Chapter 67: Harmonizing Yin and Yang, Acting or Withdrawing as Needed

Dusk.

Lu Diaoyang led Shen Shixing to the Grand Secretariat and stopped outside Zhang Juzheng’s office.

The latter glanced at him in confusion: “Master?”

Lu Diaoyang shook his head and whispered: “The Chief Secretary wishes to see you alone.”

Only then did Shen Shixing understand why Lu Diaoyang had been so talkative on the way, giving him so many instructions.

He moved with stiff formality, as if to enter.

Lu Diaoyang patted his shoulder and turned back to his own office.

Shen Shixing carefully pushed open the door.

As he entered, he saw Zhang Juzheng dozing over his desk; seemingly hearing the sound, Zhang raised his head.

Shen Shixing bowed: “Chief Secretary.”

Zhang Juzheng rubbed his temples wearily and gestured for him to sit.

Once Shen Shixing was seated, Zhang spoke: “Did Heqing tell you about today’s audience with His Majesty?”

Shen Shixing shook his head: “My master said you would tell me.”

Zhang Juzheng nodded and spoke plainly: “Jia Daiwen and Hu Xiao fabricated omen texts; they are to be executed, their clans exiled.”

“Vice Minister of Justice Bi Qiang, Censor Zhang Daoming, Compiler Shen Yiguan, and six others are to be exiled.”

Shen Shixing was stunned.

Zhang Juzheng briefly recounted what had transpired during the audience.

Shen Shixing remained dazed, murmuring: “Chief Secretary, this was surely not Jia Daiwen’s doing.”

Whether from his understanding of Jia Daiwen or Jia’s reaction afterward, he believed Jia could not have done it.

Zhang Juzheng nodded: “I believe you. Not only I, but His Majesty can believe this too.”

Jia Daiwen had no troops—what gave him the audacity? If it were Zhang Siwei, I might believe it more readily.

Shen Shixing understood: “So Jia Daiwen is to be executed for the other two percent possibility!?”

What is this but a groundless accusation?

Zhang Juzheng’s expression was unreadable: “If Wang Chonggu were not still in Xuan-Da, Zhang Siwei and Yang Bo would be executed too.”

Shen Shixing’s shock halted abruptly; a chill ran down his spine.

Zhang Juzheng patiently explained to this rising talent: “It’s not what you think.”

“Princess Qixia is dead. If it was an accident, fine. If it was murder… those suspected, in His Majesty’s eyes, are precisely the kind who deserve to die.”

“This is exploiting the incident for vengeance.”

Shen Shixing finally began to understand.

After a moment’s thought, he sighed: “It is still the impetuosity of youth—it may harm his moral standing.”

Since His Majesty’s ascension four months ago, all his actions had been subtle, like rain nourishing without noise.

Among court officials, he had earned a reputation as a benevolent ruler.

But to execute censors and punish third-rank ministers so violently—

All the benevolent image he had built would be ruined.

Zhang Juzheng’s expression was complex: “Therefore, to carry out executions properly, the Grand Secretariat and the Three Judicial Departments must make this airtight.”

The reputation of Emperor Shizong and Yan Song was inseparable.

Just as the late emperor’s reputation was bound to Gao Gong’s.

Now Zhang Juzheng, and indeed the entire Grand Secretariat, stood in the same position.

One prospers, all prosper; one falls, all fall.

When most court officials reach consensus, it is no longer that His Majesty lacks benevolence—it is that these men are utterly wicked.

Shen Shixing understood: “What must the Ministry of Personnel do?”

Zhang Juzheng did not answer directly but asked: “Rumo is only thirty-seven, isn’t he?”

Shen Shixing nodded: “Ninety-nine by lunar age.”

Zhang Juzheng stepped closer and poured tea for Shen Shixing himself.

Shen Shixing rose quickly, clasping the cup with both hands: “I am deeply honored by your and my master’s favor.”

Zhang Juzheng nodded: “With Lu Shusheng not yet arriving, you now head the Ministry of Personnel—you are de facto Minister of Personnel, and must stand alone.”

“So it’s not what I want the Ministry to do—it’s what you think of this matter.”

Shen Shixing froze, momentarily lost.

