Chapter 352: The Shadow of the Merchant

Wanli Eighth Year, August.

Gengzi (Third Day), Imperial Consort Han became pregnant; His Majesty personally offered sacrifices to the Night Brightness at the Altar of the Evening Moon.

Vice Minister of Revenue Fan Yingqi petitioned to move the imperial court on a southern tour.

The court deliberated, but reached no decision.

Guimao (Sixth Day), upon completion of their three-year term with top rating, Sun Jigao, Prefect of Xinhua Directly Governed State in Yunnan, and Gu Assistant County Magistrate, Assistant Commissioner of Sichuan, were appointed as Editors of the Hanlin Academy and concurrently Secretaries of the Central Secretariat, stationed at the Southern Capital; Yu Menglin, Deputy Prefect of Zhaoqing Prefecture in Guangdong, promoted to Prefect of Huizhou Prefecture upon completion of his three-year term with upper-middle rating.

The vacant posts were filled in sequence by Wang Yingxuan, Yao Sanrang, and Zhang Yikun as Secretaries of the Central Secretariat.

Jiachen (Seventh Day), the Mongol Prince Shunyi fell gravely ill and petitioned to construct a temple and a Han city to pray for blessings and extended life; Princess Yong’an, Lady Zhongshun, Zhu Xuanji, appended her petition.

The court deliberated and granted quantities of cement, timber, and other construction materials; the temple was named Da Zhao, the city Hohhot; three high monks including Hongfa were dispatched beyond the pass to propagate the sutras.

Further, upon completion of a six-year term with top rating, Chen Dong, Right Vice Censor-in-Chief, Left Vice Minister of War, and Viceroy of Xuan-Da, was promoted to Right Censor-in-Chief and Minister of War, Viceroy of the Three Frontiers, overseeing Shaanxi, Gansu, Ningxia, and Yan, commanding Xuan-Da, and stationed at Huamachi.

Yisi (Eighth Day), for recruiting surrendered Jurchen tribesmen, the emperor ordered rewards of silver in varying amounts to Li Chengliang, Yang Wudian, and others; the surrendered tribesman Zhang Jia was appointed Assistant Regional Commander of the Left Wei of Jianzhou.

The emperor ordered Li Chengliang’s son, Li Rusong, to serve as Chief of the Imperial Guard of the Five Military Directorates, in accordance with standard procedure.

Dingwei (Tenth Day), the Minister of Rites, Wang Zongyi, was dispatched to sacrifice to Confucius; the Sage’s Descendant was not granted sacrificial honors this year.

Upon completion of a six-year term, Wang Zongmu, Right Vice Censor-in-Chief and Viceroy of the Grand Canal, was promoted to Right Censor-in-Chief and Vice Minister of War, Viceroy of Liaodong; Cai Ruxian, Director of the Imperial Horse Service, was reassigned as Surveillance Censor of Liaodong.

Hu Zhili, Right Vice Censor-in-Chief and Provincial Governor of Shuntian, filled the vacancy as Viceroy of the Grand Canal; Zheng Zongxue, Military Censor of the Five Military Directorates, filled the vacancy as Director of the Imperial Horse Service.

Guiou (Sixteenth Day), His Majesty dispatched civil and military ministers to sacrifice to Song Chancellor Wen Tianxiang.

Vice Minister of Rites He Luowen and Lin Shizhang, Vice Minister of Justice Xu Gu, petitioned to move the imperial court on a southern tour.

The court deliberated, but reached no decision.

Jiayin (Seventeenth Day), the Emperor’s Birthday, His Majesty ascended the Huangji Palace; civil and military officials performed congratulatory rites; all princely mansions and civil-military offices throughout the realm submitted congratulatory memorials.

On this day, the Ministry of Revenue reported that land surveys in various provinces had not yet been fully registered or resolved, and proposed that each Provincial Governor and Surveillance Commissioner verify and report their findings.

