Chapter Eight: The Glorious Might of the Ming Army

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The Analects is pronounced with the second tone, not the fourth tone—that was the question posed by Emperor Zhu Yijun. Zhang Juzheng promptly replied, “The Book of Han states: each disciple had their own records. After the Master passed away, his disciples gathered them together, compiled and edited them, hence the name ‘Lunyu’ [The Analects].”

“The character ‘lun’ here means to compile or edit, not to debate or argue, so it is pronounced with the rising tone [lún], not the falling tone [lùn].”

“I see.” Only then did Zhu Yijun understand why ‘Lunyu’ is pronounced with the second tone rather than the fourth—it refers to compilation, not discussion.

As Zhang Juzheng said, he was a scholar through and through. Having placed ninth in the highest imperial examination rank, there was absolutely no flaw in his scholarship. Answering the young emperor’s questions was effortless for him.

Zhu Yijun began by posing some doubts about the Analects, and Zhang Juzheng responded fluently and with detailed explanations. The questions and answers flew by, and before they knew it, an entire hour had passed. It wasn’t until Zhang Hong reminded them that it was time for the emperor’s midday meal that they paused.

Zhang Juzheng felt quite gratified. Watching the young emperor grow more and more satisfied, he realized that this day’s study session surpassed all the results of the six months of court lectures before. The emperor had read seriously, even forming his own insights.

For example, “Is it not a pleasure to have friends come from afar?”

The emperor explained: “When friends come from afar, naturally there are shared topics and common ambitions. Naturally, they engage in the same endeavors. How could that not bring joy?”

“This means: comrades who share the same will and path, they find joy together.”

Even this single interpretation moved Zhang Juzheng deeply. The past six months had been nothing but rote memorization—what went in was what came out—books were read, but only superficially.

But now, Zhang Juzheng finally felt that his tireless efforts had not been in vain.

With great solemnity, Zhang Juzheng shook his sleeve, then knelt and kowtowed five times with three prostrations, earnestly saying: “Your servant dares to overstep, but I guard the ancestral constitutional laws and dare not impose personal views haphazardly. For the sake of the country and the love of virtuous talent, I dare not act on private intentions. This is how I repay the late emperor and fulfill my duty to Your Majesty. Your Majesty is sagely and naturally wise. I hope you will continue to advance your studies, govern diligently, cherish the worthy and keep the wicked at bay, so that palace and court unite as one, and the realm achieves lasting harmony and prosperity.”

Zhang Juzheng’s words were presumptuous, overstepping the bounds of a subject; who but a very few could have expectations of the emperor?

Yet considering the emperor was only ten years old and the kingdom lacked order, this was Zhang Juzheng’s affirmation as Grand Secretary toward the young sovereign.

Zhu Yijun smiled and replied, “Minister, please rise.”

“Grand Secretary, about the case of Wang Zhanglong, may I intervene?” Zhu Yijun asked without rising, looking at Zhang Juzheng.

Given a ray of light, the young emperor immediately blossomed. Given a little dye, he opened a dyeing workshop. He chose to press forward boldly, probing the limits of his imperial authority.

What of a ten-year-old emperor?

Just because his imperial majesty’s authority was not yet fully manifest did not mean he was not the emperor!

Could a ten-year-old emperor not concern himself with matters of state? After all, he was the victim—he was the one attacked.

Faced with this question, Zhang Juzheng could only lower his head and answer, “There is no prohibition, only that reason must prevail.”

“Feng Daban, you have wielded power for over half a year. Chen Hong bears a mortal grudge against you. He harbors resentment because the Empress Dowager took his position and authority. Why did you not have him eliminated sooner? Had you done so earlier, would this case have come to pass?” Zhu Yijun first turned to Feng Bao.

Feng Bao was somewhat taken aback. The question circled repeatedly in his mind before he suddenly knelt and said in fear, “Your servant thought that sending that dog Chen Hong to the Langxia household was sufficient. I did not expect his disloyalty and ingratitude, betraying us from within. I beg Your Majesty’s clemency. I am guilty.”

Zhu Yijun shook his head and said to Feng Bao, “Feng Daban, you still do not know where you went wrong. I ask you this: if you were Chen Hong, and Chen Hong was you, the two of you swapped roles, both with mortal enmity—Chen Hong gained power six months ago; where would you be today?”

“In a well with dry bones,” Feng Bao answered, kneeling, cold sweat rising on his back. Putting himself in Chen Hong’s ruthless shoes, Feng Bao knew he would have long since been tossed into a well.

Zhu Yijun continued, “Today’s result is yesterday’s cause. The wounds on your face today are the seeds you planted yesterday. Once in power, one must show no mercy. Your momentary compassion brewed today’s trouble.”

