Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 229 Imperial Power Subsidies for Rural Areas 1629
The next day.

The warm spring sun in Suzhou Prefecture, which should have been languid, was now fragmented by the almost frozen atmosphere of tension.

The aura originated in Suzhou City, but like an invisible net, it quickly enveloped the six counties under its jurisdiction: Wuxian, Changzhou, Kunshan, Changshu, Wujiang, and Jiading.

To countless officials and gentry who received the news immediately, this was not a reform limited to one city or one place, but a comprehensive and powerful purge from top to bottom!
As the general notice board was erected in front of the Suzhou Prefectural Government, hundreds of squads, each consisting of a captain or captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, a squad of White-Spear Army soldiers, and a local official forced to accompany them, had already shot like arrows into every corner of the prefectural city, as well as all the counties, towns, and even large villages with a population of more than a hundred households under its jurisdiction.

They rode swift horses, carrying aloft apricot-yellow imperial edict banners, and proceeded unimpeded.

On this day, county towns and city centers, which were once out of reach for ordinary people, opened their doors to the most vulnerable members of society.

No, to be more precise, it was the emperor himself who kicked open the door that separated the inside from the outside.

The same scene is playing out outside the east gate of Kunshan County.

In front of a makeshift nanmu wood notice board, the local county magistrate, under the watchful eyes of two imperial guards wielding unsheathed goose-feather swords, turned pale and loudly proclaimed the three earth-shattering new policies over and over again in official language with a heavy local accent.

"Firstly, from this day forward, all official fields and imperial estates within the territory of Suzhou Prefecture and Songjiang Prefecture shall be freed from personal dependence! All those who enter the imperial estates shall be hired farmers of the Great Ming Dynasty, neither slaves nor servants, and shall come and go as they please, under the protection of the government!"

"Secondly, the output of the imperial estates will be divided 30/70! You will receive 70%, the court will receive 30%, and there will be no more exorbitant taxes or levies!"

"Thirdly, anyone who reports local gentry for concealing land or altering land ownership will, once verified, not only be given priority to become a farm laborer on the imperial estate, but will also be rewarded with one shi of grain and five taels of silver! If any official or gentry dares to retaliate against the person who reports them, the ringleader will be executed by slow slicing, and the male members of his family within three generations will be exiled to the Lianghuai Saltworks to serve as salt-making slaves, while the female members will be sent to work in the royal factories!"

The city gates were packed with people.

The White-Spear Army soldiers unceremoniously blocked the local gentry and stewards, who had rushed over upon hearing the news and whose expressions varied, from the perimeter.

Those allowed to approach the signboard were tenant farmers who had just been drawn from the fields by the spectacular scene, ragged refugees, and bewildered laborers.

Most of them never even set foot in the county town more than a few times in their entire lives.

At this moment, standing beneath the city walls that they could only look up to in the past, listening to the imperial edict that seemed to come from the heavens, their minds went blank.

The crowd fell into an eerie silence, as if their very souls had been shaken out of their bodies by this earth-shattering news.

For generations, they were born to be landlords and died to be landlords; a single contract determined their fate.

Life should be like this, like rice in the field, planted in spring and harvested in autumn, one crop after another, when have we ever had a chance to make our own decisions?
"Abolish personal dependence?" an old farmer muttered to himself, his cloudy eyes filled with disbelief.

"30/70 split... Did I hear that right? The landlord is taking 90/10, and we still have to pay rent..." Another man pinched his thigh, wincing in pain, before confirming that he wasn't dreaming.

"Reporting...reporting the gentlemen, and you even get a reward?"

When the initial silence subsided, a deafening uproar ensued.

The crowd was like a pot of water that had been boiled, instantly becoming agitated.

Village after village, field after field, were thrown into unprecedented turmoil by the same news.

An emotion called "hope" spread like wildfire across the vast land of Suzhou Prefecture.

That was the resentment and expectation that had been suppressed for hundreds of years and exploited for countless generations, and at this moment it found an outlet.

"God has opened his eyes!"

"The Emperor is wise!"

The suppressed sobs turned into unrestrained shouts.

Joy is so foreign that many people can only express it through the most primal wailing and kowtowing.

Imperial power, as absolute as the heavens, for the first time did not rely on the local government or the gentry, but rather, like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath, went straight to the root of the problem, revealing the intricate fabric of Jiangnan with its sharp edge.

This time, the emperor was actually going to bypass the officials and gentry in their halls and speak directly to the common people in the fields!
How can we play this?! How are we supposed to play this?!

