Chapter 44: Golden-Stone Friendship, Parting Ways

Zhang Juzheng returned from the imperial mausoleum.

He was the only one who came back early; the others were still on the road.

Because Grand Secretary Zhang had suffered heatstroke—truly heatstroke.

He was now lying at home, attended by his son Zhang Jingxiu with medicine.

Zhang Jingxiu entered, carrying a bowl of medicine, and walked to the bedside, whispering: “Father, it’s time to take your medicine.”

Zhang Juzheng slowly sat up, took the bowl, and swallowed the entire contents in one gulp.

After attending to the medicine, Zhang Jingxiu tidied up and complained: “Why rush back so urgently?”

The Tian Shou Mountain area is indeed scorching hot.

But when high officials travel to select a tomb for the late emperor, they have shade, ice packs, and all manner of cooling measures—how could they easily suffer heatstroke?

This is clearly an intentional act of heatstroke, to create an excuse for returning quickly.

Zhang Juzheng lay back silently, unwilling to entertain his son.

Gao Gong’s move caught him completely off guard.

He had to resort to this method to return and clean up the mess.

On the way, he received one shocking report after another.

One moment, Feng Bao’s Eastern Depot was stripped of power, and Li Jin replaced him.

The next, Gao Gong planned to abolish the Directorate of Palace Affairs.

Then, when he heard Gao Gong reveal his final card—to grant Empress Chen an elevated honorific title—he felt his heart churn like a stormy sea.

This is his golden-stone friendship—his intellect and maneuvering had not disappointed him.

As he pondered this, his second son Zhang Sixiu suddenly rushed in, pointing toward the gate: “Father! There’s…”

Zhang Juzheng cut him off, displeased: “Didn’t I say no visitors today? No one, under any circumstances?”

Zhang Sixiu gasped for breath: “It’s… it’s the Chief Cabinet Minister!”

Zhang Juzheng flung off the covers.

He grabbed his clothes haphazardly and pulled them on.

He stormed out the door, leaving only his voice echoing from outside: “Go, bring him to my study!”

…

Gao Gong was led to the study by Zhang Sixiu and saw Zhang Juzheng seated properly before his desk.

One hand held the summary of the Grand Secretariat’s memorials from recent days; the other held a bowl of medicine.

He sipped it like tea, then continued reading.

“Your Excellency, the Chief Cabinet Minister has come to visit you.”

Zhang Sixiu announced this, offered Gao Gong a seat, and withdrew.

Gao Gong sat down naturally and shook his head: “This boy doesn’t even bother to brew me tea.”

Zhang Juzheng finally looked at Gao Gong and subtly defended his son: “We’ve run out of tea.”

This excuse was too obviously false.

Gao Gong had merely spoken casually—he didn’t truly want tea.

He studied Zhang Juzheng for a moment, then suddenly laughed: “Really heatstroke? So urgent?”

Zhang Juzheng, mocked, flushed slightly.

He set down the medicine bowl and snapped: “Should I let the imperial physician see me as hale and hearty? Would that make me Sima Yi?”

Gao Gong knew this was a veiled jab at him.

It implied his current actions resembled those of Sima Yi.

He didn’t take offense, instead showing concern: “Then rest well—you won’t need to handle affairs for a while anyway.”

Gao Gong had a temper: harsh when things went against him, cutting when they went his way.

Zhang Juzheng was truly exasperated: “Let’s get to the point.”

Gao Gong nodded: “Fine. Shall we talk in the courtyard?”

Those in high positions all had this habit.

Either a vast hall or an empty courtyard.

In short, serious matters could not be spoken of where walls might have ears.

Zhang Juzheng asked: “Help me up?”

Gao Gong ignored him, walked outside, and shouted: “Zhang boy! Come help your father!”

Zhang Juzheng silently regretted it—opportunities to be served by Gao Gong were rare.

Gao Gong’s shout summoned both of Zhang Juzheng’s sons.

One supported his father; the other followed closely, attending carefully.

They followed Gao Gong to the pavilion in the courtyard’s center.

Zhang Juzheng dismissed his sons: “Enough. Go. I have matters to discuss with the Chief Cabinet Minister.”

Knowing too much invites disaster.

Yet after sitting on the stone bench, he turned and saw both sons unmoved.

Zhang Juzheng glared at them, his eyes ordering them away.

Gao Gong intervened: “They fear I’ll harm you.”

“Then let them listen. I won’t say anything harmful.”

Zhang Juzheng sighed helplessly.

He waved his hand, telling his sons to stand farther away.

The two sons respectfully stepped back to a distance where they could just hear, without seeming intrusive.

