Chapter 73: Open the Channels of Speech, Frown with Indignation

The Emperor found time passing strangely quickly in the Western Garden.

Before assuming personal rule, he already enjoyed the life of an early retiree.

In the morning, he attended the Confucian lectures at the Wenhua Hall, discussing classics with the lecture officials.

Afterward, he studied state affairs with several grand secretaries.

For lunch, he either dined at the Wenhua Hall with the grand secretaries, sharing meals, or returned to the Western Garden to dine with the two imperial consorts.

In the afternoon, he practiced horsemanship and archery.

Interspersed were some after-class assignments or calligraphy practice.

In the evening, he handled a few memorials—most were still managed by the Grand Secretariat and the two imperial consorts, with only a few sent to Wanshou Palace.

These mainly concerned memorials from Wang Zongmu and Hai Rui regarding the Two Huai regions.

Also, Gu Huan of the Capital Garrison would bypass the Ministry of War and submit memorials directly to him.

Others included memorials on the new academies, Zhu Heng’s shipbuilding for the Ministry of Works, and reports from Zhang Chucheng in Huguang, among others.

The matters were few; half an hour sufficed to settle them.

After dinner, he would exercise around the Western Garden—learning to swim, practicing boxing, shooting arrows, and the like.

When night fully fell, he returned to Wanshou Palace, washed, and retired to bed.

Days passed like this, one after another.

Since the Western Garden had grown lively, those seeking an audience with the Emperor had increased.

Learning that the inner court had been purged and many eunuchs and maids dismissed, numerous nobles wished to send their household-born sons and maidservants into the palace.

Zhu Yijun naturally could not accept them all; he had just cleaned house and could not now recklessly take in more people, especially those near his person.

After careful deliberation, he retained only a few.

For instance, the Chengguo Duke’s household, out of sincere intent, sent two Shu -born sons within the third degree of kinship; to show trust and favor, there was no reason to send them back.

Also, the Chief Censor of the Ministry of Personnel, Li Zaiting, dumped his nephew into the palace; after Zhu Yijun was startled, he granted mercy, letting the boy serve a few more days before reluctantly allowing him to be sent to the castration chamber—as a substitute offering.

Two imperial father-in-law households also sent several maidservants to the two Empress Dowagers, and these were accepted without refusal.

This was merely a political signal; other nobles had no such privilege.

Notably, Zhu Yijun felt the archery grounds near Xuanzhimen were too far, so he wished to move them to the platform before Ziguang Pavilion—only to face a flood of opposition.

They argued that the Emperor’s archery during Confucian lectures must be conducted within the sight of ministers, lest it create estrangement between ruler and subjects.

Zhu Yijun had merely wished to recall the martial splendor of Emperor Wuzong reviewing his personal guards there; seeing the opposition was too strong, he reluctantly abandoned the plan.

Yet due to the distance, to arrange the imperial archery lessons more reasonably, Zhu Yijun was forced to select several outstanding youths from the Capital Garrison Military Academy as close guards to shuttle between the inner palace and the Western Garden.

The Capital Garrison Military Academy was a noble academy.

Powerful nobles with hereditary offices mostly looked down on the Capital Garrison Military Academy.

Thus, the academy mostly consisted of fallen nobles who had known hardship, and overall, their quality was relatively not so worthless.

It was like sifting gold from dung.

But this move also drew criticism from court officials.

They deemed it a path of favoritism, harmful and of no benefit to the state.

Unfortunately, the Emperor resided in the Western Garden, and these memorials never reached his ears.

At this time, the Chief Censor of the Ministry of Personnel, Li Zaiting, stepped forward, declaring that eunuchs were severing communication between inner and outer court, while nobles surrounded the throne, blinding His Majesty’s wisdom—this could not be a lasting arrangement—and urged the Emperor to draw near virtuous ministers and keep away from petty men.

After hearing this, Zhu Yijun reluctantly accepted the candid minister’s advice.

He then issued an edict.

To prevent eunuchs and nobles from isolating the inner and outer courts, he would no longer use eunuchs as messengers; instead, he appointed Hanlin Academy scholars to serve in Wanshou Palace to facilitate communication with the outer court.

He also assigned Hanlin Academy compilers Chen Jingbang and Shen Li to attend him closely.

