Chapter 290

The local county magistrate clearly hadn't expected the Emperor to receive a mere tenant farmer, and so no one had come after a long time.

The Emperor, surrounded by a group of central officials and county magistrates, stood cramped on the edge of the field, looking distinctly uneasy.

Wei Yunzhen, the County Magistrate of Daxing, pressed close behind the Emperor while the tenant farmers had not yet arrived, repeatedly reporting on the progress of land survey and household verification, as well as the preparations the county office would make afterward.

"... We are currently verifying this month."

"I have ordered the lijia to compile registers following the fish-scale and phoenix-flag formats of the Hongwu and Zhengtong eras, meticulously listing original land quotas, field names, tax grades, parcel boundaries, abandoned or collapsed land, and the number of cultivated plots."

"Then the county office's tax officials re-inspect and cross-check, demarcate boundaries, physically measure each plot, and record the numbers of newly reclaimed, corrected, or exempted land, engraving them into books, storing them in the government archives, and distributing copies to the lijia for permanent reference."

Zhu Yijun stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out, listening intently.

Whether one called it scheming or ambition, Wei Yunzhen's professional competence was unquestionable.

It was fortunate that Zhu Yijun had gone to great lengths to distinguish friend from foe.

For instance, this Jinshi of the fifth year of Wanli, equally resolute in opposing Zhang Juzheng's retention of office during mourning, repeatedly submitted memorials urging the abolition of preferential treatment for sons of high officials in next year's imperial examinations, subtly mocking Zhang Juzheng, Shen Shixing, and Wang Xijue, hoping they would show sense and not force the Emperor into an impossible dilemma over their sons' examinations.

He looked every bit the standard villain playing on a pretext.

Yet conversely, his reputation among the people was excellent; even now in Daxing County it was only beginning to show, but historically, when he served as Provincial Governor of Shaanxi, he opened new farmland, abolished miscellaneous taxes, cut government expenditures, and built infrastructure for soldiers and civilians—so much so that later generations still sang ballads like "The Commoner Governor Wei Yunzhen."

Such a man, placed on the Censorate, would annoy both sides; he ought instead to be stationed locally to do real good for the people.

Thinking this, Zhu Yijun finally turned back: "How well are the tax officials selected in recent county examinations serving you?"

The prefectures and counties under Shuntian Prefecture had held two preliminary civil service examinations—not without intent to prepare for this very moment.

Wei Yunzhen's expression turned slightly uneasy.

After thinking a moment, he replied cautiously: "Your Majesty, all the tax officials, aside from suffering from local climate and customs, have performed their duties without notable errors."

"Suffering from local climate and customs" meant they didn't get along well with the local bureaucracy, yet they performed better than the previous officials.

Zhu Yijun understood at once.

The selected clerks naturally displaced local officials' positions; conflict was inevitable.

In practice, this actually helped the county magistrate extend his authority, so Wei Yunzhen held a positive attitude.

But this was only temporary; given the limited population mobility in today's Great Ming, these selected clerks would eventually be assimilated by local gentry—perhaps even warranting a memorial titled "The Daxing Clerks."

Of course, having a threshold is better than none; one step at a time—just as the imperial examination system gradually overturned aristocratic clans.

Zhu Yijun looked at Wei Yunzhen: "What difficulties and obstacles have you encountered in implementing the land survey and household verification?"

Wei Yunzhen did not answer immediately, but glanced subtly at the Emperor's retinue of eunuchs.

After a long pause, he slowly said: "Your Majesty, during the ninth year of Jiajing, a new policy surveyed the estates of meritorious nobles, eunuchs, and temples in the six prefectures of Shuntian, Baoding, Hejian, Zhending, Guangping, and Shunde."

Meritorious nobles, eunuchs, and temples had tax exemptions, but not total exemption.

According to regulations, top-grade land paid three fen of silver per mu, middle-grade land two fen, middle-lower grade one and a half fen, and lower-grade land one fen.

Wei Yunzhen paused, then continued: "At that time, Emperor Shizong declared that after this land survey, boundaries would be permanently marked and established as precedent, never to be disturbed again."

