Chapter 24: The Ming Emperor Hoes the Earth

Why do the Jinyiwei (Embroidered Uniform Guard), the Northern Chief Military Commission, and the Ti-Qi (Imperial Secret Police) and their commander, the Ti-Shuai, find themselves in such an awkward position?

It is because from its inception, this office was the only external judicial organ of the Great Ming Dynasty. To deal with external officials—and specifically high-ranking ministers—this external judicial organ required the Emperor's absolute trust.

The primary reason for the decline of the Ti-Qi is that the Director of the Eastern Depot—who is also responsible for surveillance—is closer to the Emperor and enjoys greater imperial favor.

The Northern Chief Military Commission office, led by Lu Bing, once held overwhelming power precisely because of the Emperor's trust. Ever since the Emperor spoke of practicing martial arts, Lu Bing had wanted to select several sparring partners to accompany the Emperor, remaining by his side—this was the first step toward gaining that trust.

However, as long as the Emperor remained silent, the Ti-Shuai, Zhu Xixiao, could not casually broach the subject. Otherwise, the Emperor's pursuit of martial arts might not last long.

Feng Bao, as the Director of the Eastern Depot, would naturally oppose this vehemently. If he were to collude with external officials to impeach the Commission, the Mansion of the Duke of Cheng would be implicated. Since the military nobility and the Ti-Qi were already in decline, Zhu Xixiao did not want to invite trouble.

Now, however, with the Emperor having spoken, Zhu Xixiao sensed an opportunity.

"Find ten sword-bearing attendants and guards of merit to enter the palace for sparring," Zhu Yijun commanded. As for Empress Dowager Li, he would explain it to her himself.

Zhu Xixiao remained silent for a moment. He had to consider whether this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to offend Feng Bao and restore the glory of the Northern Chief Military Commission. After a pause, he bowed his head and said, "Your subject obeys the decree."

When the little Emperor had first clamored to learn martial arts, he had already dragged Zhu Xixiao onto his ship. When the eunuch Zhang Hong of the Qianqing Palace took the Ti-Qi to clear the palace, the Northern Chief Military Commission had already offended Feng Bao, the "Old Ancestor" of the inner court.

Zhu Yijun smiled and said, "Entering the palace is not hard. But these sword-bearing attendants and guards of merit are notoriously lazy and undisciplined. If they enter the palace and prove inferior even to the little eunuchs, unable to endure hardship or suffering, won't the little eunuchs mock them? Saying that those with 'tools' are worse than those without, and that those with 'courage' are worse than those without?"

Upon hearing this, Zhu Xixiao gritted his teeth. He was furious!

The fire in his heart was instantly ignited, and his fists tightened!

What kind of talk was this! He would make the little Emperor open his eyes and see that not all the military nobility of the Ming were cowards!

"Mother." Zhu Yijun, skilled at fanning the flames, headed toward the Empress Dowager's quarters.

When Zhu Yijun practiced martial arts, Empress Dowager Li watched him constantly, fearing the little Emperor might trip or fall. Feng Bao was at her side, detailing the events of the morning at the Wenhua Hall, especially how the Jin faction acted lawlessly, even vainly attempting to control the Beijing Garrison by appointing military commanders.

In Feng Bao’s narrative, the Jin faction had become a group that deserved to be hacked into a thousand pieces. Meanwhile, the Minister of War, Tan Lun—originally a member of the Jin faction—was transformed from a reckless official into a loyal minister who had seen the error of his ways, pulled back from the brink, and acted with heart for the country.

People always speak from their own standpoint.

The standpoints of Empress Dowager Li and Zhu Yijun were highly aligned. The Empress Dowager hoped Zhu Yijun would become capable and successfully take the reins of the Ming empire, while Zhu Yijun hoped to revive the Ming and make the Great Ming great again.

Seeing the sunny and cheerful little Emperor, Empress Dowager Li smiled and asked, "Are you tired? Zhang Hong boiled some pear water today with a bit of rock sugar; it’s just right."

Zhu Yijun shook his head and said, "Not tired. The Ti-Shuai is timid and reluctant to drill us harshly."

"The Ti-Shuai still has a sense of deference." Hearing this, Empress Dowager Li expressed her approval of Zhu Xixiao, saying that a sense of deference was enough—after all, it wasn't as if the Emperor would lead the Ming army into battle himself, right?

"What did you learn today?" Empress Dowager Li asked with interest.

Zhu Yijun recounted the day’s lessons, particularly the story of Emperor Renzong of Song, who valued grains over pearls and jade. After explaining it thoroughly, he said, "Your son wishes to personally engage in agriculture. The Senior Grand Secretary has already agreed. Emperor Renzong of Song did it, and our Founding Emperor Taizu also did it—it is even written in the Ancestral Injunctions of the Ming. Naturally, your son should do it too."

Zhu Yijun engaging in agriculture had more political significance than practical, in Empress Dowager Li’s view. Could the little Emperor really face the yellow earth and back to the sky, doing everything himself? It would just be the palace eunuchs doing the work.

