Chapter 589

These two reasons alone were already enough to justify carrying it out. The truly critical point was this: a mere Commandant, holding a single county's territory and commanding a few hundred to nearly a thousand men — with that few men, that little territory, that meager pay and armament — was simply beneath the notice of the various grandees in court and country.

Since the relevant Director of the Bureau of Operations was pushing it, and silver had paved the way, everything naturally went smoothly. All manner of high-sounding documents were issued, and success followed as naturally as a channel takes shape when the water flows.

What Zhang Qinghai had worried about most beforehand was not the Ministry of War. There, his face carried weight from top to bottom. The real trouble was the Xuzhou Regional Commander's side — that was a senior general guarding an entire region, someone who could find connections and pull strings from the Ministry of War all the way to the Imperial Stables Directorate. Although Wang Youshan had said he could mention his own name when handling the matter, how could a grand Regional Commander possibly regard a mere Rank-7 Censor? Yet, unexpectedly, it was precisely this side that went smoothly, without the slightest hindrance.

The Xuzhou Regional Commander, Zhou Baolu, naturally knew how to play the game. Even if he hadn't known at first, once he understood that Wang Youshan was behind this matter, he could guess the whole story. It was nothing more than two Commandants — he didn't have to worry about their provisions and pay, nor would his own benefits be shortchanged. Perhaps, with closer ties, he might even reap greater benefits from the Zhao Character Camp in the future.

Zhang Qinghai, the Director of the Bureau of Operations in the Ministry of War in the capital, could never have imagined that Zhou Baolu, the Regional Commander now in Xuzhou, shared the exact same thought as him: to retire peacefully and go home to live out his old age. For Zhang Qinghai, it was because he was getting on in years and had no hope of advancement. For Regional Commander Zhou, it was because he was constantly on edge — with a great tiger like the Zhao Character Camp at his side, heaven only knew when some major disaster might erupt. The sooner he handed over his duties, the sooner any calamity would have nothing to do with him.

Out of thin air, Xuzhou established the positions of Xiao County Commandant and Dangshan Commandant, and further stipulated that men from the Xuzhou Guard be appointed to them. This task, which had seemed immensely difficult, was in fact accomplished with little effort. The time spent was all due to the back-and-forth of official documents and procedures in various places. Even the silver spent on greasing palms up and down the hierarchy came to less than six thousand taels.

All told, Zhang Qinghai had already received nearly seven thousand taels. The matter had been handled simply and swiftly, and Zhang Qinghai, being a seasoned man who knew his limits, proposed forgoing the subsequent five thousand taels of silver, asking only that the two-thousand-odd taels for "greasing palms" be made up.

Wang Youshan, with his even more exquisite grasp of human nature and worldly wisdom, simply sent the five thousand taels of silver over anyway.

With the matter handled to this extent, everyone was thoroughly pleased. Zhang Qinghai and Wang Youshan went from being slightly more than nodding acquaintances to the closest of confidants who could talk about anything, frequently gathering for drinks and banquets.

Yet their growing closeness also had its frustrations. Because both men had connections to the palace, the taint of "Eunuch Faction" always vaguely clung to them, and there were not many others with whom they could socialize.

It was already the fifth month. Even in the northern capital, the weather had turned pleasant, though the occasional windblown sand was still heavy. Before the sky had darkened, Zhang Qinghai had some seasonal delicacies prepared at his own residence, opened a jar of the Hanjing Famous Wine that Wang Youshan had sent, and set a private feast in the main hall. The two men drank facing each other and chatted, both feeling relaxed and at ease.

"... In another two months, my worthy younger brother will be promoted high. From then on, your future will be boundless..." As the wine warmed them, their words grew more plentiful.

In the official circles of the capital, who didn't know that Wang Youshan, having been reinstated, was merely enduring a year in the Censorate before being exceptionally promoted? Zhang Qinghai, clear-minded despite the wine, was also using this to offer a few words of flattery.

Unexpectedly, when this was brought up, a bitter smile appeared on Wang Youshan's face. He merely waved his hand and said, "An official career is like the weather — clear one moment, rainy the next, with no constancy. Last year, when Elder Brother Zhang spoke thus, your younger brother would still have modestly demurred. This year, if you say so, your younger brother dares not accept it!"

