The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the Carpenter Prince!

The grand meeting was held in the Wenhua Hall.

Before dawn, the ministers of the Six Ministries and Nine Departments had already entered the hall and lined up in order. Those in scarlet robes were in front, followed by those in blue robes, standing in a proper and orderly manner according to their rank. Compared to the casual gatherings of three or five high-ranking officials around the imperial desk in the warm pavilion, the Wenhua Hall was a formal venue for political discussions, with clear hierarchy and no room for overstepping boundaries.

The number of officials present today is more than double that of a typical court meeting.

The debate over the Liaodong military pay had raged for two months, the debate over the change of commander had lasted for a month, and the memorials submitted by the six ministries were piled up to a foot high. The court officials and officials alike had a lot to say but nowhere to vent their frustrations, and they were all waiting for this day of great discussion.

It's one thing for a few high-ranking officials to discuss matters privately in the warm pavilion, but a grand discussion is like lifting the lid and letting all the civil and military officials see what's brewing underneath.

…………

When Zhu Youxiao entered the hall, the whispers inside immediately ceased.

The officials bowed and returned to their respective positions.

Emperor Taichang was already seated behind his desk. Dressed in casual clothes, his expression was calm, with a bowl of ginseng soup beside him, which he occasionally picked up to sip. At first glance, his complexion seemed acceptable, but the dark circles under his eyes had not faded, and there were still cracked lines on his lips. The foundation he had built up during his nineteen years as Crown Prince was fundamentally weak.

Zhu Youxiao sat down on the left side of the imperial desk and, as usual, picked up a book of memorials to read.

He's been in this position for almost two months now, and the officials have all gotten used to it—the crown prince sits beside him to listen to the government affairs, never speaking or interrupting, occasionally helping to stack the examination papers and handing him teacups, just like the eunuchs serving him.

Nobody took him seriously.

Just right.

…………

Fang Congzhe was the first to step forward.

Wearing a crane-patterned robe, he walked with composure and bowed respectfully.

"Your subject requests to discuss matters concerning the Liaodong military supplies."

His tone was neither too high nor too low, perfectly balanced; the opening remarks of the seven-year Grand Secretary were as unhurried as his pace.

Emperor Taichang nodded. "Your opinions are welcome."

Fang Congzhe said loudly, "Since the start of the military campaign in Liaodong, the annual allocation of military pay has not been less than five million taels of silver. The court has been working tirelessly, which is already quite remarkable. However, the calls for pay from the front lines are incessant. The military governor's office has repeatedly requested additional payments, and the garrison commanders have also delayed military affairs on the grounds of insufficient pay."

"In my opinion, the problem with the Liaodong military supplies is not the lack of funds allocated, but the slow transportation. The silver carts leave the Taicang warehouse for Liaodong, and along the way they must pass through more than ten garrisons for handover and counting. The military stations and post stations are old and in disrepair, and the delays take more than a month."

"Therefore, I propose the following: First, establish additional officials specifically responsible for transporting the Liaodong military supplies and eliminate redundant stations to expedite the transport. Second, allocate an additional 300,000 taels of silver this year on top of the original amount to address the urgent needs of the front lines."

His words were steady and well-organized, without a single flaw.

Zhu Youxiao lowered his head and flipped through the question book, but in his mind he was analyzing Fang Congzhe's words.

An additional 300,000 taels—while seemingly generous, was in reality nothing more than adding another ladle of water to a leaky bucket. The root of the problem with the Liaodong military pay was its evaporation, not the total amount. From the capital to Liaoyang, there were layers of interception, leaving only 3 million out of 5 million. Adding another 300,000 would simply mean that the various government offices along the route would receive an extra 300,000 in commissions.

Fang Congzhe certainly knew.

He wasn't unaware of the root of the problem; he simply dared not uncover it. From the Ministry of Revenue to the Ministry of War, to the provinces, and to the garrisons along the route, countless lives and fortunes were tied to the Liaodong military pay. If the lid were lifted, no one could escape, not even the Grand Secretary himself.

So he used the additional allocation as a pretext and the transfer of goods as a cover to suppress the word "audit".

This person's meticulousness and intricate methods far surpassed even those seasoned veterans of officialdom he had encountered in his previous life.

…………

Yang Lian stepped forward.

The seventh-rank official in his green robe stood among a group of people in scarlet robes. He was not tall, but his voice was very strong, a testament to his years of honing his voice in the corridors of the Six Ministries.