Empress Dowager Li smiled and said, "Then do it. Use this matter to see which officials in the court lack a sense of deference."

This was the benefit of having a long history; one could always find precedents. Moreover, Emperor Renzong of Song was held in extremely high regard by the scholar-officials. To deny the Emperor’s participation in agriculture, one would first have to deny Emperor Renzong. If they were to deny even the model of benevolence and tolerance established by the scholars themselves, wouldn't that imply the official was dissenting just for the sake of dissent? Wouldn't it suggest that the official lacked all deference and only wanted to trap the Emperor within rituals and rules?

Using the little Emperor’s farming as bait, they could see if they could hook a few rigid, pedantic Confucianists.

As for why he didn't mention the Founding Emperor Taizu, in the minds of Ming civil officials, Taizu had been too bloodthirsty, and his farming was seen as mere posturing. For instance, the Kong family in Yanzhou had called the Zhu family of Fengyang "nouveau riche" and "parochial." Since the Duke Yansheng was a descendant of Confucius, and even he said such things, the popular assessment of Emperor Taizu and Emperor Chengzu was quite low. There was even a specific, insulting term for the Founding Emperor: "The Beggar of Fengyang."

Empress Dowager Li had heard a piece of folk music: "Living in Luzhou and Fengyang, Fengyang was once a good place; ever since the Zhu Emperor appeared, nine out of ten years have been barren."

Since ancient times, few powerful rulers have escaped defamation.

Feng Bao wanted to solidify his position as a chief eunuch; Zhang Jiazheng wanted to teach the Emperor to combine theory with practice; and Empress Dowager Li wanted to go fishing—to find those officials who lacked all deference, even failing to respect the rituals and rules the scholars themselves had established.

"Then your son will go." Zhu Yijun prepared to take his leave. Since he had agreed to engage in agriculture, he had no intention of just putting on a show.

Empress Dowager Li asked in confusion, "Go where?"

"To engage in agriculture. The Senior Grand Secretary said that the Emperor is of supreme status, dwelling deep in the inner palace, and has no way of knowing the hardship of farming. Only by understanding the difficulty of a farmer's life, and toiling throughout the year, can one stop indulgence and pleasure-seeking, and learn to cherish the people's strength for the sake of relief," Zhu Yijun said as if it were only natural.

Since the "Iron Triangle" had agreed to his farming for their own respective purposes, he would naturally go and farm himself.

Empress Dowager Li then realized that the little Emperor really intended to work the land!

"No, the land isn't even leveled yet. Why are you going?" Empress Dowager Li looked at Zhu Yijun. She couldn't very well say that just putting on a show was enough and he shouldn't tire himself out. The people provided for them, and the palace was not lacking for food. But she couldn't say that either; she couldn't tell the little Emperor that the words in the sage’s books were all lies meant to fool people.

Zhu Yijun blinked his large eyes and asked, "Naturally, I am going to level it. Is the Senior Grand Secretary wrong? Toil throughout the year—or is it that your son does not understand the writing and interpreted it wrong?"

"You are not wrong." Empress Dowager Li looked at the little Emperor’s sunny smile and innocent eyes, and eventually waved her hand, signaling for him to go.

As for the little Emperor’s request to select guards of merit and sword-bearing attendants to enter the palace for sparring, Empress Dowager Li also agreed. It was not the fault of the Ti-Qi that outsiders had infiltrated the palace; she knew exactly what a mess the palace was. The Ti-Qi had no power and were under the Eastern Depot; how could they possibly manage the eunuchs?

The Eastern Depot and the Ti-Qi guarded the palace, but one side had to kneel before the other to report—this destroyed the balance. Without balance, trouble would arise. Letting the guards of merit and sword-bearing attendants enter the palace was, in a sense, the Empress Dowager’s support and policy tilt in favor of the Ti-Qi. At the very least, it would allow the Ti-Qi to stand straight when speaking to the eunuchs. That, to her, was balance.

Balance exists between all things.

Feng Bao wanted to say something, but watching the Emperor head straight for Wansui Mountain, he hurried to follow. The Ti-Qi had selected ten men for sparring, and Feng Bao had arranged for ten little eunuchs to do the same. Neither side would have more or less than the other; when the time came, whoever couldn't hold on would be the one to lose face.

The little eunuchs in the palace would absolutely hold on, because if they couldn't, they would be stuck in the "corridor house" for life—a fate worse than death.

Zhu Yijun returned to the Qianqing Palace to change into linen clothes and headed straight for the Xuanwu Gate.

When he reached the back hill, many of the working "Inner Training" troops were already hoeing the earth, and Zhu Yijun quickly joined their ranks.

In the twelfth month, they gathered manure and began composting. In the last month of the year, they exposed cow manure for composting and air-drying. By the first lunar month, they would crush the dry cow manure, mix it into the deepest layers during deep plowing, and then dissolve some of the compost with water for soaking.

Zhu Yijun did not just hoe the earth; he followed the ox carts to plow the soil and personally loaded the compost into the seed drills. Since he was a bit short—barely taller than the drill—he followed several old farmers and little eunuchs to sprinkle the dissolved compost onto the land.

