Chapter 54: The Emperor and His Ministers Meet, Deeply Concerned

Beijing, October 28, morning.

The Emperor ascended the Huangji Gate and promulgated the Wanli First Year’s Great Calendar.

After offering sacrifices at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, since the spirit tablet of the Zhuang Emperor still rested on the mourning altar, the Emperor, in ordinary robes, offered prayers, respectfully inviting the holy spirit to attend the temple rites.

…

After completing the sacrifices at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, Zhu Yijun did not immediately return to the palace.

Instead, he went to the Zhenwu Temple beside the temple.

Under the accompaniment of the Temple of Rites, Zhu Yijun offered sacrifices to the Great Zhenwu Emperor.

He then personally received the three abbots of the Daoist temples.

These three abbots were not all from the Zhenwu Temple.

They were selected leaders from Daoist temples including the Dongyue Emperor Temple, the Capital City God Temple, the Sanqing Temple, and others, accompanying the Emperor.

Though each possessed remarkable cultivation, all now wore troubled expressions.

Seeing the three were uncooperative, Zhu Yijun’s face darkened: “Three High Masters, don’t deceive me—I’ve already checked the facts.”

“Your holdings are far more than just a few incense offerings.”

“In the eight prefectures and two states of Northern Zhili, you’ve all engaged in lending—some temples have even lent money to Hebei!”

“Why refuse me when I need to borrow? Is my business not worthy?”

Seeing the Emperor’s expression, the three Daoist leaders grew uneasy.

One of them, Yuan Shen Daoist, smiled bitterly: “Your Majesty, though we’ve been chosen as leaders, we cannot command as you do—your word is law.”

“There are nearly a hundred temples in Beijing alone—we cannot control them all.”

“Your Majesty… this sum is simply too large.”

Though they spoke in excuses, everyone understood the real reason.

Commoners who borrowed at usurious rates feared nothing—they could always be turned into tenant farmers if they defaulted.

But what if the Emperor borrowed and refused to repay? Could you send out White Lotus or Five Bushels of Rice sects to violently collect?

A small amount might be acceptable, but to demand such a sum outright—who could agree?

Zhu Yijun was not unreasonable.

He appealed to their emotions: “That’s not how it is, Three High Masters. The imperial family has granted your temples tax-exempt farmland—wasn’t that arranged through you?”

“Why can you speak up when benefits are at stake, but become powerless when serving your sovereign and father is needed?”

The Daoist sects have always been an extension of imperial authority.

Among all religious groups, the Daoists were the most obedient.

They generally paid their dues in full.

Even when lending externally, they were far more restrained than the bald monks.

Yet their personal gains were never small.

Now, Zhu Yijun was short on silver, hoping Feng Bao’s confiscated estates would yield something.

In his past life, it exceeded a million taels; in this life, since he died early, a discount—twenty thousand taels should be reasonable, right?

But the Beijing Prefecture’s greed was too blatant—they reported only twenty thousand taels as a token.

Only after the Emperor flew into a rage and threatened to deploy the Embroidered Uniform Guard did the Grand Secretariat pressure the Beijing Prefecture into surrendering another forty thousand taels.

Of course, only silver.

As for antiques and paintings? Those that looked like Shang or Zhou were actually from last week.

There was nothing to be done.

Historically, Qianlong sent Chen Huizu to confiscate estates, but Chen embezzled three million for himself and gave the court only one million.

Even more absurd was Wei Zhongxian—his position yielded only a few thousand taels from confiscations; outsiders might mistake him for a clean official.

Everyone knew how it worked, but in practice, it was impossible to fix.

It forced the Emperor to store the grievance in his heart, planning to settle accounts later.

With silver still short, he could only seek funds wherever he could.

Thus, today, during the ancestral temple sacrifice, he intended to extract a little from the Daoists.

Hearing the Emperor’s words, Yuan Shen Daoist’s face grew even more strained: “Your Majesty, we could certainly pool resources, but your requested sum is truly excessive.”

One million taels? Do you think Daoist temples grow silver mines?

Zhu Yijun understood, and acquiesced readily: “Then, High Master, what sum can you offer?”

Officially, it was a loan—better to be bold.

Yuan Shen Daoist apologized, then led the other two leaders aside to confer.

Zhu Yijun waited patiently.

Soon, the three Daoist leaders finished their discussion.

Yuan Shen Daoist spoke: “Your Majesty, after deliberation, we can raise ninety-seven thousand two hundred taels for the Inner Treasury. Though modest, to show our sincere devotion, we’ll halve the interest.”

“Your Majesty, our Daoist community…”

Zhu Yijun cut him off.

Pressing forward: “High Master, you’re deceiving me—”

Before he finished, Jiang Keqian entered from outside and whispered something into the Emperor’s ear.