When only the two remained, Gao Gong glanced around and sighed: “Your mansion is truly vast—far grander than my shabby place.”

Zhang Juzheng did not reply: “Your house doesn’t even have a pavilion—how can you discuss matters?”

Gao Gong smiled: “It’s harder to get your house raided.”

After saying this, he dropped his smile.

He looked at Zhang Juzheng, his expression solemn: “Bai Gui, retire.”

Zhang Juzheng remained silent.

He did not answer directly, but said: “I hear you’ve kept Yang Bo and Zhang Siwei—why then do you urge me to retire?”

Zhang Juzheng naturally did not know Gao Gong had visited Lu Diaoyang.

But Yang Bo and Zhang Siwei had visited his home last night—he’d heard something.

The outcome was obvious.

Since Yang Bo appeared at the court assembly, it meant Gao Gong had let him go lightly.

Otherwise, today there would be more than just the Minister of Justice feigning illness.

Gao Gong did not evade Zhang Juzheng: “Yang Bo and Zhang Siwei are merely scheming, petty men.”

“I keep them to pacify Xuan and Da; I’m not afraid they’ll strike me again.”

“Think of them like the characters in the ‘Pinghua of Journey to the West’—they cannot escape my five fingers.”

“Not just them—I can also tolerate Lu Diaoyang.”

“As long as I can control them and they benefit governance, I can tolerate them.”

“But you are different…”

“Bai Gui, retire.”

He offered no explanation for the difference, only repeated his demand.

Zhang Juzheng asked curiously: “If I retire, what will you do? Really intend to become Sima Yi?”

Gao Gong stood up and clapped Zhang Juzheng on the shoulder: “No need for such testing.”

“I’ll tell you plainly—I want real authority!”

“Taking control of the Directorate of Palace Affairs is only the first step. Next year, when we change the era name, I will petition His Majesty and the Two Palaces to make the Grand Secretariat independent, elevate its rank above the Six Ministries.”

“Not just Wang Chonggu and Lu Diaoyang—I will expand the Grand Secretariat, restore the Eastern and Western Offices, and recruit capable generals.”

“At that time, perhaps I will invite you back to the Grand Secretariat.”

Zhang Juzheng listened in silence.

When Gao Gong finished, he finally sighed: “Gao Suqing, what you propose is little different from treason.”

Gao Gong burst into loud, unrestrained laughter.

He laughed heartily, as if suddenly seized by enthusiasm—or perhaps needing someone to share his plan with.

He plopped down across from Zhang Juzheng: “Good. Since the late emperor ascended the throne, we’ve never returned to the days of the Prince of Yu’s mansion.”

“More than six years without debating Dao—today, let us debate properly!”

Zhang Juzheng sat upright, gesturing for Gao Gong to begin.

Gao Gong did not hesitate: “The ‘Comprehensive Examination of Literature’ says, ‘The Yellow Emperor appointed six ministers. Yao had sixteen ministers. Yin Tang had left and right ministers. King Cheng of Zhou had left and right ministers.’”

Gao Yi, without hesitation, spoke first: “The ‘Comprehensive Examination of Literature’ states, ‘The Yellow Emperor appointed six ministers; Yao had sixteen ministers; Yin Tang had left and right ministers; King Cheng of Zhou had left and right ministers.’”

“According to the ‘Spring and Autumn Annals,’ in the twenty-fifth year of Duke Xiang: ‘A favorite concubine bore Jing Gong; on Ding Chou, Cui Zhu installed him and became his chancellor; Qing Feng became left chancellor.’”

“Even accepting the ‘Annals of Qin,’ it states: ‘In the second year of King Wu of Qin, the office of chancellor was first established; Chu Li Ji and Gan Mao became left and right chancellors.’”

“Conservatively, this dates back two thousand years.”

Even conservatively, it has already been two thousand years.

“Step by step, revered for ten thousand generations—why did the Founding Emperor abolish it?”

“What is two thousand years compared to two hundred?”

Both were learned men; how could men at their rank lack any political philosophy whatsoever?

Zhang Juzheng would not yield: “Ancestors are not law!”

“So-called established laws are merely for stabilizing court politics and uniting all factions—not some eternal truth.”

“The Founding Emperor’s abolition of the chancellorship was the natural progression of history, in harmony with the times, day by day, month by month.”

“Say two thousand years—even two hundred thousand—it’s all just rotting bones in graves!”

The two brothers listening nearby: Zhang Sixiu, slightly younger, did not understand.

He nudged his elder brother beside him: “Brother, what are they arguing about?”