Every word on the notice board transformed into the most vicious curse, seeping into the heart of every gentryman.

In particular, the cruel punishment of "the ringleader being executed by slow slicing and his entire family being punished" was like a bucket of ice water poured from the top of their heads to their heels, extinguishing any glimmer of hope that had just ignited in their hearts!
……

The "Huangzhuang Farmer Registration Points" set up more than a dozen huge thatched sheds in the markets of every county and town under the jurisdiction of Suzhou.

The news had already spread like wildfire throughout the surrounding villages and towns.

Before dawn, the paths leading to the various registration points were already crowded with people from all around.

They were supporting the elderly and carrying children, their faces pale and sickly, but each of them had a burning flame in their eyes.

At the registration point in Wujiang County, an elderly tenant farmer with gray hair was pushed and shoved by the crowd to the table.

He was so excited that his legs gave way and he knelt down, tears streaming down his face.

"Old...old man, please stand up and speak." The young Imperial Guard in charge of registration was a little uncomfortable, but still said in a deep voice.

"Sir, sir!" The old man kowtowed, his voice hoarse. "My name is Zhang Ada. I've farmed for the Li family in the west of the city my whole life. My father did, and so did my grandfather... All year round, after paying the rent, the whole family could only drink thin gruel. Last winter, my little granddaughter starved to death!"

When the old man got to the heartbreaking part, he beat his chest and stamped his feet, sobbing uncontrollably.

The Imperial Guard listened patiently, picked up a brush, wrote his name in the register, then raised it and said to him word by word, "Zhang Ada, from today onwards, you have put your fingerprint on the register, and you are now a hired laborer of the Ming Emperor. You are no longer a slave of the Li family, and you will only listen to the Emperor. From now on, work hard and earn your living through your strength. No one will dare to bully you anymore."

The old man suddenly raised his head and stared blankly at the Imperial Guards, as if he were listening to a divine decree.

He reached out with trembling hands, pressed his hand on the bright red inkpad, and then pressed it heavily next to his name.

After doing all this, the old man suddenly burst into a heart-wrenching cry, a cry that contained relief, grievance, and rebirth!
The old man lay prostrate on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly towards the direction of Suzhou.

This scene was playing out in different ways in Kunshan, Changshu, and at every registration point.

It was like a series of resounding slaps, striking hard against the faces of the gentry stewards who were hiding in the distance and watching.

Suddenly, at the registration point in Jiading County, a lean young man pushed his way out of the crowd and shouted, "Sir! I want to report! I want to report!"

Everyone's eyes were on him.

The young man was led to another table specifically for "reporting," and he said without hesitation, "I row boats for the Wang family. I know that the Wang family has occupied more than 300 mu of reed marshes on the shore of Taihu Lake. They have long since secretly filled in the soil and turned it into high-quality paddy fields. The income from these 300 mu of land alone is enough for them to support hundreds of people every year! This is not even mentioned on the land deed!"

Upon hearing this, a Jinyiwei centurion's eyes sharpened. He immediately whispered a few words to the local guide and a group of soldiers who were already waiting beside him. The group then led their horses and rode off into the distance.

Within two hours, the messenger returned on horseback, confirming the situation. Furthermore, with the help of a former accountant of the Wang family who had been turned, they found another hidden account book.

The centurion immediately made a decision and loudly announced to the young man, "The report is true! Men, give him a bag of grain! Register him immediately; this man is the first batch of hired laborers on our imperial estate!"

Under the watchful eyes of countless people, a heavy bag of rice was carried out and handed to the young man. The young man was so excited that his face turned red, and he hugged the bag of rice as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

The power of example is endless.

If the old tenant's plight evoked sympathy and resonance, then the young man's reward ignited the most primal desires and the courage to rebel in everyone's hearts.

People who were initially afraid went completely crazy, and long queues instantly formed in front of the reporting windows at each registration point.

"I know there's a grove of trees behind Master Liu's house, but he's already turned it into mulberry fields!"

“Squire Sun built a dike along the river, encroaching on twenty acres of riverbank land!”

"The deed clearly states that Master Zhao's land is 300 mu, but we've measured it privately, and it's at least 350 mu!"

One by one, secrets that were usually kept as private property by the gentry were revealed by these people from the lowest rungs of society, the most insignificant of all.

The network of wealth that the Suzhou gentry had painstakingly woven over hundreds of years was, at this moment, ripped open with countless bloody gashes by the barbaric dagger of popular will, wielded by the emperor himself.

……

The emperor's temporary residence in Suzhou.