The Five Military Directorates reported that, per regulation, Jiao Ze, Commander of the Shenji Camp in the Capital Garrison, would lead four infantry battalions and one artillery battalion totaling fifteen thousand troops to exchange garrison duty and train with Nanjing’s forces.

His Majesty approved.

Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang, Minister of War Yin Zhengmao, and Minister of Rites Wang Zongyi petitioned for a southern tour.

The court deliberated, but reached no decision.

Wuwu (Twenty-First Day), Cao Lun, Wang Qianshan, and Yang Tingyou of Henan were torn apart at the marketplace; twelve others including Ji Tingyou were beheaded for practicing heretical arts, inciting rebellion, violating rites, stirring civil unrest, and assaulting government offices.

The Surveillance Commissioners of Henan, Zhejiang, and Jiangxi were ordered to return to the capital for investigation.

Li Changchun, Assistant to the Imperial Library, was appointed Surveillance Commissioner of Jiangxi; Zhao Zhigao, President of the National University, was promoted to Surveillance Commissioner of Henan; Zhao Xian, former Provincial Governor of Huguang, was recalled to service as Surveillance Commissioner of Zhejiang.

Gengshen (Twenty-Third Day), upon the birth of the imperial prince, His Majesty ascended the Huangji Palace, and ministers offered congratulations.

His Majesty ordered two ten-thousand taels from the Inner Treasury for celebratory rewards and dispatched Xu Wenbi, Duke of Dingguo, as chief envoy and Grand Secretary Shen Shixing as deputy envoy, bearing the imperial seals and edicts, to enthrone Concubine Wu as Virtuous Consort.

On this day, Grand Secretaries Shen Shixing of the Wenyuan Pavilion and Wang Xijue of the Dongge Pavilion submitted memorials.

The new policies are blocked, grown into a chronic illness.

The situation is worst in Jiangnan. The court officials of Jinling are all exiled officials from the southern suburbs; scholarly societies are filled with remnants of old learning, venomous creatures, their roots deeply entangled, power and favor stolen. Internally they gather popular unrest to resist land surveys; externally they cloak themselves in moral discourse to carve up the dynasty’s mandate. Public sentiment is furious, voices howl like wolves, slander flies against the throne, demonic vapors obscure the land!

I have heard that the Son of Heaven’s inspection tours serve to examine institutions, define borders, and pacify the myriad people.

The Yellow Emperor traveled to honor the gods and mountains and stabilize the four quarters; the Xia sovereign mapped out routes to clear rivers and define territories. In ancient times, Shun and Yu traversed mountains and secured the Nine Tripods; King Mu of Zhou inspected the lands and brought the feudal lords into order—this is what a sovereign must do, a model for ten thousand generations!

The two ministers of Suzhou and Song, kneeling, respectfully submit.

The court deliberated.

Some said: “The Three Wu regions are the bloodline of the state, the lifeline of Jiangnan’s realm—how can the sun and moon not descend, the imperial authority not reach?”

Others said: “The Founding Emperor visited the frontier annually; Emperor Wen made five tours to Jiangzuo; Emperor Wu’s eight steeds traveled ten thousand li—were these not ancestral precedents?”

Others said: “With the birth of the imperial prince, we should seize this great celebration to proclaim virtue east and west, extend benevolence north and south—this is the very means to bind the people’s hearts and nurture the state’s destiny!”

The ministers bowed in agreement; all officials concurred.

Xinyou (Twenty-Fourth Day), the edict was issued from the Wenhua Palace, stating:

“The Zhou established Luoyang, founding the dual capitals; Emperor Yao labored for the people, placing special emphasis on inspection tours. I, ruling all under heaven, follow only the ancient rites. Yet since the new policies began, demons have run rampant; censorship has been lifted, the moral order shattered.

Jiangsu and Zhejiang daily petition; the imperial carriage stands with sword drawn; Suzhou and Song cry out; the emperor’s face turns to inquiry—is this not what every common household in Jiangnan longs for?”

Therefore, on the thirtieth day of August, I shall tour Nanjing!

