Chapter 50: Holding the Stirrup, Leaving the Whip, Rising Like the Midday Sun

June 20.

Grand Tutor, Shangzhuo Guo, Duke of Ding’an, and University Scholar of Zhongji Hall, Gao Gong, claimed illness and did not attend court.

The Emperor and the Two Palaces sent imperial physicians to visit him; Gao Gong thanked them, replied that he was old and frail, subject to the natural decline of age, and requested to be relieved of duty.

The Emperor, pitying Gao Gong’s heavy literary burdens, jointly discussed matters with the Grand Secretariat.

He removed Gao Gong from his post as Minister of Personnel and instructed him to rest and recover.

On the same day, due to the accumulated weight of Grand Secretariat affairs, an envoy was dispatched to recall the retired University Scholar Gao Yi, ordering him to return immediately to the Grand Secretariat.

The Grand Secretariat also deliberated and promoted Right Vice Minister of Personnel, Lu Shusheng, to Minister of Personnel.

Upon the proposal of University Scholar Zhang Juzheng, Shen Shixing, Right Vice Minister of Rites, was promoted to Left Vice Minister of Personnel.

Upon the proposal of University Scholar Gao Yi, Wen Chun, former Left Assistant Commissioner of Huguang Provincial Administration, was reinstated as Right Vice Minister of Personnel.

On this day, Zhu Chengxun, Left Grand Marshal in charge of the Central Military Command, died after long illness.

The Emperor held a noon court session with the Grand Secretariat, following the deliberations of University Scholars Zhang Juzheng, Gao Yi, and Lu Diaoyang.

He reinstated Gu Huan, Marquis of Zhenyuan, to oversee the Central Military Command.

June 21.

Chen Daji, Right Grand Marshal in charge of the Central Military Command, died.

Following the proposal of University Scholar Yang Bo, Huo Ji, former Minister of War, was reinstated as Right Censor-in-Chief, overseeing the Capital Garrison and the Five Military Commands.

Upon receipt of the imperial edict, he was to depart immediately from Shanxi for the capital.

Additionally, Ma Ziqiang, Director of the Hanlin Academy and Junior Lecturer of the Palace Library, was promoted to Right Vice Minister of Rites, assisting Minister Zhang Siwei in compiling the Veritable Records of the Jiajing Emperor.

On the same day, by decree of the Ministry of Rites and Grand Secretariat deliberation, an memorial was submitted: “The grace of the Two Palaces is boundless; their honor must not be unevenly bestowed. The Empress Dowager Li should be granted a two-character honorific title.”

The Emperor, moved by filial piety, bestowed upon his birth mother the honorific title “Ci Sheng Empress Dowager.”

He also granted her the customary silver and former items from the Crown Prince’s residence, along with gifts to Princess Yanqing.

June 22.

On this day, Grand Tutor, Shangzhuo Guo, Duke of Ding’an, and University Scholar of Zhongji Hall, Gao Gong, fell gravely ill and could no longer perform his duties.

He submitted a memorial urging the Emperor to open channels of speech, broaden his imperial hearing, and glorify the virtues of the late Emperor.

He recommended several individuals; among them, the reinstatement of the former Right Assistant Censor, Hai Rui, drew the most attention.

The Emperor readily agreed and ordered a court deliberation; the majority of court ministers opposed it, and the proposal failed.

On the same day, University Scholar Gao Gong submitted a memorial requesting resignation.

The Emperor and the Two Palaces held the memorial without action.

In the afternoon, the Grand Secretariat held another court deliberation and resolved to reinstate Hai Rui and promote him to Left Assistant Censor.

The Emperor reluctantly consented.

June 23.

It had been exactly twenty-seven days since the late Emperor’s death.

It also meant the end of the mourning period for the former sovereign.

On this day, the Emperor, wearing mourning attire, presided at Xuanzhimen; the officials performed the ceremony of gratitude and reception of the imperial edict, and removed their mourning garments.

The King of Joseon, Li Yan, dispatched envoys including Park Min-hyeon, Vice Minister of Rites, and thirty-eight others to express gratitude; the Duogansi Pacification Commission sent sixteen monks, including Lama Wen, in two delegations to offer tribute, all granted gifts as per precedent.

