The Ming Dynasty: Starting with Emperor Chongzhen's crackdown on factionalism

The candlelight in the Qianqing Palace flickered violently.

His knuckles turned white as he held the memorial in his hand.

Wang Chengen knelt beside the imperial desk, his head bowed low.

He could hear the emperor's heavy breathing and feel his suppressed anger.

Zhu Youjian suddenly smiled.

The laughter was cold, carrying a chilling, almost manic quality.

"What a Chen Zhiyuan," he said in a low voice, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth.

"What a fine example of 'retracing the old path'."

Wang Chengen's back stiffened.

He had served this master for many years and knew all too well what that tone meant.

When Wei Zhongxian was eliminated, the emperor smiled in the same way—cold, ruthless, and filled with murderous intent.

But that time they killed members of the eunuch faction.

What about this time?

Chen Zhiyuan was a censor—or rather, a compiler in the Hanlin Academy, who had the power to speak out on matters.

According to ancestral rules, officials who report matters based on hearsay, even if inappropriate, are not lightly executed.

This was a rule established since the founding of the Ming Dynasty, an ironclad rule set by Emperor Taizu: no official who speaks out should be killed.

Since Zhu Youjian ascended the throne, he has killed many people—eunuchs, corrupt officials, and derelict generals.

But he never killed any officials who spoke out against him.

Even those who impeached him, criticized him for being stubborn and self-willed, and said he was inferior to the late emperor, he did not kill.

It's not that I don't want to kill.

They must not be killed.

Killing him would be tantamount to destroying one's own defenses, cutting off all avenues for free speech, and solidifying one's reputation as a "tyrant."

Did Zhu Youjian care about his reputation?

care.

He cares too much.

He ascended the throne at the age of seventeen, purged the eunuch faction, and was diligent and frugal in his administration. What was his purpose?

Isn't it just that he wants to be a restorer of the dynasty and make a name for himself in history?

But now, this Chen Zhiyuan, the Hanlin Academy compiler he had just promoted, was pointing his finger at him and saying: What you've done is useless.

Killing a few merchants and dismissing a few officials won't help.

Because the system is flawed.

The root of the problem lies in the system.

Zhu Youjian closed his eyes.

He could feel his temples throbbing, like a needle pricking his brain.

Wang Chengen finally couldn't hold back any longer, raised his head, and said cautiously.

"Your Majesty, please...please calm down. Chen Xiuzhuan...he's young and immature; he spoke without thinking..."

"Immature?" Zhu Youjian opened his eyes and stared at Wang Chengen. "Is he right?"

Wang Chengen choked.

He dared not say it was right, nor dared he say it was wrong.

Zhu Youjian did not need his answer.

The emperor picked up the memorial again and read it once more.

This time, he read very slowly, word by word.

When he saw the line "Officials' salaries are meager, so they have no choice but to seek rent," he rubbed his fingers across the paper.

He thought of himself.

He was the emperor, wearing a faded dragon robe, eating the simplest meals, and even in the Qianqing Palace, he dared not burn too much charcoal.

He was frugal because the national treasury was empty and because he wanted to set an example.

But what about the ministers?

They lived in large mansions, employed dozens or even hundreds of servants, ate delicacies from land and sea, and wore fine silks and satins.

Are their salaries enough?

not enough.

Zhu Youjian knew it wasn't enough.

A first-rank official's annual salary was no more than a thousand shi (a unit of dry measure), equivalent to a few hundred taels of silver.

However, a decent house in the capital costs several thousand taels of silver, and a respectable set of court robes costs over a hundred taels of silver.

Where did they get the money?

Relying on salary?

joke.

So what do we rely on?

They relied on "customary practices," "filial piety," "ice offerings," "charcoal offerings," and "festival offerings" from their students and old friends.

Zhu Youjian knew all of this.

He just pretended not to know.

Because he couldn't solve the problem—a pay raise?

The national treasury is empty.

Severe punishment?

Of all the civil and military officials in the court, how many are truly clean?

Kill them all?

