Chapter 58: The Ideal Belongs to the Sage, the Real Belongs to Me

Ma Ziqiang’s impeachment immediately made the court ministers understand what he was referring to.

Most court ministers now have their servants buy the latest newspaper as soon as it arrives.

They had naturally read this morning’s paper, and that so-called reflection could not be erased from their minds.

Most court ministers secretly applauded Ma Ziqiang for stepping forward.

At the time, the Emperor had launched the new newspaper, thinking it merely a trivial endeavor—a vernacular version of the palace bulletin to make his voice louder.

Who knew it had grown increasingly brazen, now showing signs of seizing the authority to interpret the classics?

If imperial authority and the authority to interpret the classics merged, would this not become a divine kingdom on earth?

How dare they declare what is correct? Isn’t this simply an attempt to seize the role of judge?

Even out of instinct, the scholar-officials deemed it utterly unacceptable!

Tongzheng He Yongqing swiftly knelt and pleaded guilty: “Your servant is guilty; I humbly request to retire!”

Don’t think he wants to remain in this post.

He was forcibly retained by Gao Gong and then stubbornly kept by the Emperor.

Previously, Tongzheng Office had been controlled by Song Zhihan; he barely had to do anything, merely occupying the position and enjoying peace.

Who knew that after Ding’an Bo departed, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse?

Look now—he has held Tongzheng Office for only four months and has already been impeached over ten times!

He had long wanted to quit!

Unfortunately, He Yongqing’s desire to flee was unrealistic; Zhu Yijun had not yet found a suitable replacement and temporarily did not wish to let him go.

Zhu Yijun, hearing the back-and-forth, quickly intervened to steer the discussion: “Minister Ma, do not casually speak words harmful to court stability; why not submit a formal memorial afterward detailing your concerns?”

Are you spreading heresy and speaking slyly to whom here?

Ma Ziqiang choked on his anger.

He muttered: “Your Majesty, my previous impeachment memorial was retained by Your Majesty.”

Zhu Yijun waved his hand: “That was retained by Your Mother Empress; one matter is one matter. Submit your memorial with confidence—I will study it carefully and counsel the two palaces.”

At this moment, Fu Yi, Right Vice Minister of Revenue, stepped forward: “Your Majesty, Tongzheng He has published Your Majesty’s words from the lecture hall to the realm; this may suggest spying on the imperial mind and is indeed inappropriate.”

No sooner had he spoken than Li Youzi, Left Assistant Director of the Dalisi , stepped forward, holding his tablet and bowing: “Your Majesty, today’s lecture has not yet begun, yet so-called imperial reflections have already spread throughout the realm—do you consider this acceptable?”

Zhu Yijun scanned the assembled ministers.

The Grand Secretaries wore blank expressions; the Six Ministries’ Ministers remained silent—no one could tell who opposed this.

He knew well that his recent actions had stirred widespread discontent.

From Gu Huan taking command of the Capital Garrison, to Hai Rui’s return to the capital, to yesterday’s rumors of his intent to reform the Two Huai salt monopolies.

Today’s attack on the morning newspaper was likely the convergence of accumulated grievances.

He did not rush to speak, merely observing coldly.

With ministers now targeting He Yongqing, he could not personally intervene.

Indeed, Chief Censor Li Zaiting, sensing the Emperor’s intent, immediately stepped forward: “I also believe Senior Minister Li’s words are prudent and mature.”

He bowed toward the imperial dais: “Your Majesty, I propose that Tongzheng He be ordered to publish Your Majesty’s words only after the lecture hall session concludes, to uphold proper order.”

Zhu Yijun smiled faintly.

Though he could not bring Li Zaiting into the inner court, placing him in court deliberations still worked perfectly.

No sooner had he spoken than Ma Ziqiang prepared to argue again.

Chief Censor Ge Shouli stepped forward: “Ministers, is the issue that Tongzheng He should not have published the Emperor’s words—or that the Emperor’s words themselves are flawed and unfit for publication?”

This remark was deeply cutting.

Ge Shouli, a man retained by Gao Gong, had become the Emperor’s staunch ally—he was deeply grateful for the honors he still enjoyed after Gao Gong’s fall.

Moreover, after these days of close contact, he found this Emperor no less capable than the late Xinzheng Duke!

Ma Ziqiang would not fall for it—he clung tightly to one point: “It is not that the Emperor’s words are flawed, but that Tongzheng He should not have spied on the imperial mind!”

Though everyone knew the true situation, one could not reveal the truth outright.

Li Zaiting muttered dryly: “If so, then all Secretaries of the Central Secretariat should be punished.”

The two sides were evenly matched, deadlocked.

After the ministers had argued for a while, Zhu Yijun raised his hand to halt the debate, speaking gently: “Ministers, may I speak a word?”

