Chapter 55: Orderly and Convincing

Right from the start, he brought up the Two Huai Salt Administration—not because Zhu Yijun meant to bully the honest.

It was simply a matter of circumstance; someone had to take on this monumental task.

We’re short on money!

Consider all the things Zhu Yijun must accomplish.

Official integrity, tax reform, land surveying, opening the seas, reestablishing the Shaofu, fostering the nascent growth of natural philosophy, splitting Nanzhili, improving the tributary system… and so on.

Every single one of these tasks requires solid military power as backing.

Training troops demands actual silver.

So we circle back to the same question—when deciding where to spend money, first answer: where will the money come from?

How much silver each ministry’s treasury held was the first thing he demanded Zhang Juzheng disclose after taking charge.

Zhang Juzheng had no intention of hiding anything and informed him immediately upon obtaining the results.

Among them, the Guanglu Temple was in the worst condition.

In July, he sent Feng Shi, Right Associate Censor of the Household Department, to investigate the Guanglu Temple.

By September, the report came back: over the years, Guanglu Temple’s expenditures always equaled its revenues, leaving no surplus.

Worse still, from the start of Longqing’s reign to the fifth year, the total arrears from all provinces amounted to 195,200 taels.

In other words, they were spending next year’s income this year, leaving nothing behind—and provincial accounts were beginning to dry up as well.

Next came the Ministry of Revenue’s Taicang Treasury—the imperial treasury itself.

After Zhang Shouzhi retired, Wang Guoguang assumed the post of Minister of Revenue and immediately launched a full audit of the Taicang Treasury.

Last month, the results arrived.

As of the end of June, the Taicang Silver Treasury held:

A total of 2,525,616 taels of silver, 465 taels of gold, and 16,199,480 copper coins.

Even if we estimate generously by converting everything to silver, it amounted to no more than five million taels!

This was the imperial treasury! The Celestial Empire’s treasury held only five million taels in reserves!

Long ago, in Longqing’s second year, annual expenditures were 4.4 million taels; last year alone, they reached over 3.2 million.

In other words, the treasury held barely enough for one year’s spending—no wonder Gao Gong said war must not be lightly initiated; even one campaign would drain it dry.

Other smaller treasuries, like the Taipu Temple under the Ministry of War, were nearly all in the same state: spending tomorrow’s income today, with income failing to cover outlays.

The Inner Treasury was no exception—otherwise, the late emperor wouldn’t have gone begging to the Ministry of Revenue for funds.

Especially after spending one million in August, only 2.3 million taels remained.

Zhu Yijun had long had a rough sense of these conditions.

So he had already prepared plans to open new revenue streams.

How to open new sources of wealth?

Whether tax reform, land surveying, or opening the seas—all true revenue-generating measures—required upfront capital and long-term preparation.

Thus, Zhu Yijun set his sights on the Salt Administration for the first injection of funds.

There were six Salt Transport Offices: Two Huai, Two Zhe, Changlu, Shandong, Fujian, and Hedong.

No matter which salt source, all collection and canal transport passed through these six offices.

The majority of the empire’s salt administration fell upon Two Huai.

As the saying goes: Changlu and Shandong salt was cheap and taxed heavily, but Huai salt accounted for half the empire’s total.

Yet salt administration brought in money quickly, not because tax revenue was high.

During Hongwu’s reign, there were thirty salt fields in Two Huai, producing 350,000 salt certificates annually—equivalent to 140 million jin.

Now, only the unit of measurement had changed: from 400 jin per certificate to 200 jin per certificate.

Though it sounded like 700,000 certificates, the actual quantity remained 140 million jin.

Extremely stable.

Naturally, corresponding to this, illicit salt increased daily, as if it were seawater salt dried by Japanese pirates.

But even that would be tolerable—if taxes were paid in full, Zhu Yijun could still tolerate it for now.

Yet under the current salt certificate system, each certificate collected six cash and four li in silver, plus an additional three cash in public funds and three cash in official expenses.

In total, each certificate collected six taels, six cash, and four li in taxes.

Thus, Two Huai should be paying at least 4.6 million taels.

But what was the reality?

Last year, the total collected by the Ministry of Revenue, Taichang Temple, and others combined was only 1.1 million taels!

Barely twenty percent on paper—not even counting the illicit sales!

It was an outrage against heaven!