Simultaneously, he promoted outstanding graduates of the Longqing Fourth Year imperial examination.

He appointed Zheng Zongxue as Secretary of the Eastern Chamber of Wenhua Hall and Deng Yizan as Secretary of the Secretariat, both stationed in Wanshou Palace to handle documents.

Zhu Yijun’s earnest desire to favor civil officials and distance himself from eunuchs won the approval of court ministers; after several days, the ministers impeached Chen Jingbang, Shen Li, and others for blocking memorials and preventing court officials from gaining audience.

Soon after, the Grand Secretariat submitted a memorial urging the Emperor to open the channels of free speech.

The next day, the Emperor held a lecture at Wenhua Hall and presented his own large-character calligraphy, bestowing upon Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng the title “Pillar of the State,” Gao Yi “Tutor and Protector,” Lu Diaoyang “Assistant in Governance,” and Yang Bo “Paragon of Virtue.”

He rebuked Chen Jingbang, Shen Li, and others for isolating the grand secretaries, and personally instructed the grand secretaries: they need not announce themselves before entering the Western Garden for audience.

The grand secretaries bowed in thanks; all ministers declared, “Your Majesty is a ruler who accepts advice.”

That same night (Wuxu day), a full moon eclipse occurred, but clouds obscured it.

The next day, rumors spread again, claiming that earlier celestial anomalies and now the lunar eclipse were omens.

Some even used this to request clemency for Hu Xiao and others’ death sentences, to appease Heaven’s will.

Then, the Chief Censor Li Zaiting submitted a memorial, saying:

“Your Majesty’s virtue daily renews, your merit daily rises; even King Cheng of Zhou could not match you. Would the ancestral temples and Heaven and Earth not love you?”

“Celestial anomalies and lunar eclipses are merely manifestations of natural cycles; Heaven’s course is constant, unshaken by villains, rumors, or portents.”

“I humbly implore Your Majesty to embrace Heaven’s blessings, strengthen your resolve to diligence and care. Once your heart is firm and your purpose unwavering, the wicked and flatterers will have no means to succeed—how much more so to avert calamity and transform misfortune!”

…

Zhu Yijun held Li Zaiting’s memorial and could not help exclaiming: “Excellent—‘Once the heart is firm, the true purpose does not waver.’”

Li Zaiting, seated opposite the Emperor, perched on a low stool, smiled: “This was inspired by Your Majesty’s own words: ‘Never forget your true heart.’”

The two were now in a side hall of Wanshou Palace, sipping tea face to face.

Of course, though called “face to face,” Li Zaiting’s crouching, subservient posture clearly made him uncomfortable.

Zhu Yijun, seeing this, couldn’t help teasing: “The outer court is now saying that Secretary Li has the bearing of Yan Song.”

The Emperor spoke only in jest, but Li Zaiting took it seriously.

He rose solemnly and said: “Your Majesty, I have something to say.”

Zhu Yijun, rarely seeing Li Zaiting in such earnestness, sat upright and gestured for him to speak.

Li Zaiting’s expression was grave: “Your Majesty, Yan Song was a villain, but also a capable minister.”

“His capability stemmed from his own exceptional talent.”

“But his villainy was not decided by Yan Song alone—it was a mutual agreement between Shizong , who desired it, and Yan Song, who sought it.”

“ Shizong sought not the people’s welfare, which allowed Yan Song to act wickedly; had Shizong truly held an unwavering purpose, Yan Song might have remained a virtuous minister.”

“The fundamental difference between Zhang Cong and Yan Song lies in Shizong —Your Majesty, please take heed!”

Zhu Yijun could not help scrutinizing this man, whom both inner and outer court secretly mocked as “Yan Song reborn”; he had merely thought him convenient to use and easy to control, and Yan Song’s presence was tolerable.

He had never imagined this man came with such awareness.

Zhu Yijun frowned and feigned indignation: “How dare you openly belittle my imperial grandfather?”

Li Zaiting bowed in apology, yet his tone showed no remorse: “Your Majesty, I do not belittle Shizong —I merely contrast him with Your Majesty, and the difference in stature becomes clear, which may seem disrespectful.”

