Chapter 285: Four Not Two Direct, Fulfilling One

Wanli Seventh Year, tenth month, eighteenth day, heavy snow.

As the saying goes, if no idle matters weigh on the heart, then it is a fine season in this world.

By that logic, Zhu Yijun has had no such fine season since ascending the throne.

There have always been one or two idle matters weighing on his heart.

For instance, today, even while practicing martial arts, he had endless state affairs to handle and endless memorials to receive.

Outside the Jingyun Gate, the drill ground.

Zhu Yijun drew a longbow, entirely black, breathed evenly, tautened the string, and carefully aimed at the target fifty paces away.

Zheng Zongxue stood beside the Emperor and continued: "... The inspection is scheduled for the twenty-second day of the first month; as for specifics—number of troops, which battalions, procedures—Grand Secretary Wang is still deliberating with General Gu Huan."

Shh!

Zhu Yijun suddenly released his fingers.

The arrow shot forth, tracing an arc through the air, barely embedding itself at the edge of the target.

"See to the military inspection closely. Zhao Yongxian is being transferred to Zhejiang to fight the Japanese pirates; I intend to appoint Lai Tinggui as Right Military Advisor of the Capital Garrison. For the month before he assumes office, you shoulder the burden alone."

Zhu Yijun set down the five-li bow and picked up a six-li bow—Ming dynasty one jin was approximately 595 grams, so nine jin four liang equaled one li.

With one more li, the bowstring could not be drawn as fully as before.

Zhu Yijun's arms trembled slightly as he carefully aimed: "Use this inspection to root out the noble officers who draw pay for nonexistent troops. You're a civil official—you're better suited for this than Gu Huan."

Among a hundred-thousand-strong Capital Garrison, some will inevitably draw pay for nonexistent troops.

Every three or five years, a purge must be conducted.

Zheng Zongxue was about to speak when he heard the bowstring hum—a shaft flew past the target and arced backward.

Seeing the arrow land, he bowed to the Emperor in praise: "That shot traveled a hundred and twenty paces! Your Majesty has clearly reached six li—truly a paragon of civil and martial excellence!"

The Emperor's training followed the Capital Garrison's standard: one hundred and twenty paces was passing, one hundred and sixty paces excellent.

As for strength, it was graded as upper, middle, and lower: upper li was one hundred and twenty jin; middle li was eighty jin; lower li was sixty jin.

The Emperor drawing a six-li bow and shooting a hundred and twenty paces had already met the standard of a heavy-archer.

Though he missed the target, His Majesty shot far!

Martial virtue flourishes!

Zhu Yijun shot a disgruntled glance at Zheng Zongxue: "You've become a sycophant too—haven't you seen I'm practicing accuracy?"

To be honest, all this careful aiming wouldn't count for anything.

For instance, the military examination standard required shooting at a moving target from eighty paces, hitting half of twelve consecutive shots.

So Zhu Yijun could only be said to have strength above standard, but accuracy still lacking—he was half a heavy-archer at best.

Zheng Zongxue, facing the Emperor's jest, replied calmly: "Now that I am fortunate enough to serve at Your Majesty's side, if I do not sometimes comply, how could Your Majesty, though Son of Heaven, find any joy?"

Compliance with the Emperor was also to prevent him from growing bored.

Hearing this, Zhu Yijun could no longer maintain his composure and burst out laughing: "All court officials use classical allusions to admonish; you use them to amuse me."

This phrase was spoken by Yuwenshiji.

Emperor Taizong of Tang casually praised a tree as fine, and Yuwenshiji, beside him, immediately roared in agreement: "Indeed, it is magnificent!"

Taizong, speechless, remarked, "You sound like a sycophant," to which Yuwenshiji replied with Zheng Zongxue's words—thus proving that truly trusted ministers are those who help their lord relax.

Of course, Zheng Zongxue was not merely flattering—he was also using Emperor Taizong to encourage the Emperor.

After the Southern Altar affair, these Imperial Faction members' expectations of the Emperor have grown ever higher.

