Chapter 299: Brewing Tea with Snow, Fermenting Wine with Ice

The vast blue sky, who is this person?

The vast blue sky, what manner of person is this?

This is a simple question from the Book of Songs; when detached from its context, it carries no intense emotion.

But placed within the content of this banner, it amounts to outright insult.

Ordering land surveys yet showing favoritism to one's own estates, implementing household registration reforms yet protecting one's own relatives—what kind of person is this?

Or put more bluntly: is this even a human being?

And to hang such a banner deliberately along the emperor's route—what difference is there from pointing at his nose and cursing him?

This is no ordinary scholar!

No order from the emperor was needed; the dragon boat slowed and halted unexpectedly at Wuqing Hexi Relay Station under the pretext of minor repairs.

The heads of the Six Ministries took this seriously; the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial issued key instructions; Provincial Governor Hu Zhili and Prefect Wang Zhiyuan fully grasped the gravity of the situation and swiftly mobilized, coordinating with the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot to summon the scholars "for questioning" within the shortest possible time.

…

"The Four Gates Society?"

In a room on the second floor of the relay station, Zhu Yijun sat on a chair layered with silk and fur, and asked Hu Zhili in surprise.

Before the emperor's audience, it was essential to confirm the scholars' danger level: strip-search them, verify their identities, and conduct preliminary interrogations.

Thus, the heads of the Six Ministries, the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and the Directorate of Ceremonial—all whether interested or not—gathered downstairs in the relay station's main hall for a joint interrogation.

Only Provincial Governor Hu Zhili came upstairs first to give a brief report.

The eunuchs and secretaries in the room kept their eyes lowered; Xu Jie, standing beside the emperor, raised his eyebrows in surprise upon hearing Hu Zhili's words.

Facing the emperor's inquiry, Hu Zhili stood respectfully opposite the octagonal table, facing the door, and bowed low: "Your Majesty, the founder is a fugitive convict named Liang Ruyuan."

"All seven scholars who spread heretical doctrines today are members of the Four Gates Society."

"Unfortunately, Liang Ruyuan himself was not captured."

Regarding troubles within his jurisdiction, Hu Zhili did not panic but remained calm and worked diligently to contain the fallout.

Governor Hu was a jinshi graduate who began his career in local administration; as a judge in Baoning Prefecture, Sichuan, he earned a reputation for "uncovering hidden crimes and enforcing law with strict clarity."

He then spent decades serving in both central and local posts; though not widely renowned, his quality was exceptional, especially in Sichuan and Hexi regions, where he was nearly as famed as Hai Rui—now, after repeated purges in the central court, more such figures are emerging.

Upon hearing Hu Zhili's words, Zhu Yijun felt it was expected: a fugitive convict founding a society was certainly no ordinary scholar.

Yet the name Liang Ruyuan sounded vaguely familiar.

Zhu Yijun thought for a moment but could not recall; he said: "Hu Qing, elaborate."

Hu Zhili had prepared his speech before coming upstairs.

Now the emperor asked, he answered without hesitation: "Your Majesty, Liang Ruyuan was born into a wealthy family in Yongfeng County, Jiangxi, passed the juren examination, then strayed from the path, abandoned the imperial examinations, and became obsessed with heretical doctrines and immoral teachings."

"Around the thirtieth year of Jiajing, he founded the Heji Tang within his clan, collecting household taxes and paying rents on behalf of members; in the thirty-eighth year of Jiajing, he led his clan in resisting taxes, killing six officials including Wu Shanwu, and was sentenced to strangulation."

"Later, Hu Zongxian petitioned the Jiangxi Provincial Governor's office on his behalf; Governor He Qian secretly commuted his sentence to exile in Guizhou—but even then, Liang Ruyuan never reached Guizhou; he escaped en route."

Hu Zhili paused halfway, giving the emperor time to absorb and react.

Zhu Yijun, upon hearing this, could not help but sigh inwardly.

The power of local clans truly manifested in every aspect.

Resistance to taxation, as Hu Zhili described, was common in the Great Ming; with so many oppressive levies, obeying the law and paying taxes would mean starvation.

Thus, conflict between local clans and officials was routine—sometimes peaceful negotiation, sometimes violent confrontation.

