Chapter Twenty-One: The Noble Man Is Broad and Open, The Petty Man Is Always Anxious

After the incident involving the attempted assassination of the emperor, the palace was filled with confusing and bizarre rumors. The main cause was Feng Bao, who relentlessly spread false information—stories of fires at Fengtian Hall, dark omens lurking beneath the corridors, poisoned food service in the Ministry of Imperial Household Affairs, and palace maids becoming pregnant—all strategically disseminated. Whenever someone reported such matters, it helped narrow down the range and identify the insiders among the ministers within the palace.

The emperor had taught Feng Bao these tactics, and Feng Bao was diligently innovating, devising new methods. His spreading of false rumors was nothing more than fishing for information. Feng Bao genuinely feared losing his hereditary position, so when a message came from Qianqing Palace that the emperor intended to farm the land himself, Feng Bao sensed his opportunity had arrived.

If he managed this task well, his standing with His Majesty would improve, somewhat redeeming his past mistakes. Consequently, Feng Bao dispatched Xu Jue to inform You Qi of the emperor’s plan to farm, providing clear reasons for it.

Zhang Juzheng had to help Feng Bao secure his position as Grand Eunuch; otherwise, if someone else replaced him as head of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Zhang would have to rebuild relationships anew. His own work at the outer court was already constrained.

After completing the final chapter of the “Emperor’s Mirror Illustrated,” Zhang Juzheng fully grasped its core message.

“Send it to Ma Ziqiang at the Imperial Academy and have him carve the blocks overnight. I want to see the finished book by tomorrow; the emperor’s studies must not be delayed,” Zhang instructed, handing the manuscript to You Qi to carry out the order.

Ma Ziqiang was waiting for Zhang’s final imperial stories to complete the book.

Officials throughout the empire served the supreme Ming emperor, even in the dead of night.

As for Feng Bao’s request, Zhang Juzheng began to weigh it very seriously.

He wasn’t evaluating pros and cons; helping Feng Bao was helping himself. Securing Feng Bao’s position as Grand Eunuch facilitated the implementation of his reforms.

To Zhang, the emperor farming was a trivial matter. The Ming dynasty’s founding emperor had once worn straw sandals to farm within the palace grounds.

According to the “Ming Dynasty Ancestral Instructions,” Zhu Yuanzhang had pointed to the palace vegetable garden and told his sons, including the Crown Prince Zhu Biao and Prince Yan Zhu Di, “This place need not have pavilions and terraces built for leisure; simply have the palace servants cultivate vegetables here to avoid wasting the people’s wealth and labor.”

This was the ancestral tradition of the Zhu family, with the sacred plaque still hanging in Qianqing Palace, symbolizing respect for Heaven and ancestors—an upright law from the forefathers.

The buzz around the emperor farming paled in comparison to the reforms Zhang was pushing. The Ming bureaucracy had been lax for 205 years, and now, with a prime minister trying to impose a tight rein, these officials hated him with a passion.

Zhang Juzheng pondered what crops the emperor should grow. Since the decision was made, it had to yield results.

He recalled his meeting with Luo Gongchen, the Deputy Naval Defense Commissioner.

Luo’s proposals were excellent, but could potatoes and sweet potatoes really produce over two thousand jin per mu? Was Luo exaggerating or was it the truth?

If Luo’s claims were unreliable, Zhang needed to find crops that would yield results more easily.

If they could truly achieve a thousand jin per mu with potatoes, the emperor’s future direct rule would be far more stable.

The phenomenon of a ruler’s death ending governance was common in Ming history.

For example, the Hongwu Emperor passed the throne to the Jianwen Emperor Zhu Yunwen, who lost the realm. The Yan Court’s rebellion became the only successful insurrection by a prince in recorded history.

The Yongle Emperor launched five northern campaigns and six voyages to the Western Seas; expeditions continued into the Xuande era but ceased after the reign of the Yingzong Emperor.

The great minister Yu Qian rebuilt the capital’s army and repelled the Oirat after the Yingzong’s disastrous campaign left the capital forces decimated. Yet after Yingzong’s restoration, the capital army was disbanded, and Yu Qian was executed by beheading in public.

In Ming China, the demise of a leader often meant the end of their policies.