From salt merchants and salt fields, to local officials, transport offices, canal bureaus, and corrupt central officials—inside and out, top to bottom—no one knew how much had been pocketed.

This was why he recalled Hai Rui.

Even Zhang Juzheng might not support such a move.

As long as personal ties existed, “the greater good” would always be invoked.

Especially in the Ming, private favors and patronage had become a widespread custom.

Zhang Juzheng, backed by the Chu Faction, with a web of disciples and former subordinates entangled in power, would be dragged along by them.

Not to mention the Zhe Faction and Jin Faction frantically pulling at his heels.

In short, only Hai Rui could handle the Two Huai Salt Administration.

Anyone with an official position understood, at least in part, the complexities involved.

Hai Rui, of course, was no exception.

He instantly reacted, exclaiming in disbelief: “Has the central government truly sunk to this level?”

Tackling the Two Huai Salt Administration was far harder than exploiting the common people.

Now, to touch the Two Huai Salt Administration meant the central situation had become utterly desperate.

Zhu Yijun silently praised him.

This was precisely why he admired Hai Rui.

He held firm principles, yet possessed extraordinary political wisdom.

A clean official—and a capable administrator.

Who among those in power wouldn’t cherish such a man—if properly managed?

Zhu Yijun nodded and spoke bluntly: “Hai Qing, you may not realize how dire the central treasury’s financial crisis has become.”

“If we don’t act now, while we still have strength, to collect taxes, we may…”

Zhu Yijun left it unsaid.

He then detailed the silver reserves of each treasury.

Hai Rui’s face darkened; the situation was horrifying.

Seeing Hai Rui listen intently, Zhu Yijun continued:

“Moreover, tax revenues collected from the provinces have dwindled year by year, and arrears are mounting.”

“When provincial governors change, they refuse to recognize their predecessors’ accounts.”

“And those who were transferred claim ignorance.”

“As a result, this year’s summer tax collection reached only eighty percent.”

“The military pay issue nearly sparked unrest.”

“In July, upon hearing of the late emperor’s death, troops inside and outside the capital erupted, demanding back pay from provincial governors and commanders, as if preparing for mutiny.”

“In the end, I and the Grand Secretariat had no choice but to scramble for funds.”

“At the August court deliberation, the Ministry of Revenue contributed 300,000 taels from the Taicang Treasury, the Ministry of War diverted 300,000 taels from the Taipu Temple’s horse funds, and the Ministry of Works petitioned to reduce the scale of the imperial mausoleum, saving 200,000 taels from the Jieshen Treasury.”

Here, Zhu Yijun raised one finger, his tone complex: “I contributed one million taels from my own Inner Treasury.”

“In total, 1.8 million taels were distributed—664,319 soldiers and officers received two taels each.”

“We managed to quell it—for now.”

He looked at Hai Rui: “Hai Qing, I truly do not wish the Great Ming to perish under my reign.”

Hai Rui stared at the young emperor, burdened with the fate of the realm, and fell silent.

When he returned to office, many had told him he was nearing sixty—how could he shoulder such heavy responsibilities? They urged him to stay home, rest, and care for his aging mother.

Yet now, seeing this young emperor—his frail body shouldering the entire empire—wasn’t he working harder than Hai Rui himself?

After detailing the hardships and necessity, Zhu Yijun finally came to the point: “Therefore, I wish you to begin by rectifying the Two Huai Salt Administration.”

This task was, without doubt, the most difficult imaginable.

Without heads rolling, it could not be accomplished.

The dangers involved were self-evident.

Hai Rui finally came to his senses—but did not give a flippant promise.

Instead, he sat upright and asked cautiously: “Your Majesty, what exactly do you wish me to achieve?”

By asking this, he was also issuing a warning.

This was his first audience with the new emperor.

Though the emperor had treated him with great respect and sincerity, he still did not truly understand the emperor.

Hai Rui feared the emperor, being young, might underestimate the complexity.

Once, when he targeted Xu Jie alone, he had inadvertently stirred up a popular uprising.

That was merely thirty thousand mu of fertile land; what the Emperor now seeks to act upon is the livelihood of a million canal workers!

Hai Rui fears not the gravity of this matter, but that he might botch it—harming the grand scheme and betraying the Emperor’s trust.

Zhu Yijun did not answer directly.

Seeing the dishes fully served, he halted the conversation.