"Now, many of the meritorious nobles, eunuchs, and temples in the county still retain Emperor Shizong's handwritten edicts."

"A few days ago, when our clerks went to the estates of nobles and temples, they were driven away by the estate owners using these edicts as justification..."

In officialdom, countless threads entangle; being hindered by historical documents left by predecessors is a lesson every official must learn.

Emperor Shizong granting land surveys to meritorious nobles, eunuchs, and temples was surely a deliberate act; making compromises to reduce resistance was also common practice—and perhaps Shizong himself had already prepared for "it was merely a jest."

Yet by chance, this opportunity to renege fell upon the ministers and ruler of the Wanli era.

Faced with such an unjust situation, what choice is there but to be unjust?

Zhu Yijun looked at Wei Yunzhen and asked directly: "Oh? Which meritorious nobles, eunuchs, and temples have such arrogance?"

Wei Yunzhen only mentioned meritorious nobles and temples because the eunuchs were gathered around the Emperor—too close to point fingers at.

The difficulty of land survey lay precisely in these people refusing to surrender their land.

At this point, Wei Yunzhen no longer concealed anything and replied plainly: "Your Majesty, according to reports from our clerks, the estate of the Marquis of Huairou, Shi Guangzu, cannot be entered."

"Several temples in the county, citing Emperor Shizong's handwritten edicts, politely refused us; I dared not use force, so I summoned their abbots and abbesses to the county office for discussion."

"The eunuch Yao Zhong of the Xi Xin Si, inciting his cousin Deng Xun, beat and drove off our county clerks with sticks, even declaring: 'Whoever dares come again, I'll break his legs.'"

Zhu Yijun froze for a moment upon hearing this.

He set Wei Yunzhen aside for now and turned to Zhang Hong in surprise: "Zhang Daban, are palace people outside so brazen?"

The actions of the Marquis of Huairou and the monks and Taoists were still within his understanding—after all, they held some legitimacy, and seeking preferential treatment was human nature.

But Yao Zhong must be mad to resort to violence at this very moment!

Zhang Hong, who had stood silently beside him, immediately knelt, forehead pressed into the soil: "Your servant failed to discipline them! Your servant is guilty!"

"Please, Your Majesty, grant mercy and allow Your servant to personally go and arrest and interrogate him!"

Zhu Yijun waved his hand dismissively: "Ask him where he got the nerve."

No need to guess—connections twisted and turned, ultimately leading back to the Two Empress Dowagers or the close attendants of the imperial consorts.

Better to deal with them all at once.

The retinue parted to make a path; Zhang Hong rose, bowed, and led several eunuchs away in haste.

Zhu Yijun turned back to Wei Yunzhen: "What about Shi Guangzu? He isn't..."

His voice suddenly halted mid-sentence.

Just as Wei Yunzhen was puzzled, he heard movement behind them.

He turned to see the tenant farmers the Emperor had summoned earlier, escorted by the Embroidered Uniform Guard, approaching this way.

Zhu Yijun glanced down.

Seeing the field edge too cramped, he walked straight toward the tenant farmers on the village path, with the ministers following closely behind.

The three tenant farmers had never seen such a scene.

Seeing the Purple Emperor and a host of Literary Stars approaching, they immediately knelt: "Your humble subjects bow before Your Imperial Majesty!"

Then they performed the full kowtow ritual with rigid precision.

Zhu Yijun suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Watching the uniform movements of the tenant farmers, he felt a familiar sense of déjà vu.

After a moment, Zhu Yijun turned sharply to the Minister of Rites, Wang Zongyi, and smiled: "Wang Qing, the Ministry of Rites has always told me that rites do not extend to commoners—apparently, that's been mistaken."

"Even tenant farmers in our dynasty are so courteous and proper; you have truly done well in civilizing them."

Wang Zongyi blinked, then immediately understood.

He scrutinized the three tenant farmers, then fixed his gaze on the Prefect of Shuntian, Wang Zhiyuan, and the Provincial Governor of Shuntian, Hu Zhili.