“The Grand Secretary just spoke of palace and court as one. As the palace’s chief eunuch, director of the Bureau of Ceremonial, and overseer of the Eastern Depot, you wield great power. Can you truly unify palace and court? After the assassination attempt on the prince, how does the Empress Dowager regard you? If you cannot manage, if you cannot control the palace maids and eunuchs, I will teach you.”

“You have small boxes hung everywhere in the palace. If anyone utters disrespectful words or commits treacherous acts, their reports can be slipped into these boxes. Fathers report sons, sons report fathers, children report their masters. In such an atmosphere of mutual suspicion, no one dares to conceal wrongdoing. Your position as patriarch will be as steady as Mount Tai. Who then can withstand you?”

“Take the Chen Hong case as an example. Chen Hong sought to seize your position. When he could not do it himself, he entrusted his allies Teng Xiang and Meng Chong. Do you think these two were helping him, or reporting him?”

“Everyone in the palace wants to climb higher, to ascend step by step to your position, Feng Daban. The worst enemy of a wrongdoer is their accomplice.”

The newly appointed eunuch of the Qianqing Palace, Zhang Hong, listened beside them, his calves twitching. The emperor’s strategy was truly insidious!

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The assassination of the prince was a grave crime, and if it succeeded, the greatest beneficiary would be Chen Hong. After gaining power, to cover up the crime, he would surely kill Teng Xiang and Meng Chong to keep the secret.

Teng Xiang and Meng Chong had served in the palace for years. Could they not see the danger? If they could report quietly and safely, they would have done so.

“Your servant will heed Your Majesty’s instructions!” Feng Bao could only think that the palace patriarch should leave such matters to the emperor himself.

This was a thoroughly destructive, meritless scheme.

“Rise. Be more alert in future. Do not be so foolish as to let officials from the outer court catch you at fault,” Zhu Yijun said, no longer reprimanding Feng Bao. If Feng Bao failed again, he’d be nothing but bones in a well. For such a trivial matter to require the emperor’s personal instruction, Feng Bao was indeed rather dull.

Feng Bao wanted to cry but had no tears. Dull? Was he truly dull? If so, who among the palace eunuchs was clever?

But the emperor’s method was simple, direct, and effective.

Zhang Juzheng frowned, just beginning to admire the young emperor, only to find him so ruthless. Yet reflecting on the turbulent currents within and without the Ming dynasty, such ruthlessness in the sovereign was not necessarily a flaw. The empire’s decline meant a more ruthless ruler was preferable to one easily bullied.

Zhang Juzheng also did not believe this was the young emperor’s own idea. With his sunny smile and slightly plump face, he hardly seemed the type for such cruelty.

He fully believed Feng Bao had coached the young emperor to speak this way.

Feng Bao also needed to provide some explanation to the outer court. When trouble arose, remedial measures must be reported to calm their hearts.

“Grand Secretary,” Zhu Yijun said to Zhang Juzheng, “I have listened intermittently to today’s court discussion. I will state my views; if they are incorrect, I humbly ask for your counsel.”

“Minister of Personnel Yang Bo and Left Censor-in-Chief Ge Shouli appeared to speak on my behalf, but after careful thought, I find they are not truly loyal or devoted, nor genuinely concerned for me. They merely use my name to attack Feng Bao. Their true purpose is to protect Gao Gong. If not for Feng Bao’s quick wit blocking their words, this case would have escalated.”

Upon hearing this, Feng Bao exclaimed loudly, “Indeed, Your Majesty is wise! Yang Bo and Ge Shouli are merely mouthpieces for Gao Gong!”

“Your Majesty is truly enlightened,” Zhang Juzheng said after some consideration, choosing to speak frankly.

Yang Bo’s son, Yang Junqing, had married the daughter of Beijing Garrison Governor Wang Chonggu. Gao Gong and Wang Chonggu were old school friends.

The Jin faction, bound by shared schooling, teachers, hometown, and marriage ties, was deeply rooted in court.

Wang Chonggu commanded the Beijing Garrison, which, despite having decayed to some fifty or sixty thousand weak, old, sick, and disabled, remained the capital’s military force.

Grand Secretary Gao Gong relied on the Jin faction to govern. Minister of Personnel Yang Bo belonged to the Jin faction, as did Wang Chonggu and Censor General Ge Shouli.

When Gao Gong spoke before the imperial coffin, saying, “How can a ten-year-old crown prince govern the realm?”—would Empress Dowager Li think he spoke for the realm’s well-being, or that he grieved the late emperor’s passing into silence, or that he sought to usurp power?

Even if Gao Gong truly meant the empire’s good, could he say such things?

“If the ruler is not circumspect, he loses ministers; if ministers are not circumspect, they lose themselves. Many problems arise from lack of circumspection.” Even Zhu Yijun knew this. How could Gao Gong, a Grand Secretary and scholar, be ignorant?

Adding to that: the emperor issued orders without prior consultation, angering Empress Dowager Li.

