepped inside, and scanned the students with a silent gaze.

His eyes finally settled on Lü Xingzhou.

Zhang Zhang Jingxiu walked up to Lü Xingzhou, and before the latter's puzzled expression, he gave a slight gesture, then silently led him out without a word.

The students watched in silence.

Only after Zhang Zhang Jingxiu had left the academy did the murmur inside resume.

Zhang Zhang Jingxiu listened for a moment, then turned back to meet Lü Xingzhou's questioning look and said, "The Grand Secretariat just sent word—we're to go home and stay out of trouble."

It meant they should lie low until the court reached a decision.

Zhang Zhang Jingxiu took two steps toward the gate of the Imperial Academy, then seemed to remember something. He paused and added, "Wang Qian has already returned home."

Lü Xingzhou fell silent for a moment.

Even Wang Wang Chonggu's son had to go home and hide… Clearly, though the anonymous denunciation only targeted Zhang Zhang Juzheng, both his father Lü Lu Diaoyang and Wang Wang Chonggu had been affected.

He frowned, then hurried after Zhang Zhang Jingxiu: "Who is so treacherous and cunning, secretly posting these denunciations and inciting ignorant students?"

Since the Emperor took charge of the Examination System and moved with decisive force, even the slowest had understood his stance.

Lü Xingzhou knew well: as long as the Emperor's attitude remained unchanged, his father's position in court was unshakable.

He knew it—and so did certain others.

So instead of fighting openly in court, they resorted to this vile tactic, dragging students into their power struggle like weights on a scale.

Truly treacherous!

Zhang Zhang Jingxiu walked ahead, not looking back: "The memorial was submitted by Censor Liu Liu Buxi, but the denunciation wasn't posted by him—I don't know the details."

Lü Xingzhou clenched his teeth.

He growled, "Brother, you must pass the imperial exam this time and smash their faces!"

Hearing this, Zhang Zhang Jingxiu's expression grew complex.

After a long silence, he sighed: "I won't take the exam this time. Let's wait until my father steps down."

Lü Xingzhou stared in shock: "Huh?"

He hurried to Zhang Zhang Jingxiu's side and asked cautiously, "Is this your father's wish?"

At this, Zhang Zhang Jingxiu stopped.

He looked up at the sky, then turned to Lü Xingzhou and shook his head: "No. He said he'd handle it—but… never mind."

Lü Xingzhou couldn't comprehend: the exam came only once every three years—how many threes did a man have in his life?

Besides, the imperial exam wasn't better with age; often, the older one got, the more their brilliance wore away.

He pressed: "Why?"

Zhang Zhang Jingxiu said nothing at first.

After a long while, he pressed his lips together and said hoarsely: "I'm only twenty-two—I can wait. He's waited too many years already. If this affects him, he won't have another chance."

"If I withdraw voluntarily, no one will press the issue."

Saying this, Zhang Zhang Jingxiu's emotions surged, and he turned abruptly, hurrying away.

Lü Xingzhou stood stunned, watching Zhang Zhang Jingxiu go.

No, brother.

If you withdraw, what am I supposed to do? You're the Grand Secretary's son—you don't take the exam. Can I, the son of a minor minister, force myself to sit for it?

We're all sons of ministers—don't drag me down!

He rushed after him, pleading: "Brother, listen to me—political struggle is life or death; not an inch can be yielded. If you…"

The two gradually moved farther away, their voices fading.

…

Meanwhile.

Across the street from the Imperial Academy.

A school stood facing south, three bays wide.

Four lacquered wooden pillars, recently carved by craftsmen, bore paintings of rivers, mountains, sun, and the Big Dipper.

Though the plaque above remained blank, the couplets on either side had been newly inscribed with fine calligraphy.

The strokes danced like dragons and phoenixes—clearly the work of a master.

Too bad the characters were beautiful, but the text lacked any poetic structure—what a waste: it read, "Next, I shall demonstrate the framework of the world's operation."

Though incomprehensible, it somehow complemented the words "Seek Truth" and "Pursue the Dao" on the mirror wall.

Of course, those passing by the East Gate were either high officials or scholars—they rarely noticed the details of this minor office.

Especially Imperial Academy students, who often sneered, "A poor imitation of Dong Shi."

Yet Zhang Zhang Juzheng stood at the gate for a long while, staring, lost in thought.

Until Xu Jie's voice sounded behind him.

"'Seek Truth' means seeking the world's true nature; 'Pursue the Dao' means seeking the way of nature—that's what His Majesty said. I don't understand what it means."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng snapped back to awareness.

Seeing Xu Jie, imitating him, stood with hands behind his back beside him, Zhang Zhang Juzheng quickly bowed: "Master."

Xu Jie waved him off: "You're rigid with formalities—when you drove me out of the Grand Secretariat, you showed no mercy. You'd be better off not so deferential."

Every student has a thick skin before his teacher.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng was used to the Daoist Master's capriciousness.

He acted as if he hadn't heard and asked: "What does the couplet mean? Is it inspired by Qu Yuan's Heavenly Questions?"

Qu Yuan once asked: "In the beginning of antiquity, who transmitted the Dao? When heaven and earth had no form, how could it be known?"

It strangely matched the couplet's "demonstrate the framework of the world's operation."

Xu Jie slumped his head, helplessly: "His Majesty only assigned me to manage administration—he forbade me from meddling in anything else. How would I know?"

Zhang Zhang Juzheng nodded thoughtfully.

He pointed again at the blank plaque: "Why still no name?"

