Chapter 204: I Can’t Afford It, Nor Dare I Use It! Director Zhang? Seeking Monthly Tickets
The aftermath of the Grand Court Session had not yet subsided; the curses exchanged between ruler and ministers within the Imperial Palace were still brewing in the historian’s mind, destined for unofficial records.
As one of the main figures in the entire affair, Old Zhu had spent the past three days tossing and turning.
He had never imagined that all he had done for the Great Ming would be viewed as so unbearable by Zhang Biao.
Of course, he did not agree with Zhang Biao’s assessment of him either.
After all, in his eyes, Zhang Biao was nothing more than an ant.
He simply felt that Zhang Biao, possessing such a worldly perspective, would be so blind as to not understand him was truly a pity.
Because he always believed that he had established a ‘perfect’ nation.
Everyone performed their duties without interfering with each other, like countless parallel lines that never intersected, collectively forming the mighty Ming Empire.
Even if there were some loopholes behind the system, the overall framework was absolutely fine and could even be used for thousands upon thousands of years.
Therefore, he personally oversaw the compilation of the Imperial Ming Ancestral Teachings, and clearly wrote down the framework he had established within it, hoping that his descendants would continue to use it, ensuring the Great Ming would last for generations.
However, ideals are often grand, while reality is stark. His grand framework had not even been in operation for a hundred years before it was altered beyond recognition by his descendants.
But not everything could be changed; some things could not be altered.
Consequently, the Imperial Ming Ancestral Teachings became one of the greatest stumbling blocks to the development of the Ming Dynasty in its mid-to-late period.
The current Old Zhu, naturally unaware of how problematic the Imperial Ming Ancestral Teachings he compiled were, was still exuding his extraordinary energy, reviewing a massive volume of memorials.
It wasn’t until Yun Ming cautiously entered and bowed to report:
“Reporting to Your Majesty, the Minister of Revenue Yu Xin, Duke of Xinguo Tang He, Commander of the Left Military Commission Xu Yungong, and the newly appointed Vice Minister of the Ministry of War Zhuo Jing, have arrived outside the Hall.”
“Hmm.”
Old Zhu replied softly, without looking up, his vermilion brush continuing to annotate the memorials. Only after he finished with the memorials before him did he put down the brush and look up:
“Have them come in!”
“Yes!”
Yun Ming bowed and was about to go out to summon Yu Xin and the others.
He then heard Old Zhu ask casually, “How is Jiang Huan’s situation? Has he returned?”
Yun Ming hesitated for a moment, then quickly replied:
“Replying to Your Majesty, Commander Jiang said he seems to have found some clues and needs to confirm if they are true. He should return in about two more days.”
“Oh?”
Old Zhu raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, then waved Yun Ming away.
Soon, Yu Xin and the others slowly walked in.
“Your subjects pay their respects to Your Majesty!”
“All of you, sit. No need for formalities.”
Old Zhu sat on the dragon throne, his expression unreadable, but the usual suffocating pressure in his eyes seemed to have lessened, replaced by an eagerness for practical solutions.
Ever since Zhang Biao proposed the ‘reform of native chieftaincies and integration into the regular administration’ policy, he had been pondering its feasibility.
Therefore, he had summoned Yu Xin and the others to discuss it more than once.
And Yu Xin and the others, starting from initial unfamiliarity, delved deep into the detailed situation of the Yunnan region from the 25th year of Hongwu to the present, and meticulously organized it.
Then Old Zhu began directly:
“Tell me what you all think. You should have a clear understanding of the situation in Yunnan. I’ve called you here today not to hear empty talk or platitudes, nor to speculate on what I want to hear.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the four men, deliberately emphasizing his words: “Speak your minds! I want methods that can truly solve problems, even if they are unpleasant or difficult to implement!”
This last sentence startled Yu Xin and the others.
“The Emperor’s words… seem very different from usual.”
“That underlying tone of ‘absolute authority’ and ‘my decision is final’ seems to have weakened.”
“Your Majesty!”
Tang He, being the most senior and closest to Old Zhu, spoke first, his voice resonant, but no longer solely focused on fighting:
“Your subjects have thoroughly cross-checked the reports from the various garrisons and native chieftains in Yunnan, as well as the Ministry of War’s archives.”
“Since the defeat of the Pacification Commissioner of Lushi and Puer, Si Lunfa, in the 25th year, his former subordinates and surrounding minor chieftains, such as A Zi, Zhe Man, and E Tao, have been inconsistent in their allegiances, with small-scale conflicts occurring almost monthly.”