Thereafter, the Emperor changed into a plain feathered cap, a hemp robe, and a mourning sash, and distributed melons and fruits among his ministers.

After the court session, Zhu Yijun was supposed to either attend the daily lecture or hold a court deliberation.

But now that matters were settled, there was no need to sit through endless court sessions.

Small meetings would suffice—he was beginning to understand the Jiajing Emperor.

As for the daily lecture, since the grand lecture series was to be reopened, the lecture officials would need to be reselected.

Some lecture officials had sufficient seniority to tutor the Crown Prince, but now that the Crown Prince had ascended the throne, selecting imperial lecturers meant some must be replaced.

Of course, he was not entirely without duties.

For after the mourning period ended, he would resume training in imperial archery.

Though it was supposed to begin in the afternoon, Zhu Yijun arrived early at the training ground.

The “training ground” was in fact a large open field outside Jingyun Gate.

When Zhu Yijun arrived, Jiang Keqian and Gu Chengguang were already dressed in armor, waiting in place.

The two were now considered close guards; the Emperor’s archery practice naturally required their accompaniment.

Besides them, several youths were present—all selected from the Capital Military Academy.

Yes, not by martial skill, but by family background.

Yet those chosen to serve before the Emperor were hardly weak or foolish.

Poor basic qualities invited dislike—and that was a curse, not a blessing.

Zhu Yijun gestured for unauthorized personnel to keep their distance, then approached Jiang Keqian and Gu Chengguang.

He looked at them curiously: “Why just wait? With nothing to do, why not spar? Let me see some skill?”

Watching the Embroidered Uniform Guard fight—sounds thrilling. In his past life, he’d only seen it on TV; now he wanted to witness it firsthand.

He wondered which of the two was more skilled.

But Jiang Keqian smiled bitterly and apologized: “Your Majesty, Commander Gu has seen battlefields; I fear I cannot withstand even two or three of his punches.”

Zhu Yijun shook his head in disappointment.

Indeed, imperial relatives and noble families could only manage construction projects or bully corrupt officials; when real martial skill was needed, one had to rely on the military meritocracy.

He picked up a large bow from the rack and tested its tension: “Commander Gu, have you truly been on the battlefield, or merely assisted Marquis Zhenyuan from behind the lines?”

After suppressing Gao Gong, Zhu Yijun spoke more casually.

Curiosity led him to ask outright.

Gu Chengguang, though a nephew of Gu Huan, was a new generation figure, yet already over forty.

Broad-shouldered and thick-limbed, he looked like a martial hero from old TV dramas—Wu Song himself.

He replied, somewhat constrained: “When my uncle commanded the Two Guangs, he took me to the battlefield. I charged with the central army several times. I didn’t take any heads, but I saw blood.”

Zhu Yijun glanced at him in surprise.

He hadn’t expected Gu Chengguang to have actually fought; he’d assumed it was just a resume embellishment.

He set down the unyielding large bow and selected a smaller one.

He dropped the subject and asked: “What did Marquis Zhenyuan say about the matter I entrusted to him?”

Gu Chengguang was about to bow in reply when Zhu Yijun stopped him: “On the training ground, in armor, no formalities. Just speak plainly.”

The Emperor spoke; the minister naturally obeyed.

Gu Chengguang replied directly: “My uncle says he does have some private troops, but the Central Military Command...”

Zhu Yijun cut him off: “Temporarily. After my late father’s burial in August, I will restore him to command the Capital Garrison.”

The Five Military Commands and garrison system were already rotten to the core.

They would eventually need total dismantling and rebuilding; patching them up now was pointless.

The Capital Garrison, however, remained real military power.

But Gu Chengguang still looked uneasy: “Even then, he can train at most two hundred elite soldiers.”

So few?

Zhu Yijun frowned: “You don’t need to use all his private retainers. Just use them to form a core; the rest can come from the Capital Garrison.”

“It will be a separate unit.”

Private troops were illegal, but in Ming China, discussing this was almost absurd.

Every renowned general had some private troops—only the numbers differed.

From county magistrates and battalion commanders to Li’s Army or Qi’s Army, all operated this way.

