Chapter 345: Fists and Feet, Not Until Frustrated Will He Speak

“Shexian commoner Shuai Jiamo kowtows before His Majesty.”

Inside the Wenhua Hall, court ministers regarded this commoner and his botched three-kowtows-one-bow salute with varied expressions.

Shuai Jiamo appeared to be around forty, with a broad forehead, sharp chin, and prominent brows and nose, exuding the shrewd air of a senior accountant.

Why had His Majesty arranged for such a commoner to be granted an audience?

Shexian? That must be the key figure in Huizhou’s internal strife.

Those who understood remained silent; those who didn’t waited for the Emperor’s performance.

When the Emperor appeared before the people, a customary warm greeting was inevitably expected.

Zhu Yijun smiled and gestured for him to rise: “Since you are a military household who has served, I shall follow military custom and call you comrade. Rise, Comrade Shuai.”

To call a commoner by name directly was uncouth; to use his courtesy name seemed frivolous—following military custom was most appropriate.

Among rank-and-file soldiers, calling each other brother or brother was most common; to officers, they respectfully addressed them as “Boss” or “General.”

Among officers, they addressed each other by rank; to subordinates, they often used derogatory terms like “soldier scum” or “red rascal,” but in formal settings, “comrade” was occasionally used—Yu Dayou’s habit was best, and he often used it privately too.

Shuai Jiamo, quick-witted, immediately adjusted his address: “In the military, not being cursed by father or mother was already the Grand Marshal’s grace. I beg Your Excellency to call me by my name!”

Zhu Yijun couldn’t help laughing.

The nobles and military officers on the right bench laughed heartily a moment later.

The civil ministers reluctantly chuckled twice.

Zhu Yijun suppressed his smile and said seriously: “Shuai Jiamo, the Wenhua Hall is a state secret stronghold, unlike any other place. I ask one question, you answer one. Do not speak unnecessarily.”

Thanks to the relatively high literacy rate of the Great Ming.

These petitioners had already appeared before the Provincial Governor’s office, the Nanjing Censorate, and the Ministry of Revenue four or five times—they were no strangers to procedure.

Yet, with officials from all five counties present in the hall, caution was essential; Zhu Yijun restricting Shuai Jiamo’s freedom of speech was an act of protection.

Shuai Jiamo bowed repeatedly: “Your servant understands, Your servant understands.”

Yu Maoxue stared coldly at Shuai Jiamo, his gaze like that of a man about to devour him.

Xu Guo silently stepped behind Shuai Jiamo, blocking Yu Maoxue’s view.

Zhu Yijun ignored the ministers’ petty maneuvers and pressed straight to the matter: “Shuai Jiamo, was it you who first initiated the silk-tribute case of Longqing Fourth Year?”

The initial petition during Jiajing’s reign had been buried by the Huizhou Prefecture.

Fortunately, there was still the Longqing-era initiation.

The ministers murmured internally: So this is the man.

This fellow was the litigious ruffian Yu Maoxue spoke of, the righteous scholar Xu Guo praised.

When Shuai Jiamo spoke of the matter, his demeanor grew solemn: “Your Excellency, it was indeed I.”

The Emperor had warned him beforehand, and he truly answered only what was asked.

His compliance earned him a higher regard from the ministers.

Zhu Yijun leaned slightly forward, looking down and questioning: “Rumors say your motives are impure—that you dug up an old case and deliberately petitioned above your rank merely to gain fame and profit. Is this true?”

This was not a trap, but an opportunity for Shuai Jiamo to defend himself.

The five counties were in fierce conflict; beyond the distribution of interests, clarifying these details was crucial.

Perhaps Shuai Jiamo had weathered too many petitioning storms—he showed no panic under imperial scrutiny: “This was mere coincidence. Your Excellency, allow me to explain fully!”

“Since childhood, I have loved numbers and records. When I served in the military, I was assigned to keep accounts.”

“After my term ended and I returned home, my itch to tally persisted—I would visit the prefectural and county yamens in my spare time, reviewing tax ledgers, household registers, official correspondence, and petitions.”

“Only after many years did I accidentally discover the irregularity in the silk tribute!”

“This matter begins with the Wu Second Year, the Yi-Si tax reform…”

Zhu Yijun watched Shuai Jiamo speak fluently, feeling deeply moved.

As the saying goes: seeing a leopard through a tube.

A commoner of pure military household origin, with no family background or scholarly status, yet possessed such eloquence.

Even his habit of accessing tax and household archives was touching.

Wu Second Year? That was the twenty-fifth year of Zhi Zheng, before the Yuan Dynasty had collapsed—two hundred and sixteen years ago!

This meant the grassroots administration of Huizhou Prefecture’s Shexian County still preserved intact archives from two centuries prior, even before the Great Ming was founded.