Zhang Juzheng watched him with encouraging eyes.

Shen Shixing fell silent.

He reviewed everything that had happened today in his mind.

Thoughts swirled.

The room fell still.

He waited a long while.

Finally, Shen Shixing grasped the meaning.

He set down his tea, bowed: “Chief Secretary, this matter is too harsh on my fellow southerners from Nanzhili—I cannot stand idly by.”

Zhang Juzheng nodded with clear approval.

No wonder Lu Diaoyang admired this disciple so.

Often, one cannot perceive certain consequences until one reaches a certain rank.

But Shen Shixing, not yet in the Grand Secretariat, grasped the implications immediately upon hearing today’s news.

Executing censors and punishing third-rank ministers would have major repercussions—public outcry, hostility from Nanzhili’s regional faction—all too significant to ignore.

Hai Rui’s words were right, but they must be reframed.

It is the Emperor who must press forward; the Grand Secretariat must mend the gaps.

Previously, the Grand Secretariat and the Emperor had disagreed over whether to act against Nanzhili, so their coordination was weak.

But now that the Emperor has forced them to agree, if the Emperor wants to kill, the Grand Secretariat must clean up after him.

How to mitigate the fallout is the Grand Secretariat’s duty.

Zhang Juzheng nodded and asked: “How can you not stand idly by?”

Shen Shixing replied without hesitation: “Among officials from Nanzhili, there are still many talented men—I will promote a few.”

This was the true value of becoming top scholar at twenty-seven.

Zhang Juzheng gave a single hint; Shen Shixing instantly grasped the core.

The Grand Secretariat must please the Emperor while calming court officials—like a daughter-in-law pleasing both in-laws.

If one must harmonize yin and yang, it must be done concretely.

As Vice Minister of Personnel, Shen Shixing was already the highest-ranking official from Nanzhili.

After the dismissal of the Vice Minister of War and the Chief Censors, Nanzhili’s faction would be leaderless and panicked.

Yet Nanzhili produced the most officials in court—examinations were fair, but regional talent was not equal; Nanzhili’s educational resources were unmatched.

Thus, to appease them, Shen Shixing must speak for them.

Only then could the Grand Secretariat minimize the fallout and serve as an anchor in the Two Huai matter.

Seeing Shen Shixing understood, Zhang Juzheng smiled with satisfaction.

His tone lightened: “Draft a memorial proposing your promotions. The Grand Secretariat will reject it several times—you decide how many.”

Shen Shixing bowed.

Zhang Juzheng patted his shoulder: “No need to keep coming to my door. If the Grand Secretariat needs you, Heqing will send for you.”

“You’re only thirty-seven. It’s good to stand alone sooner.”

Shen Shixing fell silent.

This was the path every Chief Secretary must walk.

Within court, no faction dominates; regional cliques cannot all gather under the Chief Secretary’s wing.

Just as Gao Gong once relied on Yang Bo to lead the Shanxi faction and Zhang Juzheng to lead the Hubei faction.

Now that Shen Shixing must speak for Nanzhili’s faction, he can no longer linger daily at the Chief Secretary’s door—otherwise, when the Grand Secretariat cuts Nanzhili’s flesh, he cannot explain himself.

And Zhang Juzheng’s two mentions of age were clear enough.

If Shen Shixing truly stands alone, harmonizes Nanzhili’s factional tensions, and steers the Ministry of Personnel steadily to implement new laws, the next Chief Secretary’s chair is not beyond reach.

Of course, there was an unspoken implication: if Shen Shixing lacked this ability, the Ministry of Personnel would no longer be his to command.

Shen Shixing bowed deeply: “Chief Secretary’s teaching—Shixing understands.”

Still bowing, Shen Shixing backed out of the office.

The room fell silent once more.

…

November 4.

Grand Censor Ge Shouli submitted a memorial: Censor-in-Chief Jia Daiwen and Censor Hu Xiao fabricated omen texts and undermined the state’s foundation, nearly equivalent to treason—punishable by execution and extermination of their clans; Censor Zhang Daoming, Vice Minister of Justice Bi Qiang, Compiler Shen Yiguan, and six others conspired with Jia and Hu, manipulated omen texts, and formed cliques for personal gain—punishable by execution and exile of their clans.