Zhu Yijun immediately changed his tone: “Very well, so be it! Your loyalty to the state and sovereign, I shall forever remember!”

Take whatever you can now—there’s an urgent matter; we’ll discuss details later.

After all, internal debts aren’t debts—interest isn’t even worth debating.

With that, he hastily left the three Daoist leaders and exited the Zhenwu Hall.

Only then did he ask Jiang Keqian: “Has Hai Rui arrived in Beijing? Why so soon?”

Jiang Keqian replied quickly: “He was expected the day after tomorrow, but upon reaching Tianjin, the Vice Censor-in-Chief happened to meet Minister Wen.”

He then entrusted his mother to Minister Wen and rode hard into Beijing.”

Zhu Yijun silently marveled—truly, a heart devoted to serving the state.

To outsiders, Hai Rui seemed a complex man.

But in truth, he was simpler than Gao Yi.

He sincerely believed in the Three Bonds and Five Constants—including love for the people, and loyalty to the sovereign.

Hai Rui was among the very few in this age who truly regarded the Emperor as father and sovereign.

When the Jiajing Emperor imprisoned him and once declared he would execute Hai Rui,

even after Jiajing’s death, Hai Rui, upon hearing the news in prison, wept uncontrollably, vomiting until he fainted.

Such a pure soul was a sharp sword for imperial authority.

Of course, how it was wielded mattered.

Zhu Yijun pondered a moment, then told Zhang Hong beside him: “Big Eunuch, go personally to welcome Hai Rui.”

Zhang Hong bowed to leave.

Zhu Yijun suddenly called out: “Wait.”

He turned back toward the Zhenwu Hall.

He asked a Daoist for brush and ink, and wrote within the hall.

Several large characters flowed effortlessly.

When the ink dried, he took it out and handed it to Zhang Hong: “Tell him I await him with bated breath—invite him to the palace to share a meal with me.”

Zhang Hong carefully received it.

He dared not glance at it, bowed deeply, and withdrew.

Zhu Yijun watched Zhang Hong depart, then seemed to recall something.

He turned to Li Jin beside him: “Have the Imperial Kitchen check what the Jiajing Emperor ate for lunch on his final day—prepare the same today.”

Li Jin immediately understood the Emperor’s intent; a flicker of awe and submission crossed his eyes.

He withdrew carefully.

…

Someone had leaked the news.

Now, the streets inside the city gates were lined with crowds.

Shoulder to shoulder, people tiptoed, peering toward the city gate.

In homes with second stories, several heads leaned out to watch.

Nearby taverns with good views were fully booked.

At that moment, someone on the city tower shouted: “Here they come! Here they come!”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

“The Pure Heaven Hai is here!”

“I see him! I see him!”

Suddenly, the noise swelled, deafening the air.

A tall horse slowly crossed the moat and appeared in view.

Hai Rui was now fifty-eight years old.

Weary from travel, his exhaustion showed plainly.

His graying temples and deeply lined face bore countless trials of wind and frost.

He arrived outside the city gate, dismounted and walked, his expression complex as he gazed at the capital before him.

All that had once been, now reappeared before his eyes.

From the moment he dismissed his wife, children, and elderly mother, and dared to die in remonstrance with Shizong , hoping the emperor would revive and purge the accumulated corruptions.

From his fearless entry into prison, his noble march to death, only to hear Shizong compare him to Bi Gan and mutter that he refused to be King Zhou.

Then later, upon hearing of Shizong ’s death, he felt as if he had lost his father, utterly heartbroken.

Afterwards, Muzong reinstated him.

Each and every event, like a whirlwind of memories, replayed one by one.

After being abandoned by Muzong and retiring to Hainan, he never imagined he would ever be reinstated.

The capital had appeared to him only in dreams.

Yet now, he had returned here once more.

Majestic walls—the very heart of Great Ming!

Thinking of the imperial edict summoning him back, delivered in early August along with the new emperor’s personal letter, his heart stirred again.

He tugged the reins, lifted his head, and strode into the capital!

As Hai Rui entered the city.

The onlookers quickly grew noisy.

“Hai the Just!”

“We’ve finally seen you again!”

“Hai the Just has arrived in the capital!”

The crowd surged forward.

Had the Five City Military Command not stationed men early, it would have been utterly jammed.

Hai Rui looked up at the surrounding crowd, his expression complex.

To avoid trouble, he had never revealed his identity along the way.

But once he entered the borders of Zhili, wherever he went, people lined the roads to welcome him.

It was not without inconvenience, yet this sense of fulfillment brought him to tears.

Helpless, he could only bow his hands in reply.

At that moment, the sound of hooves approached from afar.

Zhang Hong arrived riding with his men.

Seeing the crowd too dense to pass, he reluctantly dismounted and pushed through the people.

