Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Zhu Cilang carried the wine to Gu Yanwu's desk.

As he bowed to offer the cup, the scholar in the blue robe suddenly stood up.

Before the last drop of wine had dripped from the rim of his cup, he asked in a deep voice:

"The study of 'practical application to governance' is truly what our times need. May I ask, sir, what is the root cause of the decline of our Great Ming Dynasty?"

Upon hearing this, everyone gathered around.

Gu Yanwu placed the wine cup on the table, dipped his index finger in the remaining wine, and drew a perfect circle:

"Young master, please look at these wine stains!"

As everyone craned their necks to look closely, the wandering finger suddenly stopped at due north.

"During the Jiajing era, a land survey revealed four million hectares of land registered nationwide. Now, only two million hectares remain on the official land register!"

"Those lost fertile fields have all become the estates of princes and nobles, and the villas of civil and military officials."

"In Shanxi province, nine out of ten land deeds are inscribed with the surname Zhu, a member of the imperial clan; in Henan, the Zhou Prince's mansion owns three or four tenths of the fertile land in Kaifeng Prefecture!"

Zhu Cilang listened intently, a shadow falling between his brows, and continued to ask:

"If fertile land disappears, what is the root cause of the problem?"

Gu Yanwu ran his fingers along the wine stains on the table:

"This problem is like a river bursting its banks, its source lies in three places."

A finger suddenly pierced the center of the circle, splashing fine droplets of wine.

"The first is 'the abuse of the law'."

"During the Hongwu era, the Complete Book of Taxes and Labor stipulated that one-tenth of the land tax should be collected. However, local officials and clerks ingeniously created various pretexts to collect excess taxes, and the actual amount collected could reach 30% to 40%."

"The farmers, overwhelmed by the burden, had no choice but to 'donate' their land to the princely government (in name only, but in reality, to have it annexed), hoping to get a lighter tax burden."

Before he could finish speaking, Mao Xiang suddenly interrupted, laughing:

"Brother Ning, you make it sound so easy!"

"Years ago, during a land survey in Changzhou Prefecture, Prefect Wang Yuanya discovered 30,000 mu of hidden farmland. And what was the result?"

He picked up a glass of wine.

"Three months later, while inspecting the river embankment, the Prince's official in charge of the imperial embankment accidentally fell into the water and drowned!"

Gu Yanwu pressed the celadon wine cup heavily onto the center of the wine stain and continued the conversation:

"This is precisely the second problem: bureaucratic corruption!"

"The Great Ming Code clearly states that censors can report matters based on hearsay, but most of the thirteen circuit censors come from aristocratic families in Jiangnan."

"Which of the Xu families of Suzhou or the Qian families of Songjiang didn't own vast tracts of fertile land?"

"Why would they actually check their own land deeds?"

"As for the third point..."

He dipped his brush in the spilled wine and wrote the character "礼" (li, meaning etiquette).

"Gentlemen were exempted from taxes based on their academic achievements, which was originally a way of valuing culture and education."

"But nowadays, even those who have passed the imperial examinations can claim thousands of acres of land under their names, and scholars can help their neighbors 'deceptively register' land."

[Deceptive Practice: Tax Evasion by Using Others' Names]

"The classics of sages and worthies have become tax evasion tools, and the Cheng-Zhu school of Neo-Confucianism has become a weapon that harms the country!"

Suddenly, the candle wick burst open, and a spark landed on the table.

Zhu Cilang stared at the character "礼" (rites/propriety) on the table, his voice low and deep:

"What you said, sir, was truly insightful and profound, and I was deeply moved."

"From this perspective, the crux of these three problems—'legal abuses,' 'official abuses,' and 'ritual abuses'—lies in the disorder of 'statutes and regulations' and 'disciplinary and supervisory systems.'"

"Do you agree, sir?"

Upon hearing this, the surroundings fell silent instantly. Mao Xiang's wine glass, which he had raised to his lips, froze in mid-air, while Hou Fangyu and Chen Zhenhui exchanged surprised glances.

Gu Yanwu's wine cup trembled slightly. He gazed into the clear eyes of the young man before him, and a surge of emotion welled up within him:

"Your words, sir, are truly insightful and insightful, worth more than half of the Zizhi Tongjian!"

"When Zhang Liang met Emperor Gaozu in Liucheng, he merely spoke of 'three rules'."

"Young Master, you have the insight to pinpoint the crucial political issues of 'statutes' and 'discipline' from the three cardinal principles of law, officialdom, and rites. Such discerning eyes are truly rare talents!"

The night wind swept through the hall, and the candle flame suddenly tilted to one side.

Bian Yujing rose gracefully, her voice clear and cold:

"Having heard Mr. Zhu's profound insights, I now realize that his wisdom is truly insightful and can resonate with the world."

