Chapter 90: Piercing the Heart, Seizing the Will

Facing the emperor’s stern expression, Zhang Juzheng did not lose his composure.

He slowly straightened his posture, fixing his gaze on the emperor: “Your Majesty insists on punishing Xu Jie?”

Zhu Yijun met his gaze and nodded without concealment: “If Xu Shaoshi had quietly returned his lands, I might have granted him dignity. But now, with such conduct, I cannot tolerate him.”

Had Xu Jie’s move been directed against the Shizong Emperor, he would surely have escaped alive.

Or rather, Xu Jie has deliberately pushed himself to the level of Shizong.

As long as I blend in and conceal my brilliance, my prestige and my ability to rally reformers will naturally be diminished.

An emperor who blends in and prioritizes the greater good finds it hard to gather momentum.

Leaving these aside… the real hurdle lies within the heart.

This is the inevitable path for many emperors: they make grand vows upon ascending the throne, then fall silent afterward.

It is because they cannot overcome the inner barrier, and lose their will.

Xu Jie is striking at the heart! He is seizing the will!

If I do not punish Xu Jie for such actions, I will never find peace.

Having received the emperor’s answer, Zhang Juzheng continued: “Your Majesty insists on keeping Hai Rui?”

Zhu Yijun shook his head.

He explained: “It is not about Hai Rui—it is about me.”

“I confess to you, my chief minister, I once instructed Hai Rui: cases involving officials of fourth rank or higher are to be handled by me.”

“He will not pressure me, but if I blend in and conceal my brilliance, I will surely disappoint Hai Rui, the people, and the upright scholars and officials!”

“Master Zhang, ask yourself honestly: would your expectations of me not be greatly diminished?”

Zhang Juzheng acknowledged: “Your Majesty speaks wisely.”

He pressed further: “Does Your Majesty insist on convicting every person involved?”

Zhu Yijun did not answer directly.

Instead, he looked at Zhang Juzheng and said: “Chief Minister, this is the first step in renewing the old and establishing the new.”

“Not only Xu Jie is watching, not only Hai Rui is watching—all civil and military officials are watching.”

“This journey through Nan Zhili carries the weight of the empire’s hopes.”

“If we begin with a roar and end with a whimper… it will become far harder afterward.”

Zhang Juzheng nodded.

With an expressionless face, he suddenly stepped close to the emperor.

He snatched the memorial the emperor was reading from his hands.

He declared sternly: “Then, I have advice to offer Your Majesty.”

Zhu Yijun suddenly found his hands empty, bewildered.

He glanced at the disrespectful Zhang Juzheng but said nothing in reprimand.

His attention quickly returned to Zhang Juzheng’s words, and he asked curiously: “Chief Minister, please speak.”

This time, Zhang Juzheng made no further avoidance; he lowered his head and carefully scanned every name mentioned by Xu Jie.

As he scanned, he kept his eyes down: “Your Majesty has not yet assumed personal rule; the Two Palaces oversee the state, and the Grand Secretariat assists.”

Having committed all the names to memory, Zhang Juzheng raised his head and looked at the emperor seriously: “This matter must be handled by the Empress Dowager and me!”

Zhu Yijun froze.

Hearing this, he could not hide his hesitation.

His confidence waned, and he could not help but confirm: “Chief Minister wishes to take this matter upon yourself?”

Zhang Juzheng nodded; correspondingly, his presence grew stronger.

He declared solemnly: “The resentment over this matter must not fall upon Your Majesty.”

After half a year of working together, he had come to understand the emperor’s nature.

From his words and conduct, he had gained some insight.

From supporting the Kaocheng Law, recalling Hai Rui to audit the salt monopoly, to his recent heartfelt words—this young emperor stands out among all emperors in history—he has been shaped into an excellent vessel.

At least for now, after my retirement, the emperor will be able to continue carrying the banner of reform.

Among the New Party, whether Lu Diaoyang, Shen Shixing, Wang Guoguang, or even Wang Xijue far away in Nan Zhili, all strongly support this young emperor’s reform agenda.

Especially his stance toward Hai Rui just now.

It truly carries the air of unwavering resolve.

