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

All eyes were on Chen Zhiyuan.

He stood up: "That is I."

The eunuch looked him up and down, then unfolded the yellow silk in his hand.

"His Majesty's oral decree: Chen Zhiyuan, a compiler of the Hanlin Academy, is to be presented to the Emperor at 9:00 AM tomorrow for a formal audience and to deliver his report."

The room was completely silent.

Chen Zhiyuan bowed: "Your subject obeys the decree."

Platform-based matching.

Chen Zhiyuan's heart skipped a beat.

He knew about this system.

Zhu Youjian followed the example of his ancestors and would summon ministers to the platform from time to time to discuss important military and national affairs.

Those who could be summoned for an audience were at least officials of the rank of Vice Minister or above, or ministers with special missions.

It's almost an exception that a seventh-rank editor was summoned by the platform.

He straightened his blue official robe and found his palms were sweaty.

It took four days from when I traveled to this era to when I met the emperor.

It was too fast, so fast that he had no time to prepare.

But history waits for no one.

After the eunuch finished reading the imperial edict, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

All eyes of Chen Zhiyuan's fellow Hanlin scholars were focused on him, some with surprise, some with confusion, and some with barely perceptible jealousy.

Huang Daozhou was the first to react, and a smile spread across his face.

"Brother Yichen's summons to an audience with His Majesty is truly an honor for our Hanlin Academy."

Chen Zhiyuan managed to maintain his composure.

"Brother Yusheng, you flatter me. I am humbled."

He knew the meaning behind those gazes—a seventh-rank editor suddenly being summoned by the platform meant either he was about to gain favor or he was about to be convicted.

In the court during the Chongzhen reign, the latter was no less likely than the former.

The eunuch shrieked again.

"Editor Chen, His Majesty also instructed that your memorial be copied and sent to all the cabinet ministers for them to read carefully. The Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs has already sent people to deliver it to the residences of the ministers today."

These words were like a stone thrown into stagnant water, and suppressed gasps filled the room.

Chen Zhiyuan was startled.

Zhu Youjian played a clever trick – he both elevated the weight of the memorial and put him in the spotlight.

What will those old foxes in the cabinet think when they see this memorial?

In particular, the section on "responsibility for speech" is almost a slap in the face to all officials who speak out.

"This humble official understands."

"Thank you, sir."

The atmosphere in the main room eased a bit after the eunuch left with the young eunuch.

Colleagues gathered around, asking questions all at once.

Chen Zhiyuan responded cautiously to each question, only saying that his memorial was inspired by reading history and that he dared not make any rash comments on state affairs.

Finally, when it was time to leave, Chen Zhiyuan hurriedly left the Hanlin Academy.

Dusk comes early in Beijing, and the March wind is still biting.

He wrapped his thin official robe tighter around himself and walked along the street toward his rented residence.

My mind was already racing.

Tomorrow is the day the platform will be ready to play its part.

This is his greatest opportunity since he transmigrated, and it may also be his greatest crisis.

He knew Zhu Youjian all too well.

Suspicious, stubborn, and impatient, but also diligent, responsible, and eager for national rejuvenation.

This contradictory personality led to polarized historical evaluations of him.

What Chen Zhiyuan has to do now is dance on the edge of a knife—to offer truly useful advice without offending this sensitive emperor.

The "responsibility system for speech" is just a starting point.

After reading the memorial, Zhu Youjian would definitely ask how to do it in detail.

This is a starting point, but we can't stop at this level.

Chen Zhiyuan recalled the materials he had compiled.

What is the most fatal problem facing the Ming Dynasty right now?

It's not a lack of money, not a lack of soldiers, and not even a natural disaster.

The most fatal flaw is information distortion—from top to bottom, from the imperial court to local authorities, everyone lives in a world of false information.

Local officials concealed the extent of the disaster because the performance evaluation system only considered tax revenue.

The border generals falsely reported their military achievements because the Ministry of War only recognized the heads of soldiers.

Censors report matters based on hearsay, because they are not held accountable.

The cabinet's draft vote is ambiguous because they don't want to take responsibility.

The entire bureaucratic system is like a rusty machine, with every part just going through the motions and no one caring whether the machine can actually function.

Zhu Youjian sat at the top of this machine, reviewing false reports and making wrong decisions every day.

Chen Zhiyuan pushed open the door to his apartment.

This is a simple little courtyard with two main rooms and one side room, and the monthly rent is two taels of silver.