Zheng Zongxue had made his jest and did not press further; after a moment, he resumed his serious tone: "In recent years, though most unruly nobles have been transferred to the Five Military Directorates, the issue of phantom pay must be traced to the battalion commanders themselves..."

"My strength is insufficient; I require full cooperation from deputy commanders, assistant commanders, and others."

As Left Military Advisor of the Capital Garrison, he was effectively the de facto chief officer—low in rank, yet high in authority.

But as a civil official, his control could never penetrate deeply into the lower ranks.

Zhu Yijun did not say, "I only care about results"; instead, he showed understanding: "Therefore, I plan to use this inspection as an opportunity to summon all deputy commanders, assistant commanders, mobile corps commanders, and auxiliary commanders to attend lessons with me."

"At that time, I will use my imperial authority to counsel them on your behalf."

Counseling deputy and assistant commanders was not solely to aid Zheng Zongxue in uncovering phantom pay.

It was also because, as he grew older, he now sought deeper control over the Capital Garrison.

Civil officials controlled the Grand Secretariat and court ministers; for military officers, he needed to reach down to the deputy and assistant commanders of the Capital Garrison—one commander per battalion, thirty battalions, thirty men total—not many.

Zheng Zongxue blinked: "Lessons?"

Zhu Yijun nodded, setting down his bow: "Qi Jiguang, Yin Zhengmao, Yu Dayou, and other generals have commanded for too long in Zhejiang, Guangdong, Guangxi, and Fujian. Those to be reassigned must be reassigned; those to retire must retire."

"When they return to the capital for their reports, they shall take up posts at the Capital Garrison Military Academy."

"After all... I've nearly mastered the Confucian classics; now I must study the military classics."

Zheng Zongxue, hearing this, could not help but warn: "Your Majesty, Japan is embroiled in civil war; the number of Japanese refugees fleeing to our coast grows each year. With all senior commanders and regional commanders being reassigned simultaneously, caution is essential."

It was not that the Japanese pirates were especially formidable.

Rather, like black slaves, they were cheap, and gentry in Zhejiang and Fujian recruited them with ease.

If any scheming individuals exploited the vacuum created by the commanders' reassignments to incite unrest, it would be disastrous.

Zhu Yijun grunted: "Yin Zhengmao's post as Viceroy has already been given to Zhang Xueyan; matters in Zhejiang and Fujian are being handled by Duke Ding'an and Li Zaiting."

These arrangements had long been planned.

The Shanghai and Fujian Maritime Trade Offices are about to begin shipping and collecting customs duties.

Delegating authority was a last resort, unavoidable.

Thus, Zhu Yijun entrusted all military and civil authority in Fujian to Provincial Governor Li Zaiting, and even dispatched former Grand Secretary Gao Gong to Zhejiang to serve.

As they spoke, Zhu Yijun suddenly noticed Wei Chao leading Shen Shixing toward him.

Zhu Yijun, seeing this, began to dismiss his attendants: "That will do for now. Before the New Year, I will inspect the Capital Garrison; prepare the dossiers of all deputy and assistant commanders for me."

Zheng Zongxue immediately bowed and withdrew.

As he turned, he noticed Shen Shixing and stepped aside to bow respectfully.

Shen Shixing nodded in return.

The two passed each other.

Shen Shixing approached the Emperor and bowed deeply: "Your Majesty."

Zhu Yijun reluctantly abandoned his sword practice and assumed a horse stance on the spot.

Shen Shixing, seeing this, spoke bluntly: "Your Majesty, could the inspection of Shuntian Prefecture be postponed?"

Zhu Yijun frowned: "Postponed? Wasn't this already decided in yesterday's court audience?"

Shen Shixing replied cautiously: "Your Majesty, the state is beset with troubles; over a hundred officials have retired; lately, the court has been overwhelmed, and Your Majesty's decisive leadership is indispensable at every audience..."

Zhu Yijun waved his hand, cutting him off: "Are you, Grand Secretary Shen, now mixing mud and slinging it onto my head?"

