Chapter 800: The Censor Who Plotted Rebellion

After all, the eunuchs spent little time studying — most of their time went to handling duties — whereas the scholars, wanting to enter officialdom, had to study the useless Four Books and Five Classics, wasting far too much of their time and energy.

The eunuchs and palace attendants held heavy authority, but the one making decisions was ultimately the Son of Heaven. The Donglin courtiers had rendered great service in the Palace Relocation Case and, riding on the Red Pill Case, had swept their political enemies clean. When they petitioned the Son of Heaven, the Son of Heaven would not rashly reject them.

Yet the current Tianqi Emperor, like his grandfather, disliked holding court. Within a few months of his ascension, everyone inside and outside the capital knew that His Majesty loved carpentry, loved pretty young eunuchs, and simply did not love attending court to hear governance.

Seeing the advantage they had so painstakingly gained about to slip away, the Donglin partisans grew ever more frantic, mobilizing every force inside and out to wrest it back. In such circumstances, who still had the mind to care about Liaodong?

Since Yuan Yingtai had died for the country, then that Xiong Tingbi who had done a decent job before — just toss him back over to try. In any case, no one sent to Liaodong ever met a good end. Xiong Tingbi was not one of the Donglin faction anyway; let him go there and live or die on his own.

Compared to the capital's hundred officials, who either did not care or had no time to care, Wang Youshan followed every move in Liaodong with the utmost attention.

At first, he too had thought there was no need to be overly concerned. Since the Chengzu Emperor's northern campaigns, the Great Ming's northern frontier had suffered no small number of humiliating setbacks. At the Tumu Crisis, even the Son of Heaven was lost. The Little Prince, Altan Khan — one grassland hegemon after another emerged, and the Great Ming suffered loss after loss. The capital being brushed by Tatar troops was not something that happened just once or twice. Yet the Great Ming had still lived well to this day, while those grassland heroes had died off or rotted away, vanished to who knows where long ago.

What sort of goods were the Jianzhou Jurchens anyway, to warrant such concern? In the twentieth year of Wanli, they were still obediently paying tribute — a small tribe of no more than two hundred thousand people. At the start, the Great Ming was bound to suffer some losses; that was the usual pattern time and again. But if things dragged on like this, the Jianzhou Jurchens would lose their vigor and spirit, and would slowly decline. In ten years or a few decades, everyone would find them in the history books.

But after the Jianzhou Jurchens, who now called themselves the Great Jin, took Fushun City, took Qinghe Fort, and won the great victory at Sarhū, Wang Youshan could no longer afford not to take them seriously.

There was one fundamental difference between the eastern Jurchen brigands and the western Mongol raiders: they could not only win field battles, but also assault cities and seize strongholds. After making inquiries, Wang Youshan learned just what kind of fortifications Fushun and Qinghe Fort were. Such strong cities and strategic fortresses, defended by the Liaodong Garrison's border troops — long famed as elite — had been taken just like that by the Jianzhou Jurchen army. In the past, when the Mongol tribes invaded, no one dared meet their sharp edge in the field, but everyone could manage to strengthen defenses and clear the countryside, knowing full well the Mongol tribes were poor at siege warfare. The occasional city that fell was always some weak, thinly defended county seat.

They could win in the field and could also assault cities and take strongholds — that meant the Great Ming had no shield before them. In the long term, they might perhaps lose their edge, but as things stood now, no matter how you looked at it, they were a mortal threat to the Great Ming.

Wang Youshan now had quite good relations with a number of officials and clerks in the Ministry of War. Everyone knew perfectly well that Wang Youshan had no future in officialdom. But this Censor Wang spent money very freely — never mind that he often treated everyone to banquets, the holiday gifts were also lavish. And what he asked for was very simple: he just wanted to know the latest on the Liaodong frontier as quickly as possible.

People come in all kinds. Wang Youshan was so generous — clearly he had no shortage of silver, and his official career had no path forward. Perhaps he could only shift his interest to matters of state and war.

The news from Liaodong was hardly some military state secret. Besides, keeping it secret brought no personal benefit, so whatever ought to be told was told. Moreover, whoever spoke up earliest got the richest reward from Wang Youshan. Over time, everyone in the Ministry of War scrambled to leak him information.

Whenever he received news, Wang Youshan always put on a polite smile, but that smile grew stiffer and stiffer. What sort of places were Liaoyang and Shenyang? They were the core of Liaodong, equivalent to the provincial capitals and key cities within the Pass. Even such places had been taken by the Jianzhou Jurchens, and a court minister had committed suicide for the country. Then what shield did the Great Ming have left?

Seeing the Ministry of War people's utterly unconcerned manner chilled Wang Youshan's heart even more. Since the Jianzhou Jurchens had raised troops and invaded, Liaodong had lost six major cities, countless forts and stockades, no fewer than ten Regional Commanders and senior generals dead, and officers below the rank of Assistant Regional Commander beyond count, over a hundred thousand soldiers. The Great Ming was indeed vast in territory and rich in resources, but it only had a dozen or so provinces. How many more great cities like Shenyang and Liaoyang were there? How many more Regional Commanders and Assistant Regional Commanders? How many more hundred-thousand-strong armies?

No one in the Ministry of War cared. Those in the Chief Surveillance Bureau who did care were only concerned for the sake of factional strife — looking into who had replaced Xiong Tingbi back then, who had promoted Yuan Yingtai, who should be held responsible for this great defeat in Liaodong, and who should be held responsible for the situation in Liaodong going forward.

The indifference of everyone, the muddle-headedness of the majority, made Wang Youshan feel very alone, and also made him shudder with dread. Was he the one who was wrong, or was everyone else wrong? If he was not wrong, why did everyone in the capital, high and low, pay so little attention to Liaodong and the Jurchens?