"I dare not agree with what Grand Secretary Fang has proposed."

Yang Lian's style is to be confrontational from the start.

"The problem in Liaodong is not the transportation of supplies, but the commander. In the two years since the governor Xiong Tingbi took office, he has avoided the Battle of Puhe, sat idly by and did not come to the aid of Kaiyuan, and the defense of Liaoyang has been neglected for a long time. The morale of the troops in various garrisons is low, and more than 3,000 deserters every year. With such a governor, it is futile to allocate more funds."

Yang Lian paused, raising her voice by half an inch.

"I request that the commander be changed, and another minister knowledgeable in military affairs be selected to take charge in Liaodong. If the commander is not easily found, the Liaodong campaign cannot proceed."

The hall fell silent for a moment.

Zuo Guangdou followed closely behind, cupped his hands, and said, "Your subject agrees with Censor Yang's opinion. The commander has been dragging his feet for days without making any progress, causing Liaodong to shrink day by day. This is not just Censor Yang's opinion; the censors of the Six Ministries have submitted more than ten memorials impeaching us."

Fang Congzhe stood still, his expression unchanged.

It wasn't surprising that Yang Lian would confront him, nor was it surprising that Zuo Guangdou would follow suit. The more powerful the Donglin faction became, the more room he had to mediate. This was a principle that the Grand Secretary had repeatedly proven in court over seven years—the fiercer the argument between the two sides, the more valuable the peacemaker became.

However, today's situation is more complicated than Fang Congzhe had anticipated.

Li Ruhua spoke up.

"Your Majesty, may I presume to interject?"

The Minister of Revenue, seventy-two years old, had a voice like a leaky bellows, his breath weak. After standing for nearly an hour, his legs were already trembling.

"Whether the commander is changed or not, let's set aside the matter of the commander and his ministers. Let's just talk about the Liaodong military pay."

"Since the 46th year of the Wanli reign, an additional 9 li has been levied per mu, amounting to 5.2 million taels of silver annually. The Ministry of Revenue has allocated the full amount every year."

Li Ruhua paused, then took a breath.

"But the demands for payment from various towns grow ever more urgent each year; where exactly is the money being used?"

"The Ministry of Revenue also had no way to verify it."

The six words fell in the hall like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

The Ministry of Revenue had no way to verify this – and for the Minister of Revenue to say it himself was tantamount to confirming one thing: I allocated the silver, but I don't know where it went.

Yang Lian frowned. "Does Minister Li mean that the funds for military pay are insufficient?"

"I have already said quite a bit."

Li Ruhua spoke very slowly, pausing for breath after each sentence.

"The Taicang treasury's summer tax revenue was immediately used to fill old deficits, and the autumn tax hasn't even been collected yet, so it's running a deficit. If we allocate silver, Liaodong will need it; if we don't allocate silver, Liaodong says it can't afford to support its troops. But the Ministry of Revenue isn't a treasure trove; it can't conjure up silver."

"What about the silver? Five million two hundred thousand taels allocated annually is no small sum, so why is the front lines still short even after it's been allocated?"

"Yang, the Censor, asked a good question."

Li Ruhua sighed.

"If I could answer this question, I wouldn't be standing here being asked at the age of seventy-two."

The entire hall was silent for a long while.

Yang Lian didn't respond. The impeachment had been going on for over a year, and it had all involved personnel matters. No one had ever laid out the accounts in front of him and said, "I don't know where the money went."

The Ministry of Revenue keeps track of the money once it's disbursed, but once it leaves the capital, it goes through layers of intermediaries. The Ministry of Revenue has no control over how many hands it passed through, or how much each intermediary intercepted. This account is shrouded in secrecy; no one wants to calculate it, and no one dares to.

Zhu Youxiao sighed inwardly.

All the high-ranking officials in the court, when it came to discerning the ills of the times, were not as insightful as a single sentence from this frail, elderly minister.

"The Ministry of Revenue has no way to verify"—these six words rendered the hour-long argument between Yang Lian and Fang Congzhe over replacing the commander meaningless. Whether or not the commander is replaced is secondary; where the money went is the root of the problem. If the root cause isn't addressed, replacing the commander ten times will be futile.

Fang Congzhe put down his teacup very quietly, and no one in the hall noticed.

Zhu Youxiao was sitting close by and saw it—his finger rested on the rim of the bowl for a moment before he let go.

The old fox has caught wind of it.