Such a young emperor…

If I force this matter upon myself, the resentment falls on me—mother and son estranged, ruler and minister divided, nobles filled with resentment.

If, after assuming personal rule, he struggles to move forward, all this effort would be wasted!

Zhu Yijun fell silent.

These past days, he had hesitated precisely because the matter was so thorny.

He had never expected Zhang Juzheng would willingly take it on.

Whoever handles this becomes the target of all arrows.

Zhu Yijun asked: “What do you intend to do?”

Zhang Juzheng declared solemnly: “Apply the law!”

“The incidents in Nan Zhili—the salt merchants’ unrest, the scholar class’s uproar, the sinking of grain barges—all shall be treated as treason and punished accordingly!”

“Wang Zhihao shielded his son’s murder; the son shall be retried according to law.”

“As for other cases of corruption and bribery: those who must return ill-gotten gains shall do so; those who must be demoted shall be demoted.”

Zhu Yijun could not help but feel his blood boil at the words.

What a decisive and forceful approach!

But, alas, it was unrealistic.

With such deep and wide-reaching entanglements, even Zhang Juzheng himself could not withstand it—let alone this emperor.

Zhang Juzheng was no man who spoke without purpose.

Zhu Yijun knew there was more, and said softly: “What do you advise, Master?”

Zhang Juzheng gave a barely perceptible nod, clearly pleased by the emperor’s inquiry.

He spoke with deep meaning: “There are only three days until the new era begins. Your Majesty plans to grant a general amnesty, do you not?”

“I suggest issuing the edict after the Lantern Festival, combining it with this act of grace.”

Zhu Yijun froze.

Then he nodded.

Unlike in later eras, applying the law did not mean conviction automatically meant punishment.

Though all eyes were upon us, a general amnesty was still part of Great Ming law.

Thus, cases could be adjudicated, yet the accused could still be pardoned.

But Zhu Yijun did not speak.

Zhang Juzheng continued: “Thus, the case can proceed: those convicted of treason in Nan Zhili shall have their sentences commuted to death after the amnesty.”

“Corrupt officials in the capital may also be pardoned according to circumstance.”

“Perfectly aligned with the law, yet without overextending the reach.”

Hearing this, Zhu Yijun could not help but sigh:

“I understand. But the resentment falls on you, while the grace falls upon me.”

“Afterward, your ability to govern will be severely hindered.”

He had considered this point himself.

Even with a general amnesty, though punishment is lifted, guilt is still established—and returning ill-gotten gains remains unavoidable.

The resentment may lessen, but not by much.

Someone must bear the burden.

Zhang Juzheng pondered the strange phrase, understood its meaning, then set it aside.

He looked earnestly at the emperor: “Your Majesty, if the scope of involvement is limited, we can suppress it for now.”

“I… do not care about my posthumous reputation.”

To say he did not care was impossible—but what happens in life matters more than what happens after death.

Zhu Yijun fell into thought.

Such a massive matter could not be handled by Hai Rui—it could only be shouldered by the emperor or the chief minister.

Of course, the regent Empress Dowager could, but that was unrealistic: to dump the black burden onto a woman ignorant of state affairs would make the ministers immediately sense something was wrong; in the end, no clear target for resentment would emerge, and they would simply hate together—the emperor, the chief minister, the court.

It was better for one man to bear it alone.

But if Zhang Juzheng truly took this burden…

Zhu Yijun raised his eyes to look at Zhang Juzheng.

The chief minister’s reputation would be utterly ruined.

After all, Xu Jie’s denunciations included this chief minister himself—if he then turned and ruthlessly crushed his colleagues, the court, the scholar class, and even the common people would have nothing but contempt.

Even if I tried to artificially elevate Zhang Juzheng’s reputation, I could not silence the whispers of the world; in the end, the wild histories would surely paint him as some monstrous figure carried in a thirty-two-man palanquin.

Moreover, how many chief ministers who took on such burdens ever remained in office?

Yan Song, the infamous scapegoat—his ultimate fate speaks for itself.

Given Zhang Juzheng’s devotion to the new laws, he certainly does not wish to retire.

This is gambling on the Emperor’s character in his political career!

Zhu Yijun couldn’t help asking: “Sir, do you really trust me?”