The original owner came from a decent family. His father was a scholar in Changzhou Prefecture, but the family had exhausted their savings to support his studies and the imperial examinations. Now he was an official in the capital with a meager salary, barely enough to maintain a semblance of dignity.

He lit an oil lamp and sat down at his desk.

Several notebooks were spread out on the table—these were the materials he had compiled during his three-day journey.

It contains historical events from memory, summaries of the Ming Dynasty's legal system, and biographies and factions of important officials in the court.

What should I say tomorrow?

We can't be too radical.

Although Zhu Youjian wanted to reform, he was conservative at heart and had a natural reverence for the "ancestral laws".

To directly say that the system is flawed is tantamount to denying the more than two hundred years of rule of the Zhu family.

It also shouldn't be too vague.

Late at night.

The flame of the oil lamp flickered, casting swaying shadows on the wall.

Chen Zhiyuan repeatedly rehearsed tomorrow's conversation.

What would Zhu Youjian ask?

What would he say?

What kinds of things can be said?

What words should not be said?

Most importantly, he wanted to leave an impression on Zhu Youjian through this audience—that this person was useful, but not a threat.

Insightful, but not arrogant.

They can get things done, but they won't form cliques.

It's a delicate balance.

The sound of a clapper came from outside the window; it was already past midnight.

Chen Zhiyuan blew out the oil lamp and lay down on the bed fully clothed.

In the darkness, his eyes were open, and he was still rehearsing the plan repeatedly in his mind.

March 14th, at the beginning of the Si hour.

Chen Zhiyuan followed the eunuch who was leading the way, passing through many palace gates and heading towards a platform deep inside the Forbidden City.

He wore a faded blue official robe and a black gauze hat. His steps were steady, but his palms were already sweaty.

This is the first time I've met the Emperor since I transmigrated, and it might be the last—if I handle it poorly.

The platform is located in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony; it is an open-air elevated platform.

Zhu Youjian, following the example of his ancestors, often summoned his ministers here to demonstrate that "the emperor and his ministers are one and discuss national affairs together."

But Chen Zhiyuan knew that this was more of a gesture—in the Chongzhen era, real power was increasingly concentrated in the hands of the emperor alone.

As he climbed the steps, Chen Zhiyuan took a deep breath.

Several people were already standing on the platform.

He immediately recognized the leader as the Grand Secretary Cheng Ji-ming, whose hair and beard were all white and whose expression was solemn.

Beside him was Grand Secretary Zhou Yanru, and several other ministers he didn't recognize, who, judging from their robes, were probably at the ministerial level.

All eyes were on him.

A seventh-rank editor stood out awkwardly among a group of first and second-rank officials.

Chen Zhiyuan bowed according to the rules, then stood at the end with his hands at his sides.

He could feel those scrutinizing gazes—curious, puzzled, and wary.

Zhou Yanru, in particular, looked at him with a clear sense of scrutiny.

The section on "joint liability for recommendations" in Chen Zhiyuan's memorial, given the wide-ranging implications of the Yuan case at the time, probably made every minister present who had recommended officials feel extremely uneasy.

He thought of Qian Longxi—the second minister who had once strongly supported Yuan Chonghuan was now imprisoned for his recommendation, his fate unknown.

At this point, Chen Zhiyuan was seen by Zhou Yanru as an utterly wicked villain.

More than one cabinet minister and minister has been imprisoned in the court because of the Yuan case, and a tense and grim atmosphere permeates the air.

At 3:45 AM, Zhu Youjian arrived.

The eunuch announced loudly, "The Emperor has arrived!" and everyone knelt and bowed.

Chen Zhiyuan looked down and could only see the hem of the bright yellow dragon robe passing by his eyes.

Zhu Youjian was always in a hurry, a characteristic recorded in historical books—he was always rushing and always felt there wasn't enough time.

"Rise."

The voice was young, but it carried a hint of fatigue and a barely perceptible impatience.

Chen Zhiyuan stood up, which gave him a chance to see Zhu Youjian clearly.

The emperor was twenty years old this year. He had a thin face, heavy eye bags, and a tightly pursed mouth, exuding a seriousness that was inconsistent with his age.

He was dressed casually, without his winged crown, appearing relaxed, but his eyes were sharp as knives, sweeping across the faces of every minister.

"The reason I have summoned you all here today is to discuss Chen Zhiyuan's memorial."

Zhu Youjian got straight to the point, without any pleasantries.

"I've read it, and I find it quite interesting. Mr. Cheng, Mr. Zhou, you've read it too, haven't you?"