Similarly, the outcome was equally common—or rather, typical.

When powerful local clans struck hard, county and prefectural offices often could only swallow their losses in silence.

Take Liang Ruyuan: after killing six officials, his sentence was reduced from strangulation to exile—and even that, he never served.

How would the dead officials' colleagues feel? And how would tax collectors act next time they faced clan resistance? That is a matter of perspective.

Zhu Yijun could no longer tell who the vulnerable party was.

Seizing this pause, Xu Jie behind the emperor suddenly interjected: "Your Majesty, I have heard something of this matter; the so-called tax resistance was actually Liang Ruyuan embezzling imperial timber funds."

Zhu Yijun turned to look at Xu Jie.

Imperial timber refers to wood procured for the emperor's use; in The Plum in the Golden Vase, Ximen Qing uncovered officials embezzling imperial timber funds.

The money for procuring imperial timber was deducted from local tax revenues—officials dispatched by local offices to procure timber, wax, and other items received funds directly from their jurisdictions, offsetting tax and corvée obligations.

Legally, no additional taxation of the people should occur.

Thus, Liang Ruyuan's reason for resisting taxation becomes questionable.

Clearly, local officials had imposed extra imperial timber levies, provoking the clan's resistance.

The Great Ming's laws were rigid, especially in their codified statutes, extremely comprehensive.

If taxation was illegal, how could it be called "resistance"?

Yet the Great Ming's laws were flexible, especially in discretionary judgment.

If officials erred first, and a juren rose in rebellion, accidentally killing someone in the conflict—how could that be a crime? He was not guilty; he deserved to be called a Confucian knight!

So when Xu Jie said this, was he merely clarifying context—or defending Liang Ruyuan?

Zhu Yijun suspected, but did not press; he merely gestured for Hu Zhili to continue.

Hu Zhili cast a faintly displeased glance at Xu Jie.

Then he resumed: "After escaping his exile, he assumed the alias He Xinyin and infiltrated Beijing, then founded the Four Gates Society Hall, gathering followers under the name Four Gates Society to spread heretical doctrines…"

He paused mid-sentence.

The emperor suddenly looked enlightened, and exclaimed: "Oh!"

"Oh! He Xinyin!" Zhu Yijun interrupted Hu Zhili, turning to Xu Jie with a sneer: "No wonder Senior Grand Secretary Xu 'has heard something of it.'"

He had not recognized Liang Ruyuan, but the moment he heard He Xinyin, it clicked.

So it was an alias.

If it was He Xinyin, then no wonder Hu Zhili kept calling him heretical—his ideas truly deserved that label.

He Xinyin argued that the cardinal relationships—ruler-subject, father-son, husband-wife, brother-brother—could not embody human "supreme goodness"; only friendship could.

Father-son and ruler-subject remained trapped in narrow confines; only friendship transcended the mundane to reach the primordial, the ultimate expression of social bonds—the foundation for transcending the self.

If friendship was so vital, how should one practice it?

One must break free from familial and personal ties, establishing relationships above them: those sharing the same ideals should gather under a common purpose and form friendships—he called this a "hui."

Different ideals could form different "hui," and governance of the realm should be carried out through these "hui."

All scholar, farmer, artisan, and merchant households should be absorbed into these "hui"; scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—even the emperor—were merely different roles within the "hui," with no hierarchy—though not all statuses were included; nobles, He Xinyin believed, were idle, ignorant of agriculture, lacking talent and virtue, mere parasites, unworthy of any "hui."

Calling such doctrines heretical was mild.

Given the clear signs of a movement aiming to overthrow the emperor, any official with even a shred of loyalty would have arrested him on sight.

But then again.

Once such Confucian knights amassed sufficient power, their social ties became too complex to simplify; just as the great heroes Shao Yi and Fang Yushi were secretly agents of Gao Gong, He Xinyin's followers attracted their own patrons.

Lu Guang, a disciple of He Xinyin, was an advisor to Xu Jie.

He Xinyin's guest, the alchemist Lan Daohang, triggered the downfall of Yan Song—Lan Daohang's translation of celestial messages to the Jiajing Emperor declared: "Yan is treacherous, Xu is loyal"—the world believed Xu Jie orchestrated it.