Instead, he said: “Hai Qing, you’ve endured long travel and fatigue—you must be famished. Let us finish eating first.”

Hai Rui was about to speak again, but Zhu Yijun quickly pressed his hand down: “After lunch, we’ll move to another place. I’ll take you to meet a few people.”

The former fell silent at once, bowed, and ate his lunch with restrained formality.

Throughout, Hai Rui kept glancing at the Emperor.

Hai Rui was no dull, rigid fool.

On the contrary, Hai Rui was a shrewd, stubborn man.

When he served as county magistrate and encountered the son of a provincial governor who took bribes but was untouchable, he would falsely claim the man was an impostor, bind him, and send him to the governor.

When he advised the Jiajing Emperor, he knew to exhaust all good words, to affirm the man’s inherent virtue, then gradually abandoned that tone.

Later, in the Southern Zhili region, when confronting Xu Jie, though he narrowly lost, he still demonstrated flexible tactics.

Hai Rui naturally understood that this young Emperor’s previous conduct had contained elements of winning hearts.

Yet, he still prepared to accept this task without reservation.

Not because he loved to prostrate himself, but because Hai Rui had his own code—he judged only by actions.

No matter how eloquently one spoke.

If the Emperor wanted him to gloss over the truth or merely play a supporting role upon return, he would turn and leave—no room for negotiation.

Conversely, if the task entrusted to him truly benefited the state and people, he would spare nothing—not even his life!

Thus, when he heard of purging the corrupt in the Two Huai regions, he felt no hesitation whatsoever and immediately agreed!

Hai Rui has always done only what he believed right.

He lives only for justice and the Dao!

…

Both were busy with urgent matters and ate quickly, hastily finishing their meal.

Zhu Yijun then led Hai Rui out of the Wenhua Hall.

He ordered attendants to keep their distance, then turned back to resume their earlier topic.

The two walked along the broad imperial avenue, with no one around.

Zhu Yijun apologized: “As the saying goes, a ruler who is not discreet loses his ministers. The Wenhua Hall is too crowded and exposed; such open space is far more suitable for candid talk.”

This explained why he had interrupted Hai Rui earlier and refused to speak on key matters.

Hai Rui glanced at the Emperor with surprise.

It was hard to imagine such composure from a young Emperor—even in a place like the Wenhua Hall, he remained vigilant.

He inexplicably felt a renewed sense of confidence.

Zhu Yijun waved his hand: “Where were we?”

Hai Rui replied cautiously: “We were discussing—to what extent Your Majesty expects me to act?”

To merely make a show?

Or to upend the Two Huai?

Or to investigate to the very bottom, piercing the nine layers of heaven?

If the Emperor’s goals differed, his approach upon appointment would naturally vary.

Zhu Yijun walked ahead, gesturing for Hai Rui to draw closer.

Then he turned to Hai Rui and said seriously: “Hai Qing, I do not intend to use you as a blade to be discarded after use.”

These were heartfelt words, sincere and earnest.

Hai Rui naturally felt it, yet dared not respond, for fear of implying criticism of the late Emperor.

He hurried to beg pardon.

Zhu Yijun held him up, urging: “Listen carefully to me.”

The Three Bonds and Five Constants were deeply ingrained—good for command, yet hard to live with.

He managed to calm Hai Rui down.

Then he continued: “For the Two Huai matter, I will draw a line for you.”

Hai Rui frowned, puzzled: “Your Majesty, please clarify.”

Zhu Yijun nodded and explained slowly: “First, this matter need not achieve full success—four or five percent progress is sufficient. You may judge accordingly.”

“Second, matters prior to the first year of Wanli shall be pardoned.”

Two months remain until the first year of Wanli—plenty of time for Hai Rui to reach the Two Huai.

Not investigating the past and leaving room for compromise are necessary concessions.

If we insist on digging to the very bottom, the fire will spread across half the sky.

One might even be burned by the very flames, with others turning against the Emperor under Hai Rui’s banner.

Who dares swear that Zhang Juzheng, Lu Diaoyang, and others he relies upon are spotless?

Even his father-in-law, his mother, his Three Excellencies, his inner court, his Embroidered Uniform Guard—can any one of them claim purity?

Launching a sweeping anti-corruption purge would be no less than a dark upheaval.

It would only cause the true objectives to be inflated, lose coherence, and end in hasty retreat.

