The Ming Dynasty: Starting with Emperor Chongzhen's crackdown on factionalism

Chen Zhiyuan must hurry.

He opened his eyes, spread out the paper, picked up his pen, and wrote down a memorial.

It was a petition requesting the interrogation of Yuan Chonghuan.

According to regulations, Yuan Chonghuan was a criminal under imperial orders and was imprisoned in the Imperial Prison. He could not be interrogated except by a joint trial by the three judicial departments.

However, Chen Zhiyuan possessed the imperial sword and a special decree, which allowed him to make an exception.

He wanted to ask Yuan Chonghuan himself.

After writing the memorial, he sealed it with sealing wax and summoned Zhao Delu.

"Zhao, the clerk, urgently send this memorial to the Ministry of Justice, marking it as 'Secret Memorial'," Chen Zhiyuan instructed.

"Also, make preparations, I'm going to the Imperial Prison tomorrow."

Zhao Delu took the document, his hands trembling slightly.

"Vice Censor, this... to interrogate Yuan Chonghuan, we need the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review..."

"By His Majesty's special decree, I may conduct the interrogation alone," Chen Zhiyuan interrupted him.

"Go and prepare."

Zhao Delu bowed and withdrew.

Chen Zhiyuan sat alone in the main room, watching the sky outside the window gradually darken.

It's not about whether Yuan Chonghuan should have been killed or not.

It was because the officialdom of the Ming Dynasty was sick to the core.

Factional strife, deception, shirking responsibility, empty talk... if these deep-seated problems are not eradicated, even killing ten more Yuan Chonghuans would not save the Ming Dynasty.

He recalled reading about the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign in his previous life.

Beijing fell, the emperor hanged himself, officials either surrendered or died, and the land of China was plunged into ruin.

Will people back then regret not taking this seriously today?

Chen Zhiyuan didn't know.

All he knew was that now that he was here, he couldn't just stand by and watch history repeat itself.

Even if it can only change a little bit.

Even if in the end I am swallowed up by this vortex.

He blew out the oil lamp and lay down fully clothed on the narrow bed in the corner of the main room.

The sound of the watchman's drum came from outside the window; it was already the second watch.

Tomorrow, I will be meeting Yuan Chonghuan, the man who has been the subject of controversy for half a year and whose fate has affected countless people.

The passageway of the imperial prison seemed to have no end.

Chen Zhiyuan followed behind the jailer, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the stone wall.

Occasionally, the sound of chains being dragged or suppressed groans could be heard from the cells on both sides.

The air was thick with the stench of mold, blood, and excrement; even through a mask, the smell could still seep in.

He felt very heavy-hearted.

Those imprisoned here include corrupt officials, remnants of the eunuch faction, derelict generals, and high-ranking officials like Yuan Chonghuan—whose merits and demerits are difficult to discern and whose lives hang by a thread.

The true state of the Ming Dynasty can be glimpsed in this imperial prison.

The officials of the imperial court had long since divided into factions: the Donglin Party, the Zhejiang Party, the Chu Party, the Qi Party...

Factions were deeply entrenched and intertwined, engaging in factionalism and suppression of dissent.

National interests and factional interests are no longer aligned.

Everyone is scheming for their own future and their own faction; who really cares about the country anymore?

Chen Zhiyuan gripped the dossier tightly in his hand.

He knew what he was going to face today.

This is not a simple interrogation, but an attempt to expose the most rotten wound on the Ming Dynasty's border defenses—corruption in military spending.

The jailer stopped in front of a solitary cell.

"Your Excellency, this is the place."

Chen Zhiyuan nodded.

The jailer opened the cell door, and he went inside.

The cell was more spacious than I had imagined, but it was still dark.

There was a small iron window high up on the wall, letting in a faint sliver of light.

The ground was covered with dry grass, and there was a chamber pot in the corner.

A man sat on a straw mat with his back to the door, wearing prison clothes, but his back was ramrod straight.

Even as a prisoner, he still retained the aura of a military general.

"Commander Yuan," Chen Zhiyuan said.

The man slowly turned around.

Yuan Chonghuan.

This was the first time Chen Zhiyuan had seen this legendary figure up close.

At forty-six years old, he had a thin face and deep-set eyes, but his eyes—even in this dimly lit cell—remained as sharp as an eagle's.

His beard was somewhat disheveled, and his prison uniform was stained, but there was no humility or pleading in his eyes, only an almost numb calmness.

Yuan Chonghuan sized up Chen Zhiyuan, his gaze lingering for a moment on the scarlet robe and silver belt he wore before returning to his face.

Who are you?