I appoint the Empress Dowager Ci Sheng and the Empress Dowager Ren Sheng to supervise the state; the Director of the Directorate of Palace Affairs, Zhang Hong, the Director of the Eastern Depot, Li Jin, and the Regional Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Xu Wenbi, shall assist.

The weight of governance in the capital remains; I appoint Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng of the Zhongji Palace, Chief Censor Hai Rui of the Censorate, and Left Regional Commander Wang Chonggu of the Five Military Directorates to assist in governance and supervision—as Emperor Taizong of Tang entrusted Fang Xuanling with regency, you must understand my intent and serve with reverence and diligence.

Only appointments of civil and military officials, tributes from foreign lands, and troop deployments require imperial approval while I am away; routine matters need not be reported.

I order Grand Secretary Shen Shixing of the Wenyuan Pavilion, Grand Secretary Wang Xijue of the Dongge Pavilion, Vice Censor-in-Chief Chen Wude, Vice Ministers of the Six Ministries Yao Hongmo, Wan Gong, He Luowen, Li Youzi, Xu Gu, Chen Jingbang, and officials of the Censorate to accompany the imperial procession.

Zhu Xixiao, Left Regional Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard; Jiang Keqian, Right Regional Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard; Luo Sigong, Commander of the Imperial Guard of the Five Military Directorates, and their units shall accompany.

Princes shall meet the imperial party no farther than one day’s journey from their princely cities; civil and military officials and commoners within the territory shall pay homage at the border.

All provisions have been prepared; no burden shall be placed upon the people; no office shall offer gifts.”

On the day the edict was issued, all ministries and bureaus responded immediately; civil and military officials prepared for departure.

…

August 28, morning.

Two days remain before the emperor departs for his loyal Nanjing.

Logically, matters that had been quietly prepared for two months should by now be fully arranged.

Yet today, the emperor remains as busy as ever.

For after the southern tour was decided, court officials naturally intensified their pace, seeking to resolve all matters swiftly while the emperor still resided in the Forbidden City.

For example, naming the imperial prince.

After the prince’s birth, the Palace Supervision Office recorded the birth mother and date; until named, he was simply called “the prince”; only after naming did he receive his official title according to birth order: “Imperial Prince X.”

If following procedure, the Hanlin Academy would first consult previously bestowed names among the imperial clan to avoid duplication, propose several auspicious names, and submit them for the emperor’s approval.

After the emperor selected a name, the Ministry of Rites would notify the Astronomical Bureau to determine a propitious date based on the name and the prince’s birth chart, then offer sacrifices to the ancestral temple.

Then followed a series of rituals: hair-cutting, chanting praises, offering congratulations, notifying the Imperial Clan Office, recording the name in the jade genealogy, and issuing an edict to the realm.

The Great Ming Code stipulated that the naming ceremony for an imperial prince occur after three months.

But rites may be adapted; even before three months had passed, the process began on the very day the prince was born.

Minister of Rites Wang Zongyi, by imperial decree, proposed four names: “Dong,” “Hao,” “Jun,” and “Chong,” clearly marking their phonetic transcriptions, meanings, and classical sources for selection.

“Dong” derives from the Book of Songs; “Hao” from the Rhyme Compendium; “Jun” from the Book of Documents; “Chong” from Laozi and Pan Yue’s Fu—each carries profound aspiration.

Zhu Yijun invited Empress Liu to choose together; they ultimately settled on “Jun”—according to lineage law, the empress is the mother, even in naming rites the prince must be held by the empress, while the birth mother may only kneel below in obeisance.

By the fifth day, today, as the prince’s condition stabilized, the ritual of ancestral sacrifice had been reached.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Zhu Yijun stood within the ancestral temple, clad in the Pibianfu , offering silk, dried meat, fruit, and wine to his ancestors.

He bowed deeply, murmuring: “My first son, I humbly seek the ancestral spirits’ decree: his name shall be ‘Chang Jun.’ May Heaven bestow blessings, may the ancestors grant grace…”

Because he is not the eldest son by the empress, he may not be called “Yuanzi,” only “first son.”