"Although I live in the city and see guests coming and going every day, and hear anecdotes about the court and the countryside, I also often hear about the affairs of the court."

She suddenly looked up.

"In my humble opinion, this state is in such a state of decline—"

She paused slightly, then her cool voice suddenly rose in pitch.

"It's not because of Su Daji's allure, nor Yang Guifei's calamity, nor is it because of our 'singing of songs across the river' by courtesans."

Her gaze swept over everyone present.

"In reality, the problem lies in the court, where officials only know how to fight for power and profit, form cliques and pursue personal gain, but have forgotten the fundamental principles of being an official and the way to save the world."

"These gentlemen have lost their virtue and failed in their governance!"

At this moment, Bian Yujing was like an ancient mirror being polished anew, its cold light suddenly appearing, every word and sentence pointing straight to the key point, completely unlike her shy and timid demeanor just now.

His sharp, decisive words, like a gavel, cleaved through the room's enchanting atmosphere.

Even the hibiscus on the screen seemed to show the outline of thorns.

"That Bian Yujing!"

Mao Xiang clapped his hands in praise, his voice resounding through the roof tiles:

"This is the Lady Yujing I knew so well on the Qinhuai River!"

"Such incisive criticism would likely leave the high-ranking officials of the Six Ministries drenched in sweat!"

Bian Yujing's eyes flickered as she glanced at Zhu Cilang, her cheeks suddenly flushing red, and her fingers tightened around her silk handkerchief.

"I have spoken presumptuously..."

Before she finished speaking, she turned half of her beautiful face to the side, the candlelight making her earlobes appear red, yet she still maintained her posture of bowing her head and lowering her eyebrows.

Seeing her like this, Zhu Cilang realized that the outspoken and unpretentious Bian Yujing had returned:

"Miss Bian is a woman of great courage and integrity, just as Wei Zheng remonstrated with Emperor Taizong and Hai Rui criticized Emperor Shizong in the past, both of whom have left their mark on history."

"If His Majesty is wise, he will be tolerant of dissenting opinions; otherwise, even if he keeps his mouth shut, it will be difficult to change the course of history."

Bian Yujing held the wine pot with her delicate hands. When she heard the metaphor of "heroine," the pot trembled slightly, and a few drops of wine spilled out.

Gu Yanwu's beard, glistening with wine droplets, trembled with his laughter:

"What Young Master Zhu says is very true. Meeting Young Master Zhu today is truly the greatest fortune of my life."

"Young master, you are young yet insightful about the ways of the world, ambitious yet meticulous—truly rare indeed, a talent worthy of Zhang Liang!"

Zhu Cilang asked softly:

"Sir, you are a man of profound learning and wisdom. If you were Zhang Liang, would you throw your hammer at Bolangsha or adjust your shoes on the Yi River?"

Gu replied:

"Zifang's life began at Yishang and ended at Bolang."

Zhu Cilang laughed heartily upon hearing this, his laughter clear and melodious:

"Wonderful! Beginning with wisdom and ending with courage, one can live up to the Yellow Stone Book! Your words, sir, truly capture the essence of Zhang Liang's life."

The candlelight dimmed, the banquet ended, and everyone was silent.

As Zhu Cilang rose to leave his seat, the night wind, carrying the moisture from the Qinhuai River, rushed into the window, bringing a light drizzle.

The remaining wine on the table still lingered, and the candle wax dripped.

Chen Zhenhui, drunk, leaned against the railing, still muttering to herself:

"Revive ancient learning and strive to make it useful."

Hou Fangyu, slightly drunk, sighed softly:

"Even if we aspire to revive our society, we cannot withstand the deteriorating state of affairs!"

Their grief and indignation were genuine, but so was their helplessness.

Revelry and lamentation intertwine strangely here, creating a post-apocalyptic panorama.

Zhu Cilang walked out of Lanxin Pavilion and glanced back at the carved gate.

The pavilion was brightly lit, and the sounds of string and wind instruments could be faintly heard. The young men in their fine clothes were still drinking and making merry, and the dancing girls continued their flirtatious banter.

This place was a playground for the powerful and wealthy, and for literary figures to indulge in pleasure.

It was as if the turmoil and unrest of the outside world were shut out from this carved door.

As Zhu Cilang stepped out of Lanxin Pavilion, the sound of drums from the watchtower pierced through the drizzle.

He looked up at the dark night sky, his mind churning with thoughts.

In the misty rain, he suddenly sensed someone approaching from behind, followed by a deep voice:

"Young master?"

The guard's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Zhu Cilang suddenly turned to the side, flicking the hem of his robe to shake off the cold water droplets.

"What is it?"

The guard bowed slightly and whispered:

"Urgent report from Sichuan!"