…………

The three sides remained locked in a stalemate for nearly an hour.

Yang Lian and Zuo Guangdou went back and forth citing precedents of dereliction of duty by the military governor, but Fang Congzhe countered them one by one with the suggestions of transferring supplies and increasing allocations. Li Ruhua would occasionally chime in with the comment, "Taicang has no silver."

The argument escalated to the point of repetitive refrains, and after an hour, no one dared to utter the words "check the accounts."

Zhu Youxiao sat at his desk for an hour, flipping through the list of questions, but couldn't turn a single page.

He was waiting for Emperor Taichang to speak. The three days of preparation were all for Emperor Taichang to naturally ask the question, "How much silver actually came to Liaodong last year?" after listening to an hour of bickering.

But Emperor Taichang began rubbing his temples less than an hour later. His constitution was weak, his vital energy insufficient, and prolonged sitting caused him headaches. A handkerchief was handed to him, and Emperor Taichang wiped his forehead; the veins on the back of his hand were faintly visible.

Emperor Taichang showed no intention of speaking. He was holding back.

We can't wait any longer.

If they wait any longer, Emperor Taichang will either be so troubled that he collapses, or Fang Congzhe will come up with a "long-term plan" to end the matter. Both outcomes will be futile.

Zhu Youxiao held the question booklet in his hand and quickly went through it in his mind.

If Emperor Taichang won't speak up, then we'll just have torn the hole ourselves.

He put down the test paper, bowed slightly, and timidly spoke in the direction of Emperor Taichang.

"Father, there's something I don't quite understand. May I ask?"

The whole hall fell silent.

The Crown Prince spoke.

This prince, who was ignorant of classical studies and only knew how to carve wood, had been sitting in the court for nearly two months and spoke for the first time during a major discussion.

Emperor Taichang was slightly taken aback and glanced at him.

"ask."

Zhu Youxiao scratched his head, looking troubled.

"Grand Secretary Fang said that 5.2 million taels of silver would be allocated annually, and Minister Li also said that the allocation would be made in full every year. However, a few days ago, I was helping Father Emperor review the memorials and saw a report from the Military Commissioner's Office saying that the front lines were short of funds and there was a shortage everywhere."

He paused, frowned, and looked as if he was trying hard to figure it out but couldn't.

"Five million two hundred thousand was allocated, but the front lines say it's not enough. Where did all the money go?"

The voice was soft, and the tone carried the innocent innocence of a child asking an adult "why".

But these words, spoken in the hall, were like a knife stabbing straight into a festering sore that none of the court officials dared to touch.

The entire hall was completely silent.

Fang Congzhe's expression remained unchanged, but the fingers resting on the rim of the bowl tightened by an inch.

Yang Lian's pupils contracted slightly—he had been impeaching officials for a year, focusing entirely on personnel matters, going around in circles, but he had never asked this question.

Li Ruhua looked down at the tips of her boots, her lips twitching slightly, whether in a bitter smile or a sigh, it was hard to tell.

Emperor Taichang picked up the bowl of ginseng soup, took a sip, and gently tapped the bottom of the bowl on the table when he put it down.

He looked at the assembled officials below, and opened his mouth—

In that very breath—

A flurry of footsteps sounded at the entrance of the palace.

A young eunuch hurried in from outside the hall, wearing the Qianqing Palace robes, his face ashen. He bypassed the attendants and rushed straight toward the imperial desk.

The entire hall turned its gaze to the side.

In any dynasty, it would be a capital offense for an eunuch to enter during a grand council. The fact that this young eunuch stumbled as he ran clearly showed that he wasn't ignorant of the rules—there was something far more important than the rules.

Wang An's face darkened, and he took two steps forward to stop him. The little eunuch fell to the ground with a thud, and whispered something in Wang An's ear.

Wang An's expression changed.

He turned around, quickly walked to Emperor Taichang's side, bent down, and whispered a few words.

Emperor Taichang's hand rested on his temple.

They paused for three breaths.

Three full breaths.

There was no sound of people in the hall, only the cawing of a crow outside the eaves, which then faded into the distance.

Emperor Taichang slowly lowered his hand.

He didn't look at the officials below, nor at the crown prince. His gaze passed over the black gauze hats filling the hall, landing on the sunlight outside the palace gates, as if he were looking into a very distant place.

His face darkened inch by inch.

Fang Congzhe was about to step forward to speak when he suddenly sensed a change in the atmosphere behind the imperial desk, as if a sharp blade was hanging over his head. He swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

Yang Lian also paused.