After reciting the prayer, Zhu Yijun received the ritual incense from the Ministry of Rites official and meticulously inserted it into the incense burner.

No need for the entire Forbidden City to cheer the name; as long as no thunder, fire, or fox cries occurred, the ancestors had approved.

Zhu Yijun bowed three more times, then stepped back.

Minister of Rites Wang Zongyi and Duke Xu Wenbi stepped forward, one on each side, in silent accord to complete the sacrifices to the other ancestors on the emperor’s behalf.

Zhu Yijun merely watched silently, no longer moving.

“Have the imperial decree and edict been drafted?”

The imperial decree is the official document sent to the Imperial Clan Office to record the name in the jade genealogy.

The edict is for proclamation to the realm.

Shen Maoxue, recently transferred from Prefect of Baoding to the imperial court, still seemed unaccustomed to the transition from provincial official to Secretary of the Central Secretariat.

He paused a moment before replying: “Your Majesty, they will be drafted within the day; only awaiting Your Majesty’s audience at the Fengtian Gate the day after tomorrow to issue them.”

The name Shen Maoxue, at first hearing, might suggest a relation to Yu Maoxue, the official who fought in the Wenhua Palace.

In truth, it was mere coincidence.

Shen Maoxue’s native place was Ningguo Prefecture in Nan Zhili; he was the Zhuangyuan of Wanli Fifth Year, now forty-two.

Perhaps due to three years spent in the provinces, his skill in composing qingci had declined; even a three-thousand-character edict announcing the prince’s birth took him three days to complete during his duty shifts—his confident assurance suggested he would be up all night.

Fortunately, the emperor’s concern was not pressing for speed.

Zhu Yijun shook his head and corrected: “I depart on tour the day after tomorrow—how could I possibly attend the Fengtian Gate?”

“Let the Two Empress Dowagers handle it.”

Tomorrow is the naming ceremony; as father, I cannot avoid it. But issuing the edict the day after tomorrow need not be done personally.

It is precisely the time for the Two Empress Dowagers to supervise the state; acting on the emperor’s behalf to issue decrees is their rightful duty.

Yet when Shen Maoxue heard “the Two Empress Dowagers will handle it,” his expression froze, visibly flustered.

Zhang Hong, Director of the Directorate of Palace Affairs, noticing, stepped forward.

He leaned close to the emperor, helplessly smiling: “Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager Ci Sheng may need some persuasion…”

The helplessness was real.

Though the Empress Dowager Li could not stop the emperor’s determination to tour, she was not above sulking.

Supervise the state?

That cannot be! The inner palace must not interfere in governance—Your Majesty must find someone else!

Zhu Yijun understood this well.

He turned and glared at Zhang Hong, exasperated: “I am about to depart on tour—how can you still behave as if I must handle every single matter myself?”

Couldn’t you take the initiative and secretly soothe the old lady?!

Hearing this, Zhang Hong could only wipe his face with his sleeve and force a smile: “Your Majesty’s instruction is correct, Your Majesty’s instruction is correct.”

Just kidding.

Lady Li has been out of sorts for over a month; her own son hasn’t gone to comfort her—how could an outsider possibly soothe her?

If they don’t ask the Emperor to intervene, the Directorate of Ceremonial is powerless—how could they truly set aside Lady Li and send all memorials straight to Empress Chen?—when the accusation of sowing discord within the imperial family lands, who could bear it?

Zhu Yijun saw that Zhang Hong had the demeanor of a dead pig unafraid of hot water, and realized he couldn’t rely on him.

He waved his hand and sighed reluctantly: “After the Chengguang Hall memorial is presented, I shall go to pay respects to both Empresses.”

He had been eagerly waiting for the old lady’s anger to subside, yet in the end, he still couldn’t avoid this.

After giving a few brief instructions, Zhu Yijun entrusted the ancestral rites of Taizu and Chengzu to the two chief sacrificers, Xu Wenbi and Wang Zongyi.