Deep plowing and turning the soil required not just spreading compost, but also weeding and removing grass roots and seeds to prevent the wild grass from growing back in the spring.

The little eunuchs were eager to dig three feet deep to pick out every single grass seed, working with extreme meticulousness. This was a rare opportunity to curry favor with the Emperor.

Feng Bao worked the fields for an hour and felt tired, but he dared not rest. Since the Emperor was hoeing the earth, he, a eunuch, naturally could not be slothful.

Finally, at dusk, Zhu Yijun returned with a full load. Zhang Hong pushed a cart of soil behind the Emperor—this was to be placed in the Qianqing Palace. Upon returning, the Emperor went to wash, while Zhang Hong and two eunuchs pried up a few floor tiles in the southeast corner of the Qianqing Palace to create a flower bed. They were going to plant there, but not flowers—rather, potatoes and sweet potatoes.

Empress Dowager Li looked at the flower bed, which looked completely out of place in the solemn Qianqing Palace, and felt a bit helpless. She simply waved her hand and let the Emperor be. After all, the Emperor wasn't raising crickets or practicing immortality; it was just planting some flowers and plants.

After finishing his evening meal, Zhu Yijun took out a pencil and spread out some paper to write and draw. He had gained a great deal today. The old farmers were all experts at farming, and they had said many things. Fearing he would forget, Zhu Yijun wrote them down—a dull pencil is better than a sharp mind.

"The Empress Dowager has arrived," Zhang Jing shouted at the top of his lungs.

Zhu Yijun stood up to pay his respects. Empress Dowager Li and Empress Dowager Chen had come together, curious about what the usually inactive Emperor had been doing all day.

"Greetings to Mother and Grandmother." After paying his respects, Zhu Yijun sat down at his desk and continued recording what he had seen and heard today.

Empress Dowager Chen stood behind Zhu Yijun and asked with a smile, "Today, Your Majesty has been practicing martial arts and farming. It is so tiring; what are you writing?"

"Farming insights. I will answer when I am finished," Zhu Yijun replied, his expression unmoved, his eyes fixed firmly on the white paper as he wrote rapidly.

He used vernacular characters, which were simpler to write than formal characters. In the process, Zhu Yijun even added punctuation marks to prevent his words from being misinterpreted.

Half an hour later, the large sheet of paper was filled with extremely neat, tiny handwriting. Then, he took out his small notebook—his personal memo—and recorded his inner doubts one by one.

Neither Empress Dowager had any intention of disturbing the little Emperor; they just whispered to each other on the side. Seeing the little Emperor work so hard truly gave them a greater sense of reassurance.

The two Dowagers were discussing the pencil in Zhu Yijun’s hand and whether it might be considered improper. Writing was a part of self-cultivation, and there were strict requirements for sitting posture, lying posture, and brush strokes.

Zhu Yijun finally finished his memo and looked up, asking, "Mother, Grandmother, is there something you need?"

"We just saw you were tired, so we came to check on you," Empress Dowager Chen said with a smile. "Your mother was worried you would be exhausted. In the past, whenever she saw me, she was full of worry; every word was anxiety. These past few days, it’s been the complete opposite—she’s always worried you’re working too hard and asked me to come and advise you."

"What is His Majesty writing?" Empress Dowager Chen was still curious about what the Emperor had been writing so furiously.

Zhu Yijun said quite firmly, "A Record of Farming. It is a science."

"For example, when saving seeds for sweet potatoes and potatoes, every family has their own secret method, but it all comes down to three things: new, wet, and frozen. Seeds must be fresh; with old grain seeds, the harvest is minimal. Storing seeds has two dilemmas: fear of dampness and fear of freezing. If they are buried, they won't freeze but will get damp; if they aren't buried, they won't get damp but will freeze."

"How does one solve this dilemma?"

"Cellar storage. Buried in an earthen cellar, they won't freeze or get damp—it is the most appropriate method."

"North of the Qinling-Huaihe line, the climate is cold. Seeds must be stored before the Frost’s Descent, otherwise, they will freeze to death before entering the cellar."

"And for sowing, it must be done after the Qingming Festival. It often rains around Qingming, and one must replant about half after the Grain Rain, because the north often has 'late spring cold.' Around Qingming, there is still thin ice and light frost, which will freeze the seedlings to death."

"The fertile land at the foot of Wansui Mountain doesn't need to be replanted because the little eunuchs will use thick straw mats to cover it after sowing to prevent freezing..."

The Emperor’s farming was different from the commoners’. There were five acres of land and nearly a hundred people serving it; they were so meticulous they would probably want to split the insect eggs in the soil in half. But in the Ming military colonies, one hundred people farmed five hundred acres—meaning each person had to farm five acres.

The sowing time in the capital was slightly later than in later generations, because the Ming was currently in the "Little Ice Age."

Empress Dowager Li didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The little Emperor wasn't just playing at farming; he was investigating and experimenting personally and summarizing his experience and lessons with extreme care.

"Your son has a doubt," Zhu Yijun said, his face appearing grave.