“The imperial troops are exhausted from constantly being deployed; often, as soon as one area is pacified, another erupts in conflict. Relying solely on suppression is indeed not a long-term solution.”
He spoke the truth, acknowledging the limitations of purely military means.
“Duke of Xinguo’s words are most accurate!”
Minister of Revenue Yu Xin immediately interjected, his brow furrowed: “Just maintaining the existing garrisons and responding to ad-hoc troop mobilizations, the annual expenditure for Yunnan alone accounts for more than half of the military expenses in the southwestern border. Furthermore, the long distance and difficulty of transportation leave the laborers in immense suffering.”
“If this continues, the National Treasury will truly be unable to sustain it.”
He presented specific data to illustrate the financial pressure.
Zhuo Jing, the former Vice Minister of Revenue and now Vice Minister of the Ministry of War, also spoke at this point.
“Your Majesty, after reviewing historical records and considering the actual situation in Yunnan, I believe this policy of ‘reform of native chieftaincies and integration into the regular administration’ might be worth a try.”
He then organized his thoughts and cautiously added:
“However, this matter affects many aspects and cannot be rushed. I believe we should select one or two regions that have repeatedly rebelled, are strategically important, and have a significant Han population migration for a pilot program.”
“For example, in the Qujing and Pu’an areas, we could attempt to establish regular officials as prefects and county magistrates, while also supplementing with garrison troops, undertaking water conservancy projects, promoting the farming methods recognized by the court, and establishing official schools to educate the local youth.”
“If it proves effective, then gradually expand the scope.”
His words were clearly the result of deep consideration, no longer vague concepts but with specific regions and steps.
“Furthermore, to implement regular officials, there must be sufficient military power as a backup, to prevent native chieftains from acting desperately.”
Xu Yungong added:
“However, the purpose of deploying troops should not solely be suppression, but to clear obstacles and provide security for the regular officials to take office and the new policies to be implemented.”
“At the same time, for those native chieftains who are willing to submit and cooperate, certain preferential treatments can be given, such as allowing their children to attend schools, or even enter the Imperial Academy, or granting them nominal positions and honors, gradually diminishing their actual power.”
Old Zhu listened attentively, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the armrest.
He did not interrupt as usual, nor did he show any signs of impatience.
When he heard Zhuo Jing mention ‘pilot program’ and ‘gradual progress,’ and Xu Yungong speak of ‘military support’ combined with ‘conciliation and division,’ a barely perceptible gleam flashed in his eyes.
“Pilot program…”
Old Zhu repeated the word, looking at Yu Xin:
“Yu Xin, if we were to proceed with a pilot program in Qujing and Pu’an as Zhuo Jing suggested, establishing regular officials, promoting agriculture, and setting up schools, how much silver and grain would be needed initially? And how would it be sustained afterwards?”
Yu Xin, clearly prepared, immediately provided a string of numbers.
He also analyzed the possibility of gradually reducing the burden on the court by clearing local hidden fields, encouraging trade taxes, and partial self-sufficiency through military farming.
Tang He stroked his chin and mused:
“If it is only to secure one or two pilot areas, a large-scale military deployment would not be necessary; a slight adjustment of the existing garrison forces would suffice.”
“The key is to select capable regular officials, who understand governance and can handle complex situations; ideally… competent officials familiar with the local conditions.”
The men spoke in turn, and remarkably, they managed to develop a preliminary, operable framework around the concept of ‘reform of native chieftaincies and integration into the regular administration,’ which had previously seemed quite unfamiliar.
Although there were numerous difficulties, such as how to select suitable regular officials, how to deal with the inevitable resistance from native chieftains, and how to balance costs and benefits, at least the direction was clear and the approach was pragmatic.
Old Zhu looked at the officials before him, who were no longer blindly agreeing with him but were genuinely thinking about solutions, and felt a complex mix of emotions.
He couldn’t help but recall Zhang Biao’s sharp words—
‘Your subordinates, these good-for-nothings, besides guessing your thoughts and shouting ‘Long live,’ and agreeing with your ‘might makes right’ logic, what else can they do?’
“Perhaps… perhaps that madman’s words are not entirely wrong?”
This thought made Old Zhu feel a surge of annoyance and humiliation, but he forcibly suppressed it.
“Now is not the time to dwell on this.”
He took a deep breath, interrupted their discussion, and made his decision:
“Good! We will proceed along the path you have discussed!”
