Chapter Thirty-Nine: Censors Petition the Imperial Throne

Yang Bo looked at the censors and officials with deep anxiety. In them, he saw the Ming Dynasty truly nearing its sunset. These officials had long since lost their backbone. It was certainly not Ge Shouli’s doing, for Ge was always obedient to Yang Bo.

Had Yang Bo openly expressed his support for the Emperor’s decision in the Wenhua Hall, Ge Shouli would never have gathered the censors on his own.

Who had done it, then?

Zhang Siwei.

Zhang Siwei was impatient to replace Yang Bo as the leader of the Jin Party, and he was eager to demonstrate his influence.

"Sigh." Yang Bo let out a breath. With three strikes of the ceremonial whip, the court officials entered the Wenhua Hall and knelt in succession.

"We pay our respects to Your Majesty. Is Your Majesty in good health?" the ministers chanted in unison.

Zhu Yijun did not grant them leave to rise. Instead, he spoke, "I am in good health, though my mood is quite poor. One hundred and ninety-two censors are kneeling outside the Chengtian Gate."

"They claim they are acting in loyalty to the throne and the state, to curb the habits of sycophancy, to bolster the spirit of integrity, to stand for the righteous, to speak for the loyal, to address the great interests of the state, and to offer stinging advice even at the cost of punishment."

"Their mouths are full of benevolence and morality, yet their hearts are full of treachery and deceit."

"They act as if my efforts to stop the factionalism and the arbitrary conduct of officials are acts of persecuting the loyal."

"I am ashamed," Yang Bo said, his face filled with embarrassment.

Ge Shouli, the head of the censors, could not control his subordinates, and Yang Bo, the leader of the Jin Party, could not restrain his own faction.

"Grand Tutor Feng, go and explain this matter to them clearly. See if they are willing to stand up and return to their offices," Zhu Yijun said, still denying the courtiers permission to rise, choosing instead to send Feng Bao to negotiate with the officials.

"I wish to go as well," Ge Shouli declared loudly. It truly wasn't his doing; he had never intended to gather them. If the Empress Dowager were to find out, what would she think of him as the Chief Censor?

This crisis could not be settled by the Inner Court alone; as the Chief Censor, he had to go.

"Go," Zhu Yijun waved his hand. Ge Shouli should have realized long ago that he was only a leader because the others allowed him to be; he should stop being used by others while helping them count their coins.

"You may rise," Zhu Yijun said, glancing around at the ministers.

"We thank Your Majesty for your grace." The ministers stood up but did not take their seats for the deliberation. They waited in silence. The late spring chill was biting, and the windows of the Wenhua Hall were shut. The only sound in the hall was the rustle of the young Emperor turning pages and writing.

Yang Bo became increasingly certain of his inner suspicion: the young Emperor would surely uproot the Jin Party, which had long since devolved into a mere faction of kin and cronies.

Zhang Juzheng, meanwhile, was curious. Despite such a major incident, the young Emperor remained as composed as ever, still reading and writing! There was no fear, no panic—only a tranquility that suggested this was exactly how things ought to be.

Zhang Juzheng had spent decades in office before he truly saw through the masks of these men. Where did the young Emperor learn this nonchalant air? The Senior Grand Secretary pondered for a long time, only to realize that the boy seemed to have learned it from him.

He himself had never cared much for these stubborn, so-called "pure officials." Zhang Juzheng had ways to deal with the censors, but he wanted to see the Emperor’s methods first.

Feng Bao and Ge Shouli returned quickly. The facts were simple, and Feng Bao was sharp-tongued. Ge Shouli kept urging everyone to return, but the results were modest: out of 192 people, only about 30 left, leaving 154 behind.

Zhu Yijun stopped writing and asked Zhang Juzheng, "Yesterday, the Ministry of Justice recommended Hai Rui for an official post. I asked the Empress Dowager her opinion, and she said Hai Rui is like a pine or cypress—unbending and upright. I intend to bring him back to court. What does the Senior Grand Secretary think?"

"Hai Rui is upright, but he is too rigid and easily broken. He is not a flexible administrator," Zhang Juzheng replied, his stance unchanged. In the dragon’s den of the capital, such excessive rigidity led only to death. He did not oppose Hai Rui’s return; he simply believed that Hai Rui’s lack of flexibility would lead to him being ostracized and destroyed.

Zhu Yijun saw that Zhang Juzheng did not oppose him. He knew his guess from the day before was correct: Zhang’s blank slip was a reserved opinion—an abstention, not an explicit opposition.

That was enough.

The young Emperor said to Feng Bao, "Grand Tutor, go and tell them what will happen if Hai Rui returns to court."

Hai Rui, that sharp blade, could indeed curb the habits of sycophancy, bolster the spirit of integrity, stand for the righteous, and speak for the loyal.