Wen Tiren stood by the window, his gaze piercing through the window frame to the distant, undulating crowds outside the city. Even from this distance, he seemed to be able to hear the deafening cheers and cries.

He was deeply shaken, a feeling that defies description.

As a high-ranking official in the court, he was accustomed to the infighting and power games within the court.

But what was happening before his eyes was beyond anything he had ever known in his decades-long career in officialdom. This was not a conspiracy; it was an open and aboveboard scheme.

This is not a strategy, it is the general trend.

The emperor was too lazy to engage in power struggles with the gentry; he chose the most direct, brutal, and effective method—cutting off their supply lines.

He heard a soft rustling of pages turning behind him and slowly turned around.

The young emperor sat quietly behind a desk, intently reading through a training log of the new army.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his profile and outlining a youthful yet resolute silhouette. His composure and coolness, so different from his age, involuntarily inspired a sense of respect in Wen Tiren.

This emperor seemed to have everything under control. He ignited the tinderbox in Jiangnan, while he himself watched the impending raging fire with indifference, like an outsider.

"Minister Wen," Zhu Youjian said without looking up, his voice calm and even, "how is the order at the various registration points?"

“Your Majesty,” Wen Tiren bowed, his tone extremely respectful, “thanks to Your Majesty’s divine might, and with the White-Spear Army and the Embroidered Uniform Guard suppressing the unrest, everything is in perfect order. The people… the people are in high spirits.”

Zhu Youjian hummed in agreement, turned to another page of the log, and asked casually, "What about their reactions? Were there any unusual movements?"

Wen Tiren felt a chill run down his spine; he knew who the emperor was asking about.

"Your Majesty, for the time being... there has been no major action. It's just that the stewards of several prominent families in the city seem to be coming and going more frequently." Wen Tiren dared not conceal anything. "But this old minister believes that this is just the calm before the storm. These officials and gentry in Jiangnan have been living comfortably for hundreds of years. Their backbone may have softened, but their scheming has probably never stopped for a moment."

Zhu Youjian finally put down the logbook in his hand, raised his head, and his gaze fell on Wen Tiren's face. His gaze was as deep as an abyss, as if it could see through people's hearts.

“I know,” he said slowly. “What I fear most is that they won’t move. If they don’t move, where will my sword strike?”

Looking at the emperor's young face, a long-held thought in Wen Tiren's mind began to grow wildly again, almost overwhelming his reason.

The gentry are the cornerstone of the court and share the fate of the nation.

Since ancient times, imperial power has not extended to the county level; the local government has maintained stability by having the gentry pay taxes together.

But now the emperor himself is chiseling this foundation stone!
But Wen Tiren had to admit that the emperor's move was so precise and ruthless.

He seized upon the greatest weakness of the Jiangnan gentry—they had long since become detached from the common people, aloof and arrogant, and had lost the hearts of the people.

The army is the sword, and the people's hearts are the momentum.

The emperor is using the blood and flesh of the powerful families of Jiangnan to cultivate a brand new foundation of power that belongs only to him.

Wen Tiren even came up with an even more terrifying conjecture: the new policies that the emperor is currently implementing seem to be swift and decisive, but there must be some "loopholes" in them. These loopholes are the bait that the emperor deliberately left, waiting for those self-righteous fish to frantically rush up and bite the hook.

Then, at the most opportune moment, the Embroidered Uniform Guard's net will tighten suddenly with overwhelming force.

A net is exhausted!
Thinking of this, Wen Tiren couldn't help but shiver. He lowered his head deeply, deeply, towards that excessively young face.

That sense of awe has seeped into my very bones.

……

night.

In a very secluded garden in the south of Suzhou city.

The artificial hills and flowing water, the winding paths leading to secluded spots, should have been an elegant place, but now they were shrouded in an almost frozen fear and suppressed anger.

In an elegant waterside pavilion, several representatives of prominent families from Suzhou Prefecture were having a secret meeting.

These people used to be able to shake the entire Suzhou Prefecture and even the trade routes of Southern Zhili with a stomp of their feet, but tonight, each of them had a lingering sense of fear on their face.

The pavilion was deathly silent for a long time, with only the bubbling sound of boiling tea, like heavy hammer blows to the heart.

Finally, a silk merchant surnamed Gu broke the silence. His voice was dry and trembling, a far cry from his usual high spirits: "Gentlemen... have you all heard the news from Songjiang Prefecture?"

No one answered, but everyone nodded instinctively.