"Oh? I've been so busy with that affair these days that I truly haven't learned much of outside matters. I won't hide it from you, Worthy Younger Brother — this old wreck of a man is past his prime. Others won't bother to tell me any news. Has there been a change? On the Grand Chief Censor's side?"

The so-called Grand Chief Censor referred to the Left Chief Censor of the Chief Surveillance Bureau, a grandee on par with the Six Ministers, and also the leader of Wang Youshan's faction.

Wang Youshan held the sleeve of his right hand with his left, raised his hand to point upward, and said softly, "The one even higher up."

Both being in the capital, some words needed only a hint to be understood. Zhang Qinghai was instantly enlightened. A bitter smile also appeared on his face as he shook his head and sighed, "The sea of officialdom is fickle — in power today, fallen tomorrow. Worthy Younger Brother need not take it too much to heart. With a mountain of gold at home, why endure hardship here? Wouldn't it be better to go back and live the life of an immortal?"

Wang Youshan's lavish spending had left a deep impression on Zhang Qinghai, hence this consolation. After speaking, Zhang Qinghai turned to the main topic and lowered his voice: "It seems the news of that one's failing health is true after all. On the throne for over forty years, not showing his face for over twenty — so it has come to this day after all!"

The one who could be above the Left Chief Censor of the Chief Surveillance Bureau could only be the Senior Grand Secretary, Fang Congzhe. But the Wanli Emperor, having been dominated by Zhang Juzheng in his youth, had spent all his years on the throne steadily weakening the authority of the Grand Secretariat. Nowadays, the Secretariat was often understaffed; at times, from the Senior Grand Secretary down to the Grand Secretaries, there was only a single man — utterly weak and powerless. Zhang Qinghai naturally understood clearly who this "higher up" referred to.

It was now the forty-sixth year of the Wanli reign. The Wanli Emperor had reigned for forty-six years, but he had not attended court for over twenty. Though he did not attend court, that did not mean the government was beyond his control. His silence often represented a kind of tacit approval. The faction to which Wang Youshan belonged had risen to power precisely by relying on this tacit approval.

Now, news of the Wanli Emperor's failing health had spread throughout the capital. The Donglin partisans, who had been dismissed by the Zhejiang, Chu, and Qi factions, were recently being reinstated one after another because of their closeness to Crown Prince Zhu Changluo's line.

The Son of Heaven had not explicitly said anything, and the news of his health, good or bad, was merely rumor on the wind. Yet everyone knew the direction of the greater current. With the old giving way to the new, one could not cling desperately to that original great tree; one had to leave a path of retreat for oneself as well.

Having spoken to this point, they could speak no further. The two men fell silent for a while. Zhang Qinghai then lifted his wine bowl and took a sip. Wine dripped onto his beard, but he paid it no mind, reaching up to stroke it away. For some reason, he seemed somewhat dejected.

"What is there worth staying in this capital for? Better to go back, better to go back. Everywhere is riddled with gaping holes now. The next term will be full of hardship, and who knows how many faults and curses one will have to bear. Go back early, enjoy yourself early," Zhang Qinghai said with a smile. It was unclear whether by "next term" he meant himself or the Wanli Emperor.

Though they were speaking of the bleak prospects of his own official career, Wang Youshan himself did not seem to care. He merely smiled and said, "It's been riddled with gaping holes for so many years, and haven't we still muddled through? In a few years, perhaps it will be peace under heaven once more."

Wang Youshan did not care, but Zhang Qinghai had his own worries stirred by these words and began drinking more hurriedly. Hearing Wang Youshan's remark, he let out a scoff: "Both the west and the east have rotted through completely. Heaven knows when someone will come smashing in. If you're not in the Ministry of War, you don't know — where in this Great Ming is there any army left that can fight? And who is willing to send out the troops that can fight? They guard them as preciously as their own silver."

The soldiers belonged to their commanders. Military officers at every level skimmed pay and provisions to support their own household retainers and personal troops. These household retainers and personal guards obeyed only that one man's command and were not subject to control by superiors or the state — they were, in effect, the private property of the military officers.