Moreover,

The yamen’s archives were open to a mere commoner, not even a student, who could freely enter, copy, and retrieve documents.

The spirit of the age, the true strength of the state—here, in these minute details, the truth was revealed.

“...I confirmed that the summer tax arrears of Huizhou’s six counties, specifically the silk tribute, had been unfairly assigned to Shexian!”

“I originally intended to report this to Huizhou Prefecture.”

“But while verifying the ‘Great Ming Compendium’ and the ‘Huizhou Prefecture Gazetteer,’ I suddenly realized this had been an unsolved case since Jiajing’s reign—deliberately buried by Huizhou Prefecture!”

“Outraged and distrusting Huizhou Prefecture, I petitioned above my rank, solely to seek justice for my fellow villagers!”

His ability to calculate accounts and cross-reference the gazetteer and compendium proved he was well-informed—he answered the Emperor’s questions with neither subservience nor arrogance.

Deliberately digging up an old case?

It was a lifelong habit, backed by records of his entries into yamens and document access.

Petitioning above his rank?

Simply because Huizhou Prefecture had a history of deceit—petitioning the Provincial Governor was perfectly reasonable.

If this was merely the natural progression of events, then the accusation of seeking fame and profit was clearly fabricated.

Yet,

Just as he spoke these words, Yu Maoxue, Left Censor of the Ministry of Revenue, suddenly sneered.

He looked down contemptuously at Shuai Jiamo and demanded: “Fine, you ‘verified the gazetteer’!”

“Shuai Jiamo, I ask you: in your petition to the Nanjing Circuit Intendant Liu Shihui, you wrote—‘According to the Ministry of Revenue’s official orders, Huizhou has been required to supply 8,780 bolts of raw silk from corvée labor, originally shared equally among the six counties, as recorded in the gazetteer.’”

“Where, in which chapter and page of the gazetteer, does this phrase ‘originally shared equally among the six counties’ appear?!”

Yu Maoxue spoke with supreme confidence, towering over him.

Could he, as Left Censor of the Ministry of Revenue, not verify whether such wording had ever been issued?

Neither the 12-volume ‘Huizhou Prefecture Gazetteer’ of Hongzhi nor the 22-volume version of Jiajing contained this line!

Yin Zhengmao and Xu Guo’s faces darkened instantly—they moved to intervene.

As they began to rise, the Emperor spoke first: “Xu Qing, Yin Qing, answer one question at a time.”

Yin Zhengmao and Xu Guo exchanged glances and fell silent.

Shuai Jiamo fell silent for a long while.

After a long pause, he bowed deeply to Yu Maoxue: “Your Honor, that phrase was fabricated by me, solely to attract the attention of the upright Judge Hai.”

The precise address “Your Honor,” and the candid admission—clearly he had been coached.

Yu Maoxue glanced subtly toward the imperial dais.

He forced himself to restrain his anger, pointing at Shuai Jiamo: “You still have a shred of shame—daring to admit it.”

“If you knew you were forging the gazetteer as evidence, you must have known you were stirring up trouble—then why did you shamelessly petition Nanjing?!”

Petitioning was common in the Ming; people routinely beat drums outside provincial offices, submitted memorials to the two capitals, or even lay prostrate beneath the imperial palace gates.

Especially the Huizhou people—they loved litigation, adored courtrooms.

In fact, every Huizhou household kept its own ledger, recording even the slightest private details of others—their whispers, their movements—ready to use as evidence in court.

Logically, after Nanjing’s Provincial Governor Hai Rui issued his ruling, the matter should have improved—Shexian’s magistrate went into mourning, the other five counties suspended office, clerks took leave, and the case seemed destined to fade away.

Yet this fellow Shuai Jiamo refused to let go—he traveled straight to Beijing and petitioned the Nanjing ministries!

Hearing this, Shuai Jiamo suddenly looked up: “Your Honor, the gazetteer evidence was indeed fabricated—I have no proof, so I have nothing to say!”

“You ask why I petitioned in Beijing?”

“Because after Governor Hai left office, though the counties shelved the matter, I kept investigating! I investigated for four months!”

“Heaven did not abandon the diligent! I finally found the proof—on the shelves of Huizhou Prefecture’s archives!”

He pulled from his robe a bundle wrapped in oilcloth, held it aloft with both hands, and declared loudly: “It is the Ministry of Revenue’s official reply and Huizhou Prefecture’s collection orders, dated two hundred and sixteen years ago!”

Yu Maoxue frowned.

Xu Guo seized his chance—he stepped forward, took the oilcloth bundle, and opened it: two copied official documents.

Vice Minister Xu quickly flipped through two pages, then read aloud with delight: “Ministry of Revenue’s order: Huizhou to supply raw silk!”