Yet, though the logic was sound, he still feared Hai Rui’s stubbornness might prevent agreement.

After all, historical image and the real man need not be identical.

Having spoken, he could not help but glance at Hai Rui, seeking his reaction.

If Hai Rui truly could not tolerate even a speck of dust, he would have to deploy another plan.

Yet, to his surprise, Hai Rui did not cry out that all corrupt officials must be executed without mercy.

Instead, he looked at him with admiration and awe.

Only when the Emperor glanced at him in confusion did Hai Rui sigh and say: “Does Your Majesty think me a rigid fool?”

He had risen from county magistrate all the way to the central court.

He wondered how the world had painted him.

Even this young Emperor feared him as such an old-fashioned hardliner.

Zhu Yijun cleared his throat, masking his embarrassment: “Not at all—I merely feared that corrupt officials’ actions might stir your righteous fury.”

He glanced around, then continued: “Wherever the Performance Evaluation Law is implemented, I will provide performance bonuses.”

“The insufficient salaries that have caused officials to lose restraint are my own moral failing.”

“But once the Performance Evaluation Law is in place and salaries are fully paid, if one still does not reform, Hai Qing, you need show no mercy.”

The Two Huai and Southern Zhili are included in this Performance Evaluation Law.

If salaries were too low and you took bribes, one could blame the Zhu family.

But now that salaries are adequate and one still persists in corruption, the Emperor will strike without mercy.

High pay alone does not ensure integrity—it must be paired with thunderous measures.

Beside him, Hai Rui either recalled his own impoverished official career or saw before him colleagues who turned corrupt from poverty.

A flicker of complexity passed through his eyes.

He bowed deeply, offering a grateful salute: “Your Majesty’s benevolence—I, your humble servant, thank you on behalf of all upright officials in the realm.”

Did Hai Rui not lack money? Did he never wish to provide better for his wife, children, and elderly mother?

But the court’s salary was so meager—he could do nothing.

He understood the plight of living solely on salary, and thus knew how impossibly hard it was for others to remain like him.

That was why so many colleagues had taken the wrong path.

Now, the Emperor recognized the hardship of upright officials and instituted this benevolent policy of performance bonuses—he truly thanked on behalf of future generations and his fellow officials.

Zhu Yijun made no reply, gently lifting him up.

Then he continued: “As for how to handle the matter, I will draw you a few more lines.”

Hai Rui bowed, listening intently.

Zhu Yijun clasped his hands behind his back and spoke calmly: “First, for powerful local gentry, minor officials, and salt merchants without official rank, deal with them severely—kill as many as you can.”

Without official status, their power remains limited—they cannot stir major upheaval.

This is the perfect opportunity to purge such vermin, confiscate their estates, and replenish the state treasury.

“Second, for those below the seventh rank, handle them according to law—do not fear public opinion.”

These men must be removed.

The moral climate is already rotten; we must clear these minor officials to make room for those who pass the Performance Evaluation Law.

“Third, for those below the fourth rank, you must ensure public trials and formal punishment, coordinating with Wang Zongmu and the Ministry of Justice to build ironclad cases. If you need to act unilaterally, inform me beforehand.”

Officials above the seventh rank are regional elites.

Even with your title as Imperial Inspector, you may not act arbitrarily.

Building ironclad cases reduces your political risk.

If timing demands flexibility, report to me—I will retroactively approve the procedures and shoulder any blame.

Public trials are also deliberate.

Officials at this level are the barometer of regional political atmosphere.

Only by executing a large number can true deterrence be achieved.

“Fourth, do not act arbitrarily against those of fourth rank or higher—you’re not strong enough to bear the pressure. Inform me directly, and I will handle it personally.”

Hai Rui, as Assistant Censor-in-Chief, is himself only fourth rank, while Nan Zhili is filled with third-rank Vice Ministers and second-rank Ministers.

Not to mention those elderly super-rank officials who refuse to die.

If any of these people are truly implicated, Hai Rui cannot withstand them.

To push him further risks breaking him from excessive rigidity.

Zhu Yijun had not become so cold-hearted.

Naturally, it must be taken up by him personally.

Hai Rui listened in silence as the emperor sincerely laid out boundaries for him.

His words were decisive, brimming with lethal intent; for some reason, Hai Rui suddenly smiled, the smile growing brighter and brighter.