Yang Bo, leader of the Jin faction, repeatedly warned Zhang Juzheng: as the head of all officials and prime minister, such reforms would bring him no good end. The Ming emperors were cold and ungrateful by nature. Serving the Zhu family faithfully would invite collective opposition. The emperor would seize the opportunity to purge them, even desecrate graves—a lesson from Yu Qian’s fate.

Yu Qian’s wrongful death was a disgrace to those seeking honor; later officials trembled at his example.

Yang Bo worked hard to win over Zhang Juzheng, even offering the Jin faction’s position to him, which was preferable to handing it to the indecisive Zhang Siwei.

Zhang hoped that his policies would survive beyond his death, at least ensuring that after the emperor assumed direct control, they would endure.

Whether the monarch would fully purge his policies was beyond Zhang’s control.

Zhang opened his eyes and trusted Luo Gongchen.

His judgment rested on a simple principle: consider where a man’s interests lie.

Luo Gongchen was a jinshi degree holder—a scholar of great prestige. What was a jinshi? It was passing the imperial examination, an extraordinary leap, after which local villagers would eagerly register their lands under the jinshi’s name to evade imperial taxes.

Zhang himself had passed the jinshi exam and knew well the authority it conferred.

Those who had previously boasted arrogantly would now bow and polish your shoes. People’s eyes would change—filled with reverence and avoidance. Wherever you went, you would be saluted with humble obeisance.

Luo Gongchen was a gentleman and a ruler, a man of means. During the Japanese pirate invasions, many jinshi fled with their wealth to safety; common folk, destitute, could not escape, but the gentry with silver could go anywhere.

When the southeast was ravaged by pirates, the gentry fled to Huguang Province, scattering silver that bought lands, tenants, servants, and estates.

But Luo Gongchen did not flee. He repeatedly organized military and civilian forces to resist the pirates. When Songjiang Prefecture was threatened, Luo rushed to aid it overnight. In gratitude, Songjiang built the Danfeng Tower with an inscription “Feng Lou Yuan Tiao” to commemorate his deeds.

Zhang Juzheng admired soldiers and officials who fought during the pirate invasions—he regarded Tan Lun, Qi Jiguang, and Luo Gongchen as comrades.

Picking up a pencil, Zhang wrote two lines. The first was the young emperor’s annotation: “Comrades and fellows, sharing joy together.” The second he added himself: “The wise remain unshaken.”

Yang Bo’s conditions were generous, but the cost of pushing reforms was enormous. When the officials united against him, his fate was predictable.

There were precedents of policies surviving after their proponents’ deaths. Shang Yang’s reforms offended many; he was executed and his family exterminated, yet King Huiwen of Qin preserved his reforms.

“The wise remain unshaken”—this was Zhang’s self-admonition. Even dismemberment by five horses was not unbearable if the reforms endured.

At dawn the next day, the young emperor resumed his strange daily routine—reading upstairs while quarrels broke out below.

The argument was still about Tan Lun’s retirement.

The Ministry of Personnel’s censors had impeached Tan Lun earlier. Today, Tan submitted a retirement memorial. Yang Bo, Minister of Personnel, accused Tan of dereliction, listing thirty-four charges against him.

Even Zhu Yijun exclaimed in disbelief: “Good heavens, Minister of War Tan Lun is so corrupt? Thirty-four charges—does the Ministry of Personnel really dare say that?”

The young emperor listened and soon understood that all thirty-four charges were essentially accumulated from a single issue.

Tan had long blocked the approval of a list of capable officers recommended by Wang Chonggu.

Wang had been reassigned from Governor of Xuan Da to oversee the capital army and brought a roster of officers to be transferred from the frontier troops to the capital garrison—but Tan had stalled the process in the Ministry of War for six months.

Feng Bao glared at Wang Chonggu and said grimly, “Minister Wang, during the Jingtai era, Minister Yu was also Minister of War. After rebuilding the capital army and repelling the Oirats, he immediately inspected the borders. All appointments were personally managed by the emperor. The Jingtai emperor even personally harvested bamboo sap to treat Minister Yu’s phlegm disease—a model of a holy monarch and loyal minister.”

Yu Qian was executed by beheading after the restoration of Emperor Yingzong for the alleged crime of “intent to usurp”—meaning Yu intended to install Prince Xiang as crown prince, a claim even the emperor’s own son and successor did not believe.

Thanks to Emperor Xianzong’s restoration of the emperor’s title to the Jingtai emperor and Yu Qian’s posthumous rehabilitation, Feng Bao could now openly cite this episode.

