The struggle for the throne during the Jiajing reign

"Your subject is here." Yan Song knelt on the gold brick with impeccable posture, a sense of propriety honed over decades of immersion in officialdom, respectful but not servile.

"I heard your son has been quite unruly lately."

Jiajing's words sounded as if he were asking a close minister about his young child, but Yan Shifan was already almost forty years old.

Yan Song pressed his forehead to the ground: "I have failed in educating my son, bringing misfortune to my family, causing trouble, and offending Your Majesty's ears. I deserve to die a thousand deaths. I beg Your Majesty to punish me."

"Crime?" Jiajing's lips twitched slightly, revealing a smile that was neither a smile nor a smile. There was no warmth in that smile, only a condescending, scrutinizing, and almost mocking coldness.

"What crime have you committed?"

No one dared to respond, because they were still unclear about the emperor's intentions. They also feared Lu Bing, who was not far away, as no one knew what he had reported to the emperor after arriving early.

"Yan Shifan presented a few trinkets to the prince, which was a subject's respect for his lord; the officials of the Censorate blocked the gate and cursed in the street, which was a loyal minister's outspokenness; the people's discussions were a sign that the people's hearts were with the country."

Jiajing paused here, then said, "Looking at it this way, the entire court is loyal, and the whole country is virtuous, isn't that right?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the temperature in the hall plummeted to freezing.

This isn't about accusing anyone; it's about tearing off everyone's masks and laying them out in the open.

Yan Shifan sent gifts under the guise of respecting the emperor; the officials of the Censorate blocked the door under the guise of loyalty; and the rumors circulating in the streets were all about winning the hearts and minds of the people.

Every banner sounds grand and dignified, but beneath each banner lies a hidden agenda.

The emperor has now lined up these three banners in a row, and no one dares to claim them.

Only Yan Song kowtowed repeatedly, his forehead striking the gold brick with a dull thud.

"alright."

Yan Song stopped what he was doing, nearly collapsing from dizziness, showing that he had truly been struggling against the stone.

The emperor paid no attention to Yan Song, but focused his gaze on the group of people behind him.

His gaze, almost tangible, lingered for a moment before finally settling on the newly appointed Minister of Rites.

"Xu Jie".

"Your humble servant is here."

"You are in charge of the Ministry of Rites, responsible for educating the people. I have come to ask you: should it be forbidden for officials to privately present gifts to the princes?"

Countless thoughts raced through Xu Jie's mind in that instant.

If it is said that Yan Shifan should be banned, then Yan Shifan's crimes will be confirmed, and Yan's faction will be completely offended.

To say that it shouldn't be banned is to openly violate ancestral rules, give others a handle against you, and make your position unstable.

More importantly, His Majesty's question was not whether to ban it or not, but whether it should be banned at all. This shows that His Majesty did not want an answer, but rather an attitude.

He chose the safest answer: "Your Majesty, according to the 'Imperial Ancestral Instructions of the Ming Dynasty,' officials outside the capital are not allowed to have private dealings with princes or exchange gifts. There are clear prohibitions against this. This is an established law of our ancestors, and I dare not make any rash comments."

"The established laws of our ancestors." Jiajing lingered on his tongue, neither confirming nor denying, before asking, "Shouldn't those officials from the Censorate who gathered crowds to humiliate ministers and disrupt the capital be punished?"

Xu Jie felt a slight tightness in his throat. He knew that His Majesty was cornering him. The first question was directed at Yan Shifan, and the second question was directed at Gao Gong and Zhao Zhenji.

The two questions, when put together, require him, as the Minister of Rites, to clarify his stance between the Yan faction and the Qingliu faction.

But what makes Xu Jie who he is is that he will never reveal his true stance.

"In my opinion... it is loyal for officials to dare to speak out; however, gathering crowds and making noise is contrary to the established order and should be discouraged."

You can't offend either side, but you also won't get the best of either.

