Late Ming Dynasty: So what if Emperor Chongzhen was inactive?!

Chapter 107 Don't be silly, there's no standard answer to policy essays!

"...Every time I read the memorials, I cannot help but sigh deeply. The granaries are empty, and the people's plight is worsening day by day. This is not only my concern, but also a matter of life and death for the country."

To quell border troubles, we must train elite troops; to train elite troops, we must provide provisions and supplies. However, supplies come from taxes, and taxes are collected from the people—this is an unchanging principle throughout history. Now, the snow disaster in Shaanxi has just passed, followed by a spring drought. Wheat and rice are withered in the fields, and last year's peasant uprisings have resurfaced. Natural disasters are spreading to other provinces, and grain production in the north is down another 10% compared to last year.

If taxes are increased to fund the Liaodong campaign, it risks driving the people into banditry; if taxes are waived to provide famine relief, the border troops will lack food. This is because the Jurchens have repeatedly invaded the borders in Liaodong, the Mongol tribes have been sometimes allied and sometimes rebelled, and the western bandits are gradually gaining power. These three problems cannot be controlled without sufficient funds. If military funds are not secured, how can the defenses of the nine border regions be secured and the strategic passes be controlled? This is the dilemma of "saving the people" versus "strengthening the army."

Furthermore, it is said that the way to train troops lies in clear rewards and punishments, ensuring that soldiers are well-fed and clothed, their armor is strong and sharp, and their firearms are excellent. However, each of the Jurchen cannons costs several hundred taels of silver, and the cost of building platforms and casting shells is even more than double that. If we rely entirely on firearms, the annual cost will be tens of millions, which will be difficult for the treasury to support; if we rely solely on archery and horsemanship, the Jurchens have already gained the advantage of archery and horsemanship, and also possess the advantage of firearms. How can the border troops defend against the enemy? This is the dilemma of "innovation" versus "maintaining the status quo".

As for measures to increase revenue, land surveys would lead to resistance from powerful officials and wealthy families; opening the seas for trade would attract foreign powers and Japanese pirates; and expanding the border horse markets would cause rebellions among the Mongol tribes. As for measures to reduce expenditure, strict discipline would make officials tremble with fear, while lenient policies would lead to rampant corruption. Thus, "strict investigation" and "leniency" are mutually constraining, and "strengthening the foundation" and "providing emergency relief" are in cahoots.

The question for this year's imperial examination was: "How to resolve a dilemma?"

"Now you have received the Emperor's favor and the people's hopes, and have entered into official positions. You should think of serving the country. Please speak on this matter."

Zhu Youjian's voice echoed in the main hall. The specially designed echo structure of the Hall of Supreme Harmony ensured that his voice could be clearly heard by everyone.

"Huh?!" As the emperor finished speaking, the smiles on the faces of many examinees froze. The emperor truly didn't treat them like outsiders; he was giving them far too much credit! If it's a dilemma, where is the solution? If it could be resolved, what kind of dilemma would it be? Is there ever a way to have it all in this world?
The good news is that their predictions were somewhat accurate: the emperor did indeed test them on military strategy and finance. However, the emperor had anticipated their predictions. He didn't need the military and financial expertise of these greenhorns and useless scholars at all. Instead, he directly pointed out how to solve the difficulties of the reforms and inquired about the challenges of implementation. This was far more difficult than quoting classics and speaking eloquently.

To put it bluntly, the emperor didn't care about their strategies at all, and now he's given them a "life-or-death question" to put pressure on them.

What did the emperor mean? Did he want them to discuss specific measures to strengthen the army, raise funds, and pacify the people? Or did he want them to choose sides?

Or should they be asked to spout grand, lofty principles, citing classical texts to urge officials, powerful figures, and gentry to unite in the face of national crisis and endure hardship for the sake of the country? Those who write such empty rhetoric will surely never gain the emperor's favor!

After all, if you want to predict the exam questions, you definitely need to study the emperor's personality. It is widely rumored in the court and among the people that the emperor is a pragmatist, and even a bit shameless!