“Now, Your Majesty safeguards the imperial mandate, welcomes boundless blessings, and possesses pure and single-minded virtue; Your Majesty’s brilliance naturally reveals Shizong ’s hidden radiance.”

“If Your Majesty remains unwavering and cultivates virtue, you will surely achieve a greatness unmatched in history.”

Zhu Yijun glanced at Li Zaiting—being a villain required talent; even his advice was delivered so comfortably.

Clearly, Li Zaiting was subtly advising him: whether in his memorial’s “heart firm, purpose unwavering” or now “remain unwavering,” “do not falter,” he was urging him not to emulate Shizong and retreat halfway.

Zhu Yijun sighed.

When an Emperor strives for diligent governance, this golden banner attracts not only rebels who set fires and strangle, but also loyal ministers and virtuous men flocking to his side.

Who says the Great Ming lacks loyal ministers? As long as the Emperor shows even a shred of humanity, these loyal men will cluster tightly around him—only whether he notices and employs them matters.

Zhu Yijun waved his hand, signaling Li Zaiting to sit.

He murmured: “I’ve taken your words to heart. But I cannot ignore rumors calling you like Yan Song—your reputation tarnished, mine is also at risk.”

It was a case of mutual ruin.

If his confidants were the Six Evils, Zhu Yijun would naturally be a tyrant.

Zhu Yijun continued: “I’ve ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to arrest those spreading rumors. Secretary Li, don’t just endure slander silently—if any court official says this again, impeach them directly. I’ll back you.”

Li Zaiting bowed and slowly sat down.

He poured tea for the Emperor and said: “Your Majesty’s kindness, I understand.”

The two then casually discussed court affairs.

Finally, Li Zaiting broached the real matter: “Your Majesty, how should we respond to the Marquis of Ding’an’s memorial? You returned the Grand Secretariat’s draft—do you have another plan?”

Zhu Yijun sipped his tea.

The Marquis of Ding’an, Gao Yi, arrived in Songjiang Prefecture with his entire household in September.

A man of Gao Yi’s stature would never idle once in the provinces.

Upon arrival, he demanded from Songjiang Prefecture the ten thousand mu of prime farmland promised by imperial decree.

The edict was an empty promise; the mansion was to be newly built, and the ten thousand mu of land, newly reclaimed.

Unfortunately, Songjiang’s prime farmland had all been cultivated; the Prefect personally took Gao Yi to several sites, all of which Gao Yi rejected as “not fertile, not prime land.”

The Prefecture tried to stall, but Gao Yi simply moved into the Prefectural Office, refusing to leave, causing chaos.

After several more days, Gao Yi openly accused the Prefecture of withholding land.

When the Prefecture showed reluctance, Gao Yi accused them of defying imperial edicts—were they plotting rebellion?

The Prefecture, helpless, turned to Xu Jie for help.

The great benefactor Xu Jie understood the need to pacify; that very night, he allocated twenty thousand mu of prime land to the Prefecture, intending to gift it as Gao Yi’s residence.

But Gao Yi, ungrateful, declared it was the people’s blood and sweat, and refused it outright.

The Prefect, caught between two unyielding forces, could not handle it and was forced to resign.

Song Zhihan, waiting to fill the vacancy, immediately produced the appointment documents stamped by the Grand Secretariat and the Ministry of Personnel, seamlessly taking up the post of Prefect.

Following this, the new official lit three fires: to resolve the difficulties faced by Ding’an Bo, Prefect Song Zhihan decided to reorganize the landholdings of Songjiang Prefecture.

Meanwhile, enthusiastic villagers, seeing Gao Gong refuse to accept face, immediately changed into commoner’s attire and day and night cursed Gao Gong, blocked his roads, and threatened his womenfolk.

At the same time, censors from Nanzhili, including Zhang Huan, submitted memorials accusing Gao Gong and Song Zhihan of colluding to harm the people and oppress the gentry.

Along with these came Gao Gong’s own memorial, claiming Xu Jie had seized over half the prime farmland in Songjiang Prefecture, leaving it unable to fulfill the imperial edict’s mandate of ten thousand mu of good land—like a skillful wife unable to cook without rice.