He himself left the Imperial Ancestral Temple and headed toward the Shimi Temple.

After personally offering sacrifices at the Ruizong Temple, he returned to the Western Garden with his inner court officials.

On the way back, Zhu Yijun still took the opportunity to inquire about official matters: “Has the Imperial Banner and Dragon Flag not yet been made?”

Since Emperor Jiajing’s southern tour in the eighteenth year of his reign, no emperor has officially traveled for over forty years; the previous Imperial Banner and Dragon Flag are now beyond use.

Zhang Hong immediately straightened his expression and replied: “Your Majesty, they were completed the day before yesterday; I shall personally deliver them to the Jinwu Guard shortly.”

Zhu Yijun nodded: “Put the old Imperial Banner and Dragon Flag in the National History Office—don’t let them get stolen again.”

You’ve already stolen the Grand Secretariat’s seal and the Emperor’s everyday robes; if I don’t warn you twice, the Dragon Flag won’t escape either.

Zhang Hong bowed with a flushed face, accepting the imperial decree.

Zhu Yijun walked ahead and casually asked: “I heard that Wang Xiao, the eunuch in charge of the Jiazi Treasury, submitted a memorial stating a shortage of silver and cinnabar supplies?”

Each warehouse has fixed annual allocations and sources for materials, but requisitions from the provinces often fail to arrive on time.

He wasn’t sure whether the Inner Treasury had overspent or simply hadn’t received enough.

Zhang Hong thought for a moment, then nodded: “There is such a matter, but the court deliberation rejected it.”

“The Minister of Rites declared in court: ‘Your Majesty’s accession edict emphasized frugality, cutting expenditures within the budget—how can we reduce them before and then restore them later? How can we have less before and more after?’”

“I thought the Minister of Rites spoke wisely, so I withdrew the Jiazi Treasury’s memorial.”

Zhu Yijun frowned.

Wang Guoguang saying this clearly means the budget has been overspent.

In the sixth year of Longqing, the Inner Court, riding the momentum of reform, launched an anti-corruption campaign, cutting over half the personnel and expenditures.

But as the turmoil gradually stabilized and imperial consorts entered the palace, expenditures became mixed and old habits returned.

Thinking of this, Zhu Yijun couldn’t help but feel a pang of resignation.

Such matters, truly like weeds, sprout anew every so often. Zhu Yijun slowed his pace and softly ordered: “The palace eunuchs sent to study accounting have been there for years now.”

“Take this opportunity, Grand Eunuch—assign some accountants to audit the silver and cinnabar expenditure records.”

Hearing this, Zhang Hong’s face lit up!

The Emperor’s arrangement clearly intended to use this minor matter as groundwork for the previously proposed “Audit Office”—unlike the rough audits by the Ministry of Revenue and the Censorate, this would be a rigorous method demanding exact accounting for every single coin.

A new office with novel authority, a precedent that might extend from the Inner Court to the Outer Court—even if small, this was pioneering work!

Wasn’t this precisely the key to being enshrined in the Weixin Pavilion and recorded in history?

Zhang Hong immediately pledged: “I shall uncover the truth completely!”

Zhu Yijun softly hummed in agreement.

Suddenly he changed the subject: “I didn’t bring you along on my southern tour; the outside world says you’re old and out of favor, no longer fit to attend me—have you heard these rumors?”

Zhang Hong paused, then nodded with understanding.

His expression was calm, showing no resentment: “As the saying goes, only the drinker knows the temperature of the water—I know this is Your Majesty’s trust.”

Though he didn’t know why the Emperor had suddenly brought this up.

But even if these gossiping tongues chewed it to pieces, they couldn’t harm him, a loyal servant of the Crown Prince who had led the Directorate of Ceremonial for over eight years.

Hearing this, Zhu Yijun smiled faintly, with a touch of nostalgia.

He reached out and patted Zhang Hong’s shoulder, his gaze sincere and his words earnest: “I won’t say any more unnecessary words.”