Jiajing glanced at him, but it was so brief that Xu Jie didn't have time to discern whether it was satisfaction or disappointment before the Emperor's gaze shifted away.

"I heard that Grand Secretary Yan also broke an inkstone." Jiajing's tone suddenly became casual, as if he were talking about an unrelated refined matter. "Mi Fu's Longwei She inkstone, an object from the Song Dynasty, is broken in one corner. What a pity."

The entire hall was silent; no one knew why His Majesty had suddenly brought up that inkstone.

"Once the inkstone is broken, people's true nature is revealed."

Jiajing stretched out his right sleeve, picked up the teacup, but did not drink; instead, he slowly rubbed the rim of the cup with his thumb.

"Yan Shifan flogged his concubine, threw his inkstone, and summoned her for a secret meeting. Zhao Zhenji blocked the door with a high bow, tore his robe, and almost got beaten with a stick. Grand Secretary Yan claimed to be ill and did not attend court. The impeachment memorials from the censors and officials piled up in the cabinet office. Even the day when Prince Jing was to be enfeoffed was planned for me by the common people."

He set down the teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the wooden saucer.

"A small matter has escalated to this point in just seven days. Is Yan Shifan too stupid, or is someone else too clever?"

These words are like a knife; its sharpness may not seem to be aimed at anyone, but it sends chills down everyone's spine.

"Yan Shifan was too stupid"—this is an insult to the Yan family. "Someone was too clever"—who is this insulting? The Qingliu faction? Prince Yu? Or Prince Jing, who went to the West Garden to cry at the gate with the letter?

Jiajing gave no one time to think. His tone suddenly turned cold, as cold as the wind blowing through the hall in the dead of winter.

"Yan Shifan acted arrogantly and disregarded the imperial court. He is hereby fined three years' salary and ordered to reflect on his actions in seclusion for one month."

Upon hearing this, the kneeling officials were all shocked. A three-year salary deduction and a month of confinement—what kind of punishment was this?

Yan Shifan's salary was merely an extra bonus; he never lived off that little bit of money.

A month of seclusion was practically a vacation. All those mountains of impeachments, those impassioned rants, those insidious accusations of spying on the imperial power from the princely residence—in the end, all they got was this slap on the wrist.

But Jiajing's next words silenced everyone.

"Yan Song, as the Grand Secretary, you cannot restrain your son. Strip him of his title of Grand Tutor, but allow him to continue serving in the cabinet as a Grand Secretary."

When the title of Grand Tutor was revoked, the air in the hall seemed to freeze for a moment.

The Grand Tutor of the Crown Prince is one of the Three Dukes. Although he has no real power, it is the highest honor for a civil official. Taking away the title of Grand Tutor is to take away the most dazzling halo from Yan Song.

But he was still a Grand Secretary, still served in the cabinet, and still the chief minister. The phoenix with its feathers plucked was still a phoenix, but now this phoenix stood on the branch, and everyone could see its bald tail feathers.

This is telling Yan Song, "I can give you dignity, but I can also take it away from you. Dignity is given by me, not earned by yourself."

This is also a message to the entire court: I have reprimanded Yan Song, you have vented your anger and watched the show, and this is the end of it.

Yan Song prostrated himself on the ground, his voice hoarse but steady: "This old minister accepts the decree and thanks Your Majesty for your grace."

He was thanking Heaven for its grace, not the Emperor's grace. Heaven's grace was the Emperor's punishment on behalf of Heaven, the discipline of a ruler over his subjects; it was a blessing, not a punishment.

Even at this point, every word Yan Song uttered was still as precise as if it had been measured with a ruler.

"Furthermore, Zhao Zhenji and Gao Gong," Jiajing's voice regained its languid weariness, "led people to surround their residences and cause a disturbance, which is unbecoming of officials. They are each fined six months' salary and transferred to Nanjing to take charge of affairs."

Transferred to Nanjing? Xu Jie's heart sank.

...............