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

The office of the Left Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate was brightly lit by candlelight.

Chen Zhiyuan sat at his desk, with thick ledgers and densely packed drafts spread out in front of him.

His eyes were bloodshot, but his hand holding the pen was as steady as a rock.

Zhao Delu ground ink on the side, watching Chen Zhiyuan write furiously, feeling both admiration and worry.

"Minister Qian, you should take a break. This memorial won't be finished anytime soon."

Chen Zhiyuan didn't even look up: "We can't rest. The Emperor is waiting."

He wasn't lying.

The files transferred from the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of War, and other departments three days ago have all been checked.

Those numbers, those contradictions, those shocking truths were all churning in his mind at that moment.

He wanted to write a memorial to the throne, a memorial that would allow Zhu Youjian to see reality clearly.

The pen tip scratched across the paper.

After writing the last word, Chen Zhiyuan put down his pen and rubbed his sore wrist.

The sky outside the window was just beginning to lighten; it was already the hour of Yin (3-5 AM).

Zhao Delu took the memorial, carefully blew the ink dry, and put it into a yellow silk envelope.

"Vice Prefect, shall we submit it now?"

"Pass it over." Chen Zhiyuan stood up and walked to the window.

"Send this to the Ministry of Justice before the morning court session, so that the Emperor can see it today."

Zhao Delu held the memorial, seemingly wanting to speak but then stopping himself.

"Say whatever you want to say."

"Minister Qian, this memorial... is too blunt. What will His Majesty think after reading it...?"

"Won't the emperor be furious?" Chen Zhiyuan smiled.

"Yes. But I will also think about it deeply."

He knew Zhu Youjian's character.

Suspicious and impatient, but also responsible and ambitious.

Zhu Youjian may have vaguely known some of the contents of this memorial, but he certainly did not know that it was so detailed and systematic.

"Go," Chen Zhiyuan said. "I will await the Emperor's summons."

At the beginning of Chen Shi (7-9 AM), in Qianqing Palace.

Zhu Youjian had just finished his breakfast and was sitting behind his desk reading the summary of today's memorials.

Wang Chengen brought in a stack of newly arrived memorials and placed them on the left side of the imperial desk.

"Your Majesty, this was just delivered by the Ministry of Justice. The one on top is for Chen Zhiyuan."

Zhu Youjian looked up: "Chen Zhiyuan? He's finished his investigation?"

"Judging from the thickness of the envelope, it seems like the investigation is complete."

Zhu Youjian put down the summary in his hand and picked up Chen Zhiyuan's memorial.

The document was bound in yellow silk, written in a neat, official script, and bore the inscription: "Respectfully submitted by Chen Zhiyuan, Left Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate."

He opened the envelope and took out the memorial.

It's a thick stack, probably twenty or thirty pages.

Zhu Youjian frowned.

This is quite long; it seems the investigation was very thorough.

He turned to the first page.

It started out very ordinary: listing numbers and doing accounting.

Zhu Youjian was quick to read; he probably knew all of this.

Empty quotas and deductions in military pay in Liaodong are nothing new.

But when he saw the total account Chen Zhiyuan had calculated, his brows furrowed.

"23,000 vacancies, embezzling 414,000 taels of silver annually..."

Zhu Youjian's finger paused on the numbers.

He knew there were vacancies, but he didn't expect so many.

Twenty-three thousand men—that's equivalent to the military strength of two towns.

These people don't exist, but their salaries are still being paid. Where did the money go?

He continued reading.

When Zhu Youjian saw the comparison between the payroll records of each town and the actual pay received by the soldiers, his face darkened.

"The records show that 76,000 taels were actually issued, but the soldiers only received about 40,000 to 50,000 taels..."

"Deduct 'reward money,' deduct 'food and drink expenses,' deduct 'depreciation of military equipment'..."

Zhu Youjian's hands began to tremble.

He wasn't unaware that border generals were embezzling military pay, but the blatant and systematic nature of it was beyond his imagination.

What angered him even more was that everything was perfect in the ledgers.