He shouted: “Assistant Chief Censor Hai! Eunuch Director Zhang Hong, here on His Majesty’s personal behalf to greet you!”

Amid repeated cries, the crowd parted, and he reached Hai Rui’s side.

Hai Rui was about to bow.

Zhang Hong seized his arm: “Assistant Chief Censor Hai, this is not an oral order—it is His Majesty’s personal concern for you.”

Hai Rui clenched his lips but insisted on bowing.

He bowed toward the imperial palace.

Only then did he rise: “I humbly receive His Majesty’s decree.”

Zhang Hong, watching Hai Rui’s stubbornness, could not help but feel a touch of admiration.

He spoke slowly: “His Majesty says you are weary from your journey; do not rush to your office. Rest a few days, settle in first.”

The Ministry of Personnel imposes deadlines for officials to assume office.

For someone like Hai Rui, who holds himself to the highest standards, the first thing upon arriving is to report to his post.

That is why the emperor specifically instructed this.

Hai Rui was unsettled by such thoughtful care.

He fumbled, flustered, and thanked the emperor with haste.

“His Majesty also said you have no lodging upon arrival; you may stay temporarily at the residence of the Earl of Wuxing—he has already been informed.”

Hai Rui declined repeatedly: “Your servant has a place to go; I shall not trouble the imperial father-in-law.”

Zhang Hong did not press.

He merely gestured to a young eunuch behind him, who presented a sheet of yuan paper.

“Assistant Chief Censor Hai, this is His Majesty’s personal writing, gifted to you, inviting you to share his meals.”

Hai Rui froze.

Then, with both hope and tension, he took it.

He unfolded it gently.

There, in bold characters, the handwriting was childish yet brimming with spirit.

It read: “Where the Dao lies, even a million men shall not deter me.”

Hai Rui stood motionless, utterly still.

Long moments passed.

Finally, he clenched his lips, drew a deep breath.

With a blank expression, he nodded: “Eunuch Director Zhang, lead the way.”

After speaking those words, Hai Rui fell silent.

He merely bowed to the people on either side.

He followed Zhang Hong quietly.

Why had he rushed so urgently to the capital?

Certainly not for a mere official post.

He was already fifty-eight; his wife and children were dead, his wealth exhausted—how could he covet rank?

He rushed here because the Son of Heaven had written to him personally, sincerely inviting him!

Only these words: “Purging the accumulated corruptions is impossible without your aid.”

Those few characters nearly brought him to tears.

Not merely because Hai Rui was valued by the emperor—but because the current emperor truly intended to purge the accumulated corruptions!

He had lived through three reigns.

He had watched Shizong transform from an emperor striving for governance into a Daoist hermit, the Mystic Emperor Yi Fei Yuan Zhen Jun, indifferent to the realm.

At the time, rumors spread.

That his earnest governance had become impossible, leading to palace maids strangling him and fire burning his imperial pavilion.

Hai Rui did not fully believe them, yet he mourned deeply: a wise ruler had died, leaving only a hollow shell of a Daoist.

Now, the new emperor himself told him: “Purging the accumulated corruptions is impossible without your aid.” How could he stand idle?

Had he not been burdened with his elderly mother, requiring slow travel, he would have flown to Zhili with wings!

Now, mere days after entering the capital, the emperor speaks: “Where the Dao lies.”

This is clearly a recognition of him—how could it not move him?

For days, he had lain awake each night.

Wondering what hardship the emperor faced, so earnestly hoping for his aid.

If blocked again, would he, like Shizong , sink into despair?

The more he thought, the more urgent and fearful he became.

This sage ruler must never again be left alone, repeating Shizong ’s fate!

As he thought, Hai Rui entered the imperial palace.

Zhang Hong led him to the Wenhua Hall.

Zhang Hong whispered: “His Majesty is within. I shall leave you here.”

Hai Rui looked up at the Wenhua Hall, his heart filled with countless emotions.

He drew a deep breath, calmed himself, and stepped slowly inside.

As soon as he entered, he heard a youthful voice.

“Hai Qing! You’ve kept me waiting long enough!”

A figure clad in black ceremonial robes and a swallow-tail cap hurried forward.

He seized Hai Rui’s hand and pulled him inside.

Ignoring Hai Rui’s stunned expression.

He went on: “Hai Qing, since childhood, when I read your Memorial on State Stability, I kept you in my heart. Today, I have finally met you.”

Hai Rui finally reacted, trying to break free and bow.

Zhu Yijun held his hand tightly, soothing: “Today is private. No formalities—save our time for true ministerial and sovereign trust.”

Hai Rui, pulled and unable to kneel, did not fully comply.

Instead, he bowed deeply, affirming the distinction between sovereign and subject.

He urged: “Your Majesty, sovereign of ten thousand chariots, do not lower yourself for this servant.”