“Huizhou Prefecture’s directive: collect 8,780 bolts of raw silk as summer tax from Shexian, to be delivered to the Nanjing Transport Depot!”

The moment Xu Guo finished speaking, Yu Maoxue’s face turned ashen!

“Lies! Give me those!” Yu Maoxue lunged forward, three steps in one, and reached for the documents with both hands.

A gust of wind struck Xu Guo’s nape—he reacted instantly.

Damn it!

He ducked low to dodge!

But he was too slow—he was knocked down by Yu Maoxue, the documents still clutched between them!

Both men lay on the ground, wrestling for the documents, each pulling with all their strength.

Yin Zhengmao stood beside them—he acted without hesitation, throwing himself onto them.

Bold!

He gripped Yu Maoxue’s wrist with one hand, his neck with the other, and yanked with all his might!

Yu Maoxue cried out in pain.

Damn you!

He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, stiffened his elbow, and shoved backward with all his might.

After being struck three or four times in succession, Yin Zhengmao gritted his teeth, wrapped his arms around Yu Maoxue’s arm, and pinned him down with all his weight.

Xu Guo, seeing this, feared damage to the documents; he relaxed his grip and bit down hard on Yu Maoxue’s arm.

Two ledgers, three men, six hands.

In the split second before the hair’s breadth, three senior court officials tore into each other.

Everyone in the court stood dumbfounded.

Shuai Jiamoe stared blankly at the scene—this was what His Majesty called the Wenhua Hall, a state secret stronghold unlike any other?

Zhu Xizhong, the Inspector of Court Etiquette, reacted fastest, bellowing: “Disorder before the Emperor—what manner of conduct is this?!”

Below the imperial steps, the Jinwu Guard surged forward, joining Zhu Xizhong to physically drag apart the three tangled court officials.

Pulling.

Struggling.

Flailing wildly with arms and legs.

The Wenhua Hall erupted into chaos.

…

After an indeterminate length of time.

Behind his desk, the Emperor sat upright, forcing a stern expression.

The three court officials knelt before him, faces bruised and swollen, necks hunched, as silent as quails.

The Secretaries stopped writing, silent; court ministers stared blankly upward; eunuchs and palace maids bowed their heads; the lone commoner stood utterly bewildered.

Ni Guangjian, the Tongzheng Minister, watched with great delight, even smacking his lips in lingering satisfaction.

If only back on the twenty-fourth day of the second month of Wanli Year Two, at the second hour and fifteen minutes, I had fought back with a solid elbow strike when Huo Ji hit me, I wouldn’t have spent these six years, four months, and three days growing angrier with every passing thought.

After a long while.

The Emperor finally moved; Zhu Yijun pressed his hand to his forehead, half-laughing, half-crying: “Go to the Censorate afterward and accept your punishment.”

This kind of court atmosphere has nothing to do with the Emperor’s authority.

Dozens of ministers brawling, beating the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard Ma Shun to death; the Chief Eunuch and the Assistant Eunuch fighting bare-armed; the Grand Secretary Gao Gong beating his colleagues into disfigurement.

If the Wanli reign didn’t see at least two such incidents, it would violate ancestral law.

The three, hearing this, bowed their heads in meek assent, not daring to speak—like students who had just been swept up in a passionate frenzy, now trembling with fear before their schoolmaster.

Zhu Yijun silenced them, and had to speak himself.

He turned again to Shuai Jiamoe: “Shuai Jiamoe, what do these two ledgers mean?”

Xu Guo had barely begun reading when he was interrupted, and had not yet explained the implications.

Finally, it was Shuai Jiamoe’s turn to respond; he hurriedly answered: “Your Excellency, the Ministry of Revenue’s ledger states that Huizhou’s male population pays silk and silk tax, but this wording never explicitly assigns the burden solely to She County!”

“Since it’s a head tax, common sense dictates it should be evenly distributed across the prefecture!”

“Yet Huizhou Prefecture directly imposed this head tax on She County alone—under the guise of summer tax silk, the very same category used for the six counties’ supplementary payment of summer wheat!”

“I dare to speculate on the true origin of this matter.”

“Clearly, the Ministry of Revenue ordered Huizhou Prefecture to collect the head tax, but someone within Huizhou refused to share the burden, so they shifted this tax onto She County’s temporary tax category!”

“Thus, She County has been paying it unknowingly for two hundred years!”

The three kneeling men reacted differently upon hearing this.

But they had just been silenced by the Emperor; they could not speak now.

Zhu Yijun gave no reply: “If so, when you traveled to the capital to petition, the Nanjing Ministry should have issued a ruling.”

“Why did this matter suddenly die down around Longqing Five, only to resurface now?”

The two capitals, Nanjing and Beijing, held equal status.

Had Nanjing issued any directive, the silk tax case would never have dragged on this long.