Zhang Jingxiu, utterly absorbed, answered absently after being tugged: “The Grand Coordinator says the chancellor system has historical roots, refined over two thousand years, and is now fully developed.”

“Father says the chancellor system was merely a transitional measure for court stability—after two thousand years, times and circumstances have changed.”

Zhang Sixiu nodded, half-understanding.

In the pavilion.

Gao Suqing snorted: “What a fine notion—natural historical progress! Bai Gui, let me tell you what natural historical progress truly is.”

“In ancient times, sage kings abdicated in favor of worthy successors; Confucian scholars praised this for nearly a thousand years—but in the end, it was still replaced by hereditary rule. Why? Because of natural historical progress!”

“The Three Sovereigns toiled through hardship; tribal populations were sparse.”

“Abdication meant anyone could succeed.”

“This led to internal struggles over succession, poor transitions between ruler and successor, and chaos among those below—each transition brought renewed purges!”

“This meant turmoil! This meant instability!”

“Even the saying arose: ‘Shun was imprisoned; Yao died in exile.’”

“Hereditary rule eliminated most claims to succession and ensured power transfer through blood ties, enabling smooth transitions.”

“This was the inevitable choice of court politics—this is natural historical progress! Not because of Confucian notions of bloodline or the Son of Heaven!”

“Court politics is natural progress! Court politics is the universal consensus!”

“Do you know where the chancellor system came from?”

“For court stability!”

“When the First Emperor annihilated the Six States and absorbed their territories, the number of commanderies grew daily—he had no choice but to appoint Left and Right Chancellors to assist the Son of Heaven in managing myriad affairs.”

“Why? Because state affairs had become too complex—he needed deputies! This was for court stability!”

“What is natural progress? The Son of Heaven sits in repose, appointing a chancellor to share power—that is natural historical progress!”

“Through every dynasty, power was reduced, then restored: the Three Departments, the Eastern and Western Offices—all followed this pattern!”

“If not for this, why did later generations restore the Grand Secretariat after the Founding Emperor abolished the chancellorship?”

Zhang Sixiu looked again, dazed, toward Zhang Jingxiu.

As the elder brother, though reluctant to distract himself, he had to explain: “Father says court stability is paramount—the chancellor system was merely transitional.”

“The Grand Coordinator accepts the former, but rejects the latter.”

“He says the chancellor system arose only because the emperor could not manage everything himself—he cites Qin Shi Huang and our own Grand Secretariat as examples.”

“Meaning: as long as imperial rule exists, the chancellor system is inevitable—even if abolished, it will return as the emperor grows overwhelmed, like the Grand Secretariat. That is natural historical progress.”

Zhang Sixiu nodded—he finally understood.

In the hall.

Zhang Juzheng would not yield.

Ignoring his illness, he rose abruptly.

He gestured forcefully: “Utterly wrong!”

“When the Zhou Son of Heaven lost the deer, all under heaven chased it.”

“Yet the feudal system vanished entirely, replaced by commandery-county administration.”

“Emperor Gao of Han exterminated the tyrant and inherited Qin’s system.”

“The Two Han dynasties established regional offices to control the territories.”

“By the Sui and Tang, they divided power among the Three Departments—to curb the chancellor’s authority.”

“Why? To centralize power!”

“The chancellor system was merely a transitional phase in centralizing power.”

“Our dynasty abolished the chancellorship to exalt the sacred emperor!”

“The Grand Secretariat is merely the emperor’s private bureau—isn’t that clear?”

This time, Zhang Jingxiu did not wait for his brother to ask—he explained directly: “Natural historical progress means the struggle for the Mandate of Heaven.”

“To follow it is to receive Heaven’s mandate; to oppose it is to swim against the tide.”

“The Grand Coordinator and Father are arguing over this: the Grand Coordinator says the chancellor system represents natural historical progress, and the Founding Emperor took a step backward—it must be restored.”

“Father says centralizing power is natural historical progress.”

“From the pre-Qin era to now, the process has always been the centralization of power—the chancellor system was merely temporary, destined to be absorbed.”

“As for the emperor being overwhelmed by affairs, our current Grand Secretariat system works perfectly—it is not indispensable.”

Gao Suqing also rose to his feet.

Sweat streamed down his head—he was visibly agitated.

He slammed the stone table: “If it works so well, why, when the Grand Secretariat was first established, was it ranked below the Six Ministries? Why is it now at the top? You’re carving your boat on the moving river!”

“Isn’t the Grand Secretariat now evolving into a chancellor’s office? My own actions are part of natural historical progress!”

In the pavilion, Zhang Juzheng stood with hands behind his back, showing no weakness.