Xu Jie turned and led Zhang Zhang Juzheng into the courtyard, replying as he walked: "His Majesty forbade me to name it—he says a name will come after the spring examinations."

He walked ahead.

Along the way, many students and professors greeted Xu Jie.

Occasionally someone recognized Zhang Zhang Juzheng and hurried to bow.

This showed clearly that the people here came from humble backgrounds—they didn't even recognize the Grand Secretary.

The two walked one behind the other; Xu Jie asked: "Why is the Grand Secretariat so idle today? What brought you to find me?"

It was noon—even during nap time, who would travel all the way to the East Gate?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng followed behind, casually replying: "I've been impeached. I just submitted a memorial requesting retirement. I'm about to close my doors to visitors—came by to see you on the way."

"On the way" wasn't true.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng's residence lay toward the Meridian Gate; coming out the East Gate meant a long detour home.

But Xu Jie didn't call him out—he led Zhang Zhang Juzheng to a study.

He took out some tea leaves from under the desk, sat before the tea table, and brewed them himself.

"The denunciation?"

Zhang Zhang Juzheng wandered around the study; hearing Xu Jie's question by the tea table, he stopped and turned: "It was Liu Liu Buxi's memorial—it had been shelved by the Emperor, but today the denunciations suddenly spread everywhere."

"The scholar community is reacting strongly."

Xu Jie, busy with the tea, nodded: "No wonder the Imperial Academy was so noisy today."

"But… you really should submit your retirement now. Otherwise, they'll accuse you of clinging to power—and you'll be even more vulnerable."

The denunciation's illegality was its own matter.

But if the Grand Secretary got caught in the public storm without taking a stance, it became a political disaster.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng sighed: "I was careless—I didn't prepare early enough."

It wasn't negligence—it was simply too obscure.

The rule forbidding sons of officials from taking the exam had long been shattered.

Yang Bo's son passed the imperial exam two years ago and threw a grand banquet—no one remembered this rule.

Now, whether it's me, Lü Lu Diaoyang, Wang Wang Chonggu, Shen Shen Shixing, or even Zhang Zhang Simei who's already stepped down—who among us isn't preparing our sons for this year's exam?

No one ever said a word.

Precisely because of that, we can reasonably conclude it wasn't done by current court ministers.

Xu Jie smiled: "No wonder—only when you're bored do you remember your old master."

He glanced up and saw Zhang Zhang Juzheng flipping through books on the shelf—clearly troubled.

Xu Jie shook his head: "This is easy—have your son withdraw from the exam."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng froze mid-turn.

Then slowly closed the book, his voice heavy: "Since he was a child, I pushed him hard in his studies, urging him to become a top scholar."

"In the academy, if he neglected his lessons, I scolded and beat him without mercy."

"Since this year, with the exam approaching, I've encouraged him, pressured him, scolded him—and my hopes have grown ever greater…"

In the end, Zhang Zhang Juzheng's words turned into a sigh: "I cannot bear to have my son withdraw from the exam."

Xu Jie heard this, and for some reason, his eyes grew suddenly red, as if recalling something.

He lowered his head slightly to hide his emotion and remarked, "You are too harsh—on your son, on your students, on yourself."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng remained silent.

Xu Jie spoke again, offering advice: "Then let him wait at home. The Emperor will surely stand by you and grant special permission for your son to take the metropolitan exam."

Hearing this, Zhang Zhang Juzheng turned away, his expression unreadable: "This impeachment itself holds moral ground. If we examine it strictly, the son of a Grand Secretary ought not to sit for the imperial examination."

"If His Majesty overrides all opposition to support me, it may tarnish his virtue and invite criticism from the scholarly community."

This is precisely the function of the petition.

Especially when fairness is involved, it has always been a potent weapon.

Even if we grant the utmost benefit of the doubt—that you, Zhang Zhang Juzheng, are upright and gave your son no advantage, and that all examiners remain impartial and evaluate papers with pure intent—what of the future? Will every Grand Secretary be allowed the same?

Why should the rules be broken for you, Zhang Zhang Juzheng, and leave endless harm behind?

Upon hearing this, Xu Jie's expression darkened instantly.

He flung down his cup lid in irritation: "Why overthink it? This is the Emperor's test, not your responsibility as Grand Secretary! Do you really think yourself the Emperor, thinking for him?"

"Let people curse you, let the Emperor's virtue suffer—it is your duty to be a good official!"

"If you would only study Mind Learning properly with me, you'd see these are all illusions!"

Zhang Zhang Juzheng paid no heed.

He shook his head, unwilling to continue the topic.

He changed the subject abruptly: "Teacher, show me this academy. I've never had time before—today is perfect to see what the Emperor has been doing here."

There's one more chapter, coming later.

This examination cycle was indeed stirred up by the news that Zhang Zhang Juzheng's son was taking the exam; Hai Rui's remark was addressed to the chief examiner Lu Lu Diaoyang, drawn from the Hai Rui Collection. Later accounts claim Zhang Zhang Juzheng instructed Wang Wang Xilie to help his son cheat, but this comes from the Qing-era text "Anecdotes of the Imperial Examination," with no verifiable source—likely fabricated. As for the claim that Zhang Zhang Juzheng, angered by his son's failure to pass the Tong Jinshi exam, canceled the selection of Shujishi for this cycle, this originates from the "Ming History"; while subjective, no clear reason for the cancellation of this year's Shujishi has been found—readers may judge for themselves.

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(End of Chapter)