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

Although Europe did not yet have a systematic economic theory, William Petty was already thinking that "labor is the father of wealth and land is the mother of wealth."

Thomas Meng was defending the British East India Company, arguing for the importance of the trade surplus.

Although these ideas are scattered, they foreshadow the formation of a new way of understanding.

And what about the Ming Dynasty?

In the imperial court, the debate over "ancestral rules" and "rites and laws" continues, as does the factionalism and suppression of dissent, and the heavy taxation to fill the gaps in military spending.

No one is examining the issue from its root.

How is wealth created in the world?

Why is there a lack of creativity?

Why is the distribution so unfair?

How should the system be adjusted to unleash the power of the people?

The Ming Dynasty needed this kind of cognitive revolution.

Otherwise, no amount of policy adjustments will change the fact that the collapse will be delayed.

Chen Zhiyuan organized the thick stack of memorials, put them into an official seal, and sealed the opening with sealing wax.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Chen Zhiyuan went straight to the Office of Transmission.

When the old official of the Office of Transmission received the memorial, he sighed helplessly.

"Chen Xiuzhuan, this...this is it again..."

Chen Zhiyuan said calmly.

"Reflections on reading history, presented to Your Majesty for your perusal."

The old official wrote it down in the register, his handwriting a little crooked.

"At 2:45 AM on the 21st of March, Chen Zhiyuan, a compiler of the Hanlin Academy, presented a manuscript entitled 'On Productive Forces, Relations of Production and Means of Production,' which consisted of 28 pages."

Chen Zhiyuan bowed and left.

He knew that the memorial would reach the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs today, and at the latest, it would be in Zhu Youjian's hands tomorrow.

I haven't slept all night, my eyes are dry, and my stomach is empty.

There was no food provided in the duty room, so he had to go home and get something to eat himself.

As they walked out of the yamen, the guards were dozing by the door. They were startled awake by the sound of footsteps and quickly stood up straight.

Chen Zhiyuan nodded in return.

Early risers and vendors were already on the streets, carrying vegetables and firewood, hurrying back and forth.

Smoke rose from the rooftops of the houses.

On the surface, this capital city continues to function.

Chen Zhiyuan did not hire a sedan chair—nor could he afford one—so he walked back.

The alley was narrow, and the ground was an uneven dirt road that became muddy and difficult to walk on rainy days.

The walls on both sides of the courtyard are mostly peeling off, revealing the adobe bricks inside.

It was almost noon when I got back to my rented apartment.

Chen Zhiyuan pushed open the creaking wooden door and walked into the courtyard.

This is a small courtyard with two main rooms and one east wing. The monthly rent is two taels of silver.

In the capital, this was already the most modest residence for an official.

One room in the main house serves as a study and living room, while the other room serves as a bedroom.

The study contained only an old desk, two chairs, and a bookshelf.

The bookshelves were piled high with historical records and manuscripts, most of which were left behind by the original owner.

The bedroom is simpler: a wooden bed, a wardrobe, and a washbasin stand.

This is the residence of a sixth-rank compiler in the Hanlin Academy.

Chen Zhiyuan took off his official robe and put on casual clothes—a faded blue cloth robe.

Then he went to the kitchen and started a fire to cook.

There's only a little bit of rice left in the rice jar, enough for about ten more days.

There was only half a cabbage and a few cloves of garlic in the basket.

The oil in the tank is almost gone.

His monthly salary is now equivalent to ten shi of rice for a sixth-rank official, which is about six taels of silver.

After deducting two taels for rent, the remaining four taels had to cover all expenses: food, clothing, writing materials, and social obligations.

This was the true predicament of officials in the capital during the Chongzhen era.

If one is not greedy, does not take bribes, does not socialize, and does not form cliques, one can only live this kind of austere life.

And in such times, one must constantly worry about being impeached, implicated, or demoted.

Chen Zhiyuan cooked a pot of porridge and ate it with pickled vegetables for lunch.

After the meal, he sat down at his desk and began organizing his previous notes.

Since Zhu Youjian told him to "read more history and revise more history," he had to set an example.

Moreover, he does need to gain a deeper understanding of this era.

As I was writing, there was a knock on the courtyard gate.

"Is Chen Xiuzhuan at home?"

His voice was very polite, with the smoothness characteristic of a merchant.

Chen Zhiyuan felt a chill run down his spine.

He put down his pen, walked to the courtyard gate, but did not open it immediately.

"Who is it?"

"My surname is Li, and I am the manager of the Yongchang Company in the city. I have come to pay my respects to Compiler Chen."

