Chapter 294: 200. Chapter 194: Hard Steps, Like Cooking a Small Fish

200. Chapter 194: Hard Steps, Like Cooking a Small Fish

The qi of heaven and earth sinks heavy; the sun fades, the wind is cold, the snow deepens.

……

The inspection party departed early from Daxing County, heading onto the official road toward Wanping.

? ￠o

Wanping was only seventy li from Daxing, reachable in less than half a day.

On any other day, the Emperor would have ridden ahead, observing the scenery along the way—but today, the Emperor was fast asleep inside his carriage.

Officials occasionally cast glances toward the Emperor's carriage, whispering among themselves.

For instance, the Left Vice Minister of Rites, He Luowen, and the Right Vice Minister of War, in charge of Beijing's military affairs, Chen Jingbang.

Both walked beside their horses, whose mounts stood shoulder to shoulder, nuzzling necks; the two men walked side by side, heads close, murmuring.

"His Majesty left all the loose ends to Wei Yunzhen during the day—yet why did he suddenly change his mind at night?" He Luowen lowered his voice as much as possible.

He Luowen was from Henan and spoke with a slight accent.

Chen Jingbang turned his gaze away from the Emperor's carriage and replied casually: "He's just furious. Isn't that how it always is—anger builds slowly, grows stronger the more you think about it? Even His Majesty, a young man, isn't immune. Last night, after I closed my eyes, I saw nothing but grotesque, devouring faces."

They were fellow graduates, both having studied in the Hanlin Academy, both selected as Daily Lecturers for the Crown Prince, and now advancing in rank together—so their relationship was naturally close.

He Luowen clicked his tongue: "Furious, yes—but I suspect the Grand Secretary pushed His Majesty to act."

"Last evening, I heard the Grand Secretary sent word to the county office, ordering Wei Yunzhen to investigate strictly and punish severely, no leniency allowed."

Xu Guo, as Vice Minister of Justice, being dragged along to oversee the trials was only to be expected.

But Wang Xijue headed the Ministry of Personnel—why would he accompany the Emperor to the county office unless he'd gone out of his way to do so?

Thinking of this, He Luowen glanced at Wang Xijue, who was conversing with the Vice Minister of Revenue.

Chen Jingbang smiled as he stroked his beard: "I say Wang Xijue handled it well. A few executions for deterrence might yet discourage others from following the same path."

"Killing to protect life—Wang Xijue's daughter ascended to immortality, and now he's accumulating merit himself. Whole family of immortals and Buddhas."

The first half was serious; the second, a joke.

He Luowen shook his head and chuckled. Wang Xijue wouldn't like that remark—his daughter's immortality? He knew better than anyone.

He elbowed closer to Chen Jingbang and sighed: "We can shrug it off, but the Grand Minister of Rites can't. He's been muttering nonstop since we left."

Last night, the Emperor secretly went to the county office and "legally punished" a host of nobles, eunuchs, monks, Daoists, and even Zhang Master and Li Master, newly recorded by Wei Yunzhen.

Such a breach of propriety enraged Wang Zongyi, the Minister of Rites.

Had it been a few years ago, he'd have already resigned and returned home—had he not still needed to serve the court.

Chen Jingbang chuckled: "The Grand Minister of Rites is probably seething right now."

"When His Majesty returned last night, the Grand Minister blocked him outright and rebuked him face-to-face—his tone was extremely disrespectful."

"Xu Shi Lang, seeing the situation turn sour, slipped away quietly—but Wang Minister, having gained the upper hand, refused to let it go. He stepped forward to defend His Majesty and argued with the Grand Minister until both were red-faced."

I wonder how Wang Xijue ever became friends with Shen Shixing.

He Luowen shook his head. Wang Zongyi was, after all, his direct superior in the Ministry of Rites—he owed him some defense: "It's no wonder the Grand Minister won't let it go. His Majesty's actions were indeed frivolous."

"I heard His Majesty nearly got assaulted by a bald monk last night."