This manner of governance reveals a natural brilliance surpassing that of the Shizong Emperor.

How could he not hear the underlying meaning?

With Hai Rui’s decades of experience, he understood at once this was targeted and deliberate.

This emperor, like a general deploying troops, knew both himself and his enemy, divided his opponents, and defeated them one by one.

Beyond this divine talent, the trust and protection shown moved Hai Rui deeply.

Those below seventh rank may be dealt with freely.

Those below fourth rank follow procedure.

What kind of trust was this?

No other imperial envoy, even with the imperial flag and tally, would dare so casually call for the execution of civil officials.

His Majesty has fully delegated authority to him.

What is even more remarkable is that he forbids killing those of fourth rank and above.

Without this clause, the emperor would still treat him as a knife to be used and discarded.

But with this final clause… Hai Rui sighed inwardly—he truly had no way to repay such trust.

Yet, despite his emotion, he did not forget to check for gaps.

Hai Rui respectfully asked, “Your Majesty, what of the meritorious nobles and imperial relatives?”

Do not think the salt administration of the Two Huais is merely local corruption.

In the Two Capitals, those holding high office are mostly entangled in it; among the meritorious nobles and imperial relatives, some must surely be involved.

Zhu Yijun had already foreseen this point.

He spoke with an odd tone: “Let them come to me. Tell them I have a grand business opportunity—do not cling to petty profits, or I will turn on you without mercy.”

If they show face, there will be an exchange of interests; if they refuse, I will have to strip their noble skins off myself.

This remark was deliberately cryptic.

But since the emperor did not explain, Hai Rui would not press for details.

He merely bowed in acknowledgment.

Finally, he added a reminder: “Your Majesty, Minister of Justice Wang Zhigao is said to have enjoyed great popularity among officials in Nan Zhili.”

Let him execute, yes.

But an Assistant Censor-in-Chief can only investigate cases—he cannot simply order executions.

For formal execution under law, this matter must fall to the Ministry of Justice.

But the current Minister of Justice, Wang Zhigao, is far too well-liked in Nan Zhili.

Zhu Yijun naturally caught the implication.

He shook his head slightly, solemnly saying: “Do not follow the Ministry of Justice’s procedures.”

“The Minister of Justice in Nan Zhili has retired; I will not appoint a replacement. Instead, Wang Xijue, Left Vice Minister of Justice in Nan Zhili, will assist you.”

“And the newly appointed Vice Director of the Court of Judicial Review, Chen Dong, will accompany you to the Two Huais.”

Hai Rui was deeply impressed.

The Censorate, the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review… he had been given a fully customized Three Judicial Departments.

Truly, every detail was planned without flaw.

He never imagined he would one day have full authority to act without worrying about permissions.

He bowed again, his voice firm, swearing an oath: “With such trust from Your Majesty, I swear I will not fail my mission!”

Zhu Yijun suddenly grinned: “Hai Qing, don’t rush—there’s more.”

“Come, I’ll take you to the drill ground—I’ll give you a few more men.”

Note 1: Authorize withdrawal of 300,000 taels from the Ministry of Revenue, 300,000 taels from the Ministry of War for horse payments, 200,000 taels from the Ministry of Works, and 1,000,000 taels from the Inner Treasury to reward officials and soldiers inside and outside the capital, following the Longqing first-year precedent. Dispatch four Junior Censors to each frontier to coordinate with the Viceroy, Provincial Governor, and Surveillance Commissioner in distributing rewards to frontier troops, from Liaodong to Gansu, totaling 664,319 men, each receiving two taels.

Note 2: The Ministry of Revenue reports: as of the end of June this year, the Taicang Treasury holds a total of 2,525,616 taels of silver, 465 taels of gold, and 16,199,408 copper coins.

Note 3: Right Junior Censor of the Ministry of Revenue, Feng Shi, states: annual revenue of the Guanglu Temple’s grain and funds barely suffices for annual expenses. Recent grand ceremonies have incurred enormous costs. From Longqing’s first year to the fifth year, the total arrears from all provinces and direct jurisdictions amount to over 195,200 taels.

Note 4: Surveillance Commissioner Zhang Shouyue of Zhili submits six proposals on salt laws… referred to the Ministry of Revenue, which notes: in Longqing fifth year, Taicang Treasury’s income was only 3.1 million taels, while expenditures reached 3.2 million taels.