This was the reality of the state.

The court owed salaries for years; soldiers who didn’t receive pay had no fighting strength.

To get things done, one had to find other means.

One was hiring mercenaries, common among minority and foreign troops.

The other was private retainers and household guards.

Reorganizing the Capital Garrison would not happen overnight.

It involved tens of thousands of troops, required money—vast sums—and could not be rushed.

There was no hurry.

What was urgent now was forming a small unit, nominally under Gu Huan but actually loyal to the Emperor.

Not many—just a few hundred—needed immediately.

The salt revenues from the Two Huai were meant to reform salt taxation, but inevitably, “popular uprisings” would arise.

When Hai Rui confronted Xu Jie, he was caught in exactly this trap.

Now that you’re calling someone out of retirement, how can you not equip them properly?

Offer authority where needed, provide manpower where required—basic respect for those you task.

After all, Director of the Grand Canal Transport, Wang Zongmu, already oversaw military affairs; just attach Gu Chengguang’s unit to his name.

Gu Chengguang hesitated: “We have enough men... but the Capital Garrison hasn’t received pay for a long time.”

In other words, they were short on silver.

You couldn’t drain your own coffers to train men and subsidize them too. Loyalty and devotion couldn’t justify such exploitation.

Now Zhu Yijun was troubled—everyone was short on money; the Ministry of Revenue had none, and the imperial treasury had none either.

He paused for a moment and said, “At least eight hundred men. As for the silver and money, I’ll handle it.”

Gu Cheng sighed in relief, bowed, and accepted the task.

Zhu Yijun pulled the bow for a long time but couldn’t draw it open, and couldn’t help but grow angry.

He called out, instructing the two to first teach him how to ride.

As Zhang Jing helped him change his attire, he turned to Jiang Keqian: “Have you clarified the matter of Ningyang Marquis Chen Daji?”

A few days ago, Left Commander Wu Jin Bo Zhu Chengxun died after a long illness, and he took the opportunity to reinstate Gu Huan as head of the Central Military Commission.

But just as the edict was drafted, Right Commander Ningyang Marquis Chen Daji suddenly died.

Giving Yang Bo this excuse, he reinstated Jin Party’s Huo Ji to watch Gu Huan.

Such coincidences? He refused to believe in fate.

Jiang Keqian nodded, clearly prepared, and replied at once: “Besides the Taiyi Academy, we’ve also summoned several outside physicians.”

“But… he truly died of illness.”

Zhu Yijun blinked in surprise: “Truly of illness?”

Jiang Keqian hesitated, then replied: “So far, there is no sign of foul play by outsiders.”

Zhu Yijun nodded thoughtfully.

Even so, the blame will still be laid on the Jin Party!

He mentally noted it down.

After dressing, Zhu Yijun did not rush to mount his horse.

Amid the puzzled gazes of others, he performed the health exercises from his past life, to prevent back and leg pain tomorrow.

Then he had the two men, even the eunuch Zhang Jing, mount and test the horse, confirming it was gentle.

Only then, with everyone bustling around him, did he begin learning horsemanship.

Though the entire time Jiang Keqian led the horse ahead and Gu Cheng carefully guarded behind him,

he still rode five or six laps, and gradually picked up some basic skills.

Thus, he alternated between horsemanship and practicing boxing with the instructors of the Capital Guard Military Academy.

The morning soon passed.

Zhu Yijun had just taken off his wooden armor and had Zhang Jing carefully wipe his sweat when Li Jin suddenly appeared in his sight.

Watching Li Jin run over, he dismissed Zhang Jing.

Soon, Li Jin stepped forward, caught his breath, and said: “Your Majesty, Ding’an Marquis and the senior ministers request an audience.”

Zhu Yijun froze, puzzled: “Didn’t Ding’an Marquis petition for retirement today?”

Using Gao Gong to pressure the court ministers and restore Hai Rui had already completed the play.

Gao Gong should have retired today, and all should have been joyful—why are they requesting an audience?

Li Jin hesitated: “He did petition for retirement, but Ding’an Marquis said he wishes to bid farewell personally to Your Majesty and the Empress Dowager.”