“I depart for the south the day after tomorrow; my entire family remains in the palace—I must rely on you to protect them.”

Zhang Hong, upon hearing this, was stunned and deeply moved.

The Emperor’s attitude toward eunuchs was truly unprecedented in the dynasty.

Especially not the kind of indulgent favoritism criticized by the Outer Court, but a profound trust that entrusted him with great matters!

To speak of entrusting one’s entire family—even if merely to win hearts—was a privilege previously reserved only for high-ranking Outer Court ministers.

At this moment, Zhang Hong had heard it.

His throat moved; he stepped back half a pace, prostrated himself fully, and wept before the Emperor walking ahead: “Your Majesty’s great trust—I, your humble servant, would die a thousand deaths without hesitation!”

He no longer called him “Your Majesty” and himself “your servant,” but solemnly addressed him as “Your Majesty” and himself as “your humble servant.”

Wasn’t this the gentleman’s vow of a eunuch?

Zhu Yijun stopped walking and glanced back.

Emotion must follow basic principles—enough is enough. Zhu Yijun merely nodded gently and reached out to help him up.

After this interlude, Zhu Yijun fell silent and walked quietly toward the Western Garden.

Passing through palace halls, the entire journey was wordless.

Not long after.

They returned to the Western Garden.

Just outside Chengguang Hall, the duty eunuch stepped forward and whispered of various petitioners requesting audience, others waiting in the outer hall, and so on.

Zhu Yijun had thought it too early to rest a while longer, but upon hearing this, he gave up the idea.

He rubbed his face and forced himself to rally: “I’ll change into my everyday robes first. Summon Wang Chonggu, Yu Dayou, Qi Jiguang, and Jia Sanjin to the hall—have them seated and wait.”

The Pibianfu was truly uncomfortable.

Zhu Yijun circled through the side hall into the warm chamber, changed into a comfortable Daoist robe, and finally felt at ease.

The Emperor appeared in the great hall, refreshed and clear-headed.

The four men waiting inside immediately rose from their low stools: “Your Majesty!”

Among them, Wang Chonggu and Yu Dayou were the Left and Right Commanders of the Five Armies, Qi Jiguang was the Commander of the Capital Garrison, and Jia Sanjin was the Chief Censor of the Five Armies.

Today’s audience clearly concerned military affairs.

Zhu Yijun ascended the steps and sat down behind the imperial desk: “Gentlemen, please sit and speak.”

After a pause, he cut straight to the point: “I shall soon depart on a southern tour; there are matters I must discuss with you.”

“Princess Yong’an reported that the Prince of Shunyi will not survive this winter; she fears she won’t have time to ‘persuade’ Qatagi and Dacheng Bijie to relinquish Bansheng.”

“Next spring, there will surely be a major battle between Princess Yong’an and Dacheng Bijie.”

Historically, Altan Khan died in the winter of Wanli 9; this is a year early—whether due to change or because San Niangzi grew impatient, it’s unclear.

But no matter the cause, Altan Khan’s death will immediately trigger major shifts in the Mongol Right Wing.

The court must prepare in advance.

Naturally, Wang Chonggu, the expert on Mongol affairs, spoke first: “Your Majesty, this is no cause for concern.”

“If Dacheng Taiji, who originally controlled Bansheng, were still alive, he might have stood a chance against Princess Yong’an—but after his death in a fall, his widow Dacheng Bijie has merely gathered the remnants and inherited his fading prestige; her strength is truly limited.”

“Even if she unites with Qatagi, she has no more than six thousand able-bodied men and a thousand cavalry—she cannot possibly withstand Princess Yong’an’s forces!”

San Niangzi, as the second most powerful figure under Altan Khan, commands tens of thousands of mounted archers—her strength is unquestionable.

She is not someone to be trifled with.

Yet Zhu Yijun shook his head: “The outcome is certainly certain, but if Dacheng Bijie holds fast within Bansheng and defends it for a year or more, that will be easy.”

Victory on the battlefield is one thing; political consequences are another.