Zhang Juzheng gave the Emperor a long look: “I, sir, will not be worse than Hai Rui.”

If the Emperor remains steadfast toward Hai Rui, how much less would I, Zhang Juzheng, falter?

Had the Emperor lacked this resolve, he would have long since prioritized the greater good.

This is not trust in the Emperor—this is self-confidence.

Zhu Yijun paused, then suddenly understood.

It was just moments ago, in his agitation, that he had questioned Zhang Juzheng: “Surely you didn’t restore Hai Rui only to force him into retirement again?”

Even so, Zhu Yijun could not help but sigh.

This is pride—and genuine, unshakable trust.

But…

I did promise to restore the reputations of these men after their deaths.

If I let Zhang Juzheng take all the blame, it will be too easy for enemies to strike back later. As long as I live, I can protect him—but I fear that once I die, they will dig up his corpse and desecrate it.

If the world’s course converges to this point, it would be too cruel.

Seeing the Emperor silent, Zhang Juzheng bowed again: “Your Majesty, then let it be so.”

Just as he was about to kneel and withdraw, he suddenly felt the Emperor’s hand stop him.

The Emperor looked at him with a complex expression, murmuring: “Let me think… think again.”

Zhu Yijun lifted his head, lost in thought.

Zhang Juzheng could not help urging: “Your Majesty, there is no other way.”

Seeing the Emperor remain silent, Zhang Juzheng felt a pang of emotion.

He himself had proposed this, and he knew full well the consequences.

Had the previous two Emperors been here, they would have agreed without hesitation. It is precisely because Your Majesty hesitates that it moves one deeply.

But the greater good stands here—there are few choices left.

Zhang Juzheng gripped the Emperor’s hand that held him up, earnestly saying: “Your Majesty, if we pretend ignorance of this matter, we betray the world’s great expectations.”

“If we continue the investigation, the resentment will run too deep.”

“Right now, no one but me can shoulder this burden.”

Zhu Yijun remained silent.

Long moments passed.

He exhaled a heavy breath: “Sir, I won’t hide it from you—if the Grand Secretariat insists I prioritize the greater good…”

“I might well… immediately order Hai Rui to return to Beijing with the confiscated silver, use that money to reorganize the Capital Garrison, even if I must select Hanlin scholars right here in the Western Garden and reopen the Three Provinces—I’ll swallow this half-cooked meal.”

Zhang Juzheng’s expression changed, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Zhu Yijun pressed his hand down and continued: “But now that you and I are of one heart…”

“This matter shall be dropped.”

“But… if I let you bear it all alone, I cannot pass my own moral test.”

“I have another idea.”

He paused, then looked earnestly at Zhang Juzheng: “Sir, do you truly believe I cannot bear these resentments?”

…

First day of the first month, Wanli Year One.

Huai’an Prefecture Office.

Xu Jie sat calmly in a study, writing large characters on two couplets.

Chen Yinzhao stood beside him, curiously peering at Xu Jie’s brushwork.

He couldn’t help but admire: What a fine hand.

Xu Jie studied under Nie Bao and was a second-generation disciple of Wang Shouren—his lineage was orthodox and prestigious.

As the third-place Jinshi of Jiajing Year Two, he soared straight into the Hanlin Academy thanks to his superb calligraphy and prose.

His self-styled phrase “Xuanwen Ru Zhi” was not without reason.

After a long while, Xu Jie completed both couplets in one breath, set down his brush.

He rose, studied them for a long while, then nodded in satisfaction.

“Go, paste the couplets on the door.”

Xu Jie instructed Chen Yinzhao.

He had no objection to living in prison—but Hai Rui said the Three Judicial Offices had not yet convicted him, so he remained a senior minister of superlative rank, and they had specially prepared a courtyard room in the prefecture office for him.

Since he was here, he might as well make peace with it.

He had settled in, and with the New Year approaching, why not write two couplets to bring some festive spirit?

Chen Yinzhao swiftly took them and ran outside to paste the couplets.

Xu Jie relaxed, leaning back in his armchair, closing his eyes to rest.

He had been under Hai Rui’s soft confinement for many days.

But Xu Jie was not in a hurry.