Calling the Emperor frivolous wasn't just because he abandoned his ministers and raided the county office at night.

More so, the Emperor had gone to vent his anger—and his habit of lecturing had resurfaced. He insisted on confronting the bald monks face-to-face, enumerating their sins and declaring them utterly unworthy of mercy.

If they already knew they were going to die, why should they care about your lectures?

Spitting on the Emperor was the mildest offense. One warrior monk, immensely strong, broke free of the yamen runners' grasp and charged straight at the imperial carriage.

Though Wang Xijue kicked him to death on the spot, chaos was inevitable—and the Emperor must have been terrified.

Fortunately, the Emperor wasn't a sickly type, unlike some emperors who "fell gravely ill from fright."

Such frivolity couldn't help but invite gossip among court officials.

Chen Jingbang, hearing this, couldn't help but feel speechless: "There's nothing to be done. His Majesty sits high above, rarely dealing with monks who have no vulnerabilities—he doesn't understand what a dying man's last defiance looks like."

"Look at those Wang Master and Li Master—they bowed their necks quietly and accepted death."

Even eunuchs take concubines and adopt sons. These pure, celibate Buddhas have no such weaknesses.

When death is imminent, they do whatever brings them peace—utterly unrestrained.

Only men like the Marquis of Huairou, Shi Guangzu, who had families to protect, would still cry "Ten Thousand Years!" even as they endured two hundred blows.

At that moment, He Luowen sighed suddenly.

He remarked without warning: "Even so… His Majesty only sees necks bowed before him—what about beyond Shuntian Prefecture?"

Chen Jingbang's expression shifted.

He glanced around, then hesitated: "Are you implying…?"

He Luowen met Chen Jingbang's gaze, his face troubled: "Within the capital's aura of imperial power, they still dare resist—only yielding when the axe is at their throats. What of beyond the capital? How many more are there?"

"Retired officials, regional princes, powerful gentry, landed nobles, corrupt officials colluding with merchants—these are the figures no county dare touch. They're everywhere across the two capitals and thirteen provinces."

"Two months ago, Sima Zhi wrote me a letter asking if I could protect him if he offended Shen Li—I didn't even know if I could."

"Under such a difficult situation, why set a three-year deadline for land survey and household registration?"

"It's… too rushed."

……

"Too rushed? Fan Gong is overthinking."

Wang Xijue, though sleepless all night, looked vigorous, his voice booming without restraint.

He explained to Fan Yingqi: "Land survey and household registration isn't some new idea. Since Gui E, Guo Huahong, Tang Long, and Jian Xiao proposed it in the ninth year of Jiajing, every capable local official has never ceased pursuing it."

"In the tenth year of Jiajing, Zou Shouyi conducted land survey in Anfu, Jiangxi—three years."

"In the twelfth year of Jiajing, An Rushan surveyed land and registered households in Yuzhou, Henan—two years and eight months."

"In the fifteenth year of Jiajing, Wang Yi measured land and equalized grain taxes in Suzhou, Southern Zhili—three years and four months."

"In the eighteenth year, Ouyang Duo investigated concealed land in Ying Tianfu—over two years."

"In the twenty-sixth year of Jiajing, the magistrate of Haixian, Jiaxing Prefecture, completed land survey in less than three years."

"In the first year of Longqing, the magistrate of Haining, Hangzhou Prefecture, Xu Tianzeng, completed survey in one year and nine months."

"These officials who actively pursued land survey never took more than four years!"

Wang Xijue fixed his gaze on Fan Yingqi: "Some things aren't better for being given more time. We must cut through the chaos with a swift blade—to distinguish capable officials from the lazy."

"As for counties that fail within three years, we'll deal with them later."

"This century-long neglect must be resolved during His Majesty's reign—once and for all!"

These final words were left to Wang Xijue by Zhang Juzheng before he departed Beijing.