It's not easy to get here from outside the palace; some people have spent decades, their temples now gray. Those who have made it here are no fools. The wise are prone to overthinking: the emperor's question seems simple and straightforward, yet it seems to conceal hidden complexities. Should they write down all the military strategies and financial policies they had prepared beforehand?
The Four Books and Five Classics didn't seem to teach them how to solve problems! This was an essay, not a treatise on classics. The Doctrine of the Mean?! That's right, the Doctrine of the Mean!!! Some brilliant students thought they had grasped the key and began writing furiously; while many others looked distressed and dared not put pen to paper. The exam started at dawn and continued until dusk, with a meal provided in between. It could be said that they were given ample time. Zhu Youjian didn't need quick wit or poetic geniuses; he needed steady, reliable individuals who could share the burden with him.

"What's the solution to this dilemma?!" In truth, even Zhu Youjian himself didn't know. These problems seemed easy, but once you delved into them and tried to solve them, you'd get caught in a web of complex issues. Trying to cut through the Gordian knot sounds fun, but sometimes it's easy to overwhelm yourself.

Those who entered the central government directly through the imperial examinations lacked practical experience. Zhu Youjian himself lacked practical experience, as did the renowned Zhang Juzheng. Regardless of how well these people performed, Zhu Youjian intended to send them to the grassroots level; being able to talk and being able to do are not the same thing.

After these people are assigned to grassroots positions, they may be tempered and become pillars of the government one day; or they may be corrupted and "mingle with the world".

Zhu Youjian stepped down from the throne and began to disrupt the examination hall, peeking at other candidates answering their questions. Some were so engrossed in their own "art" that they didn't even notice his approach; others, unsure if they had cheated to get in, trembled with nervousness at the emperor's presence; still others were drenched in sweat, seemingly caught in a mental battle, neither noticing the emperor nor writing a single word.

There was a man named Liu Zhilun who was immersed in the making of Western firearms and tactics. He even drew pictures on his exam papers, depicting things like single-wheeled trains, sidecars, animal-drawn carts, and various Western cannons. Zhu Youjian found this man interesting. Although he was a bit off-topic, his artistic talent alone was enough to earn him a place in the second tier.

Shi Kefa spoke eloquently about integrity, quoting classical texts, and wrote with unparalleled elegance and beautiful handwriting; he was also quite flamboyant. If the imperial examination hadn't been designed to eliminate candidates, Zhu Youjian would have crossed out his paper. "The position of magistrate of Jiaozhi County would suit him quite well," Zhu Youjian thought maliciously, stroking his sexy little mustache.

Fu Zhongxiu, a native of Yiwu, Zhejiang, filled out the answer sheet in tiny, meticulous characters, covering every detail. He dared not use the official script; he was quite bold. Although Zhu Youjian's eyesight was fine, after reading for a quarter of an hour, he still felt dizzy and lightheaded.

This man seemed quite knowledgeable about the tax system, discussing everything from the intricacies of rural life to the unspoken rules of local government. It's unclear whether he came from an official family or a family of clerks, but he certainly seemed like a capable individual. If things went well, he could be given a position in the Hanlin Academy for consultation; if not, he could be assigned to a "troublesome county" to put him through some tough times.

Jin Sheng, Zheng Hongyou, Huang Xiang, Liu Ruozai… Zhu Youjian secretly noted down the talents he had selected. The ministers accompanying the emperor observed where he stayed and how long he stayed, so that when they were grading the papers, they could raise the rankings of the people the emperor favored, thus avoiding the embarrassment of the emperor not being able to find them later.

The emperor would typically select from a dozen or so candidates recommended by his ministers, and then personally appoint the top three scholars (Zhuangyuan, Bangyan, and Tanhua). The remaining candidates would be ranked by the ministers who reviewed the papers. If the emperor was in a good mood, he might also rank the second-class candidates, but he couldn't possibly review all of them. The papers of the third-class candidates (those who passed the imperial examination with the same degree) generally never reached the emperor's hands.

(End of this chapter)