This was already his utmost effort; further haste would only shorten his life.

He had now openly confessed everything—no matter how the Emperor viewed him, at least publicly, he had bowed his neck in submission.

Worst case, they would just confiscate his family’s property.

If the Emperor wished to execute him, no one else would ever kneel so utterly again.

Then see whether Wang Chonggu dares to return to Beijing—does he not fear being executed afterward?

See whether Zhang Juzheng’s land survey will find any senior ministers willing to cooperate—he, Xu Jie, of such status, cooperated so thoroughly and still barely escaped death—who dares to cooperate?

And among the court ministers, who does not have some incriminating record? Who is not afraid of an Emperor who revels in slaughter?

This is how one seeks life from death!

When he realized that Gao Gong had been sent to Songjiang, and that Hai Rui had killed his servants—all orchestrated by whom—he understood the Emperor intended to kill him.

A military mutiny? He lacked the strength, and it would mean extermination of his entire clan.

Submission? If that were truly an option, the Emperor would not have sent Gao Gong and Hai Rui south together—he would have first sent Zhang Juzheng with a letter.

Other schemes, like banding together for mutual protection, were unlikely to be united; crossing oceans, an old man had no desire to endure such turmoil.

After much deliberation, Xu Jie finally saw clearly.

Why did the Emperor want to kill him?

Surely for the land survey! He was a ruler determined to renew and reform.

Of such men, Xu Jie understood best.

Those who seek reform always possess unwavering resolve!

Once they retreat even once, they will never rise again.

He understood, because the Jiajing Emperor had been just so.

He vowed to reform, but after one retreat, he lost all spirit.

Even… Xu Jie himself, in his youth, had been the same.

Now that he understood, the strategy was clear: bind the greater good to himself! The Emperor must either press forward with renewal and punish them all—or retreat like Jiajing!

Let the Emperor choose.

He was already a lamb led to slaughter—nothing could be worse.

While Xu Jie dozed, he noticed the noble heir guarding him had not returned, and sat up curiously to look outside.

He saw a guard speaking with the heir.

After a while,

Chen Yinzhao entered and politely addressed Xu Jie: “Master Xu, we must go to the Grand Canal Office.”

Xu Jie immediately understood: “Has Gao Gong come again?”

Chen Yinzhao nodded reluctantly.

Xu Jie’s interest stirred: “Come, take me to meet Gao Gong.”

Since he turned himself in to Hai Rui, Gao Gong had repeatedly come demanding his release.

Then, upon learning Xu Jie had exposed countless others—including eighteen chests of physical evidence—he had immediately tried to burn the chests.

After Hai Rui stopped him, Gao Gong came every few days.

Chen Yinzhao quickly blocked him: “Master Xu, the Marquis of Ding’an has a violent temper—he came armed with a sword. Please be cautious.”

Xu Jie was startled, cursed inwardly: “Brute!” and sat back down, disgruntled.

As they spoke, Hai Rui suddenly stepped in.

“Provincial Governor,” Chen Yinzhao quickly bowed.

Hai Rui nodded, gently saying: “Today is New Year’s Day—go find your father. I’ll keep Master Xu company.”

Chen Yinzhao was delighted: “Thank you, Provincial Governor!”

He quietly withdrew from the room, and only when he turned the corner did he break into a run.

Hai Rui gestured to Luo Sigong to fetch some food. Luo Sigong hesitated, then stepped only to the doorway and called a guard to do it.

Now alone in the room, Hai Rui nodded to Xu Jie: “Master Xu.”

When the room was empty, Hai Rui nodded to Xu Jie: “Master Xu.”

Xu Jie asked curiously, “Did Gao Yi leave so quickly today?”

Hai Rui smiled. “It’s the New Year—after all, his wife is waiting for him at home.”

Xu Jie hummed in acknowledgment, his tone wistful. “Have you already divided up all my family’s land?”

When he told the Emperor he supported land surveying, that was his stance.

Now, if the Emperor hasn’t replied yet but Gao Yi has already acted, that’s Gao Yi’s capability.

Hai Rui shook his head. “The land is still being measured and registered, but it’s nearly done. Once everything’s clarified, redistribution will begin.”