Shen Shixing fell silent.

After a helpless apology, he finally revealed the truth: "Your Majesty, the newly appointed Prefect of Shuntian, Wang Zhiyuan, only arrived yesterday and says he must first familiarize himself with the yamen's affairs and is temporarily unavailable to accompany Your Majesty."

"The Shuntian Provincial Governor, Hu Zhili, has also come to the Grand Secretariat, saying that local counties are in a state of panic at the prospect of Your Majesty's inspection; they hope Your Majesty will rescind the order to avoid unrest."

"Wang Zongyi, upon assuming the Ministry of Rites, also said Your Majesty's journey is frivolous and absolutely inadvisable..."

Zhu Yijun's strength drained; his horse stance collapsed, and he stumbled to his feet.

He could no longer contain himself, pointing a finger at Shen Shixing: "Grand Secretary Shen, you and I are one. The Grand Secretariat cannot always cater to the outside world and leave me bound and restrained."

Shen Shixing opened his mouth but said nothing.

Zhu Yijun took a warm towel and wiped his sweat, shaking his head at Shen Shixing: "I dwell deep in the palace; I have never seen the world."

Your so-called "decisive leadership" is merely my narrow perspective, barely chosen.

"In the past, it was tolerable; but now, with land surveys and household registrations—matters that strike at the very foundation of the state—how can you, again and again, obstruct even this narrow glimpse?"

"Even if the Grand Secretariat must set an example for civil officials and seek compromise, it should reason with them sincerely, persuade them earnestly, and serve as a true bridge between top and bottom—not sway with every wind!"

Zhu Yijun lectured the patchwork-maker with solemn gravity.

Shen Shixing's intellect was impeccable, but his character was too soft.

To be bullied by the Emperor was one thing; yet he often compromised to court officials—just who exactly are you serving, young Shen?

Shen Shixing felt helpless inside.

If only the Emperor's words were as simple as they sounded.

The Zhu emperors were never easy: one went out disguised to fight, another went out to survey fengshui.

Which time didn't the entire court oppose? Who dared support him without being cursed to the heavens?

Sincere persuasion? If it were that easy, why hasn't anyone persuaded the Emperor yet?

Shen Shixing seethed inwardly, yet bowed sincerely: "Your Majesty's rebuke is just; I shall return and reorganize immediately."

He was about to withdraw when the Emperor called out to him again.

Shen Shixing looked up in confusion.

Zhu Yijun turned to Jiang Keqian and Li Daban: "Duke Yutian, Li Daban, take men and clear and secure the roads of Shuntian Prefecture."

The two responded and departed.

Shen Shixing stared at the Emperor in astonishment: "Your Majesty..."

Zhu Yijun waved his hand: "Grand Secretary Shen, remain where you are. I shall change into ordinary robes."

Saying this, he ignored Shen Shixing's calls and turned away.

Shuntian Prefecture Yamen.

The newly appointed Prefect, Wang Zhiyuan, sat in the main hall, flipping through dossiers, his brow furrowed in worry.

The records of Shuntian Prefecture are simply too messy and disorganized!

There are countless visible bad debts, stretching back as far as the tenure of Sun Yi a decade ago; his corruption alone was bad enough, but it spawned endless land disputes, illegal travel permits stamped with the yamen seal, and unpaid debts to merchant guilds—none of which have been resolved in seven years!

As for records involving land and household registrations, either the same figures are passed down for a decade, or pages are missing here, volumes missing there—clearly due to subordinates' negligence, superiors' permissiveness, and even deliberate removal of critical documents.

Yet the former Prefect, Jin Lijing, ended his political career voluntarily, and the Emperor wiped the slate clean—he can't possibly drag the man back to question him.

As for the rest of the chaotic affairs, they are too numerous to count.

For instance, the more than three thousand eight hundred wealthy households relocated from Zhejiang and other regions to Beijing have vanished entirely from the Yellow Registers.