Gao Gong had clearly lost his heart’s respect and loyalty.

Claiming loyalty to the emperor while acting disloyal and unfilial was not uncommon in history.

“Very well,” Zhu Yijun said, tidying his desk and pocketing his notes, “The assassination of the prince is a heinous crime of treason. As monarch, I naturally have the right to intervene. After martial practice today, I will go to the Northern Pacification Office to supervise the investigation. Grand Secretary, what say you?”

Zhang Juzheng immediately objected, “Your Majesty, the noble do not stand on low ground.”

What business was it for the emperor to visit the Northern Pacification Office?

A ten-year-old should wholeheartedly devote himself to study. Even martial training was considered off-task and unlearned. To then supervise an investigation was beyond his proper role, only emphasizing his neglect of duty.

Feng Bao also bowed and said, “Your Majesty, the Northern Pacification Office is a foul place. Should Your Majesty fall ill there, how am I to explain to the Empress Dowager?”

“The Northern Pacification Office is a government office. How can it be considered low ground?” Zhu Yijun looked at Zhang Juzheng, then Feng Bao, frowning. “If the Grand Secretary and Daban forbid me from supervising, does this case hold other secrets?”

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What secrets might those be?

That Chen Hong and Gao Gong, disgruntled by loss of power, took desperate measures is one possibility.

That Zhang Juzheng and Feng Bao conspired to pursue Gao Gong and the Jin faction is another.

The court’s consensus was Chen Hong committed the crime, Gao Gong was a suspect but unconfirmed. If Zhang Juzheng and Feng Bao obstructed further probes, it would be a disgrace beyond repair.

Zhang Juzheng realized this young emperor was surprisingly eloquent, cornering him with just a few words. A single misstep in response, and Feng Bao might deliver the matter to Empress Dowager Li, making it impossible to explain.

Recalling the young emperor’s lazy demeanor during prior court lectures, yet now reading with deep insight after only a few hours, Zhang Juzheng wondered if the boy had been slacking all along.

Even if Feng Bao coached him, to articulate so clearly was no small feat.

The young emperor was not dull; he was exceptionally clever. The reason his studies had not been recognized was largely because he did not wish to learn and merely went through the motions—or rather, was lazy.

“I will accompany Your Majesty,” Zhang Juzheng decided.

Feng Bao hurried to add, “I will also accompany Your Majesty.”

After lunch, Zhu Yijun rested for half an hour before beginning martial exercises. Zhu Xixiao, commander of the imperial guards and ceremonial officer, stood outside the Wenhua Hall, having overheard the discussions between the emperor and Zhang Juzheng.

Regarding this young emperor, Zhu Xixiao had only one feeling: so young, yet taught such insidious schemes, when he grows up he will be a great calamity.

But Zhu Xixiao felt this was not entirely bad; calamity or not, given the state of the Ming dynasty, a calamity was better than mediocrity.

Zhu Yijun changed into his martial training attire and stood in the martial arts hall, addressing Zhu Xixiao: “Commander, I have heard that Emperor Chengzu, Emperor Renzong, and Emperor Xuanzong each day inspected troops and horses, patrolled the Beijing Garrison—this was called: the Ming army’s splendor and imperial might!”

“This practice ceased during the Zhengtong era. Our Ming emperors have forsaken ancestral law. We should practice martial skills, not to surpass others in skill, but to understand military affairs.”

“Today, I appoint you as my master. I ask you to devote yourself fully.”

Daily inspection of troops made soldiers aware of their emperor’s presence. Since the Zhengtong era, with youthful rulers and a faltering state, emperors ceased visiting the Beijing Garrison. Zhu Yijun wished to revive this tradition.

To restore the Ming army’s glory and imperial might—that had once been a time of great splendor. Now...

Zhu Xixiao bowed his head and asked, “By what standard shall I conduct training?”

“By the standard of the Qi family army,” Zhu Yijun replied firmly.

“Ah...” Zhu Xixiao looked troubled.

“Do you not know?” Zhu Yijun asked in puzzlement.

“I do!” Zhu Xixiao felt a surge of anger rising. As commander, he knew the Qi family army’s training methods well. Qi Jiguang had written military treatises. Of course Zhu Xixiao knew!

Who did he think he was dealing with?

Zhu Yijun wanted to ignite this fire within him. As emperor, if he did not kindle this fire, Zhu Xixiao would not teach properly. Though only ten years old, this age was already late to begin martial training. The first step in martial training was tendon stretching.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” The young emperor repeatedly slapped his inner thighs. The tendon stretching was far more painful than he had imagined.

Zhu Xixiao looked sympathetic and asked, “Shall we stop?”

Zhu Yijun gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face, yet stubbornly said, “Continue. Put some strength into it! Did the imperial guards skip meals, or did the commander not eat?!”