His voice was hoarse, but very steady.

"Chen Zhiyuan, Left Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate."

"The Censorate?" Yuan Chonghuan's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile.

"You've come to interrogate me again? I've said everything I needed to say, and I've confessed to all the crimes I needed to admit. Kill me or torture me, do as you please. Charge me with whatever you want."

Chen Zhiyuan did not respond.

He sat down on the chair the jailer had brought and placed the case file on his lap.

"I'm not here to interrogate you about whether you've colluded with the enemy."

Yuan Chonghuan frowned slightly.

"Then what are we here to interrogate?"

Military spending.

Yuan Chonghuan stared at Chen Zhiyuan, and for the first time, his sharp eyes showed a different expression—not anger, not explanation, but a deep weariness and a hint of mockery.

"Military spending?" he repeated.

"Hasn't the imperial court already investigated? The Ministry of War, the Ministry of Revenue, the Censorate—so many people have investigated. The accounts are clear, and the expenditures are documented. What else is there to investigate?"

Chen Zhiyuan opened the file.

"From April of the first year of Chongzhen's reign to October of the second year, the imperial court allocated military funds to Liaodong, totaling 4.2 million taels of silver and 1.8 million shi of rice and beans."

"These are the figures from the Ministry of War's archives."

He paused, then looked at Yuan Chonghuan.

"The expenses you reported are 3.9 million taels of silver and 1.7 million shi of rice and beans. There is a difference of 300,000 taels of silver and 100,000 shi of rice and beans."

Yuan Chonghuan remained silent.

"I asked the Ministry of Revenue and the Grand Canal Administration. The actual amount transported to Liaodong was 2.8 million taels of silver and 1.2 million shi of rice and beans."

"In between, there is a shortage of 1.1 million taels of silver and 500,000 shi of rice and beans."

Chen Zhiyuan spoke calmly, as if he were talking about today's weather.

"I checked the actual amount received by the various towns in Liaodong. The total amount reported by the generals of Ningyuan, Jinzhou, Shanhaiguan, Jizhou, etc., was 1.5 million taels of silver and 700,000 shi of rice and beans."

He closed the file.

"From the time the imperial court allocated the funds to the time the border troops received them, the 4.2 million taels of silver became 1.5 million taels of silver, and the 1.8 million shi of rice and beans became 700,000 shi."

"General Yuan, can you tell me where the remaining money and provisions went?"

Yuan Chonghuan remained silent for a long time.

The only sound in the cell was the faint dripping of water in the distance.

Finally, he spoke, his voice even hoarser than before.

"Since you've investigated to this extent, why bother asking me?"

"I want to hear what you have to say," Chen Zhiyuan said, looking at him.

"You are the Governor-General of Jiliao, in charge of four garrisons. These funds and provisions pass through your hands for distribution. Do you know that only 30% actually reaches you?"

Yuan Chonghuan smiled.

The laughter was low and cold, as if it were squeezed out from deep within the chest.

"I know," he said. "Of course I know."

"Then why didn't you report it?" Chen Zhiyuan asked. "Why didn't you report it to the imperial court?"

"Report this to the emperor?" Yuan Chonghuan raised his head, his sharp eyes now filled with mockery.

"What did you report? That the Ministry of War was withholding funds? That the Ministry of Revenue was embezzling them? That the grain transport authorities were corrupt? That the prefectures and counties along the route were demanding 'losses'? That the escorting officials were lining their own pockets?"

He paused.

"Imperial Censor Chen, you are still young. You don't understand the intricacies of this place."

Chen Zhiyuan did not get angry.

He waited for Yuan Chonghuan to continue.

"From the day I took over as the military governor of Jiliao, the military pay delivered to me never exceeded 40% of the amount allocated by the imperial court."

Yuan Chonghuan's voice was eerily calm.

"At first, I even submitted a memorial to the throne and inquired further. The Ministry of War replied that the journey was long and losses were inevitable. The Ministry of Revenue said that the national treasury was empty and that funds could only be allocated in batches. The Grand Canal Administration said that the waterways were not clear and transportation was difficult."

"And then?"

"And then?" Yuan Chonghuan looked at him.

"Later I understood. That's just how it is."

"The imperial court allocates one hundred taels, but by the time it reaches the Ministry of War, eighty taels remain; by the Ministry of Revenue, sixty taels remain; by the Grand Canal Transport Office, fifty taels remain; ten taels are lost by the prefectures and counties along the way; and five taels are paid as 'hardship fee' to the escorting officials. By the time I get my hands on it, I'll have thirty-five taels. That's considered a favor they've done for me, Yuan Chonghuan."