Or families migrating this year from other provinces to attach themselves to scholarly status have confused origins—once registered as wealthy or merchant households, they've inexplicably been changed to student status.

All of it is now beyond investigation.

How is this different from remeasuring all the land and re-counting every household from scratch?

Overwhelmed by the difficulty, Wang Zhiyuan sighed deeply.

Shuntian Prefecture has long been called the "Little Nine Ministers," a stepping stone for court officials—the saying "five-day capital prefect" perfectly captures its reality.

Even after the Emperor issued an edict in Wanli Year One regulating official tenures, the situation improved only slightly, and the accumulated rot had already become irreversible.

Even with a five-year term, who could possibly clean up a mess spanning decades?

Most Prefects in office think only: "Better not to do it at all."

Just as Jin Lijing reportedly said upon his retirement: "One is powerless to change things—better to retire and be done with it."

"Wang Jingzhao, this is the population tally from Sun Yi's tenure in Longqing Year Five."

A voice pulled Wang Zhiyuan from his thoughts.

He looked up to see the Zhizhong walking out from the side hall, carrying a stack of records.

Wang Zhiyuan quickly rose to meet him: "Thank you, Zhizhong Chang."

The Zhizhong is a fifth-rank subordinate—he deserves proper respect.

Chang Chunqiao hurriedly replied: "No thanks needed—I am honored to serve under Wang Jingzhao. Your words, 'governing for the people,' once became my model."

Wang Zhiyuan was not popular among officials, but among the common folk, his reputation could be summed up as "a Buddha to ten Battalion Commander."

Equalizing corvée labor has always been Wang Zhiyuan's consistent policy.

The day he took office as Shuntian Prefect, he publicly declared: "My goal is to curb the power of noble lords, eunuchs, imperial relatives, and powerful magnates, and restore the common people of Chixian to prosperity."

Appointing such a man at the critical juncture of land survey and household registration naturally split his subordinates into two camps.

The Prefect's Deputy, Guo Tingwu, had fled to make connections overnight and was transferred to the Taichang Temple by morning.

Meanwhile, Chang Chunqiao, who had only been promoted from the provinces to Shuntian Prefecture in July, rushed to attach himself to Wang Zhiyuan.

Wang Zhiyuan smiled politely at the subordinate's flattery.

He was about to respond politely when suddenly, a commotion erupted outside.

Both men turned to look.

A group of Embroidered Uniform Guard and Eastern Depot officers filed in.

Wang Zhiyuan frowned, set down the records, and stepped forward to meet them.

He was fifty-three, with a square face, full forehead, and a look of disapproval that instantly radiated solemn integrity.

Just as he reached the outer hall, before he could rebuke them, he recognized the faces of the visitors.

His heart leapt in shock!

The accusatory expression vanished from Wang Zhiyuan's face—he spun around and hurried back into the main hall, explaining to the bewildered subordinates: "The presence of the Yutian Marquis and the Director of the Eastern Depot means the Emperor himself has arrived!"

"Quickly, tidy your appearance!"

No sooner had he spoken.

Three sharp whips cracked, followed by a soft, high-pitched voice echoing through the hall: "His Majesty arrives! Officials and gentry, welcome! Commoners, prostrate!"

In a blink.

The two men in the hall saw a figure emerge, surrounded by attendants like stars circling the moon.

Wang Zhiyuan and Chang Chunqiao frantically smoothed their robes, patted their faces, and hurried to the hall entrance.

Both bowed with solemn, respectful formality.

"Your servant, Chang Chunqiao, Zhizhong of Shuntian Prefecture, bows before Your Majesty!"

"Your Majesty's presence fills me with dread!"

As a third-rank official, Wang Zhiyuan did not need to introduce himself.

Zhu Yijun stepped into the hall, his gaze curiously scanning Shuntian Prefecture.

In truth, over the past eight years, he had left the palace only a handful of times.

Only the Six Ministries outside Wumen, and twice to Wang Shizhen's villa—the imperial road used for southern Jiao sacrifices didn't even count as leaving the palace.

Boredom was inevitable—after all, the Forbidden City was so small.