Zhu Yijun frowned for a moment, then immediately understood.

It was because Empress Chen had not appeared for several days; the ministers were uneasy, so they came for this final gesture.

Zhu Yijun sighed and nodded: “Have them wait in the side hall of Qianqing Palace. I’ll prepare myself, then summon both palaces to meet them.”

Now that the overall situation is settled, it’s time to let the ministers see both palaces.

Otherwise, more strange rumors might arise.

…

After reporting to the Emperor, Li Jin received another errand from Empress Li.

He immediately hurried to Cining Palace.

Empress Li was playing with her second son, Zhu Yilou.

Seeing Li Jin arrive, she had the attendants take him away.

After Li Jin recounted everything, Empress Li snorted coldly: “Bid farewell? How dare he bid farewell!?”

“I won’t go.”

“Go tell Gao Gong: after his retirement, he must leave immediately for Songjiang Prefecture—no lingering in the capital!”

Li Jin, helpless, could only agree.

Just as he was about to withdraw, Empress Li called him back.

She muttered with a tinge of jealousy: “Also, tell the Emperor.”

“Don’t forget he has a biological mother. He’s been running to Ciqing Palace every day, hasn’t been seen for three or four days.”

Li Jin quickly explained: “Only now did we grant amnesty and rewards; His Majesty has been busy receiving officials to thank them, truly unable to spare time.”

Empress Li glared at him.

She grumbled: “Even family is less considerate than Feng Bao.”

Then she shooed him off: “Go, go—remember to deliver the message.”

Li Jin wiped his sweat and withdrew carefully.

Since they refused to come, he couldn’t force them.

Li Jin turned to return to the Emperor’s side.

Halfway there, he saw Zhang Hong escorting Empress Chen’s imperial procession toward Qianqing Palace.

They met eyes; Li Jin bowed and stood aside, waiting for the Empress to pass first.

As the procession passed, Empress Chen glanced back, feigning casualness: “That’s Li Jin, isn’t it?”

Zhang Hong replied cautiously.

Empress Chen handed the cat in her arms to a nearby attendant and lazily said: “My sister can stay away, yet they insisted on summoning me.”

“Are the outer court afraid I’ve been poisoned?”

Zhang Hong, having served her these past two days, had gained some insight.

He smiled: “There’s no such thing. Ding’an Marquis said that, in the past, Your Ladyship occasionally listened to lectures alongside the late Emperor, so there was a teacher-student bond. Now that he’s retiring, he wishes to pay his respects in person.”

Empress Chen said nothing.

Suddenly, she sat upright, looking down at Zhang Hong: “Go tell my son: Princess Yanqing is growing older; next year she must begin her studies.”

Being confined was one thing—but now she’s coming out to make demands.

If she didn’t seize this chance to secure benefits for her daughter, it would be unreasonable.

Zhang Hong smiled wryly, accepted the order, and hurried ahead to Qianqing Palace.

…

Zhu Yijun washed and changed his attire.

Then he circled around from the side hall to the imperial throne.

Several senior ministers had already waited long and rose immediately to bow: “We wish Your Majesty good health.”

Zhu Yijun nodded: “I am well.”

He gestured for eunuchs to offer seats to the ministers, then asked: “Why have you, my trusted ministers, come together?”

Lu Diaoyang rose first: “Originally, Ding’an Marquis requested an audience with Your Majesty.”

“But during today’s court deliberation, we finalized the posthumous title for the late Emperor, so we came together to hear Your Majesty’s guidance.”

The late Emperor died at an inconvenient time.

It was the height of summer.

His body has been laid in state in the palace too long; it’s beginning to smell. We must settle this quickly, complete the rites, and bury him soon.

Of course, this is merely a plausible excuse—Zhang Juzheng and he truly came to check whether Empress Chen was missing limbs.

The other two, seeing everyone had come, didn’t dare stay behind, so they joined as well.

Zhu Yijun nodded: “Lu Qing, please present this later to my mother. Her opinion is mine.”

Even an emperor must learn to slack off.

Such useless, exhausting tasks are best left to the two palaces.

Zhu Yijun turned to Gao Yi: “Master, has your cold improved?”