"In just one day," Gu Shangren's Adam's apple bobbed as he said with difficulty, "more than seventy heads have become a tower of shame!"

Upon hearing this, the already chilly air inside the waterside pavilion seemed to drop even further. It wasn't just a rumor, but a bloody fact. The young emperor was declaring to the entire Jiangnan region that his will was not to be defied.

“Tyrant! But… but what can we do?” Another grain merchant surnamed Qian said in a hoarse voice, tinged with despair. “He is now the butcher, and we are the fish on the chopping block. Our lives are now at his mercy, divided into three parts and seven parts. He’s trying to uproot us and sever our lifeline! The land and wealth accumulated by our ancestors for generations, are we… are we just going to hand them over like this?”

He spoke of severing the root of the problem, but his voice lacked anger, only a deep sense of powerlessness remained.

Seated in the main seat was the head of the Xu family of Songjiang Prefecture, an elderly man with half-white hair and beard.

He was the highest-ranking person in the group, but his face was full of exhaustion and fear. He escaped unscathed because he chose to "cooperate" at the first moment.

He surveyed the crowd, then slowly spoke, his voice low but chilling: "Gentlemen, I know you are all unwilling. How can the Xu family, with its century-old foundation, be content with this? But you must understand, what is in Suzhou now is not the imperial court, not the cabinet, but the Emperor himself! He holds military power, and the White-Spear Army and the Embroidered Uniform Guard are his henchmen. Does he need a reason to kill whomever he wants?"

A stir ran through the crowd, and someone whispered resentfully, "Are we... just going to let it go like this?"

"Of course we can't just let it go like this!" A struggle flashed in the eyes of the old man from the Xu family, but he quickly suppressed it with reason. He glanced at the deep night outside the waterside pavilion, as if countless eyes were watching them from the darkness.

He lowered his voice, as if trying to convince himself, or perhaps warning everyone: "A head-on confrontation is a dead end. The example of Songjiang Prefecture is right before our eyes. But if we do nothing, we'll just be waiting to die."

He paused for a moment, seemingly weighing his words.

“I…I do have a rather unseemly idea,” a slightly younger gentleman hesitated before speaking, his voice barely audible. “How about…we hire some hooligans to cause trouble at the registration point and muddy the waters?”

Before he could finish speaking, the old man from the Xu family coldly interrupted him: "And then? Let the Imperial Guards follow the clues and arrest us all? Do you think the area outside this garden is clean now?"

The young gentleman turned ashen-faced and dared not utter another word.

Someone else suggested, "Then...then we should contact the officials in Nanjing and submit a memorial impeaching him..."

"Impeachment?" The old man from the Xu family gave a bitter laugh. "The emperor personally led the expedition to bypass the court. Do you think a few memorials submitted from Nanjing will make that bloodthirsty emperor stop?"

One after another, seemingly feasible schemes were proposed, only to be rejected one by one under the scrutiny of the group, which was tinged with fear.

Every scheme seemed so ridiculous and powerless in the face of that emperor who wielded the butcher's knife and disregarded all rules.

They were horrified to discover that their wealth, connections, and even their "having connections in the court" were utterly powerless in the face of absolute imperial violence!
As long as the emperor is in Suzhou, he is the law and the law of this place. Any conspiracy or trickery is no different from baring one's teeth at a tiger.

The atmosphere inside the waterside pavilion gradually shifted from initial oppression to utter despair.

They came to band together for mutual support and to discuss countermeasures, but after exchanging ideas, they felt even more clearly the deep-seated fear in each other's hearts.

Finally, the grain merchant surnamed Qian sighed deeply, slumped into his chair, and muttered to himself, "It's over...it's all over...this leaves no way out..."

His words became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

"That's enough, that's enough. I just want to save my family's lives."

"Yes... As long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood. We... are not worthy to fight against the emperor."

What was originally a conspiracy turned into a venting session about who could be the most desperate.

No one mentioned any plans of resistance anymore; everyone was calculating how to "spend money to avoid disaster" and how to prevent the emperor's sword from falling on their own necks.

Looking at the group of distraught people before him, the old man from the Xu family lost all hope.

He slowly stood up, cupped his hands in a respectful bow to the crowd, and said listlessly:

"It seems I've done too much for you all today. You'd better take care of yourselves."

After saying that, he was the first to turn and leave, his back looking incredibly desolate in the moonlight.

The remaining people had no desire to stay any longer, and one by one they got up and left silently, even their farewells sounding listless.

In the shadows, unseen by the others, a servant responsible for refilling water quietly withdrew.

(End of this chapter)