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

Chapter 310 Da Ming died long ago; what you saw was just her corpse!

On the 21st, today's small court assembly was held in the Wenhua Hall. This is because the Wenhua Hall has a floor dragon, while the Huangji Hall does not. In fact, except for grand court assemblies, emperors generally do not use the three main halls, but Zhu Youjian was an emperor of a different kind.

He felt that since the capital had been built at a cost of six million taels of silver, it would be a waste not to use it. Therefore, he made the Hall of Supreme Harmony the venue for daily court sessions. In spring and summer, the Hall of Supreme Harmony was even taller and had better heat insulation and ventilation.

According to the regulations of the imperial court, the morning court session was held at Fengtian Gate: the emperor would sit on a chair under the tall gate tower, while the officials would stand in the open air, exposed to the wind and sun. Zhu Youjian felt that the Forbidden City had no shortage of rooms, and that it was abnormal to put people through such an ordeal, so he moved the morning court session indoors.

The Ming Dynasty had long been in a state of moral decay, and the emperor himself was leading the way in breaking the rules, thus digging the grave of the Ming Dynasty. Zhu Youjian then kicked the already crumbling system of laws and regulations to the ground.

The "Jiajing Continued Compilation of the Code" and the "Great Ming Code," revised by Zhang Juzheng as the chief editor, were nothing more than futile self-rescue efforts undertaken by the Ming emperors and ministers in the face of the collapse of national order.

The Ming Dynasty has been in operation for 263 years since its founding, and the country is riddled with problems. It's important to understand that twenty years is enough to change the world, so over two hundred years is a terrifyingly long period.

In order to maintain the operation of the country, emperors and officials throughout the ages could only constantly discover loopholes in the existing system, fill them, and add new regulations. Even Zhu Youjian and his ministers did the same thing, and he did not surpass his predecessors by much just because he was a time traveler.

Over time, the social logic of the Ming Dynasty had evolved into a "mountain of rubbish code," which even the most knowledgeable and capable ministers could not fully comprehend. The foundation of the rule of law had vanished, discretionary power trumped everything, and the governance of the country had transformed from relying on regulations to utter rule by men.

The implementation of any policy became a game of power between individuals, and factional strife thus became the mainstream of political activity in the Ming Dynasty. Even if some capable officials wanted to do something practical, they found it difficult to escape the murky waters of officialdom, feeling constrained and unable to move forward.

Zhu Youjian always felt that the Ming Dynasty was actually running on inertia, and that the Ming Dynasty had long since died, but the corpse was too large, and even the process of decomposition would take decades. It would be easy for him to sit up in shock while dying, and it would be easy for him to punch a wild boar twice. On the contrary, it was the myriad affairs of internal governance that tormented him and made him drowsy.

Externally, Zhu Youjian launched a fierce attack, slaughtering so many that the world was in chaos and corpses piled up like mountains; internally, however, he could never bring himself to be ruthless. He was like a woman with bound feet, lying on her side in the cold mud, clutching at the trouser legs of her ministers, looking at them with teary eyes, begging for their pity.

In the Wenhua Hall, Zhu Youjian, wrapped in a heavy sable coat, curled up in a wide, antique armchair, practically a ball. If not for the presence of hundreds of court officials, he might have even tucked his legs in as well. Beside the chair was a bamboo basket; Zhu Youjian crumpled up a used tissue after blowing his nose and tossed it into the basket, making the temples of the assembled ministers throb with apprehension.

Zhu Youjian pinched his slightly sore nose, his eyes darting left and right like a lizard's. He noticed that the number of people attending court today was unusually large, filling the 400-square-meter Wenhua Hall to capacity. It was mainly the nobles who were frequently ill and unable to recover, and who often took sick leave and skipped work; almost everyone who could come had arrived.

During routine small court assemblies, only a dozen or so military officers usually attend, less than 30% of the number of civil officials. According to regulations, civil and military officials are to be separated, and it doesn't look good to have so many civil officials and so few military officers.

More than one emperor complained about this matter and issued decrees to reprimand the nobles for their absence, but this only worked temporarily. If they were not careful, these nobles would find excuses to skip work again.

Therefore, the emperor could only bring in the commanders of the various guards and imperial relatives to fill the ranks, but the number was still not enough, so he had the high-ranking military officers stand in front, and the lower-ranking civil officials filled the back, visually creating the illusion of a clear distinction between civil and military officials.

The company only tightens attendance when it's about to go bankrupt. Zhu Youjian actually understands these nobles who are reluctant to attend court. It's not that they are greedy for pleasure and want to get paid without working; it's mainly that they have no say in court anyway.

They had no say in routine government affairs, and even military matters were handled by the civil officials in charge of military affairs. How could they possibly have a say?! This made attending court very undignified, and the nobles grew increasingly averse to it.

Even when it came to fighting desperately on the battlefield, engaging in real combat with the enemy, it was never their turn, these nobles. They really had nothing to do except bully men and women! And the real frontline generals rarely had the opportunity to attend court, perhaps only appearing during festivals, the three major court assemblies, or when presenting prisoners and receiving titles.