Shuai Jiamoe’s expression grew complex, anger mixed with dread: “Your Excellency, Nanjing did issue a ruling.”

“The Nanjing Censorate ruled first: according to precedent, taxes must be evenly distributed; the matter should be reviewed and adjusted accordingly.”

“After forwarding the directive to the Nanjing Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry issued a notice to Huizhou Prefecture: ‘Investigate impartially: from what year did this head tax in silk originate? Why was it assigned exclusively to She County? Do the other counties have other tax obligations offsetting this? If not, how should it be resolved?’”

“But I, being incompetent, failed to bring the ruling back to Huizhou Prefecture!”

As he spoke, his bitterness deepened.

The Censorate’s precedent refers to the Da Ming Hui Dian; since the Great Ming Code states Huizhou Prefecture pays silk tax, the burden must be shared equally.

The Ministry of Revenue took a cautious stance, posing four questions still tinged with suspicion, yet ultimately directing Huizhou Prefecture to propose a solution.

This petition was, in essence, a major advantage for She County.

Had Shuai Jiamoe returned to Huizhou Prefecture with the Ministry’s directive, it would have been a decisive victory.

Yet Shuai Jiamoe’s words clearly implied something had gone wrong—he never delivered the ruling.

Zhu Yijun pressed curiously: “Why? The common rumor says you fled in fear of punishment; I had to instruct the Caojiang Office to find you in Jiangxia, a thousand li away.”

Don’t ask about entrusting the Caojiang Commander.

Since Xu Qiaosong, Marquis of Yongkang, became Caojiang Commander and concurrently Provincial Governor of Feng, An, Hui, Ning, Chi, Tai, and Guang, and established his headquarters in Anqing (Chapter 80), Zhu Yijun has openly strengthened ties between the Caojiang Office and the central court.

Over these seven years, military authority in Nanzhili has gradually split in two.

The Caojiang Provincial Governor’s Office no longer falls under Nanzhili’s jurisdiction; instead, under central orders, it has repeatedly expanded its staff and directly intervened in criminal cases.

In effect, the Caojiang Provincial Governor’s Office now resembles a combined Regional Military Commissioner and Provincial Surveillance Commissioner.

Shuai Jiamoe fell silent for a moment, then replied stiffly: “On my way home, I was attacked by several assassins! After barely escaping, I had no choice but to hide far away in Jiangxia!”

“Had it not been for the Caojiang Office coming to me, I wouldn’t dare show my face.”

Submitting petitions beyond one’s rank has always been dangerous, in any dynasty.

In a good court, you might be sent back or declared insane; in a bad court like the Ming, losing your life is commonplace.

Shuai Jiamoe had served in the military and had some skill; otherwise, he’d have died in this case.

The ministers exchanged uneasy glances.

No wonder Shuai Jiamoe held such a grudge—he nearly lost his life.

The Emperor on the throne rubbed his palms, sighing inexplicably: “Ah, when you ministers retire and return home, try to kill fewer commoners.”

At these words, the ministers’ expressions turned instantly bewildered.

“When the Song Confucian slandered my mother, I only intended a minor punishment—yet the investigation revealed he had raped and murdered men and women in Mahazhou and castrated the innocent.”

“On my inspection tour of Shuntian Prefecture, I merely wanted to assess the difficulty of land surveying; I hadn’t gone far before hearing that the eunuch Yao Zhong and Ma Lu seized land and destroyed families, and that Marquis Shi Guangzu murdered a husband to steal his wife.”

“Even now, investigating a silk tax case, I hear of murders to silence witnesses—how utterly routine.”

How terrible—you treat human lives as what?

The Emperor wore the expression of someone who’d stepped on a cockroach and wondered how many more infested his home.

The ministers felt unjustly accused; they wanted to protest, yet feared being taken as self-incriminating.

Frustrated and humiliated, they bowed low: “We are guilty!”

Zhu Yijun waved his hand listlessly: “Just don’t let it come to my hands. Now, back to business.”

Since discovering the bureaucracy’s subconscious resistance to his will, Zhu Yijun had subtly reminded them from time to time.

Though it made him seem capricious, it was better than being too lenient and allowing unspeakable things to happen.

He was becoming more and more like the Jiajing Emperor.

Zhu Yijun sighed inwardly, his face betraying nothing; he turned to Li Youzi, softening his tone: “Li Qing, I previously assigned you the silk tax case. Have you uncovered any leads?”

Archives, besides those kept locally, naturally had copies preserved at the center.

Li Youzi stepped forward, bowing in an awkward posture—today’s court session had lasted too long, and his testicles were beginning to protest.

“Your Majesty, I have fully investigated the Huizhou silk tax case!”

—

One more chapter at the top of the hour.

(End of Chapter)