"As you command, Your Majesty." Feng Bao led a group of guards toward the Chengtian Gate. His heart pounded; he prayed that these fools kneeling in the dirt would agree.

The Emperor had already offered a second chance, but there would not be a third. If they remained kneeling, the Emperor’s rage would be beyond even Feng Bao’s control.

What did it matter that he was a ten-year-old Emperor? Was he any less an Emperor?

As he walked, Feng Bao looked at Ge Shouli and whispered with a smile, "Chief Censor, let me tell you a bit more. Do you want to see blood flow like a river? Don't take this lightly; I am doing this for the sake of your censors."

"The Emperor's patience is thin. If they don't agree now, heads will roll at the Chengtian Gate today. The Emperor is young, but if the Empress Dowager hears of this, do you think these officials will fare well?"

"You know that a young ruler creates uncertainty. The Empress Dowager worries most about the Emperor's authority being challenged. If she hears that officials are besieging the heavens, what do you think she will do?"

"Is it really that serious?" Ge Shouli turned pale. It was only a ten-year-old ruler—how could he dare? Blood flowing like a river! But then he remembered how the Empress Dowager had banished Gao Gong, and he knew that if she went mad, no one could stop her.

Feng Bao shuddered. He didn't fear the Empress Dowager as much as he feared the young Emperor, but he insisted, "It is exactly that serious. Trading three useless men for the return of Hai Rui is a bargain! It will only be worse than that. Precisely because he is a ten-year-old ruler, it is more dangerous. Do you understand?"

"Think of Gao Gong."

Feng Bao stopped to let Ge Shouli weigh the pros and cons. Hai Rui was not part of the Jin Party, but this blade was so sharp that anyone could use it.

"Then I will be sure to persuade them," Ge Shouli said firmly.

"So it was you who gathered them! Chief Censor, you have a lot of nerve!" Feng Bao’s expression shifted instantly, pinning the blame on Ge Shouli.

"It wasn't me! Do not slander my innocence!" Ge Shouli cried out in alarm.

"Haha." Feng Bao laughed, walking toward the Chengtian Gate with his hands behind his back. He was just teasing him.

Ge Shouli arrived at the gate once more. Standing before the censors, his heart was a tangle of emotions. He realized that the Jin Party had changed.

The *Analects* say: "The superior man is dignified but not contentious, social but not partisan." It had evolved into the idea that the superior man forms associations without partisanship, while the petty man forms factions for profit.

How had the Jin Party been formed?

In the 29th year of Jiajing, the Mongol Khan Altan, dissatisfied with the trade restrictions of the Ming, launched a war. The Jin Party had grown through twelve years of conflict, eventually resolving the border crisis through peace and reconciliation.

At the beginning, the Jin Party was a "party of gentlemen," united by a common goal. But as Ge Shouli stood before the officials, he felt a sudden sense of disorientation. The Jin Party had become unrecognizable, growing into something detestable.

The Emperor’s description was precise: they had become a faction of kin—a clan party.

Ge Shouli wondered how this had happened. He thought it might have started when Yang Bo’s son married Wang Chonggu’s daughter, or perhaps even earlier.

Were these officials really so blinded by bias? Not necessarily. Even Ge Shouli had only learned of Lu Shusheng’s recent blunder from Feng Bao. Impeachment for a breach of etiquette was one thing, but factional fighting was another.

"Gentlemen, hear me!" Ge Shouli shouted into the wind. "There is already a verdict from the court. Those three deserve their punishment. They have failed to grasp the holy intent and have engaged in factionalism. Do you wish to repeat the party strife of the Song Dynasty?"

"Is that what you wish to be?"

His voice was loud, but few listened.

"Gentlemen, the Emperor has promised in the Wenhua Hall to bring Hai Rui back to court!" Ge Shouli shouted in desperation. "If Hai Rui returns, everything will be set right!"

"The Emperor does not wish to harm his officials, but these three were disloyal and played at factionalism. That is why they were stripped of their offices. When Hai Rui returns, the 'pure' stream will be pure once more!"

Official Wang Shiju stood up abruptly, his eyes bright with excitement. "Is it true? Is Hai Rui truly returning?"

"Yes! The Emperor himself said it! The Senior Grand Secretary cannot stop it! The imperial edict will reach the Ministry of Personnel today. You will see then that I have not lied to you!"

The crisis had a turning point. The Emperor had convinced the Empress Dowager and Zhang Juzheng to bring Hai Rui back.

"This is wonderful, truly wonderful!" Wang Shiju turned to the crowd, his face beaming. "Did you all hear? Hai Rui is returning! It is the Emperor’s decree!"

What was Hai Rui, after all?