The accounts of the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Revenue, the Grand Canal Transport Bureau, local authorities, and various towns—every level of accounts matched up, and every expenditure had a specific purpose.

If Chen Zhiyuan hadn't compared these accounts side by side, and if he hadn't found the soldiers' complaints and letters as evidence, these shady dealings would have been completely undetectable.

Zhu Youjian recalled last year.

Last October, Huang Taiji broke through the pass and the border army was defeated.

He sternly reprimanded the generals for their incompetence and ordered a thorough investigation.

The Ministry of War reported that "there is insufficient troop strength and inadequate food and pay."

He believed it.

Therefore, he increased the tax on Liaodong and tried every means to raise money.

But now Chen Zhiyuan tells him: the money isn't insufficient, it's been embezzled. It's not just one person who's embezzling; it's an entire system that's embezzling. Everyone, from top to bottom, gets a share.

"This fictitious silver is used to support corrupt officials, enrich clerks, and line private pockets, but not to support the army..."

Zhu Youjian read those words aloud, the sound squeezed out through clenched teeth.

The money meant to support soldiers was used to support corrupt officials.

The border soldiers guarded the city on empty stomachs, while the parasites feasted and became fat.

And he, the emperor of the Ming Dynasty, worried about military expenses every day, felt guilty about the additional taxes levied on Liaodong, and was anxious about the border wars—it turned out that he was cleaning up the messes of these people!

"Bang!"

Zhu Youjian slammed his fist on the imperial desk.

The inkstone jumped up, splashing ink all over the floor.

Wang Chengen was so frightened that he knelt down.

"Your Majesty, please calm your anger!"

Zhu Youjian ignored him.

He continued reading the memorials, reading faster and faster, growing angrier with each reading.

He was stunned when he saw Chen Zhiyuan's final suggestion on "restructuring".

"A new system must be established to ensure that the verification of troop numbers, the allocation of funds, the transfer and reception of personnel, and the distribution to individuals are all interconnected and mutually corroborated..."

"Furthermore, we must ensure that the soldiers have the opportunity to express their suffering and voice their grievances..."

These words, like a bolt of lightning, cleaved through the fog in his heart.

Yes, what's the use of killing a few corrupt officials?

If this system isn't broken, newcomers will still follow the same old path.

Because this is the "rule," the "custom," and the "way to make money" that everyone tacitly agrees on.

To eradicate this problem, we must change the rules, break with conventions, and cut off the source of income.

But how easy is that?

Zhu Youjian leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He felt a deep sense of powerlessness.

Three years into his reign, he killed Wei Zhongxian, purged the eunuch faction, severely punished corruption, and worked diligently without ceasing.

But the result?

The border situation is getting worse, bandits are increasing, and the national treasury is becoming increasingly empty.

It turns out it wasn't that he wasn't working hard; it was that the system was completely rotten.

It's rotten to the core.

"Wang Chengen." Zhu Youjian opened his eyes, his voice hoarse.

"This servant is here."

"Summon Chen Zhiyuan. He must come now."

"Now?" Wang Chengen glanced at the sky. "Your Majesty, there is still the morning court session today..."

"I won't go," Zhu Youjian said. "Just say I'm not feeling well and I'm exempt from the morning court session."

"Yes."

Wang Chengen withdrew.

Zhu Youjian picked up Chen Zhiyuan's memorial again and read it through from the beginning.

This time, he looked at it very slowly and carefully.

Every number, every analysis, every conclusion.

After reading it, he remained silent for a long time.

Cold sweat seeped from his forehead and streamed down his cheeks.

He knew there were problems with the border troops, but he didn't realize they were so serious and so systemic.

If Chen Zhiyuan's investigation was true—and he believed it was true, since those numbers were documented—then the Ming Dynasty's border defenses were actually completely rotten.

It wasn't that we were defeated by the Later Jin, but by our own people.

Defeated by this all-consuming corrupt system.

"Your Majesty, Vice Minister Chen has arrived."

Wang Chengen's voice rang out from outside the hall.

Zhu Youjian wiped his face and sat up straight.

"Announce."