Then who will govern the country for him?

Therefore, he could only turn a blind eye and make an example of a few to deter others.

But now, Chen Zhiyuan has exposed all of this.

Not only did they expose him, they also told him: "Making an example of someone won't work. Because the monkeys aren't afraid of you, they're afraid of becoming the chicken themselves."

As long as the system remains unchanged, killing this chicken will only lead to another one.

Zhu Youjian suddenly felt very tired.

A weariness that seeps from the very bones.

He put down the memorial, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

Zhu Youjian said bitterly, "Officials who speak out should not die. This is an ancestral rule."

He walked back to his desk and picked up the memorial again.

"But I don't like what he's saying."

Zhu Youjian tapped his finger on the paper.

"The system is flawed? Which dynasty's system didn't have problems? Han, Tang, Song—which one solved them?"

He looked at Wang Chengen with sharp eyes.

"Go tell Chen Zhiyuan. No, you don't need to go."

Zhu Youjian picked up his vermilion brush and wrote a line of text in the blank space at the end of the memorial.

Wang Chengen craned his neck to look, but dared not get too close.

After Zhu Youjian finished writing, he closed the memorial and handed it to Wang Chengen.

"According to regulations, it should be returned to the Office of Transmission and sent back to Chen Zhiyuan."

Wang Chengen accepted it with both hands: "Yes."

"Tell him." Zhu Youjian paused.

"I sent him to study history, not so he could use history books to lecture me. What I want are feasible solutions. If he truly has insight, he should tell me how to solve the problem."

Wang Chengen bowed: "This servant understands."

"Go."

When Wang Chengen left the Qianqing Palace with the memorial in his hand, it was already 7:45 PM.

The night wind was cold, and he shivered.

He looked down at the memorial in his hand; the yellow silk cover was heavy.

He could imagine Chen Zhiyuan's expression when he received this imperial edict—fearful? or calm?

he does not know.

But he knew he had to do something.

It's not for Chen Zhiyuan, it's for the Emperor.

Your Majesty cannot stay angry like this forever.

If he gets sick from anger, it will be a loss for the Ming Dynasty.

Wang Chengen quickened his pace and headed towards the office of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

According to regulations, when the emperor responded to a memorial, it was first sent to the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs for registration and copying, and then forwarded by the eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs to the Office of Transmission, which would then return it to the official who submitted the memorial through the original delivery channel.

This process can take anywhere from one day to two or three days.

Wang Chengen decided to do it tonight.

The lights were still on in the office of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

The eunuch on duty was Li Fengxiang, who quickly stood up and bowed when Wang Chengen entered.

"Eunuch Wang, it's so late..."

"His Majesty has just approved a memorial."

Wang Chengen placed the memorial on the table.

"Urgent, get it done tonight."

Li Fengxiang glanced at the title slip on the cover, and his eyelids twitched.

"A Memorial on Rectifying Border Trade" by Chen Zhiyuan.

This name is now known to everyone in the Directorate of Ceremonial.

"Eunuch Wang, this..." Li Fengxiang hesitated, "According to the rules, we don't work at night..."

"His Majesty's decree." Wang Chengen interrupted him, his voice not loud, but carrying an unquestionable tone.

"Register immediately, make a copy for filing, and send the original to the Ministry of Justice overnight. It must be delivered to Chen Zhiyuan by tomorrow morning."

Li Fengxiang dared not ask any more questions and quickly summoned two eunuchs to begin registering and copying.

Wang Chengen stood aside and watched.

He watched as the eunuchs carefully removed the sealing wax, unfolded the memorial, and then—he saw the imperial edict.

Zhu Youjian's calligraphy is very neat, in the standard official script, but the strokes are heavy, revealing a fierce spirit.

The text read:

"You have pointed out the flaws in the system, which have existed in every dynasty. But how did the Han, Tang, and Song dynasties manage to govern? Since you are well-versed in history, you must have insight. I require feasible methods, not empty talk. Please explain in detail."

Li Fengxiang saw it too, and his hand trembled slightly.