Now, Wang Xijue passed them on to the Vice Minister of Revenue before him: this century-long neglect must be settled swiftly during the Emperor's reign, once and for all.

Fan Yingqi fell silent for a long while, then bowed: "Your words, Grand Secretary, have taught me."

They were seven years apart; Fan Yingqi was older, so Wang Xijue addressed him as "Gong."

Fan Yingqi, slightly lower in rank, called Wang Xijue "Grand Secretary."

Wang Xijue casually added: "If we speak of great magnates, how many in this age rival us, who stand close to the Purple Microcosm?"

"As long as we don't join the corrupt and make His Majesty's task harder, even ten or a hundred times more Marquises of Huairou—so long as we keep enemies and allies clear—what is there to fear?"

Fan Yingqi was a top scholar, but his abilities were mediocre.

In the Zhejiang provincial exam, his essay was rated inferior; he was forced to relocate to Shuntian Prefecture as a "exam migrant," and even then, had to pay a "school selection fee"—a donation—to enter the Imperial Academy.

He ranked 193rd in the metropolitan exam, but was named top scholar in the palace exam because his writing pleased the Jiajing Emperor.

Such a background was unpopular in official circles. After graduating from the Hanlin Academy, he was promptly exiled to Nanjing to rot.

Only because so many positions were vacant now was he appointed Vice Minister of Revenue.

Thus, doubting Fan Yingqi's competence, Wang Xijue gently warned him: even if your abilities are ordinary, keep your household in order—don't give them any opening. The world fears not clear enemies, but hidden traitors within.

Fan Yingqi was about to speak.

Two eunuchs approached Fan Yingqi: "Vice Minister Fan, His Majesty summons you."

Fan Yingqi instinctively glanced toward the Emperor's carriage and saw a monk and a Daoist being led before it.

He immediately realized: this was the aftermath of His Majesty's night of vengeance.

Fan Yingqi guessed the reason, bowed to Wang Xijue, then rode toward the Emperor's carriage.

As he drew near, he saw the monk and Daoist were Yuan Shen Daoist and Hongfa Monk—two of the foremost figures in Buddhism and Daoism in Northern Zhili.

Both were breathless, sweat dripping from their necks—they had clearly rushed here, exhausted.

They must have been terrified.

Fan Yingqi sneered inwardly, but showed no expression, merely nodded to them in greeting.

Just then, the Emperor's carriage curtain was suddenly pulled aside by two hands.

Zhu Yijun, drowsy and yawning, stretched and climbed out of the carriage.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

Fan Yingqi dismounted at once and bowed deeply.

Yuan Shen Daoist bent lower; Hongfa Monk knelt and kowtowed.

Zhu Yijun jumped down from the carriage and brushed dust from his robe: "I planned to visit you two after finishing the Shuntian inspection—but you came to me so early. Is this divine synchronicity, or a sign from Buddha or the Daoist Lord?"

Hongfa Monk felt bitter inside.

The Emperor had begun killing people—how could they not come?

If His Majesty suspected the Buddhist order had lost its reverence and harbored resentment, Hongfa Monk feared he'd meet his own Yuwen Yong.

Meanwhile, the original Daoist Shen, who had dealt with the Emperor several times, remained even more composed and calm; in response to the Emperor's teasing, he smiled ingratiatingly and said, "Your Majesty is none other than the Dao Sovereign incarnate—does not your spiritual affinity with him also count as a divine omen?"

Zhu Yijun chuckled at these words.

One could not deny that although structural oppression could not be alleviated overnight, killing off a few of the most brazen exploiters still brought great relief.

He waved his hand, signaling the three to rise, and walked as he spoke.

"I'll speak plainly," Zhu Yijun said, rubbing his sore neck. "You need not be overly alarmed—I've always seen how monks and Daoists build bridges, repair roads, and aid the common people."

"I'm merely acting according to law because I've seen the corrupt elements among you violating precepts."

"I hold no grudge against you personally."

One must still give people reassurance.