Though such courtesy filled him with joy beyond measure,

a subject’s feelings are small; the emperor’s dignity is paramount.

Zhu Yijun suddenly turned to Hai Rui.

He paused.

His expression turned complex: “Hai Qing, this honor is not merely from me—it is from my late father and grandfather as well.”

Hai Rui froze.

From Shizong and Muzong ?

What does that mean?

He was about to speak and ask.

Zhu Yijun cut him off, leading Hai Rui to the table and gesturing for him to sit.

He pointed to the dishes on the table, his voice tinged with nostalgia: “These were the very meals my grandfather ate on the day he passed.”

He placed a hand on Hai Rui, who was rising again, and continued: “I heard that when you learned of Shizong ’s death, you were so grief-stricken you vomited your food.”

“This meal is shared between you and me—and between you and my grandfather.”

Here, he sighed softly: “Hai Qing, before my grandfather died, he told my father… Hai Rui was right. He was wrong.”

But no expected bowing or prostration followed his words.

Zhu Yijun faltered slightly, quietly turning his head to glance at Hai Rui.

He saw that Hai Rui, at this moment, was utterly speechless, choked with emotion.

His eyes half-open, half-closed, trembling as if he might collapse at any moment!

Hai Rui’s heart churned like a storm-tossed sea, beyond his control.

He knew this was a grave breach of court decorum, yet his emotions surged uncontrollably.

The Shizong Emperor…

The emperor he had once placed great hope in, longing for him to awaken and purge the accumulated corruption.

The emperor he had openly defied, calling him “the Son of Heaven who has long lost the people’s trust.”

No wonder he saw Hai Rui as Bi Gan, and declared himself no King Zhou.

The sovereign father… truly did recognize his error.

Thinking of this, he nearly blacked out, on the verge of collapsing.

Zhu Yijun saw him sway and immediately called for attendants to support him.

Two young eunuchs hurried forward to help him up.

But Hai Rui shoved them away, rose from his seat, and knelt directly on the floor.

He bowed his head, prostrated himself.

Four times in succession.

He performed the full three bows and four kowtows.

“Your servant has no father, no sovereign—he abandoned his country, his family. Your servant is guilty!”

When he raised his head again, his face was streaked with tears.

Zhu Yijun quickly helped him up: “Hai Qing, do not speak such words. My grandfather himself said you are a clean official, a good official.”

“You are not guilty!”

Hai Rui refused to rise.

Choking on his words, he said: “I disregarded Shizong ’s health and submitted the Memorial on State Stability, daring to rebuke my sovereign father!”

“I carried out the late emperor’s command to seize land from Xu Jie, yet stirred up a popular uprising—I have failed the emperor’s trust!”

“I am a criminal—I dare not accept Your Majesty’s honor!”

Out of sincerity, he submitted his memorial, and the whole realm praised him.

Yet only Hai Rui himself knew the pain—he truly had insulted his sovereign father.

Worse still, he had prepared to die for it, yet Shizong did not execute him—he had always owed Shizong a debt.

Then Muzong employed him, forced Xu Jie to retire, yet provoked a popular uprising and ended it hastily—he owed Muzong a debt.

Now, receiving the new emperor’s honor, and hearing of Shizong ’s true feelings,

all his suffering, shame, surged back again.

Zhu Yijun firmly pulled Hai Rui to his feet.

He sighed: “You need not blame yourself. My grandfather and father never held resentment.”

“Before my grandfather passed, he told my father: he would neither pardon Hai Rui nor convict him.”

“He did so to leave you for my father to use.”

“As for Xu Jie’s retirement and your resignation…”

He turned toward Dayu Mountain and spoke softly: “My father once remarked with deep regret: he lacked the virtue and talent to protect you.”

“To let you continue serving would only harm a loyal minister.”

Hearing this, Hai Rui could no longer speak—he wept uncontrollably: “Your servant… your servant…”

Then, before the emperor, he broke decorum and burst into loud sobs!

Zhu Yijun watched Hai Rui in silence, waiting for him to compose himself, saying nothing further.

Finally, after a long while,

Hai Rui gradually calmed, and prepared to apologize for his breach of etiquette.

Zhu Yijun quickly interrupted him, and at last, subtly turned to the day’s true purpose.

He asked earnestly: “Hai Qing, the two late emperors failed you. Will you still lend me your strength?”

Hai Rui, like a drowning man grasping the shore,

wore on his face a determination never seen before.

He declared loudly: “Having eaten the sovereign’s rice, the sovereign is my father. Your servant is willing to spill my blood and brains for Your Majesty—death itself I will not refuse!”

Zhu Yijun, moved, clasped Hai Rui’s large hands.

Tears in his eyes, he said: “Truly a loyal and steadfast minister. I will never fail you again!”

“Then, I entrust you with the task of reforming the salt administration of the Two Huai Provinces.”