Once silence fell, he turned to Zhang Juzheng and Gao Yi and asked slowly: “Since we have reached this point, might the two Masters first discuss this in the lecture hall, then return to court deliberation?”

Both understood the inner details and nodded silently.

The former, for the sake of one million taels, observed the Emperor’s performance.

The latter watched his own disciple with satisfaction, awaiting his eloquent discourse.

Zhu Yijun turned to Ma Ziqiang and spoke kindly: “Minister Ma, just now Minister Ge asked well—I too wish to ask: do you believe my words are flawed, or that they should not be published to the realm?”

Ma Ziqiang clung to his earlier stance: “Your Majesty, it is Tongzheng He…”

Zhu Yijun cut him off.

He spoke plainly: “I ordered Tongzheng He to publish these words.”

At this, Ma Ziqiang froze, momentarily speechless.

Zhu Yijun watched Ma Ziqiang with interest, utterly calm within.

Academic debate was not yet lethal at this moment.

After Xu Jie, Gao Gong and Zhang Juzheng led the Grand Secretariat; both strongly rejected Mind Learning and advocated practical action over mystical speculation.

Mind Learning had no standing; how much less so Rationalist Learning?

With such views held by the top leaders, those promoted under them naturally carried these traits.

Thus, ministers like Ma Ziqiang were the minority.

Not to mention those using this as a pretext to target the Two Huai and Capital Garrison.

These rabble could not force him to bow.

Seeing Ma Ziqiang stammering, Zhu Yijun spared him embarrassment and continued: “Minister Ma, I know your concern—I have no intention of imposing a single orthodoxy on all schools of thought.”

Some matters must be stated plainly; ambiguity invites misinterpretation. Whether they believe it or not is not my concern.

“When I was young, I read Qu Yuan’s ‘Heavenly Questions’ and felt deeply moved.”

“In the beginning of antiquity, who transmitted the Dao? When heaven and earth had no form, how could it be known?”

“Who is not curious about the cosmos and the self?”

“Minister Ma, do you have doubts?”

Ma Ziqiang remained silent.

Zhu Yijun let him go and turned to Li Youzi: “Minister Li, do you have doubts?”

Li Youzi sighed: “Your Majesty, I too have doubts.”

Zhu Yijun nodded and did not ask each minister individually.

He spoke as if reflecting, as if expressing emotion: “A teacher transmits the Dao, imparts knowledge, and resolves doubts.”

“I thought that after opening the lecture hall, the learned ministers would resolve my inner doubts.”

“But when I first opened the lecture hall, several masters argued endlessly; each seemed reasonable, and I could not determine which to follow.”

“This only proves my lack of wisdom.”

“After returning to the palace, I grew more despondent.”

“I thought of state affairs: one minister impeaches, another defends—I lack wisdom, so whom should I follow?”

“For example, when a white rainbow pierced the sky in June, one censor claimed it foretold my moral failure, while another Yushi called it an auspicious sign—whom should I believe?”

“And countless other matters—local conditions, the people’s plight—all contradict each other; what should I do?”

His words came from the heart, leaving the ministers speechless.

All ministers bowed and pleaded guilty.

Zhu Yijun lightly raised them, shaking his head: “This is my lack of talent and virtue—not the fault of my loyal ministers.”

“Thus, I have no choice but to adopt the approach of the Ministry of Justice, forming my own standard.”

“Namely, that all matters must be based on ‘clear evidence.’”

“Take the debate on good and evil: I do not seek to impose orthodoxy on any school—I merely happened upon clear evidence, and thus sincerely follow Minister Tao’s view.”

Tao Dalin had insisted in the lecture hall that human nature is neither good nor evil, but shaped by environment.

Zhu Yijun looked at Tao Dalin and nodded slightly.

Tao Dalin still bowed his head in guilt, face buried low, motionless.

This matter was complex—it involved internal disputes within Mind Learning, and on a larger scale, the conflict between Mind Learning and Rationalist Learning.

On a broader level, it was a dispute over the origins of the Hundred Schools.

On the grandest scale, the Emperor sought to seize the authority to interpret the classics.

At least in Ma Ziqiang’s view, this position of scholarly judge must never be left to the Emperor.

He muttered: “Your Majesty, ‘clear evidence’ is not necessarily ‘clear evidence.’”

The Ministry of Justice recognizes false evidence.

So who decides whether it is clear evidence or false evidence—does it not rest on the Emperor’s word alone?

In short, isn’t this simply an attempt to seize the authority to interpret the classics?

Hearing this, Zhu Yijun finally smiled inwardly—finally, Ma Ziqiang had fallen into his rhetorical rhythm.

What he sought was not the orthodoxy of classical learning, nor to become the judge, nor any nonsense about the unity of sage and king or state orthodoxy.