Such grassroots organizations rooted among the people—if they were to rebel—would not be a trivial matter.

Hongfa the monk quickly declared: "Your Majesty is a living Buddha, a Dao Sovereign—clearing our ranks is entirely justified!"

The dead were not even from their own temple; they could applaud without any burden.

As long as the Emperor did not escalate the matter, everything could be negotiated.

Since Zhu Yijun had said he would speak plainly, he had no intention of beating around the bush; he shook his head. "Let's talk about lending. What you're doing is unacceptable."

No wonder heroes are so carefree—if Zhu Yijun had martial arts skills, he could simply gun them all down and leave the cleanup to the officials.

But as Emperor, you cannot do that. After venting your anger, you must exert even more effort.

Hongfa the monk and Daoist Shen exchanged a glance, each feeling helpless but unable to speak.

They were not like the patriarchs in novels who ruled with absolute authority; at best, they were mere representatives, dragged forward to kneel and apologize before the Emperor.

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This opening gambit targeted their source of income—even if they agreed, the temples behind them might never accept it.

After a moment's hesitation, Hongfa the monk asked: "Does Your Majesty intend to ban us from lending?"

Zhu Yijun shook his head. "I'm not so foolish as to go that far."

A blanket ban was impossible. The root problem lies in the small-scale peasant economy's inability to withstand risk—it naturally demands loans.

Such is the nature of the world: the state cannot shoulder financial functions, so someone always will.

Demand exists; an invisible hand will always produce vessels for usurious lending.

If not temples and monasteries, then gentry.

If not gentry, merchants could lend just as well.

What about bringing it under state control, with unified oversight?

That would be even less realistic.

Wang Anshi already tried it—the productive forces of feudal society make this path unworkable.

If interest rates are too low, the state colludes with temples and gentry: the former lend to the latter, who then lend at usurious rates to the people.

If interest rates are not low, it becomes a policy that harms the people—the state seizing oxen and tearing down houses is far crueler than temples.

In short, it's still limited by the inefficiency of information transmission; governance cannot be overly meticulous.

Daoist Shen asked cautiously: "What, then, is Your Majesty's intention?"

The Emperor must have a plan.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have summoned the Vice Minister of Revenue.

Zhu Yijun paused, then said: "I'll state a few points. Listen carefully, both of you. Fan Vice Minister, take notes."

The three bowed their heads solemnly.

Zhu Yijun weighed his words: "I won't interfere with your other affairs, but your lending business must no longer be reckless. From now on, it must come under the supervision of the Ministry of Revenue."

"Loan amounts, interest caps, collateral limits—all must conform to the Ministry's regulations."

"Not just your temples and monasteries—pawnshops, merchant houses—all will be treated equally. Those unwilling to submit to oversight will be punished according to law."

To regulate a wildly growing industry, having laws to rely on is the first step—you can't keep finding excuses to punish them each time.

As the saying goes: eat only as much as your abilities allow.

The current state lacks the capacity to take everything on, but light oversight is more than sufficient—how far it goes depends entirely on national strength.

Upon hearing this, Fan Yingqi was first stunned, then understood why the Emperor had summoned him.

Then came a surge of joy.

The Vice Minister of Revenue in charge of granaries was, in essence, just a warehouse keeper. Whether his rank was high or not mattered little—his achievements were truly hard to come by.

Now the Emperor was giving him new responsibilities—clearly a great benefit for him and the Ministry of Revenue!

Hongfa the monk hesitated: "Your Majesty, all land under heaven belongs to the Son of Heaven—we naturally ought to be under imperial oversight. But may I ask, what specific restrictions?"

Since Buddhism entered Han territory, it has undergone multiple transformations.

The Three Wu and One Zong persecutions completed its sinicization thoroughly: uncooperative sects either vanished or were branded as heretical cults, hunted and denounced.

Submission to imperial control was only natural—just like the Bureau of Buddhist Affairs.