Yes, Gao Yi had taken leave to wander by some stream, named it Canglang Stream, dipped his feet in the water, and caught a cold.

Like someone who said, “I wear a straw raincoat and let the misty rain pass,” then promptly developed a fever.

Gao Yi rose quickly to reply: “I must thank Your Majesty’s grace—the imperial physician’s medicine was excellent; I was nearly recovered yesterday.”

As he spoke, he raised his head to study his disciple.

Only a few days gone, and the court’s situation had changed drastically.

Though everyone had been vague with him, he had weathered many storms.

On his first day back, upon receiving the decree granting him the rank of Vice Grand Secretary, he immediately saw the pattern.

Combined with Gao Gong’s silence and the Emperor’s evasiveness,

and Feng Bao’s mysterious death while Gao Gong received the highest honors,

Gao Yi quickly reached his conclusion.

Clearly, the Chief Grand Secretary had acted too aggressively—not only seeking to abolish the Directorate of Palace Affairs, but also using extreme means to kill Feng Bao.

This provoked suspicion from both palaces, who now wished to remove Gao Gong.

The Emperor, with no choice, had to lavish rewards as compensation.

He’d heard this disciple even hinted to Lu Diaoyang about reviving the Lingyan Pavilion, to honor the ministers’ posthumous reputations.

Truly, he keeps his word.

The others were each spoken to by the Emperor, exchanging pleasantries for a while.

Finally, it was Gao Gong’s turn.

Zhu Yijun asked in surprise, “What brings the Earl of Ding’an here?”

After several days without court, he ought to have rested well, yet today, his face showed visible signs of aging.

Zhu Yijun silently sighed—it was almost exactly like his former colleague, who had collapsed into a skeleton after just one day in Qin City.

Gao Gong sighed and replied, “Your servant has lately felt utterly drained; I come to beg leave to retire.”

Zhu Yijun rose and walked slowly toward him.

With sincere earnestness, he said, “Are you truly leaving me?”

Gao Gong shook his head: “When I stand high in the court, I grieve for the people; when I dwell far away in the wilderness, I still grieve for my sovereign.”

Zhu Yijun could not dissuade him.

At that moment, Zhang Hong entered and whispered two words into Zhu Yijun’s ear.

Zhu Yijun rose and said, “The Empress Dowager has arrived; I must go greet her.”

Saying this, he walked out of the hall.

The senior ministers could no longer sit calmly; they followed him out together.

Seeing Empress Chen approaching from afar, Zhu Yijun clearly noticed Gao Gong, Zhang Juzheng, and Lu Diaoyang all exhale in relief.

Zhu Yijun shook his head and smiled faintly.

He hurried forward to support Empress Chen: “Mother, it is the Earl of Ding’an who is retiring due to illness, and he comes to bid you farewell.”

He nodded slightly, implying he would remember the matter of Princess Yanqing’s education.

Empress Chen gave a satisfied hum.

Then she turned to the senior ministers and returned their bows.

Afterward, she looked at Gao Gong: “Master Chen passed away two years ago; now I hear Master Gao also intends to retire.”

The “Master Chen” Empress Chen referred to was Chen Yiqin.

Of all who shielded the Prince of Yu’s mansion in those early days, none stood out more than Chen and Gao.

Gao Gong sighed deeply: “All things have their season; your servant is no longer suited for it.”

The two regarded each other in silence.

Seeing this, Zhu Yijun summoned Zhang Hong: “Go to the imperial treasury and fetch fifty taels of standard silver—I will personally prepare travel funds for the Earl of Ding’an.”

Zhang Hong bowed and departed.

Empress Chen looked at the Emperor: “Your Majesty, may I ask that Chen Mingyan accompany me in seeing off the Earl of Ding’an?”

Gao Gong was a pauper; despite his honors, on a long journey through mountains and rivers, a bandit’s knife could end him in an instant.

A proper escort and a swift departure are vastly different.

Zhu Yijun nodded: “Naturally. I will send word shortly.”

Even if she had not said it, he would have done the same.

Gao Gong’s reputation heading to Nanzhili would unsettle countless people.

Without an escort, he might well die on the road.