Court officials erupted in shock, glancing around, only to realize these men had not attended court.

No deliberation was allowed; the Nine Ministers unanimously agreed; the Chief Secretary, Deputy Chief Secretary, and other Grand Secretaries drafted the edict and submitted it to the Emperor.

The Emperor reviewed it and returned the memorial: “These ten are pillars of state—how can guilt be lightly determined?” He ordered the Censorate, Ministry of Justice, and Court of Judicial Review to jointly investigate.

November 5.

Assistant Censor Hai Rui submitted a memorial stating that the Wang Ruyan case involved major corruption in the Two Huai regions, and requested permission to personally travel to the Two Huai regions for a thorough investigation.

The Emperor granted Hai Rui, Assistant Censor, an imperial token to inspect the Two Huai salt administration, and ordered him, together with Vice Minister of the Dalisi Chen Dong, to thoroughly investigate the Wang Ruyan case.

The two departed the capital that same day.

November 7.

After the Three Judicial Departments conducted a round-the-clock joint interrogation of Hu Xiao and others for thirty-six hours, ten individuals confessed orally, signed and affixed their seals; further, the Embroidered Uniform Guard discovered correspondence in their residences containing numerous passages denouncing the Emperor and plotting against the Son of Heaven.

With both eyewitnesses and physical evidence in hand, the Three Judicial Departments submitted charges of using omens to destabilize the state and conspiring to rebel, requesting the Emperor’s judgment.

The Emperor, deeming the scope of implicating so many excessive for a wise ruler, ordered the Grand Secretariat to reconsider.

At that time, the Grand Secretariat and the Nine Ministers, moved by the Emperor’s virtue, reduced the punishment for the ringleader to execution of three clans, and sentenced eight accomplices to death.

On the same day, Cai Ruxian, a Censor of the Ministry of War, Chen Tang, a Censor of the Huguang Circuit, Luo Zun, a Censor of the Ministry of Personnel, and others submitted memorials pleading for clemency for Hu Xiao.

They argued: “A virtuous ruler’s good governance is manifold, but none greater than rewarding those who offer candid advice; his faults are many, but none greater than dismissing those who offer candid advice. Hu Xiao, as a Censor, was merely fulfilling his duty by correcting errors and rectifying misconduct. Now, because a single phrase touched on omens, he is branded a traitor and sentenced to death—this will surely cause future officials to flatter and obey, while few will dare to speak truthfully and offend.”

We humbly beg Your Majesty to consider that his folly was without malice, and to reflect on the danger of silencing dissent—perhaps impose a light punishment, or restore him to office, thereby expanding Your Majesty’s virtue, as all ministers desire.

Vice Minister of Personnel Shen Shixing appended a memorial pleading for the ten men.

The Emperor, upon hearing this, was deeply moved.

He issued another edict.

A native of Huating, Songjiang Prefecture, Nanzhili, Cai Ruxian, a jinshi of the second year of Longqing and Censor of the Ministry of War, offered sound advice with substance; he is promoted to Chief Censor of the Ministry of Revenue.

All officials who submitted this advice are awarded five taels of silver as a reward, and granted a one-year reduction in audit requirements.

Further, since the executions were excessive and harmed benevolence, the Emperor, following the counsel of the officials and Vice Minister Shen, changed the charge against the ten from rebellion to disloyalty; only the two ringleaders are sentenced to death, the rest are exiled.

At last, the matter was settled.

…

National Academy.

“Vice Director.”

“Vice Director Li.”

Along the way, Doctors of the Five Classics and Assistant Tutors bowed respectfully to Li Zhi.

Li Zhi returned their greetings perfunctorily and headed straight for the Director’s office.

He flung open the door, shouting: “Director Tao, Your Majesty personally promised a doubling of my salary—why are you now denying it? Isn’t that an act of deceiving the Emperor?”

When the Emperor summoned him, he had said: “No one will oversee you, your salary will double, and you may study in peace.”

Now, indeed, no one oversees him—the sole superior, Tao Dalin, is cautious and never offends anyone, never scolding subordinates.

Aside from avoiding responsibility and always retreating behind others when trouble arises, he has almost no other flaws.