Zhu Yijun spoke slowly and calmly: "First, interest rates must be capped. You cannot set them arbitrarily. I won't cheat you—I leave it to you and the Ministry of Revenue to negotiate a rate that is profitable for you yet leaves me a shred of dignity."

At first glance, any interest rate seems profitable.

But one must also consider the era's abnormally high default rates.

If the cap is set too low, under the scale of the market, the law becomes a mere formality.

So the exact figure cannot simply be decided by me alone.

"Second, lending methods must be standardized. Interest rates may still be negotiated—even if you set them high—but no more compounding interest. Interest must be calculated solely on the principal."

Daoist Shen's expression changed; he pressed: "Does Your Majesty mean we may only lend using formats pre-approved by the Ministry of Revenue?"

"May we add temporary variations?"

He was a rank-eight Assistant Daoist Instructor—he must address himself as " Chen."

Zhu Yijun nodded with a relatively gentle expression: "You may. But if you secretly engage in illicit lending outside approved formats, don't blame me for my blade."

This threshold was already very low—no overly strict restrictions added.

The main goal was simply to ensure the central government had a clear understanding of the situation, so laws could be applied when needed.

"Third, for commoners who wish to continue repaying loans after defaulting, they must be allowed to prioritize repaying principal and granted a temporary extension."

As soon as he spoke, Hongfa the monk sighed bitterly.

"Amitabha."

He bowed deeply to the Emperor: "Your Majesty, the silver lent is like flowing water. If it flows out but never returns, we too cannot sustain ourselves."

Opening the door to extensions may reduce bad debts, but if silver remains locked in the temples, circulation will inevitably suffer.

Slower circulation means less profit.

Far easier to simply seize farmland outright.

The first two points were tolerable—merely a change in method, some flexibility. But the third? That was downright inhumane. Did he think they were running charity?

Zhu Yijun suddenly turned his head, staring straight at Hongfa the monk: "Don't mistake my amiability for weakness. Last night, I had over a dozen bald heads executed."

"I'm negotiating in good faith. If you keep smirking like this, I'll kill you right now."

Hongfa the monk froze.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead; he hastily prostrated himself: "Your Majesty, forgive me!"

Truly, serving a monarch is like serving a tiger!

Zhu Yijun waved his hand: "I don't mind you profiting from lending—but I will never tolerate you using it to seduce wives, enslave daughters, or seize farmland. That is my bottom line."

"Discuss the details further with the Ministry of Revenue. Draft a proposal both sides can accept."

"Let me make this clear today: if anyone crosses this line—if you treat the people as grass, don't blame me for treating you the same."

This was essentially issuing financial licenses.

But unlike maritime licenses, these financial licenses weren't meant to extract wealth—they were meant to truly regulate these bloodsuckers.

Whether effective or not, doing something was better than doing nothing.

Upon hearing the Emperor's menacing words, both monk and Daoist broke into cold sweats.

Daoist Shen stammered: "Your Majesty's benevolence—how could I not obey?"

Hongfa the monk dared not entertain further thoughts: "We shall return immediately to deliberate."

Zhu Yijun grunted: "I won't see you out."

That was dismissal.

The two hastily bowed and departed in haste.

After the monk and Daoist left, Fan Yingqi spoke up appropriately: "Your Majesty handled this with calmness and benevolence—truly a sage ruler."

Zhu Yijun shook his head: "Don't flatter me. This is just a small thunder that didn't strike in Daxing County."

Monks and Daoists are soft targets—squeeze them and they'll drip.

The rest—nobles, eunuchs—they're equally insignificant.

The phrase "thunder that didn't strike" was easy to grasp. Fan Yingqi paused, then realized: "Is there a major incident in Wanping?"

Zhu Yijun sighed: "Hard to say how major."

"The magistrate of Wanping, Zhang Mengtong, just submitted a report: half of the imperial garrison's grasslands in his county have been converted into farmland."

"We still don't know how many officials from the Ministry of War and the Beijing Garrison are involved."