They exchanged more pleasantries; as noon approached, Empress Chen took her leave.

Zhu Yijun invited the senior ministers to lunch, but all declined.

Gao Gong also took his leave, saying he would pack quickly and depart for Songjiang Prefecture.

Zhu Yijun insisted on personally seeing him beyond the imperial city walls.

Then, the Emperor and the Chief Grand Secretary bowed respectfully and escorted him all the way along the central axis of the Forbidden City, to the gates of Wumen.

The three parted with deep reluctance.

The Emperor led the Chief Grand Secretary up the Wumen tower, gazing far off as he watched him depart.

Zhu Yijun stared at Gao Gong’s retreating figure, his hunched back, and said, “Chief Grand Secretary, when will the Examination System be ready?”

Zhang Juzheng, looking down from the tower at Gao Gong’s departure, replied with a complex expression: “Likely by September; the Ministry of Personnel still needs to purge some officials.”

“Next month, let Shen Shixing draft the framework; the Grand Secretariat must also deliberate the details.”

Zhu Yijun nodded.

The Ministry of Personnel’s authority had now been split into three.

Minister of Personnel Lu Shusheng was a rubber stamp—he sought fame and reputation, and as soon as he took office, he would feign illness and return home.

The former Vice Minister of Personnel had never once attended duty.

In short, he merely occupied the post to allow the Grand Secretariat direct control, yet kept it Suishikeshouhui .

Vice Minister of Personnel Shen Shixing was of the New Faction; from now on, he would assist Zhang Juzheng in implementing the Examination System.

Vice Minister of Personnel Wen Chun was a close friend of Gao Yi and also a loyal, patriotic man.

Of course, he had neither talent nor temper—he would speak only if the Emperor had an opinion.

Zhang Juzheng glanced at the Emperor from the corner of his eye: “What assignment did Your Majesty give the Earl of Ding’an?”

Even before leaving, Gao Gong had recommended Hai Rui; Zhang Juzheng did not believe this was merely meant to annoy the court.

Zhu Yijun shook his head vigorously: “No such thing. Since the Earl of Ding’an has retired, how could I overuse him? I only ask him to rest well.”

Zhang Juzheng sneered—didn’t believe a word.

Then the Emperor naturally changed the subject: “How much silver remains in the Ministry of Revenue?”

Zhang Juzheng hesitated a moment before replying: “Hard to say. We must wait until Zhang Shouzhi retires to make an accurate accounting.”

Zhu Yijun sighed: “Seize Feng Bao’s household—it should yield something.”

Zhang Juzheng gave the Emperor a strange look.

Zhu Yijun met his gaze and said helplessly: “Don’t look at me like that. The Earl of Ding’an has impeccable personal conduct and lives in poverty.”

“Believe me—if the Earl of Ding’an came from a family as illustrious as Zhang Shouzhi’s, a scion of ministers, he’d already be in prison.”

Indeed, Gao Gong, Gao Yi, and their kind were truly peculiar.

If they were from families of four generations of ministers, centuries of accumulated power, he would have seized their homes without hesitation.

But these poor men with spotless morals? They were the perfect, seamless eggs of the bureaucracy.

Zhang Juzheng sensed deeper meaning in these words and turned his head away uncomfortably: “The state’s finances are in dire straits; seizing households won’t halt the decline.”

Zhu Yijun nodded, acknowledging the lesson.

As Gao Gong’s figure vanished completely, he sighed: “From now on, Chief Grand Secretary, you must shoulder the burden.”

Then he turned to descend the tower.

Zhang Juzheng bowed respectfully and fell in beside the Emperor.

The great sun blazed overhead, right at its zenith.

It cast two shadows—one large, one small—walking side by side.

“Your Majesty should resume the Confucian lectures.”

“Let the Grand Secretariat deliberate—include Shen Shixing as well.”

“So what is Your Majesty’s purpose in reinstating Hai Rui?”

“Wasn’t that the Earl of Ding’an’s idea? Chief Grand Secretary, don’t speak nonsense. By the way, about Gu Huan…”

As they walked and spoke, their voices gradually faded.

(Volume One, End.)

(Chapter End.)