Even now, even an ordinary yamen, Zhu Yijun couldn't help but stare for a long while.

He reluctantly tore his gaze away, entered the hall, and smiled: "I came unexpectedly."

He waved his hand lightly, signaling them to rise.

Only after rising did Wang Zhiyuan notice Shen Shixing, and he suppressed his emotions, nodding in greeting.

"Huh?" Zhu Yijun turned to the Zhizhong, a look of recollection crossing his face. "Have I met you before?"

Chang Chunqiao hurriedly replied: "Your Majesty, I was County Magistrate of Jiangyou in Sichuan when I first presented myself in Wanli Year Two, and was promoted to Zhizhong of Shuntian Prefecture this past July."

Zhu Yijun suddenly remembered.

Now that it was mentioned, he recalled—the officials from Wanli Year Two who excelled under the Kaocheng Law and entered Beijing alongside Qi Jiguang.

This man was the county magistrate who exposed his superior—the very reason Hai Rui was sent to Sichuan.

Zhu Yijun couldn't help but remark: "From seventh to fifth rank in just five years—Chang Qing, you've clearly not disappointed me these past years."

Promotion every three years was normal—but promotion exactly on schedule was the privilege of the favored.

Only Hanlin Academy graduates had such privilege.

For humble county magistrates like him, staying stuck in sixth or seventh rank for life was the norm.

Chang Chunqiao's face showed pride mixed with restraint: "I am but a humble scholar, a juren, and owe my rise entirely to Your Majesty's wise governance, Inspector Hai's trust, and the fairness of the Kaocheng Law."

Though he had been promoted to assistant sixth rank for exposing his superior.

But those were minor details.

The real reason was that his superior had taken notice of him.

Zhu Yijun smiled—he knew this was nonsense. Those who caught Hai Rui's eye were clearly capable.

But he wouldn't bother lecturing a lowly official on such matters.

Zhu Yijun asked casually: "How is the land survey going in Sichuan?"

Sichuan was a key province, and Hai Rui had been sent there years ahead of schedule.

He hoped it wasn't going too badly.

Chang Chunqiao paused, then replied: "Your Majesty, I'm not fully informed—I left Sichuan when the land survey and household registration had just begun."

"At the time, everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly."

Zhu Yijun nodded approvingly—Hai Rui was still reliable.

He sat down comfortably in the main seat, glancing at the records on the desk, then asked: "How are the jinshi from the last two examinations performing after their postings?"

The Ministry of Personnel would naturally report on this.

But different perspectives were always worth hearing.

Chang Chunqiao hesitated, then spoke honestly: "Mixed results."

"Li Sancai, the Assistant Commissioner, and Li Kun, the Prefect—both enjoy excellent reputations among officials and commoners alike."

"But some jinshi, upon posting, either lack ability or harbor resentment, and make a mess of things."

Zhu Yijun clicked his tongue, unable to help remarking: "Li Sancai has surprised me."

He's ambitious but impractical—but his strength lies in knowing how to adapt to circumstances.

Wang Xijue even wrote him letters of admiration.

Hai Rui's letters even said that if Li Sancai produced nothing this year, he'd adopt him as a son.

He's practically a Ming dynasty seducer.

Zhu Yijun shook his head, pushed these thoughts aside, and turned to Wang Zhiyuan: "Are you planning the land survey and household registration?"

Wang Zhiyuan stepped forward and replied: "Your Majesty, I'm reviewing the population figures from Longqing Year Five."

Zhu Yijun said: "Oh? And?"

Wang Zhiyuan sighed helplessly: "We'll have to start over—this record is completely unreliable."

Zhu Yijun frowned: "Why?"

Wang Zhiyuan paused, considering how to explain to the Emperor.

After a long moment, he said: "Your Majesty, the Imperial Code records Shuntian Prefecture's population at 669,030. But Sun Yi's tally in Longqing Year Five reports only 147,300."

"It's down to just twenty percent! I dare not trust it!"

(End of Chapter)