He stared down Gao Suqing: “Baseless speculation! How can you know the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial will not ultimately achieve perfect harmony?”

“You are the one walking backward!”

Gao Suqing snorted: “You think your glorification of the emperor’s authority is natural progress?”

“Will all fortune and misfortune under heaven rest in one man’s hands?”

“Have you forgotten Jie and Zhou?”

Zhang Juzheng shook his head: “That is precisely why we, ministers, exist.”

“When the emperor is unworthy, we help him preserve the realm; when he is worthy, we unite the strength of all under heaven!”

“Like Emperor Wu of Han crushing the Xiongnu, or the Founding Emperor restoring the empire!”

“That is natural historical progress!”

Zhang Jingxiu listened, entranced.

Only when his brother scratched his back did he snap back and explain: “Father means…”

“The emperor is always the supreme authority of all under heaven—only he can unify the realm and achieve unparalleled merit. If power is divided, the center will weaken and cannot accomplish great national undertakings.”

“If the emperor is unworthy, capable ministers can still preserve the realm.”

“But if power is divided, while the lower limit may rise, the realm can no longer be unified for great undertakings.”

Gao Suqing swept his sleeve aside.

Turning his back on Zhang Juzheng, he retorted: “The center is the center; the emperor and chancellor are the emperor and chancellor.”

“During the Two Han dynasties, they gathered the realm’s finest talents and established the Three Excellencies.”

“By the Sui and Tang, they instituted the imperial examination, divided the Three Departments, and appointed capable men as chancellors to jointly deliberate state affairs.”

“The great tide of the realm is the people’s achievement—this is how you unite the strength of all under heaven!”

“I seek to centralize power in the center, then divide the center’s power between emperor and chancellor.”

“Then, with all united, we may yet achieve the merit of the Founding Emperor and Emperor Gao!”

Zhang Juzheng, weary, slowly sat down.

Yet within him, he felt sorrow—he and Gao Suqing’s differences could no longer be bridged.

He understood Gao’s meaning.

Centralizing power did not mean the emperor must hold absolute authority.

The chancellor is selected—through fair imperial examinations—to represent the interests of all under heaven and speak for the people.

At this point, he finally lost the will to persuade Gao.

With a sense of duty to see things through, he spoke wearily: “The people of the realm…”

“Gao Suqing—what are ‘the people of the realm’?”

“In the Spring and Autumn period, the nobility were the people of the realm.”

“In the Two Han, the great clans and powerful families were the people of the realm.”

“In the Jin dynasties, the aristocratic clans were the people of the realm.”

“In the Sui and Tang, the eminent families were the people of the realm.”

“In the Northern and Southern Song, the scholar-officials were the people of the realm.”

“Gao Suqing—have you never seen in history how the ‘people of the realm’ monopolize power and restrict authority?”

“What makes your chancellor’s office different? Will you not again let these men form cliques…”

Before he finished.

Gao Suqing flew into a rage: “The imperial examination also follows natural historical progress—it will surely select talent without class distinction, gathering the wise and capable, and produce a community of gentlemen without factions!”

Zhang Juzheng’s anger surged: “You factionalists who seize control of the examinations—how can there be selection without class distinction?”

The two locked eyes, neither yielding!

The two young Zhangs, seeing the situation turn sour, hurried forward to mediate.

Zhang Juzheng turned his face away: “Our paths diverge!”

Gao Gong spat: “You’re too young to be trusted with matters!”

Zhang Jingxiu quickly stepped in front of his father: “Grand Secretary, how can you insult your own son!”

Zhang Juzheng pulled his son back.

He said firmly: “Grand Secretary, no more need be said—I will not resign. Tomorrow I shall attend the court deliberation!”

With that, he extended his palm, clearly signaling dismissal.

Gao Gong swept out in a rage.

Turning his back on them, he declared: “If I win, I’ll have your household confiscated—I’ll make you suffer for years, then let you return to the Grand Secretariat.”

Zhang Juzheng also turned his body toward Gao Gong’s retreating back and sneered: “If I win, I can’t guarantee your safety. Grand Secretary, better hope Feng Bao doesn’t wipe you out completely.”

Gao Gong strode off, furious: “If you can’t even control Feng Bao, don’t blame me if I write a book to slander you!”

Zhang Juzheng watched Gao Gong depart.

He knew.

After this meeting, they would part ways—enemies now, no longer allies.

This scene, strangely, stirred a similar memory within him.

A sudden insight struck Zhang Juzheng; he called out to Gao Gong at the door: “Let the outcome of court politics and the rise or fall of the realm be judged by my actions, Grand Secretary!”

(End of Chapter)