With such murky connections, the authorities naturally hesitated, turning a blind eye to He Xinyin; after all, the emperor could not possibly know every detail of the realm.

And the official who had once shielded him—likely not merely someone who had "heard something."

At the emperor's sneer, Xu Jie's eyelid twitched.

The emperor had clearly appeared ignorant moments before; Xu Jie, following years of habit, had casually slipped in a hint.

Who knew the emperor now wore an expression of perfect clarity.

Xu Jie quickly disclaimed: "Your Majesty, I only heard of him during my time in the Grand Secretariat; I have not heard his name in over a decade."

Mentioning a vague connection was acceptable; openly defending him would be far too reckless.

Zhu Yijun said nothing in response.

He turned to Hu Zhili: "Then why did he lead his members to insult me?"

In the realm of public opinion, the stronger the person, the more vulnerable they appear; the weaker, the more powerful.

Censor Tan Yao could only secretly slander in the marketplace to gain partial resonance; these unaffiliated scholars could openly rebuke the emperor, and the literati would naturally sympathize; if commoners cursed him, public opinion would overwhelmingly side with them.

Thus, different forms of insult required different responses.

Hu Zhili bowed deeply in apology before replying: "Your Majesty, according to the confessions of several suspects…"

He paused, hesitated: "They all claim they acted out of righteous indignation upon witnessing illegal activities in the imperial estates and the arrogance of the imperial relatives."

This was, of course, sanitized; no one would directly quote the insults hurled at the emperor.

Zhu Yijun snorted: "Really?"

A mere hothead was tolerable; he could endure being cursed, for though narrow-minded, their stance was sound.

But this did not look like the rash act of a young scholar.

The precision of their ambush on his exact route suggested more than impulsive rage.

After all, the emperor's itinerary was not public roadside gossip.

Hu Zhili looked uncertain, as if about to speak but holding back.

Zhu Yijun waved his hand: "Come, I will go down and ask them myself."

He rose slowly and walked toward the door.

Everyone hurried after him.

…

In the first-floor relay station hall.

The original relay attendants had been driven away; in their place, armored Embroidered Uniform Guard and Eastern Depot eunuchs stood guard at every critical point.

The tables and chairs in the main hall were all cleared away.

A group of officials in crimson robes glared menacingly, their expressions hostile.

Wang Zongyi and Wang Xijue blocked the personnel of the Directorate of Palace Affairs and the Embroidered Uniform Guard behind them, stepping forward without hesitation to question them.

Xu Gu, Vice Minister of Justice, personally recorded the case files; He Luowen, Vice Minister of Rites and former Director of the National Academy, was heartbroken and could not bear to look.

Six scholars were surrounded in the center, each displaying different expressions—some calm, some fearful, some defiant.

The seventh scholar knelt before Wang Zhiyuan, his face bruised and swollen, expression unreadable; his green gauze skirt had been torn to shreds, revealing the inner garment beneath.

He opened his mouth to speak: "My lord…"

Before he could finish, Wang Zhiyuan cut him off with a cold snort.

Clutching a shred of the torn gauze skirt, his face dark with rage, he snapped: "I have no such son!"

The other officials averted their eyes, pretending not to notice, but their strained expressions betrayed them.

Gauze skirts were common among scholars.

Even male lovers or male courtesans were not unusual—so long as they could produce heirs, it was widely accepted, whether they wore skirts or engaged in sexual relations with men.

Yet while common, such behavior was always met with contempt; the label "degenerate" was inevitable.

Especially since Wang Zhiyuan had always prided himself in the scholarly world for his strict family discipline, setting rigid moral standards and personally instructing his children.

Who could have imagined that after this inspection tour, his own son would appear before the Emperor dressed in a gauze skirt, bringing utter disgrace upon the Wang family?

Wang Xiangjin's eye was swollen and barely open, yet he struggled to defend himself: "My lord! I merely spoke up for the common people of Chixian—have I done anything wrong?"

"Now the central government has ordered land surveys and household registrations, yet it grants special exemptions to the Emperor's intimates—two standards for one matter—who in the realm could accept this?"

"And you, the official in charge of this matter—do you not fear earning a reputation for cruelty…?"

The moment he finished speaking,

Crack!

A sharp slap rang out through the air!

Struck suddenly, Wang Xiangjin lost his balance and collapsed to the ground, his words cut short.