Feng Bao threw a memorial onto the table, his head bandaged but raised, watching Wang Chonggu twitch his mouth, raise his eyebrows, flare his nostrils, and sneer, “Today it’s Minister Wang’s turn to be Minister of War and oversee the capital army. Tsk tsk, Minister Wang, it’s as if you want to drag all your dogs into the capital army to eat imperial grain!”

Feng Bao’s words were truly harsh. His duty was to berate ministers; the harsher, the better.

“The Ming court is not yet a place for eunuchs like you to run wild!” Wang Chonggu slammed the table, his face darkening with rage, ready to fight. Feng Bao’s verbal assaults had reached a level beyond ten stages of provocation—he had apparently reached twelve.

The Chief Censor Ge Shouli could not best Feng Bao, but Wang Chonggu certainly could.

Yet Feng Bao was unruffled, calmly quoting Confucius: “The superior man is broad-minded and at ease; the petty man is always full of anxiety.”

“That means, as many of you learned scholars know better than this eunuch, a superior man faces heaven and himself with no shame. The petty man fusses over trifles, gains power for a little benefit, and lives in fear and unrest.”

“I am indeed a eunuch, but I sit here with a clear conscience before His Majesty and the Empress Dowager. I am upright and broad-minded.”

“I have often heard that petty men love to beat the blind and abuse the mute—beating the blind because they cannot see, abusing the mute because they cannot speak. You call me eunuch, but who among us is truly petty?”

“You, Wang Chonggu, have bells hanging on you. If you ask me, it would be better to remove them! I once served in the Imperial Household Department; my blade skills are excellent.”

Feng Bao used the sage’s words to call Wang a petty man who attacks others’ weaknesses and wears bells openly, while Feng himself stood with a clear heart on behalf of the Ming dynasty. If Wang wanted castration, Feng would be glad to do it himself!

“How utterly arrogant! I serve His Majesty with all my heart. As overseer of the capital army, I naturally care for its affairs and select the worthy without favoritism. Yet in your mouth, it becomes this filthy accusation!” Wang finally lost his temper and rolled up his sleeves, ready to fight.

Zhang Juzheng calmly interrupted, “Court Marshal.”

The Court Marshal was responsible for policing misconduct before the throne. Quarrels could be tolerated, but fighting was disgraceful.

“Ha ha ha! Our Ming scholars are being scolded by a eunuch quoting the sages and dare not reply! I don’t know whether to rejoice or mourn,” Tan Lun laughed, ignoring Wang’s furious face as he steadied himself on the table.

Tan’s refusal to approve the list stemmed from the fact that though not all officers listed were Wang’s men, most were. The capital army was a critical matter, and Tan’s delay angered Yang Bo, leading Luo Gongchen to seek refuge first with Yang Bo, then with Zhang Juzheng after being turned away.

Tan’s insubordination naturally led to his impeachment.

Tan laughed but then grew mournful and sighed helplessly, “Joy is natural, this scene is truly amusing. Sadness is that it unfolds in our Wenhua Hall—truly a sorrow for our Ming.”

The fate of the Ming realm was like this hall: the young emperor studying, ministers quarrelling, eunuchs wielding the classics to berate learned men who dared not retort.

Everywhere was strange.

Did Feng Bao read extensively? Compared to the grand secretaries, hardly. Yet he had the skill to silence others with his scorn.

“Minister Wang,” Yang Bo finally intervened, warning him not to argue with Feng Bao further. Doing so only brought humiliation.

Zhang Juzheng smiled at Wang and said, “Minister Wang is loyal and devoted, distressed by the rot in the capital army. His urgency and righteousness, his honest nature, all serve the Ming and His Majesty. Feng, the Grand Eunuch, should no longer bully Minister Wang, who is not skilled in argument.”

“Hmph!” Wang knew he was in the wrong and took the offered step down, slinging his sleeves as he sat, sulking.

Upon arriving at the capital army, Wang found it even more rotten than frontier troops and was naturally anxious. Yet in Feng Bao’s mouth, this became an accusation of treason.

Wang was furious; he had no intention of dragging his household dogs to eat imperial grain.

Tan Lun’s retirement memorial would never be approved by the Directorate of Ceremonial nor receive the imperial seal.

Feng Bao returned victorious, proud and satisfied.

“I do have a plan regarding the supplementary appointment of capital army officers,” Zhang Juzheng said after reviewing the situation.