Wang Zhiyuan and Hu Zhili exchanged glances, then both looked toward County Magistrate Wei Yunzhen.

Wei Yunzhen's expression grew uneasy; he opened his mouth but hesitated.

While their glances crossed, Zhu Yijun gave the ministers no chance to reply—he turned to face the three tenant farmers.

He looked at them and spoke bluntly: "Do you know that deceiving the Emperor is a grave crime?"

"I will send the Embroidered Uniform Guard to verify immediately. If you three are not actual tenant farmers of this area, I will execute your three clans."

Executing three clans was better than nine for intimidation—it sounded more credible.

As expected, the moment the words left his mouth, the three "tenant farmers" turned pale.

All three hastily kowtowed again, crying out in panic: "Your Majesty, spare our lives! Spare our lives! We are village heads of Daxing County! Magistrate Wei ordered us to deceive Your Majesty—we dared not refuse!"

Their voices were heart-w

Wei Yunzhen sighed as he saw the three men sell him out in the blink of an eye.

He circled around from behind the Emperor to the front, lifted his robe, and knelt to kowtow: "Your Majesty, I feared the tenant farmers might be crude and offend Your Majesty, so I resorted to this measure."

This was standard practice when superiors, Censorate officials, or Ke-Dao inspectors made rounds—but this Emperor, who had long dwelled deep within the palace, saw through it at a glance.

It was utterly beyond Wei Yunzhen's expectations.

Yet his rebuttal was indeed what he truly believed.

What the Emperor wished to know could be answered by this county magistrate alone—he had traversed all of Daxing County, examined every record in the yamen; how could there be any oversight?

Why then must he lower himself to mingle with the common folk?

Yet the Emperor showed no trace of self-satisfaction; instead, he stared coldly at Wei Yunzhen and replied sharply: "Wei Qing, my ancestors were beggars—how dare you put on airs of unattainable nobility and look down on the common folk on my behalf?"

At these words, Wang Xijue in the crowd could not help but glance at the Emperor again.

Wei Yunzhen felt utterly unable to counter this.

He did not look down on the common folk—he merely felt their status was too distant.

Helplessly, Wei Yunzhen replied: "Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven, endowed with Heaven's Mandate—not merely noble by bloodline."

This small gesture of his could hardly be called a grave crime; otherwise, ninety-nine percent of officials across the realm would be guilty.

At most, it merited a reprimand, perhaps a two-month reduction in stipend for deceiving the sovereign.

But since the Emperor had invoked his own origins, Wei Yunzhen could only beg forgiveness.

Zhu Yijun sighed suddenly, regretfully: "Wei Qing, that is why your policy essay two years ago was ranked in the Third Class."

"You probably never even read Li Sancai's essay from Lintong, which was published throughout the realm."

Wei Yunzhen, confused, kowtowed again: "Your humble subject dares to beg Your Majesty to clarify."

Zhu Yijun shook his head, recalling: "The Yuan regime was lawless, the people could no longer endure; they all entrusted their fate to the Founding Ancestor, who drew his sword, swept away corruption, received the Great Mandate of Heaven, and thus passed it down to me."

"You speak of Heaven's Mandate bestowed upon you—do you know what Heaven's Mandate truly is?"

"The people's fate is Heaven's Mandate!"

"How could one who despises the common folk receive Heaven's Mandate?"

Zhu Yijun fixed his gaze on Wei Yunzhen's eyes, speaking slowly and clearly: "Wei Qing, our Benevolent Ancestor was once a commoner—I am the son of a farmer."

After saying this, Zhu Yijun shook his head and fell silent.

He did not bid Wei Yunzhen rise; instead, he gestured to the three village heads: "Let's go—take me to the village to meet the common folk."

With that, he turned and walked along the country path, leading the way inside.

Wei Yunzhen stared blankly at the dirt on the ground, his mind echoing with the Emperor's words just spoken.

The lives of the people are the Mandate of Heaven…

"This is why His Majesty would rather stir up factional strife in court than spare the effort to survey land and register households."