Isn't it the same reason why the emperor doesn't attend court? The cabinet takes advantage of the emperor's young age to turn court into a performance, bringing a group of people to act with them every morning. They even memorize how the emperor should answer these questions in advance. How can the emperor enjoy attending court under such circumstances?
Even civil officials were too lazy to play along, because the cabinet and the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs were the de facto central decision-making bodies, and the operation of the court no longer required court assemblies. People are not afraid of hard work, as long as the goal is visible to the naked eye; if they know that everything they are doing is meaningless, even the strongest person will resist, break down, and doubt life.

Zhu Youjian was undoubtedly the emperor with real power. He single-handedly and successfully sidelined the two major institutions, the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial, and in turn sidelined the upper echelons of civil officials. At the same time, he delegated power to grassroots organizations, simultaneously pursuing the two paths of "saving the Ming Dynasty" and "digging the grave of the Ming Dynasty" at breakneck speed.

He insisted on holding daily small court assemblies and only rested for one day every two days. His diligence in governing was beyond compare, making him a model of diligence among all the emperors of the Ming Dynasty. He was only slightly inferior to the Hongwu Emperor and on par with the Yongle Emperor. In the more than two hundred years of the Ming Dynasty, it was hard to find an emperor as hardworking as him!
To avoid meaningless court assemblies disrupting officials' normal work, Zhu Youjian restrained his lust for power. Under normal circumstances, the morning court sessions were usually held at 8:30 and ended before 9:30. The main purpose was to recognize faces and facilitate communication between superiors and subordinates.

The only purpose of a meeting is to convey the spirit of the meeting, right? Do you really expect us to have democratic consultations?! However, there are special matters that will be seriously discussed collectively, such as the major issue of "relocating the capital" proposed by Zhu Youjian.

Success is achieved through secrecy, and failure through leaks. Since Zhu Youjian had already announced the southward relocation, he had no expectation that the matter would be discussed and approved in court. People really don't learn their lesson until they're faced with dire consequences.

The emperor and his ministers greeted each other with shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" acknowledging Zhu Youjian's ascension to the throne. The second-in-command, Zhu Xieyuan, holding an ivory teleprompter, said, "They discussed the matter of moving the capital south, according to Your Majesty's wishes. In principle, everyone is determined to uphold the Emperor's orders and carry out his will, but they must also face the practical difficulties."

Relocating the capital is undoubtedly a major event concerning the very foundation of the nation. If the emperor intends to relocate the capital, he must provide a suitable reason for the people. It's not that the emperor lacks the authority to make such a decision, but rather that some ignorant people and officials fail to grasp the emperor's far-sighted vision.

A wise and benevolent ruler who cares for his people should explain the principles to them in a clear and detailed way, just as an old father educates his children.

Two years ago, Your Majesty said that Emperor Taizu appeared to you in a dream, telling you that there would be a prolonged drought in the north for the next ten years or so. As your subject, I naturally do not question Your Majesty's golden words, but the governance of the country cannot rely on prophecies and divination.

If the natural disasters you, Your Majesty, truly occur, it won't be too late to move the capital south after everyone's attempts to combat them have failed. In other words, moving the capital is permissible in principle, but practical difficulties are hindering its implementation. The specific difficulties will be communicated to Your Majesty by the ministers of each department. Zhu Youjian was completely unmoved by Zhu Xieyuan's flowery words. He wasn't a child who could be appeased with a lollipop. He held grudges; if you offended him, he would be angry for a long time! All that talk still didn't mean he would be allowed to move south; the phrase "in principle" was simply a breach of principle!
Sure enough, the ministers then poured out their grievances, hoping the emperor would consider the difficulties of moving the capital. They argued that even if the capital had to be moved, it should be done gradually, and now was not the right time. As for when the time would come, no one said, and Zhu Youjian did not ask.

The only good thing is that everyone is putting on an act today, so there are far fewer people directly criticizing the emperor. Zhu Xieyuan is quite good, while Zhu Youjian originally thought he would be criticized for "violating ancestral rules" and "selling out the country."

Zhu Youjian said, "Ah, yes, yes, you're all right!" He also listed reasons such as the wealth of Jiangnan, which made supporting the court easy; moving the capital would make it easier to supervise southern taxes and save on the costs of transporting grain and tax silver between the north and south; and the upcoming Age of Exploration would make moving the capital south more convenient for naval development, strengthening coastal defense, and assisting land defense, but none of these reasons worked.

This is not essentially a debate about right or wrong, but a struggle over interests. Moving south does not align with the interests of the majority of people in the current court.

The news of the southward relocation had only been out for a day, and was still under discussion, yet it had already caused a dramatic fluctuation in land prices in the capital, plunging everyone into a state of panic. The Prefect of Shuntian Prefecture had no choice but to order the real estate brokers to close land transactions, declaring that any contracts signed in the past few days invalid.