These feudal classics could serve as nourishment, but never as foundation.

He wants to start afresh! What Zhu Yijun seeks is precisely the visible—evidence.

The ancients made many claims: broadly speaking, there was the resonance between Heaven and humanity, gods, demons, and Buddhas.

Focusing on daily life, there were also feng shui, fortune, and astrology.

Some claimed thunder was the wrath of gods.

Some claimed rainbows were heavenly omens.

Some claimed illness was caused by malevolent spirits.

The question then is: are these true? Most would choose to believe.

This kind of belief without foundation is called superstition.

Since ancient times, this has always been the way.

Now, he proposes what he calls “evidence”—seeking to spark an intellectual movement: the causal relationships behind claims must be proven, that is, “evidence.”

But this is not enough.

Causal relationships may be direct or indirect; evidence may be clear and true, or false and vague.

More fundamentally, how do we determine whether something is truly “evidence”?

We must establish a unified method to verify causal relationships!

This is what Zhu Yijun wants.

At the same time, it is the inevitable path every civilization must take—the embryonic form of natural philosophy and scientific thinking.

Ma Ziqiang’s questioning is excellent.

What gives you the right to say evidence is evidence? Because you are the Emperor?

Zhu Yijun looked at Ma Ziqiang with appreciation and said, “Ma Qing, there must be a way to determine whether something is truly evidence.”

“But my talent is mediocre—I cannot think of it myself.”

“Therefore, I still rely on your learned scholars.”

This was relinquishing the role of judge, putting these men at ease.

But who will judge?

No one can be the sole judge—or rather, everyone being a judge—is what Zhu Yijun desires.

He stopped the ministers who wished to speak and continued: “Recently, Daoist high masters donated some silver. I have no intention of using it for pleasure; instead, I wish to establish an academy to resolve this confusion.”

“What do you all think?”

Mathematics and philosophy require a century’s effort; he does not expect immediate results.

But the planning must begin now.

Technology is technology; science is science. Without a complete system of natural philosophy, no matter how many technological trees he climbs, it will be in vain.

It would merely be another futile Westernization movement.

Conversely, if natural philosophy can be nurtured, the wisdom of all under Heaven will converge, and knowledge will flow endlessly.

From astronomy, mathematics, physics—this would be a lever to move a thousand catties.

As for whether this might shake his position?

If natural philosophy could act like a stimulant, enabling him to leap forward two steps at a time and complete modernization within a century, he would not mind saying, “Today, nothing matters.”

Moreover, who says imperial rule cannot evolve with the times?

As soon as Zhu Yijun finished speaking, the several ministers who had just impeached He Yongqing exchanged glances.

They could not fathom the Emperor’s logic at all.

Nearby, Yang Yigui, the Censor-in-Chief of Guangdong, could not help Shitan : “Your Majesty, has anyone been chosen as the academy’s head?”

If the Emperor intends to appoint himself, isn’t that just taking off his pants to fart?

Zhu Yijun paused, then clapped his hands and laughed: “Then let Ma Qing, Vice Minister of Rites, take the post!”

The method to verify causality must be objective; who serves as head matters little.

Huh?

Ma Ziqiang looked up in shock.

He was utterly bewildered by the Emperor’s move.

He did not immediately accept the post; instead, he fell into deep thought.

What exactly is the Emperor trying to do?

Previously, he had speculated wildly: seizing the authority to interpret scriptures, merging politics and religion.

Or provoking disputes among schools to create chaos and profit from it.

He had even considered the Emperor might want to found his own sect and become a sage-emperor.

Yet now, the Emperor has thrown out the authority to judge “evidence,” established an academy, and even assigned the headship to Ma Ziqiang himself—the very man who had just opposed him.

What is his true strategy?

Could it really be childish whimsy, merely seeking to resolve confusion?

After long contemplation, Ma Ziqiang spoke: “Your Majesty, not everything has evidence.”

“Confucius taught people how to cultivate oneself and nurture virtue—do such matters require evidence?”

Providing one example where moral judgment fits does not mean everything can be subjected to evidence.

Just as mind-school contemplation occurs entirely within the self—where is the need for evidence?

Regardless of the Emperor’s intent, he instinctively felt something was wrong and wanted to push back.

Yet Zhu Yijun nodded, agreeing with this view.

He understood this better than Ma Ziqiang.

Natural philosophy can only govern the realm of nature; the rest—social science, epistemology, ontology—may not have causal relationships or evidence, and rely more on reasoning.

One must admit: Ma Ziqiang’s wisdom is truly sharp—he immediately grasped the core.

Zhu Yijun looked at Ma Ziqiang, his expression solemn and serious: “Ma Qing is right. I have thought of this too.”

“Therefore, my intention is…”

“The ought belongs to the sages; the is belongs to me.”