Yu Dayou picked up the thread: “Your Majesty fears that if the conflict drags on, the other two Mongol myriarchies of the Right Wing will turn disloyal?”

With Altan Khan’s death, Bansheng rebelled against San Niangzi.

That’s bad enough—but Bansheng is a fortress-like Han city; San Niangzi may not be able to subdue it quickly.

She can’t hold the situation!

Zhu Yijun nodded, then shook his head again.

His expression turned grave, his tone cryptic: “Not just the two myriarchies of the Right Wing—there’s also the Tumeng Khan!”

Mentioning this, Zhu Yijun couldn’t help but feel irritated.

Since Wanli 6, the Tumeng Khan has been far too quiet!

Historically, in September of Wanli 7, Altan Khan issued a warning that Tumeng Khan was approaching.

The court immediately alerted Liaodong; Viceroy Liang Menglong, upon hearing this, deployed troops, ordered Li

By October, the Tumeng Khan indeed led over fifty thousand cavalry deep into Liaodong from Qiantun, Jinchuan Camp, and other fortresses, walking into an ambush and sparking a massive battle.

Zhu Yijun, of course, had foreseen this.

At that time last year, though he had not received a warning from Altan Khan, he still sent orders to Li Chengliang to send troops beyond the pass to scout and strengthen defenses.

The result... not only last year, but now it’s already August of the eighth year of Wanli, and not a single hair of the Tumeng Khan has been seen!

He truly feared both that the man would act recklessly and that he would Chichi not come!

Five or six thousand cavalry were no small force—during the Gengxu Crisis, that was precisely the number that marched straight to the gates of Beijing!

Historically, even with intelligence advantages, the Liaodong forces never gained the upper hand.

Now, the warning Altan Khan is near death, internal strife among the Right Mongols is imminent, and the other two tumens cannot avoid adopting a wait-and-see stance; at that point, whether from mutual restraint or diminished intelligence-gathering capacity, the situation will be worse than before.

To turn an ambush into a head-on clash—how could one not worry?

Wang Chonggu nodded in understanding.

Though he did not know the emperor’s myriad calculations, the timing of Altan Khan’s death made concern over Tumeng Khan’s disruption entirely reasonable.

After a moment’s pause, Wang Chonggu spoke frankly: “Your Majesty, if Altan Khan dies, San Niangzi must wage a war to establish her authority.”

“As for the Tumeng tribe, they may not stir; even if, hypothetically, they seize the chance to raid the border, defending the frontier is routine—beyond strengthening vigilance, there is little more to be done.”

Here, he lifted his gaze to meet the emperor’s.

The steppe differs from the Central Plains; no overlord of the grasslands has ever held power by others’ support. No matter how long it takes to storm Bansheng, San Niangzi must rely on herself—no one can act in her stead.

There is likewise no need to over-worry about Tumeng Khan; Liaodong, having endured years of war, has always stood with weapons at the ready.

Could we again, like last year, frighten ourselves into panic, only to become a laughingstock for “ignorance of military affairs” in Liaodong?

Zhu Yijun shook his head, his expression solemn, speaking slowly and deliberately: “Not ‘may not,’ nor ‘even if.’”

“At the moment Altan Khan dies, Tumeng Khan will certainly invade the border!”

Tumeng Khan will come—according to the perspective of certain Mongol scholars, the “stubborn Ming emperor would rather be beaten than permit tribute trade,” so “Tumeng Khan, seeking to rally his people and demand tribute from Liaodong,” has long since “lost heart” and is determined to “fight to the death.”

He is merely waiting for the right moment.

Precisely because of this, Zhu Yijun had never dared to reform the military commanders of Liaodong.

Last February, several small tribes, having stolen Tumeng Khan’s cattle and sheep and fearing retaliation, voluntarily surrendered to Liaodong.

Yet they were lured under the pretense of rewards by Mobile Corps Commander Tao Chengkui, ambushed and slaughtered; the entire chain, from top to bottom, colluded, and Li Chengliang reported it as a great victory at Changding Fortress, earning a large sum of reward silver.