After the results of the court meeting were announced, the panic gradually subsided, and everyone ate and drank as if nothing had happened.

The 30th was the winter solstice, as determined by the Imperial Astronomical Observatory, and the grand court assembly was held on this day. Zhu Youjian ordered "reduced regulations but not reduced formalities," and after receiving the homage of officials and envoys from foreign vassal states, he canceled the terribly unpalatable open-air banquet. Late December was his birthday, which was the Longevity Festival Court Assembly, one of the three major court assemblies, followed by the New Year's Day Grand Court Assembly.

Time flies, and before they knew it, it was already the fifth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign. After the Lantern Festival, Zhu Youjian inspected the imperial guards in the Western Garden and invited his ministers to witness the ceremony. The ministers, unaware of the reason, thought that the emperor was dissatisfied with their remonstrances and was thus displaying his imperial guards to flex his muscles.

They found the emperor's childish behavior laughable; they weren't easily intimidated.
You, Zhu Youjian, are not an emperor who conquered the world; do you dare to emulate the Taizu and Chengzu emperors? Even the Taizu and Chengzu emperors had to compromise with their civil officials in their later years. What are you, Zhu Youjian, anyway! Despite your antics, if you, as emperor, want to govern the country, you ultimately cannot escape these aristocratic families. That very night, the emperor led his army in a clandestine escape, and the capital was thrown into chaos!
"Your Majesty, perhaps we should go back?!" Cao Bianjiao gripped the reins of the imperial horse tightly, tears welling in his eyes. He had never done anything so thrilling in his life; even during his night raid on the Plain Yellow Banner camp, he hadn't felt this terrified!

Ma Xianglin, another general who was caught in the middle of Zhu Youjian, was also bewildered. His first thought was: if he was fooling around with the emperor, would his mother, Qin Liangyu, beat him to death when she found out?
Clatter, clatter, clatter! Just then, the rapid sound of hooves rang out, and a slight commotion arose on the outskirts of the army. A short while later, a cavalryman from the outer perimeter rushed in, reporting nervously, "Your Majesty, it's Grand Secretary Zhu who has come after us! He's demanding to see Your Majesty, saying that if Your Majesty doesn't see him, he'll commit suicide to atone for his sins!"

Cao and Ma exchanged a glance, both panicking. Zhu Youjian, however, remained calm, smiled slightly, and said, "Let him come!"

Before long, Zhu Xieyuan rode in on horseback. It was clear that he had come in a hurry; his hair was haphazardly tied up, his hairpin was crooked, and the early spring weather had not yet warmed up significantly. The moisture from the old man's breath condensed into ice on his beard, making it brittle and showing signs of being broken.

"Grand Secretary Zhu, have you come to accompany me on this expedition?!" Zhu Youjian announced loudly.

The moment the old man saw Zhu Youjian, tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.

He asked indignantly, "Your Majesty, didn't you promise not to move south for now? What are you doing? Why are you deceiving this old minister?!"

Zhu Youjian said innocently, "When did I say I wouldn't move south? Don't make things up!"

"I know you're in a hurry, but don't rush," Zhu Youjian said, pointing west. "Besides, I'm heading towards Taiyuan right now, so what kind of southward relocation is this?!"

The old man didn't waste any words with him. After dismounting, he knelt down in front of the emperor with a thud and said, "Your Majesty, I request that you return to the palace with me!"

Zhu Youjian chuckled and said, "Men, tie him up and take him with you!"

"You bastard, get out of my way!" Zhu Xieyuan was furious. He was tall and strong, and although he was old and his energy was waning, the soldiers who had captured him dared not hurt him!
The old man used a standard military wrestling technique to throw a soldier to the ground, and then, taking advantage of his long legs, tripped another man. Zhu Youjian was amazed and waved his hand, ordering more imperial guards to rush forward. Seven men grabbed his hands, feet, and torso, and finally managed to subdue the old man.

Zhu Xieyuan was bound like a dumpling, yet he still struggled fiercely. Zhu Youjian walked to his side, smiling brightly: "Grand Secretary Zhu, don't you think the scenery here is beautiful?!"

"Your Majesty, do you remember the events of Emperor Yingzong's past!" Zhu Xieyuan cried out.

"The landscape of my Great Ming Dynasty is so beautiful, yet I, as the emperor of the Great Ming, have never seen it. It is truly regrettable!" Zhu Youjian said to himself.

Seven days later, Zhu Youjian led a large army consisting of 3,000 White-pole Guards and 3,000 Guan-Ning cavalry westward out of Jingxing Niangziguan and into Shanxi.

“Your Majesty, look, there are hardly any trees the size of a bowl in Shanxi. What beautiful scenery is there? Your Majesty, you should return to the capital as soon as possible!” Zhu Xieyuan had lost count of how many times he had offered this advice. Although he knew it would have no effect, he couldn’t help but say it anyway.

"I will go back. Where else can I go? I just came out for a stroll," Zhu Youjian said.

(End of this chapter)