Seeing his reckless son finally fall silent, Wang Zhiyuan felt a slight easing of his anxiety.

He turned to Xu Gu and asked: "Vice Minister Xu, this criminal has lost his mind. To prevent him from further offending His Majesty, perhaps we should imprison him immediately."

Xu Gu understood Wang Zhiyuan's intent and was happy to oblige.

He nodded slowly, then turned to his attendants and ordered: "Take the accused to the capital prison!"

Seeing this, Wang Zhiyuan exhaled in relief and bowed to Xu Gu in gratitude.

Though the Emperor had said nothing, he was surely furious beyond measure.

It is said that when the Son of Heaven is enraged, blood flows and shields float—how much more so when the offense is insulting one's sovereign father, a crime deserving of slow slicing?

The boy's only hope lies in slightly calming the Emperor's rage—hence the beating until he spat blood, hence the torn clothes, hence the immediate imprisonment.

Otherwise, if this anger is not appeased… after all the people the Emperor has executed these past days, today it may well be his own son's turn.

Zhang Hong and Jiang Keqian exchanged glances.

Though both knew the Emperor well enough to believe he would not fly into a rage or execute without warning,

since Wang Zongyi and Wang Xijue had pushed them aside, there was no reason to intervene—they let the civil officials handle it.

Just as the attendants were seizing Wang Xiangjin's arms to drag him out,

"He has not yet been convicted—why call him a criminal? Perhaps he spoke the truth in criticizing me. Let him go."

A voice came down from the stairs.

All looked up to see the Emperor descending the steps, his figure emerging clearly.

The senior officials instantly suppressed all extraneous expressions.

Zhang Hong and Jiang Keqian hurried to the stairs and bowed in waiting.

The guards remained impassive; those who had been holding Wang Xiangjin simply released him and stepped back to stand outside the door.

Wang Zhiyuan watched his son thrown back onto the floor, his heart tightening.

He glanced subtly at the Emperor, but the Emperor's tone and expression were both calm, revealing no hint of sarcasm or genuine indifference.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

The court officials, palace eunuchs, and even the accused scholars all bowed in unison.

Wang Xijue carefully observed the Emperor's expression.

Unlike monks, Daoists, or eunuchs, whom he could kill at will, these scholars had committed offenses but deserved leniency if possible.

Yet he could not tell whether the Emperor was still enraged, leaving him uncertain how to plead.

Wang Zongyi, Minister of Rites, and He Luowen, Vice Minister of Rites, exchanged glances, both hesitant.

To urge mercy seemed unjust—the Emperor had been wronged without cause.

But not to urge mercy meant the Emperor would earn a reputation for slaughtering scholars—a deadly stain.

Wang Zhiyuan sighed inwardly, then spoke first: "Your Majesty, these seven men are the scholars who disrupted court affairs and insulted Your Majesty on the riverbank."

Zhu Yijun descended the stairs slowly, taking in every expression and reaction.

No wonder students held such an inherent advantage in public opinion.

Even after openly cursing him, these ministers still looked terrified he would slaughter the scholar-officials.

No wonder He Xinyin had fled, leaving only his students behind.

Zhu Yijun thought to himself, waved his hand, and ordered the court officials to rise.

Then he turned to the kneeling scholars and feigned surprise: "You all pointed your fingers at me and cursed me—yet now you perform full rites?"

Aside from Wang Xiangjin, who had been beaten by his father, the other scholars stood unharmed.

The scholars who had been so impassioned on the riverbank were now utterly panicked.

They exchanged glances, unsure whether to rise or bow.

At that moment, one scholar stepped forward and declared loudly: "Your Majesty, we merely offered direct advice. Though harsh, it was never an insult to our sovereign father!"

His posture was perfectly calibrated.

Compared to the charge of insulting the sovereign, righteous remonstrance was far more defensible and would gain greater scholarly support.

Zhu Yijun smiled indifferently: "Are you a student of the National Academy?"

Imperial students, especially young ones, were prone to impulsively denounce current affairs.

One must carefully distinguish who acted on principle and who was merely used as a pawn.

The scholar replied formally: "Your Majesty, I am Zhao Nanxing, who passed the provincial examination in the fourth year of Wanli and entered the National Academy two years ago."