Everyone said it was but a skin rash, everyone said cultivate virtue and the Tatar slaves would come and submit of their own accord. Yet Wang Youshan felt that those youngsters in Xuzhou were right. The Great Ming was indeed a great tree with luxuriant branches and leaves, but the Jianzhou Jurchens were swinging an axe at it, blow by blow. Each axe blow shaved a little more off the Great Ming's foundation. Chopping blow by blow like this, sooner or later they would fell this great tree. And perhaps if the tree-feller peered around, he would also discover that the Great Ming's scholars were on the other side, sawing at the tree with a saw — though of course, they would say they were doing it for the Great Ming's own good.

What was more troubling was that Wang Youshan could see no possibility of change. Was the Great Ming truly finished like this? Just letting these Jianzhou Jurchen Tatar slaves fight their way in step by step? Wang Youshan thought of Xuzhou, but he never believed those few youngsters in Xuzhou could really change all that much. Perhaps they could protect themselves!

Ever since the news that Liaoyang and Shenyang were threatened came back, Wang Youshan had invited Ministry of War people to banquets every day, incidentally gathering information. Later on, he would even go to the Ministry of War once during the day to see if there were any urgent dispatches. After the news of Liaoyang and Shenyang's fall came back, Wang Youshan still kept going nonstop, just wanting to know more, wanting to know if there was anything further.

"Sir Wang need not be so anxious. It is nearly the fifth month now. The snow in Liaodong has melted and thawed, the roads are a morass of mud, and large forces cannot move easily. Nothing much should happen for now." The Ministry of War people consoled him thus.

It was just that indifferent reply, and that attitude of 'at least there will be no more trouble,' that always filled Wang Youshan's heart with anger — yet he could not let it show.

Going back and forth to the Ministry of War by sedan chair every day, Wang Youshan could also see the impatience beneath the Ministry officials' smiling faces. He understood the reasoning well enough: if not for the banquets and gifts, they would have given him the cold shoulder long ago.

Roughly as the Ministry of War officials had estimated, after Liaoyang and Shenyang were taken, the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army's offensive also halted. The situation in Liaodong stabilized once more — though this stability was one where the Great Ming, having lost the territory east of the Liao River, was beginning to reorganize its defenses anew west of the Liao River.

Returning home by sedan chair, Wang Youshan habitually sat in his study in a daze, occasionally picking up his brush to write a few lines. When his thoughts turned to a certain matter, his expression would grow incomparably heavy; when they turned to another, he would give a bitter, self-mocking smile. What he was doing in the capital was perhaps only to satisfy the curiosity of the youngsters back home. Why was he holding on here? Would it not be better to go back early, live at home, and farm and study? He had heard that his son's several oath-brothers had all arranged their betrothals — should he not urge his son along as well?

Wang Youshan wiped the sweat from his forehead. The study was very hot, because in this weather there was still a charcoal brazier burning. The brazier was used for heating in winter; the reason it was still kept in spring and summer was for another purpose.

There was not much point in staying in the capital. The situation at court had not yet clarified, but once it was settled, he would have to vacate his post. The Ministry of War people were already accustomed to taking his silver; as long as the silver kept flowing in the future, the flow of information would not be cut off. He would just leave a few servants here...

Wang Youshan was lost in thought in his study when he suddenly heard a clamor of shouting and yelling outside, even the sound of cursing. The noise seemed to be inside the residence compound.

The servants and attendants were all well-disciplined by Uncle He; there would never be conflicts among them. They all knew he liked quiet and would not make loud noise. What on earth was going on?

He had just set down his brush when he saw a servant rush into the study in alarm. The moment he entered, he said urgently, "Master, the Embroidered Uniform Guard has surrounded our house! They say our house is plotting rebellion!"

Wang Youshan's heart gave a thump. Rebellion? Could it be that the matters in Xuzhou had been exposed? What those youngsters of his family were doing was indeed utterly lawless. They had been able to muddle through only because no one reported it and the authorities did not pursue it. Had something been exposed now?

As the servant was reporting, footsteps could be heard outside. Wang Youshan drew a deep breath, grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, and threw them directly into the charcoal brazier. He said to the servant, "Watch them burn completely, or great calamity will follow."

With that, Wang Youshan strode out. The servant nervously turned the already burning papers to make them burn faster.

In truth, the papers were nothing more than records of information gathered from the Ministry of War — hardly a great calamity. But the Embroidered Uniform Guard's talent for implicating others was considerable; it was best to leave as few loose ends as possible.

A few steps out of the study, Wang Youshan ran into two Embroidered Uniform Guard agents, chests puffed out and bellies thrust forward, strutting with insufferable arrogance. The two men looked utterly relaxed, without the slightest tension of making an arrest or handling a case — they could not even be bothered to put on a threatening expression.

The difference in dress between master and servant was considerable. The moment they saw Wang Youshan, the agents knew at once he was the man they wanted. After a glance, they said carelessly, "Are you Wang Youshan, Censor of the Chief Surveillance Bureau?"

"I am he!"

"Your case of involvement in rebellion has come to light. Come with us!"

"What rebellion? I have been in the capital for many years, conducting myself and my office with integrity. The youngsters back home are also law-abiding. How could I be implicated in rebellion? Under the bright heavens, with a sage sovereign on the throne, do not slander innocent subjects!" Wang Youshan spoke with righteous indignation. As a censor, his skill with words was naturally not lacking.

Thanks to old friends "Yuan Heng Li Zhen" and "User Cold Night" for their tips, and thanks to everyone for the double monthly tickets and subscriptions for Warrior of the Great Ming.