He further claimed Xu Jie used his prime land to oppress the people, openly declaring: “Those with daughters irrigate the best fields; those with good daughters-in-law till the best land; those with bad daughters-in-law till the worst land; those without women till wasteland!”

Having gone this far, heaven and earth are outraged; we humbly request His Majesty’s judgment.

Attached was the official land registry of Songjiang Prefecture, showing Xu Jie alone held 278,431 mu of land.

Two days ago, the Grand Secretariat recommended dispatching a censor to investigate and ordering Xu Jie to return the land—but the Emperor rejected it.

Li Zaiting had come for precisely this matter.

At the mention of it, Zhu Yijun sighed: “Ah, Ding’an Bo has such a good temper—how much provocation must he have endured to be pushed to this?”

Li Zaiting agreed: “Xu Jie is a senior statesman and former Chief Minister—how could he oppress the people so cruelly?”

“I’ve heard that even before Xu Jie retired, his household was already oppressing the people. The common folk assumed he was unaware and looked forward to his return.”

“When Xu Jie retired, villagers lined the roads to welcome him and presented their grievances.”

“I cannot imagine how utterly despairing those people must have felt when they saw Xu Jie’s true nature.”

The two exchanged a glance and sighed again.

Zhu Yijun then explained why he had rejected the Grand Secretariat’s proposal: “The Grand Secretariat suggested sending a censor to investigate and ordering Xu Jie to directly hand over ten thousand mu to Ding’an Bo—I find this unacceptable.”

Li Zaiting listened attentively.

Zhu Yijun paused, then said: “First, since these lands were voluntarily surrendered by the people, the tax burden must have been excessive.”

“If I simply give the land to Ding’an Bo, the people will lose both their land and their livelihood—I find this unacceptable.”

“Moreover, demanding Xu Shaoshi return land without cause is unjust—I will not do it.”

Li Zaiting’s expression shifted—he began to suspect the Emperor’s intent.

Refusing to return the land outright? He clearly intends to convict Xu Jie.

He could not help asking: “What is Your Majesty’s intention?”

Zhu Yijun considered, then said: “First, have Songjiang Prefecture reorganize its taxes—review all exorbitant levies. Remember: only Songjiang Prefecture. Leave other regions untouched.”

Li Zaiting nodded—he understood the stakes perfectly.

“Second, directly seizing Xu Shaoshi’s land is unwise. Instead, buy it—have the Ministry of Revenue pay a few hundred taels, so Xu Shaoshi suffers no injustice.”

“As for the tenant farmers on the prime land, have Ding’an Bo settle them properly.”

Gao Gong’s title is not hereditary—let alone these prime lands. He knew exactly what to do.

Leaving Gao Gong’s heir at the Imperial Academy was their unspoken understanding.

Li Zaiting replied: “I will convey this to the Chief Minister shortly.”

Zhu Yijun continued: “Sending a censor to mediate their dispute is inappropriate.”

“Two former Chief Ministers, both holders of the Three Excellencies and the rank of Bo—no censor could possibly control them.”

Li Zaiting hesitated: “Then does Your Majesty intend to assign this matter to Hai Rui?”

He might be too overburdened.

Zhu Yijun shook his head: “We cannot overuse him so recklessly.”

He looked at Li Zaiting and suddenly smiled: “I’ve sent Zhu Xixiao and Chen Mingyan to lead the Northern Office of Military Surveillance—they’ll arrive in Songjiang Prefecture in six or seven days.”

Li Zaiting’s eyelid twitched.

If they’re nearly there, they must have departed a month ago?

The memorials have only just arrived—this isn’t even pretending to wait!

And now they’ve sent Zhu Xixiao? The disturbance is far too great.

Zhu Yijun saw his expression and explained: “They traveled with Hai Rui—they’ll split off at the Huai River region.”

Li Zaiting calculated the time: Hai Rui departed on the fifth day of the eleventh month; today is the twenty-ninth—so they’re only four or five days away.

He sighed: “It’s still too far—no telling how certain people will react.”

…

Zhu Xixiao stood on the deck, gazing at the scenery.

The water shimmered under the setting sun, as if draped in golden clouds.

Perhaps nearing the ferry, the banks grew more populated.

Occasionally, the distant song of a fisherman drifted on the wind.