Xu Jie smiled helplessly.

After a few brief exchanges, Luo Sigong entered the room carrying a jug of wine and a plate of noodles.

After placing the food on the table, Luo Sigong returned to guard the door.

Hai Rui lifted the dumplings onto his own plate and pushed a bowl of noodles toward Xu Jie.

“The yamen’s food isn’t as good as your household’s, but please make do, Master Xu.”

Xu Jie accepted the bowl with surprise. “What’s this?”

Hai Rui smiled and explained, “No special meaning—just the New Year. With family away, there should be some atmosphere.”

Xu Jie’s expression was unreadable. “I didn’t expect Provincial Governor Hai to treat me with such courtesy.”

Logically, I should be in prison by now.

Even if not yet convicted, there’s no need to serve me—throw me into the firewood shed and it’s the same.

Yet I’ve been given a side room, allowed to write and read freely in the study, and now I’m served noodles for the New Year.

Hai Rui looked at Xu Jie, his expression complex.

Suddenly he rose and bowed deeply. “I haven’t yet thanked you, Master Xu, for saving me back then.”

Xu Jie froze.

Then he understood.

Long ago, when Hai Rui petitioned the Jiajing Emperor, he was imprisoned and sentenced to death.

Many pleaded for Hai Rui’s life—among them, Xu Jie, or rather, led by Xu Jie.

That was indeed a debt of gratitude.

But Xu Jie never expected Hai Rui to bring this up in such a moment.

He accepted the bow calmly, then teased, “Then why has the Censor repeatedly made things difficult for me?”

After the late Emperor ascended the throne, Hai Rui ignited the Tousuan Case.

Now, after the new Emperor’s accession, Hai Rui has come to investigate the Huai Salt Case.

It’s hard to see any gratitude in Hai Rui’s heart.

Hai Rui shook his head. “I never make things difficult for anyone.”

“The Great Ming has its laws. I merely enforce the state’s law.”

He sighed. “It is Master Xu who repeatedly violates the state’s law—that’s why I’m forced to oppose you.”

Xu Jie paused, then nodded, accepting this explanation.

He picked up his chopsticks, took a bite, and chewed.

Mumbling, “Now that I’ve provided so many charges, why hasn’t the Censor prosecuted them all?”

After chewing twice, he found the flavor bland and asked Luo Sigong for vinegar.

He apologized to Hai Rui. “I’m old—my taste has faded greatly.”

Hai Rui sat upright, watching Xu Jie eat in silence.

He did not directly answer Xu Jie’s question, but fell into long silence.

Only after Luo Sigong brought vinegar in and left again did Hai Rui speak.

“His Majesty instructed me: for officials of rank four and above, he will handle them personally.”

“Since I have no authority, I cannot act on my own.”

Xu Jie poured vinegar into his bowl three times, then two more, and passed it to Hai Rui. “Eat while we talk—it’s the New Year.”

Hai Rui automatically took the vinegar Xu Jie offered.

He remained silent.

Then he came to his senses and poured it over the dumplings.

Xu Jie continued, “It seems the Provincial Governor has something on his mind?”

Hai Rui silently ate a dumpling, shook his head, and said nothing more.

He was no stranger to compromise, but he was stunned by the eighteen chests of evidence and the countless names involved.

Not to mention—even the Empress Dowager was implicated!

Did he hope the Emperor would prosecute everyone? Or did he hope the Emperor would bury the matter?

To be honest, Hai Rui felt this dilemma for the first time.

Xu Jie pressed on: “Are you wondering how His Majesty will handle this?”

“Will His Majesty bury the matter—or remain impartial?”

Everyone is waiting now—Gao Yi waits, Xu Jie waits, and Hai Rui waits too—all waiting for this young Emperor’s stance and decision.

Hai Rui fell into silence again.

Xu Jie paid no mind, finishing every last bite of noodles, then lifted the bowl and drank the broth.

“I trust His Majesty.”

Hai Rui suddenly spoke. Xu Jie was startled.

Then he realized Hai Rui was answering his earlier question.

Hai Rui looked at him and repeated, “I trust His Majesty.”

Still typed it out—this isn’t a day off, don’t delete the leave note

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(End of Chapter)