Zhu Yijun frowned.

Zhao Nanxing—the name felt familiar.

After a moment's recollection, he asked curiously: "What is your relation to the late Director of the Ministry of Personnel's Examination Bureau, Zhao Nanxing?"

Zhao Nanxing paused, then answered honestly: "Your Majesty, the late Director Zhao Nanxing is my elder brother."

Zhu Yijun couldn't help but grunt—everyone here had connections.

Zhao Nanxing, one of the Donglin gentlemen, was now "late" because he had resigned during the southern altar sacrifice ceremony—he had returned home.

The Donglin elder left over the southern altar affair, and now the younger brother from the Simen Society holds banners to remonstrate—truly a family of loyalists.

Simen Society… Donglin Party… and later, the Fusha.

Regardless of their motives, the formation of grassroots political associations in the Ming and the trend of opposition factions influencing governance were becoming increasingly evident.

Under changing economic foundations, something elusive seemed to be brewing.

Yet this process had abruptly ended in history, leaving Zhu Yijun uncertain whether it was good or bad.

He would need to observe more carefully in the future.

Zhu Yijun's thoughts scattered, then halted.

He turned to Wang Zhiyuan and pointed at Wang Xiangjin: "Is this your son, Minister Wang?"

Wang Zhiyuan's expression darkened; he nodded reluctantly: "He is my third son."

Zhu Yijun nodded.

He had some memory of Wang Xiangjin—he was, historically, a rare agricultural scholar who loved nurseries.

The Chinese "apple" was named by him.

Moreover, after the Qing troops entered the pass, Wang Xiangjin never kowtowed to them for office—he remained at home farming, living in seclusion until the Shunzhi era.

Aside from his fondness for associations, he was a man of integrity—Donglin Party, literary societies, village militias—he had tried them all, and now, this Simen Society as well.

Thinking of this, Zhu Yijun turned his face coldly toward Wang Xiangjin and warned sternly: "If I heard correctly, your son just accused Wang Jingzhao of cruelty? Why not add 'aiding the tyrant' as well?"

Wang Zhiyuan opened his mouth but fell silent, then glared fiercely at his son.

Under the combined gaze of both men, Wang Xiangjin involuntarily shivered.

He stammered for a long while before whispering: "Your Majesty's civil and military achievements surpass Jie and Zhou."

"I merely witnessed the injustice toward the Imperial Estates and the imperial relatives, and was outraged that Your Majesty treated them unfairly while my father stood idle—so I spoke only of the matter, urging Your Majesty to treat all equally."

Wang Xiangjin's voice grew fainter; after finishing, he buried his head in his chest.

Zhu Yijun stared silently at Wang Xiangjin for a long while, saying nothing.

The Imperial Estates—private property of the Emperor.

They possessed dual characteristics of public and private property—based on the fundamental premise that the Emperor, as lord of all under heaven, embodied both public and private authority.

Yet under the spontaneous currents of popular thought, this premise—more precisely, the Emperor's private nature—was now being questioned.

Or rather, the intellectual sphere was reflecting upon it, seeking to revise and even perfect it: Is the realm public or familial? That is the question.

Following this came the imperial estates, most deeply rooted in private property, which had endured the harshest scrutiny since the Chenghua era.

The most famous remark was that of Grand Secretary Shang Lu, who once advised Emperor Xianzong: "The Son of Heaven regards the realm as his home—why need imperial estates at all?"

Thus, this is a well-worn issue.

Yet it has been seized upon now, at this critical moment of land surveying, as an opportunity to press the point.

Of course, Zhu Yijun was far more curious about how exactly they intended to exploit this opportunity.

The hall fell silent for a long while.

Zhu Yijun then looked at Wang Xiangjin and Zhao Nanxing, and asked seriously: "A fine commitment to impartiality, a fine insistence on equality."

"Yet there is one matter I do not understand."

"When you speak of equality, do you mean you wish me to extend leniency to powerful landowners, as I have toward imperial estates and imperial in-laws…?"

"Or do you wish me to treat imperial estates and imperial in-laws as I have treated all during my tour of Shuntian Prefecture—showing no mercy under the law?"

"Or put plainly—do your Four Gates Society object to the land survey, or to my private property?"