“Zhuo Jing, you will take the lead, in conjunction with the Ministry of Personnel, the Ministry of War, and the Ministry of Revenue, to draft a detailed memorial for me!”
“Focusing specifically on the pilot program for ‘reform of native chieftaincies and integration into the regular administration’ in Qujing and Pu’an, clearly outlining which officials to appoint, how much military force and financial resources are needed, the specific implementation plan, potential problems, and how to address them!”
“Do not fear difficulty, nor fear taking time; strive for prudence and feasibility!”
“Tang He, regarding the military affairs in Yunnan, communicate closely with Mu Sheng. He has been stationed in Yunnan for many years and understands the region better. You should put in extra effort to ensure the overall situation remains stable during the pilot period!”
“Yu Xin, you will plan the allocation of money and grain in advance.”
“Xu Yungong, the Military Commission will also cooperate.”
Orders were issued clearly, with defined goals and assigned responsibilities.
“Your subjects obey the decree!”
The four men responded in unison, their eyes filled with an unprecedented focus and a hint of excitement from being trusted and entrusted with important responsibilities.
Watching them leave after receiving their orders, Old Zhu leaned back in his chair, tiredly rubbing his temples.
He had not fully accepted Zhang Biao’s rhetoric, nor would he admit that his governing style had any issues.
However, subconsciously, that fierce and almost humiliating verbal exchange had indeed acted like a hard stick, cracking a tiny fissure in the outer shell of his closed mindset.
And the first ray of light penetrating this crack was what made him willing to temporarily set aside his absolute authority, to listen, and to try some solutions that differed from his ingrained perceptions, solutions that might require more patience and wisdom.
As for how far this ray of light could reach, or what it would bring, even he himself did not know.
“Zhang Biao… Zhang Biao…”
Old Zhu repeatedly chewed over this name in his mind, a highly complex emotion surging within him.
Hate him?
Naturally, he hated him!
This individual was arrogant and disrespectful, repeatedly defying orders, turning the court upside down, and repeatedly touching his reverse scale, causing him, the Supreme Ruler, to lose face. He had even fainted several times due to anger. He was truly deserving of death!
But…
If not for this madman’s dying plea for accounting, he might still be lost in his own fantasy of ‘light taxes and little labor,’ oblivious to the immense pressure the Imperial Family and the Princes placed on the treasury.
If not for this madman auditing the Six Ministries and the nobles, he would not have seen so clearly the corruption and inefficiency of the bureaucratic system.
If not for this madman’s tirade, he might still have stubbornly persisted in relying solely on military suppression, instead of urgently seeking long-term solutions like ‘reform of native chieftaincies and integration into the regular administration,’ and he would not have attempted to change his communication style with his ministers.
This madman was like a double-edged sword, harming others, but occasionally able to cut through some stubborn ailments and festering problems that he usually overlooked or refused to face.
“This individual… if he could be used by us…”
As soon as this thought arose, Old Zhu extinguished it himself.
Impossible!
This was a lawless, uncontrollable menace!
I cannot afford to use him, nor do I dare to!
He could argue with you today, and tomorrow he could break the sky!
“But… kill him?”
Old Zhu’s eyes seemed to conjure up again Zhang Biao’s defiant gaze, as if he saw through everything.
Killing him would certainly be satisfying, but would it also sever some possibilities? Some possibilities for this somber, rigid Great Ming to experience a slight change?
“Alas…”
A long sigh, filled with helplessness, struggle, and even a hint of ‘appreciation’ that he himself was unwilling to admit, echoed faintly in the spacious side hall.
He hated Zhang Biao to the point of grinding his teeth, yet he had to admit that some of the madman’s words had pierced his heart like poisonous thorns, making it impossible for him to feel as at ease as before.
This was an extremely awkward, complex emotion of both hatred and… need.
“Villain! Truly my villain!”
Old Zhu muttered under his breath, unsure if he was cursing Zhang Biao or himself for developing such complex emotions towards such a ‘villain.’
He shook his head, as if trying to drive Zhang Biao’s image from his mind.
The immediate priority was to properly handle the pilot program in Yunnan and see if this ‘reform of native chieftaincies and integration into the regular administration’ was indeed feasible.
“As for that dog Zhang Biao, let him flail for a few more days. Once I’m free, I’ll deal with him slowly!”
However, the word ‘deal with’ in Old Zhu’s mind seemed less resolute and pure than before.
On the other side, in Zhang Biao’s official residence.