This situation had been worsening since the Zhengde reign. Every dynasty since had tried to change it but was powerless to do so, and by now they could only sit back and let it run its course. Wang Youshan knew all this as well. It was a topic anyone with a slight knowledge of military affairs would discuss, but when this subject arose, Wang Youshan had another thought and took the opportunity to ask: "Elder Brother Zhang exaggerates. Not to speak of other places, in the east, Liaodong Garrison is the pillar that calms the seas. The Li family has trained countless crack troops and produced over a hundred fierce generals. Of the Three Great Campaigns, the Li family took part in two — the Japanese pirates in Korea, and Bobai in Ningxia. With a force like that present, what is there to worry about?"

"Liaodong Garrison? The Li family?" Zhang Qinghai asked twice in return, then immediately laughed.

Wang Youshan furrowed his brow, inexplicably recalling the correspondence with his family, remembering Wang Zhaojing saying that Zhao Jin was concerned about the Jurchens. In Wang Youshan's view, this was merely the wild fantasies of a young man, shocking others with grand words. What was there to pay attention to about the Eastern Barbarian Jurchens? He had never heard of them causing any trouble. Every year they paid tribute and traded at the markets, behaving with the utmost deference. The Great Ming's great threat still lay in the north — the Tumet, Chahar, Khalkha, and other major Mongol tribes were the true inner afflictions.

That Zhao Jin was fond of martial matters and military strategy, and naturally enjoyed discussing such grand affairs of state and war. But on this matter, he appeared to lack any insight, which also proved that this man had no grasp of the larger picture. He might seem shrewd and capable, but he was probably quite muddled.

During his long stay in the capital, everything Wang Youshan had seen and heard increasingly confirmed his judgment of Zhao Jin. Thus, he paid even more attention to this topic than others, and today it happened to come up in conversation.

Zhang Qinghai was already somewhat tipsy, and his words had grown considerably more plentiful.

"The Liaodong Garrison rotted through long ago. The troops Li Chengliang trained have long since died off completely. Those so-called fierce generals under him are a joke — I'm afraid the only thing they're better at than us is farming and doing business."

Before Wang Youshan could speak, Zhang Qinghai continued, "You remember that affair of abandoning the Kuandian defenses, don't you?"

Wang Youshan nodded. Kuandian was a border region of the Liaodong Garrison, where fortresses had been built. There were nearly sixty thousand households of border settlers who had reclaimed and cultivated the land, trading with the Jurchens and Mongols. It was considered a prosperous and thriving place. In the thirty-fourth year of the Wanli reign, Li Chengliang had claimed that this place was isolated beyond the Liaodong Garrison and unfavorable for defense. He wanted to abandon the six fortresses including Kuandian and relocate the populace back to the interior of the Liaodong Garrison.

In the Liaodong Garrison region, Li Chengliang's word had always been final — whatever he said, went. Moreover, the remote borderlands were hardly considered part of the Great Ming proper; no one cared about any changes there.

After the abandonment was carried out, quite a few in court even praised Li Chengliang for his seasoned statecraft, saying that abandoning Kuandian had made the Liaodong Garrison's defenses more comprehensive and left no gaps.

The censors of the various circuits in the Chief Surveillance Bureau were the most well-informed. Wang Youshan naturally knew of this matter but had never paid it much mind. Over on his side, Zhang Qinghai, swaying his head, continued: "Over fifty thousand households of common folk in Kuandian, over ten thousand qing of fertile land, fortresses built at such great expense in silver — all abandoned just like that. The memorials and documents made it sound so simple — 'the people were happy to relocate to the interior, grateful for the imperial grace.' Do you know how horrific it really was?"

Wang Youshan's expression grew solemn, but Zhang Qinghai did not seem to care much. He simply answered his own question: "They said leave, and they had to leave. The common folk had just settled their homes and put down roots — how could they bear to abandon them? The Liaodong Garrison troops used force to drive them out, using the opportunity to plunder their wealth and goods. The Jurchens outside followed right behind, looting and seizing people to take back as slaves. Along that entire journey, how many families were destroyed, how many people died on the road? And his memorial summed it up with a single phrase — 'grateful for the imperial grace.' What an utter joke!"

Begging for monthly tickets is truly difficult.