The matter was later exposed.

Court ministers took turns impeaching Li Chengliang, Tao Chengkui, Ma Weidu, Wang Youchen, and others, demanding their dismissal.

Zhu Yijun withstood the pressure and dismissed only Tao Chengkui, fearing that any hasty change in Liaodong’s personnel would undermine the commanders’ combat effectiveness.

The four ministers exchanged uneasy glances.

Was the emperor truly alert to border affairs—or merely afraid Liaodong’s unrest would disrupt his southern tour?

Yu Dayou hesitated, then rose to speak: “Your Majesty, your divine wisdom and martial prowess discern signs for a reason. Let us dispatch Duoyan Guard’s Chang Ang to infiltrate Tumeng territory and gather intelligence.”

Having escaped the torment of being impeached for corruption, exiled to his hometown, suffering defeat at Lixia’ao, and losing his post, Yu Dayou’s health remained decent.

Though his days of battlefield command were over, commanding from the Five Armies Command, half-working, half-resting, he might well live to eighty.

Zhu Yijun gave no reply: “How to deploy the Duoyan Guard and Princess Yong’an is for the Ministry of War to decide—none of you need concern yourselves.”

“I summoned you here for another matter.”

Wang Chonggu kept his eyes lowered, his gaze fixed on his nose, his nose on his heart.

This was the difference between civil and military officials: Wang Chonggu could never utter words like “deploy the Duoyan Guard.”

The emperor was especially sensitive about authority: though command and training had been transferred to the Five Armies Command, diplomacy, logistics, rewards and punishments, appointments—all still rested with the Ministry of War.

In one’s position, one must fulfill one’s duty.

This audience, then, must still concern command authority.

As expected.

The emperor paused, then shifted tone: “If Tumeng Khan launches only minor raids, I trust Liaodong’s officials will not disappoint me.”

“But I fear a full-scale invasion!”

The authority to mobilize troops must accompany the emperor on his southern tour.

When Tumeng Khan’s army overwhelms the border, crosses the Liao River, and invades the heartland, we will inevitably need to draw troops from neighboring garrisons—and even the capital’s forces.

At that moment, we cannot wait for battle reports to travel north and south?

Zhu Yijun’s gaze swept over the generals, first settling on Wang Chonggu: “Wang Qing.”

Wang Chonggu immediately rose to listen respectfully.

“In ancient times, generals understood the timing of heaven, discerned the essentials of geography, and harmonized with the will of the people. In my reflection, does this not describe you, Wang Qing?”

“A man of civil and martial excellence, a statesman of the age—such merit deserves to be inscribed on the Lingyan Hall.”

Hearing this, Wang Chonggu was utterly at a loss.

Zhu Yijun turned to Yu Dayou and Qi Jiguang: “Yu Dayou is called the Dragon, Qi Jiguang the Tiger—both famed generals of the southeast.”

The two bowed awkwardly.

“Yet I think otherwise.”

“Yu Qing is steady and prudent; Qi Qing strikes like wind and lightning. Is this not enough for the southeast alone? To the northern steppes, to the shores of the Hai River, to conquer the Wolf’s Den and claim a marquisate—what is that to you?”

The two exchanged glances, their hearts suddenly ablaze.

Jia Sanjin, seeing this, stirred with eagerness, already planning how to politely refuse.

Zhu Yijun glanced at him, hesitated, then offered a faint praise: “Jia Qing, you fill gaps and correct omissions—low in rank, yet heavy in responsibility.”

With that, he turned his gaze away.

“My ministers, the northern fires of war are about to ignite, yet I shall depart for the south.”

“If Tumeng launches a massive invasion, news will come in urgent haste—there will be no time for messages to travel between north and south.”

“After much thought…”

Zhu Yijun rose slowly, his expression solemn, his words earnest: “I hereby grant you the authority to act on your own judgment, mobilize the capital’s forces, and command Liaodong!”