As for scholarly pursuits, he truly finds peace.

The National Academy’s affairs are not burdensome; few ever disturb Li Zhi.

But the problem remains: his salary has not been doubled, as promised.

The National Academy is a water-clear office; when salaries are owed, it is always the first to suffer. When he served as Doctor of the Five Classics, arrears lasted for months, often settled with Sichuan pepper instead of coin.

He truly feared repeating that fate—starving his wife and daughter with no money to his name.

Tao Dalin, seeing the door flung open, leapt to his feet; upon seeing Li Zhi, he relaxed.

He had grown accustomed to Li Zhi’s daily complaints and knew exactly what this was about.

He said gently: “Vice Director Li, why not inquire at the Ministry of Revenue? Our academy’s salaries are set by them—you coming to me won’t make money appear.”

Li Zhi was speechless: “You told me that the very day I reported to the National Academy. I went to the Ministry of Revenue—they asked for a certificate from the Ministry of Personnel.”

Tao Dalin remained expressionless: “Then why not ask the Ministry of Personnel?”

Li Zhi sneered: “I went yesterday—they asked for an imperial edict.”

Tao Dalin rose, closed the door, and turned: “Exactly—where is the edict? The Ministry of Personnel can’t issue double salary on a whim.”

Li Zhi removed his cap, revealing a shaved head: “It was a verbal order! Where’s the written decree?”

Tao Dalin quickly soothed: “Then why not ask a eunuch to serve as witness?”

Li Zhi snapped: “I went today—just got back.”

“They said the Forbidden City is currently cleaning house, overwhelmed and too busy to attend to me!”

Tao Dalin joined in the shared grievance: “How difficult for Vice Director Li.”

But Li Zhi refused to relent: “Director Tao, you are a court minister—could you please ask His Majesty what his true plans are for me?”

The Emperor summoned him for more than just letting him sit idle at the National Academy.

He had immediately sensed, upon seeing the Emperor’s new newspaper, that this Son of Heaven was vying for prestige among scholars and the common people.

If the salary was doubled, there must be another assignment attached.

He could not imagine what else, beyond his identity as a heterodox Xinxue disciple, the Emperor might value in him.

The issue was, he had heard of a major scandal in court recently—likely why the Emperor was distracted and had no time for him.

This troubled Li Zhi—he feared the Emperor had forgotten him entirely.

His travel funds were insufficient to survive months of unpaid salary.

Previously, he had gone to the New Academy seeking a side job, only to be driven out by Cheng Dawei, who said he had no aptitude—leaving him furious.

Now he could only hope the Emperor would remember him soon.

Tao Dalin remained calm and spoke slowly: “Vice Director Li, don’t rush—the capital is not as you imagine.”

“Since the Trial of the Performance Evaluation System in September, His Majesty and the Grand Secretariat have clearly stated that officials rated superior this quarter will not only have their arrears settled but also receive an additional performance bonus—enough for Vice Director Li to live comfortably.”

Li Zhi sighed: “Director Tao, don’t soothe me—I’ve seen the National Academy’s evaluation standards. Just passing is a miracle.”

In a water-clear office, achieving results is naturally hard.

Tao Dalin said gently: “Passing is still good—it ensures monthly full, actual payment, no more paper money or Sichuan pepper.”

Great Ming salaries are sufficient—if paid in full and on time.

Li Zhi could no longer endure Tao Dalin’s evasions.

He stopped pleading.

He rose to leave, took two steps toward the door, then couldn’t help but beg: “Director Tao, if you have time, please ask His Majesty on my behalf.”

Tao Dalin smiled and nodded.

Li Zhi, powerless against his Maitreya-like superior, left the room filled with resentment.

Along the way, students bowed to him again; Li Zhi forced a smile and returned each bow without hesitation.

As dusk approached, Li Zhi prepared to go out for dinner.

Passing the Office of Records, he suddenly saw the Supervisor of the Rope-Correcting Hall running toward him.

“Vice Director Li! Someone from the palace is looking for you—they’re waiting for you in the Rope-Correcting Hall!”

Li Zhi didn’t hesitate—he rushed straight to the Rope-Correcting Hall.

Two more chapters today.