Zhu Xixiao’s thoughts rose and fell with the waves—this was his fourth journey south of the river, each time with a different feeling.

Suddenly, a voice called from behind: “Zhu Shaobao.”

Zhu Xixiao turned to see Hai Rui bowing—he returned the bow.

“The boat will soon dock at Qingkou Ferry. Here, I shall part ways with you, Shaobao.”

Zhu Xixiao blinked: “Won’t you go directly to Huai’an?”

Huaiyin Ferry was just ahead.

The Grand Coordinator’s office was located in Huai’an, and the accused, Wang Ruyan, was held there under the supervision of Viceroy Wang Zongmu.

Hai Rui shook his head: “Many are already waiting for me in Huai’an. Taking the land route will help me avoid attention.”

Zhu Xixiao frowned, suspicious: “Are you leaving behind this entire company of elite troops and the Embroidered Uniform Guard?”

Disguised travel is for novels—doing it for real is reckless.

Hai Rui understood and smiled: “Of course not. The company stays aboard. The Embroidered Uniform Guard accompanies me ashore—we proceed together to the Grand Coordinator’s office.”

Zhu Xixiao relaxed and bowed: “Then, Hai Yushi, travel safely.”

He was bound for Songjiang Prefecture—he would not follow Hai Rui to Huai’an.

Hai Rui returned the bow and turned back into the cabin.

He instructed Luo Sigong behind him: “Go ahead to the Grand Coordinator’s office and notify Wang Zongmu in advance.”

This was a courtesy—to prepare Wang Zongmu mentally.

Luo Sigong, young, always wore a stern expression.

He objected: “Your Excellency, the Emperor ordered me to accompany you alone.”

Hai Rui sighed and told Gu Chengguang to select a reliable Embroidered Uniform Guard to go instead.

The boat sailed another half-hour, then lurched sharply—everyone knew they’d reached shore.

Hai Rui turned to Jiao Ze: “Jiao Vice-Commander, you remain with the boat to Huaiyin Ferry and report directly to the Grand Coordinator’s office. I’ll proceed ahead with the Embroidered Uniform Guard.”

Jiao Ze responded and accepted the order.

Hai Rui glanced at Luo Sigong and Chen Yinzhao, then told Gu Chengguang: “Let’s go.”

Soon, under the pull of the towmen, the large vessel docked steadily at the ferry.

Hai Rui led his party ashore.

Qingkou Ferry lay five li east of Qinghe County’s city, on the banks of the Huai River. Due to the river’s erosion, few people used this ferry, and supplies were scarce.

Large vessels never stopped here—they proceeded directly to Huaiyin Ferry.

Now, travelers were sparse, mostly locals. Seeing an official boat dock, they feared trouble and quickly scattered.

After leaving the dock, Hai Rui scanned the area: muddy ground, with halls, side chambers, storerooms, and cabinets—all present.

He had no intention of staying. He ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to bring horses and prepared to head straight for the Grand Coordinator’s office.

Just then, a man suddenly blocked his path, bowing deeply: “May I ask—is this Hai Yushi?”

Before Hai Rui could respond, Luo Sigong lunged forward without hesitation and pinned the man to the ground.

The crowd panicked, scattering in chaos.

Gu Chengguang went on alert; the Embroidered Uniform Guards formed a tight circle around them.

Hai Rui waved his hand: “No need to be alarmed.”

He frowned at the intruder: “Who are you?”

The man was middle-aged, with a mustache suggesting shrewdness.

Even pinned down, he remained courteous, speaking calmly: “Yushi, don’t be alarmed. My master wishes to meet you.”

Hai Rui nodded, ignoring him.

He ordered Luo Sigong: “Throw him in the river.”

Luo Sigong grabbed the man by his belt, lifted him up, and moved to hurl him into the water.

The man finally panicked: “Yushi! I swear! My master waits for you at the tavern ahead!”

Hai Rui did not turn: “I avoid flies like you who hide in shadows! I’m going to the Grand Coordinator’s office. If you wish to meet me, come there!”

Splash—the man tumbled into the river.

He struggled back to shore.

He clung to the bank, his head rising above the water.

Hai Rui and the Embroidered Uniform Guard had already vanished into the distance.

A window far off, slightly ajar, slammed shut in irritation.