Ever since Zhang Biao had a heated exchange with Old Zhu in Huagai Hall, he had remained within his official residence, not stepping out, as if diligently writing the ‘memorial’ that Old Zhu had assigned him.
The Imperial Guards on rotation outside, monitoring him, occasionally heard the rustling of paper and the scratching of a pen from inside, and sometimes caught the aroma of roasted sweet potato.
Through the blurry shadow on the window paper, they could even see Zhang Biao diligently working at his desk.
“It seems this crazy Zhang is really working on that memorial.”
An Imperial Guard Ensign who had finished his shift mumbled to his companion.
“Hmph, all for show!”
His companion snorted dismissively:
“Three days, what can he write? When he fails to deliver, let’s see how the Emperor deals with him!”
Even though they said this, they were still full of anticipation.
Because Zhang Biao’s actions were a different kind of thrill for them.
However, they did not know that Zhang Biao had spent most of his time drawing turtles on paper or designing the comical logo for his ‘Great Ming Anti-Corruption Bureau.’
He already had a mental draft for the actual content of the ‘memorial,’ but was too lazy to put it down on paper.
Because he was waiting for news from Prince Yan’s Mansion.
On the third day, after dusk had passed, the night grew deeper.
Zhang Biao observed the outside through a gap in the window. The Imperial Guards responsible for monitoring him seemed to have lowered their guard due to the lack of activity over the past few days, and even complained about the boredom of their duty during shift changes.
“Opportunity has arrived!”
Zhang Biao once again employed his usual tactic, changing into that laborer’s outfit. He confirmed the blind spots outside and, like a ghost, squeezed through the hidden dog hole.
Familiar with the route, he moved under the cover of night and alleys, heading directly for the City God Temple where he had arranged to meet Zhu Gao Sui.
The temple appeared somewhat eerie in the night.
Zhang Biao avoided the main entrance, circled around to the back wall, and found the designated, somewhat dilapidated incense burner.
He held his breath and reached under the base of the incense burner to feel…
“Empty!?”
“Why is there nothing here!?”
Zhang Biao’s heart sank.
He refused to give up and felt over it again, even checking the gaps, but found nothing.
“What’s going on?”
“Did that kid Zhu Gao Sui stand me up?”
“Impossible! He doesn’t have the guts, and the temptation of sweet potatoes is something the Prince Yan’s Mansion wouldn’t ignore.”
“Could it be that the message never reached Zhu Gao Chi? That Zhu Gao Sui intercepted it himself?”
“Or… have the Imperial Guards discovered our connection?”
The thought of the latter sent a shiver down Zhang Biao’s spine, and he quickly turned around, warily scanning his surroundings.
The night wind blew, the tree shadows swayed, making rustling sounds, as if countless eyes were hidden in the darkness.
He listened intently for a moment, but apart from the chirping of insects and his own heartbeat, there was no other unusual sound.
“Phew… scaring myself.”
Zhang Biao breathed a sigh of relief and gave a self-mocking laugh: “It seems the Prince Yan’s Mansion hasn’t made up their mind yet, or that fat kid Zhu Gao Chi is too cautious and needs more time to weigh things.”
As he finished speaking, Zhang Biao’s eyes darted.
Since the other party had left no message, he would ask proactively.
He took out a small piece of charcoal pencil he carried and, in an inconspicuous spot on the inside of the incense burner’s base, quickly drew a simple food container, adding a few squares of mung bean cake next to it, and finally, a large question mark.
– This was to remind Zhu Gao Sui of the favor he had shown him by giving him extra food when he was first imprisoned in the Imperial Prison.
The question mark was to inquire about the outcome.
After completing this, Zhang Biao did not linger. Just as he had arrived, he silently merged into the night and returned along the original path.
He skillfully crawled back into the dog hole of his official residence and brushed the dust off his clothes. Just as he straightened up, preparing to remove his disguise, his movements froze instantly!
Inside the room, on the only broken bench, someone was already seated.
The person was wearing a brand new official robe, which seemed particularly glaring under the dim oil lamp light. A playful smile, like a cat toying with a mouse, was on his face.
It was none other than his subordinate, the newly appointed Director of the Anti-Corruption Bureau, Song Zhong!
“Director Zhang?”
Song Zhong said with a smile, his voice particularly clear in the quiet night, with a chilling intimacy: “Going out for a… stroll this late at night?”
At this moment, Zhang Biao’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s over! Caught red-handed!”
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