Yongchang.

Chen Zhiyuan quickly searched his memory.

The original owner of this body didn't have it in his memories, but he knew it from his previous life—this was one of Wang Dengku's businesses in the capital, ostensibly dealing in silk, but what they did behind the scenes was hard to say.

What was bound to happen has finally happened.

Chen Zhiyuan took a deep breath and opened the courtyard gate.

There were three people standing outside the door.

The leader was a middle-aged man in his forties, wearing a silk robe, with a fair complexion and shrewd eyes.

Two young men who looked like shop assistants followed behind him, each carrying a gift box.

"Chen Xiuzhuan, I apologize for disturbing you."

The middle-aged man cupped his hands and smiled, his smile excessively warm.

Chen Zhiyuan did not step aside: "What is it, Steward Li?"

"Having heard that Compiler Chen has been promoted to Compiler, I have come to offer my congratulations."

Manager Li gave a wink, and two shop assistants immediately handed over the gift box.

The gift box is exquisite, with carved mahogany, and it doesn't look cheap.

"It's just a small token of my appreciation," Manager Li said with a smile.

"Chen Xiuzhuan is honest and upright, which is admirable. My master respects such upright officials the most and has specifically instructed me to befriend him."

Chen Zhiyuan did not answer: "And who is your boss?"

"Master Wang Dengku of Shanxi," Steward Li said frankly, "You must have heard of Compiler Chen."

really.

Chen Zhiyuan sneered inwardly.

He had just mentioned Wang Dengku's name on the platform yesterday, and today the other party came knocking on his door.

That speed, that courage.

"I appreciate Mr. Wang's kindness," Chen Zhiyuan said calmly.

"But gifts cannot be accepted. The imperial court has regulations that prohibit officials from accepting gifts from merchants."

"Oh, Mr. Chen, you flatter me." Manager Li's smile remained unchanged.

"This is not a bribe, but a gift from a friend. Although Chen Xiuzhuan and my master have never met, they have long admired each other. Besides..."

He lowered his voice.

"The officials in the court have all received the host's favor. Compiler Chen need not worry."

These words are both a temptation and a threat.

Let me tell you, if everyone else accepts it and you don't, you're considered antisocial.

Chen Zhiyuan suddenly raised his voice.

"Manager Li! I'll say it again, this gift cannot be accepted! The imperial court has a clear decree that officials are forbidden from engaging in private exchanges with merchants! Please leave!"

His voice was loud and clear, especially in the quiet alley.

The doors of the two neighbors on either side were quietly opened a crack.

Manager Li's expression changed slightly, but he quickly regained his smile.

"Why must you be so insistent, Compiler Chen? I am merely following orders..."

"On orders? On whose orders?" Chen Zhiyuan's voice was even louder.

"Wang Dengku, a mere merchant, dares to send someone to bribe an official of the imperial court? You have a lot of nerve!"

This time, Manager Li was completely humiliated.

He stared at Chen Zhiyuan, his eyes turning cold: "Chen Xiuzhuan, I'm offering you some kind advice, but don't refuse to listen and end up being punished."

"A penalty drink?" Chen Zhiyuan sneered.

"What do you want? To impeach me at the Censorate? I, Chen, am upright and honest, and I'm not afraid of such things!"

He just wanted to make a big scene.

The commotion was so great that the neighbors all heard it and the whole community knew about it. Wang Dengku's men came to bribe him, but he sternly refused.

In this way, if someone were to impeach him for "accepting bribes from Shanxi merchants" in the future, these neighbors could testify.

This was also a means of self-preservation under the political environment of the Ming Dynasty—you had to actively create a "good reputation" and leave evidence.

Manager Li clearly hadn't expected Chen Zhiyuan to be so assertive.

He had assumed that a poor scholar would be polite even if he didn't accept the generous gift.

Unexpectedly, Chen Zhiyuan directly tore off the mask.

Manager Li's voice also turned cold and hard.

"Chen Xiuzhuan's integrity is admirable. I only hope that his future career will be smooth and that he will not suffer any unnecessary troubles."

"There's no need for Steward Li to worry about matters of state."

Chen Zhiyuan did not back down.

Chen Zhiyuan understood perfectly.

This is the tactic of Shanxi merchants: first bribe them to win them over, and if that fails, they falsely accuse and frame them.

The factional struggles of the Ming Dynasty had no shortage of officials willing to "cooperate" with the censors.

As long as enough money is offered or political benefits are promised, someone will be willing to submit a memorial to impeach him.