Wei Yunzhen instinctively looked up and saw Xu Jie standing beside him, hunched over, his expression complex as he gazed at the Emperor's back.

The former still did not understand, muttering to himself: "I have not yet seen the Yellow River run clear."

When the Yellow River runs clear, a sage appears. If the Emperor's true intention truly matches his words, then he is indeed a sage without peer.

It left Wei Yunzhen astonished beyond belief—on the official circuit, he had seen many use the people as a facade, but few who truly cared; how much less the Emperor?

Xu Jie naturally understood what Wei Yunzhen meant.

The old man, having endured great rises and falls and nearing his end, now spoke without restraint: "If this is deception, then since the day he issued his self-censure edict while mistreating me in the Southern Zhili, he has been deceiving for eight years."

"But if he remains consistent, is he not also a sage?"

Wei Yunzhen fell silent.

…

"I kneel before the Son of Heaven!"

"I pay homage to His Majesty, the Emperor!"

Chaotic cries, strange self-identifications; unsteady postures, groveling prostrations in utter disgrace.

Zhu Yijun easily confirmed that these people before him were the lowest tier of Great Ming society—barely better than slaves: tenant farmers.

He gestured for his eunuchs to help them rise, while scanning the village before him.

Too many familiar scenes.

Scattered dwellings: those built of brick and tile still resembled houses; those of wooden planks and thatch had long since been worn thin by wind and sun.

Chicken and duck droppings littered the ground; flies and insects, though winter had come, had not yet vanished entirely. On a kicked-over stone, a worm wriggled slowly over moss.

Hoes rested in woven bamboo baskets; seed trays, after sowing, sat in the courtyard washing vegetables; the drainage ditches emitted foul odors.

Everything resembled his childhood hometown in his past life.

Only when these barefoot peasants, their eyes filled with cunning and fear, rose to their feet, did Zhu Yijun, slightly dazed, return to reality.

He looked toward the boy peering curiously through the window—this was a tenant farmer who took turns wearing a single pair of pants in winter; bare buttocks were not permitted before the Emperor.

He looked toward the barefoot woman turning away—women were not allowed to speak to the Emperor; even this chance to pay homage was likely due to Zhu Yijun's repeated demands.

He looked toward the dark, emaciated, muscular man whose hands were calloused and body scarred—the heavy burden and corvée labor, with physical trauma being merely the most visible sign.

Zhu Yijun suddenly felt awkward; his usual ease before civil and military ministers, his commanding presence, had vanished.

"I…"

Just as he opened his mouth, he remembered something and swallowed his words.

After careful thought, he spoke again: "I've recently been thinking of ways to improve the people's lives, so I came to see you."

The tenant farmers exchanged glances but said nothing.

It wasn't that they didn't understand—they feared speaking and inviting disaster.

Seeing this, Zhu Yijun spoke again: "Answer my questions, and I'll give you two pairs of straw sandals, one quilt, and one hoe."

The gifts must be just right—too generous, and they invite trouble.

The tenant farmers glanced at one another again; their longing and hesitation were unmistakable.

After a long pause, one slightly healthier man responded, and the others nodded in agreement.

Zhu Yijun thought a moment, then asked: "How many meals do you eat each day?"

Whether one could eat enough was the lowest standard.

All the tenant farmers turned to the healthier man, who hesitated before replying: "Those who work eat three meals; those who don't work eat two."

Zhu Yijun blinked in surprise.

At that moment, Xu Jie interjected: "Your Majesty, during the Southern Song, even modest farmers gradually began eating three meals a day; by the Zhengde era of our dynasty, tenant farmers too could manage three meals."

Zhu Yijun looked at this former Grand Secretary, who had been summoned for consultation, and said bluntly: "That's not what I expected."

Xu Jie, long devoted to adopting children, knew these matters better than anyone.

He bowed to the Emperor: "Your Majesty, since Zhengde, prices have not risen significantly."

"A bundle of waterfowl costs four cash; pork is eight cash per catty; fish and shrimp, four or five cash per catty—let alone rice and flour."

These were achievements of Great Ming over previous dynasties; as Xu Jie spoke, pride showed on his face.

Zhu Yijun slowly nodded.

Then he turned and stared directly at the tenant farmers, asking curiously: "How much cash do you earn each month?"

Prices may not seem high—but only compared to the peasants' income.

It wasn't for men like Xu Jie to declare cheapness.

The man hesitated before replying: "Your Majesty, how much we earn depends on what work we do."

"Lately I've been cutting firewood—three days to carry one load; thirty loads sell for one tael of silver."

"At other times I gather herbs or hunt—three or two cash a day."

"I'm strong; like Lao Ba and Gouwa, they find carrying wood too tiring, so they go to town selling gruel—each day they earn sixteen or seventeen cash."

Zhu Yijun now truly believed it.

Perhaps the capital region's abundance helped, but even elsewhere, conditions could not be vastly worse.

It seemed prices truly were not high.

Yet… Zhu Yijun studied the tenant farmers' clothing again.

He frowned and pressed: "Then why do you look so ragged?"

At once, the man's face flashed with resentment.

But he said nothing.

Zhu Yijun understood these tenant farmers' shrewdness.

He pointed to Jiang Keqian beside him, clad in the Flying Cloud robe: "This is an Embroidered Uniform Guard. Answer well today, and I'll have him take you in—you needn't fear retaliation."

The man's face lit up with ecstatic joy.

He knew full well what the Embroidered Uniform Guard meant!

Even as a lowly soldier, it was a heavenly fortune!

He immediately knelt and kowtowed: "The city says the Emperor's word carries Heaven's decree—he never breaks his promises!"

Zhu Yijun smiled: "Such a small thing is as easy for me as relieving myself."

With the promise secured, the man's reluctance vanished; he beamed as he answered: "Nothing much—saving up to pay rent."

"The officials demand tribute every month; otherwise, entering the city becomes a hassle."

"If you sell gruel, you must pay the Shi Lord a toll, or they'll send you to the mines in Yunnan for forced labor."

"The firewood hills belong to the temple—you must give half your earnings. Hunting or killing animals? The Buddhas say we carry sin—we must pay merit money to the temple."

"We eat to earn money; if we don't eat, we have no strength, yet we still owe rent—so we might as well eat more and earn more. Why wear good clothes every day? We'll wear them until they're ruined."

Zhu Yijun listened, growing ever more silent.

The phrase "oppressing the people" now carried real weight.

He suppressed his turbulent thoughts and asked: "Is it better to own land, or to till land for the lords?"

The man answered without hesitation: "Of course it's better to own your own land!"

"In past years we had to perform corvée labor; since twelve years ago, when we could pay silver instead, owning land became the easiest life."

Zhu Yijun understood.

He referred to Gao Gong's corvée reform trial in Northern Zhili during Longqing's second year: laborers paid silver, and the government used that silver to hire laborers—each side benefited.

But because the policy seemed to favor wealthy households and involved complex technical issues in converting labor obligations into silver, its implementation was extremely slow.

Then, as Gao Gong's career faltered, the policy was never fully perfected, continuing only by inertia within Northern Zhili.

Zhu Yijun shook his head internally and asked casually: "Then why are you tilling land for the lords now?"

At this, the man's expression darkened; his earlier cheer vanished.

He muttered: "Six years ago, disaster struck; the harvest was poor, not enough to pay autumn taxes, so I borrowed from the temple."

"Later, interest piled up and I couldn't repay—so they took my land and gave me a poor plot to till."

Zhu Yijun studied the man's physique and asked curiously: "You? Tilling poor land?"

Among short men, he was tall—his build wasn't imposing, but he was among the strongest in the village.

Not putting him to work was a loss for the lords.

The man turned away: "The Buddhas say, if you have no daughter, you're only fit for poor land."

I finished writing before midnight—this is my blessing.

Correction: The figure of 18,117 hectares and 11 mu for Daxing County is incorrect—it is a misrecorded imperial chronicle entry. Checking other sources, this number appears to be the combined total of several counties; Daxing County likely had only a few thousand hectares, though the exact figure is unclear.

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(End of Chapter)