All eyes in the hall turned toward the imperial desk.

Emperor Taichang picked up the bowl of ginseng soup.

I didn't drink it.

When I put the bowl back, the bottom of it tapped on the counter.

not heavy.

However, the hundred or so people in the hall held their breath and fell silent. The sound of the thud in the deathly silence seemed to strike the hearts of everyone present.

That's all for today.

Emperor Taichang's voice was low and slow, each word deliberate and deliberate, as if he were suppressing something with great effort.

"We'll discuss it tomorrow."

The moment those four words were uttered, the entire hall seemed to be struck by lightning.

The entire hall was stunned.

Fang Congzhe was stunned. Yang Lian was stunned. Li Ruhua was stunned.

Zhu Youxiao was taken aback.

It wasn't an act.

The tear was made. Fang Congzhe's fingers tightened, Yang Lian's pupils contracted, and Emperor Taichang picked up the bowl to speak—just one step away.

Just one step away, the question "Where did the money go?" was about to take root in the discussion and become irrevocable.

They were just one step away when a single sentence from a young eunuch cut them off.

What news could make Emperor Taichang back down at this critical juncture?

Zhu Youxiao glanced at Wang An subconsciously. Wang An stood with his head bowed, his face expressionless, but a fine layer of sweat seeped from his temples.

Emperor Taichang had already risen. Wang An quickly stepped forward to help him up.

"It's over."

All the officials knelt to see him off.

When Emperor Taichang left the palace, his steps were a beat faster than when he came in. It didn't seem like he was unwell and needed to rest, but rather that something more urgent awaited him.

…………

The officials filed out.

Fang Congzhe walked the most steadily. His steps were neither hurried nor slow, and the hem of his robe remained perfectly still. After leaving the palace, he even glanced at the sunlight under the corridor, displaying a calm demeanor that said, "It is only natural that we have come to this point in our discussion today."

But Zhu Youxiao noticed that his left hand was always tucked into his sleeve, and his thumb and forefinger were constantly rubbing together.

That was Fang Congzhe's habitual way of thinking. Even this seven-year premier hadn't expected the parliamentary session to end this way.

Yang Lian walked the fastest. His steps were so light they seemed to fly, and he nearly bumped into the official in charge of the Imperial Secretariat waiting outside. The proceedings, which had lasted less than an hour, were over before he could finish, and his face was ashen.

Li Ruhua was the last to leave. He sighed as he went out. A sigh from a seventy-two-year-old is different from a young person's; it has little force, just a slow release of air from his chest, making him seem an inch shorter.

…………

Zhu Youxiao left the Wenhua Hall and walked to the corridor.

Wang An was already waiting there.

He came up to us, leaned closer, and whispered something.

"Urgent report from Liaodong, Puhe direction."

Zhu Youxiao paused in his steps.

Puhe River.

It's the Puhe River again.

In his report last month, Xiong Tingbi mentioned unusual activity in the direction of Puhe, with Jin scouts frequently appearing, seemingly probing the defenses.

Urgent report, not the daily report. The daily report is submitted routinely; an urgent report means something has happened.

"What did you report?"

Wang An lowered his voice and said, "The outer outposts of Puhe have been attacked. The extent of the damage is still unknown. The Ministry of War said the urgent report arrived last night and was only brought to the palace this morning."

Zhu Youxiao stood under the eaves. The sunlight from the eaves shone on the golden bricks, making one squint.

The Puhe outpost was attacked. Actions were taken at the front.

The argument in the palace lasted for an hour, and it was all about written documents. The Liaodong on paper was two thousand miles away from the real Liaodong, and there were more than 100,000 soldiers suffering from cold and hunger. While the court was debating whether to change the commander, blood had already been shed on the front lines.

Zhu Youxiao closed his eyes.

Fang Congzhe went to the Ministry of War yesterday. The military intelligence has arrived today.

It turned out to be the case.

He wasn't there to check the news; he was there to confirm when the news would enter the palace.

No wonder he was so composed during the grand debate. He knew that arguing wouldn't yield any results, and he didn't need any. He only needed to put the words "increased allocation" on the table before the military intelligence arrived—after the grand debate was interrupted, the Grand Secretary's proposal would naturally be the starting point for the next debate.

Zhu Youxiao opened his eyes and glanced at Wang An.

"I need to see the urgent report from Liaodong before tomorrow's grand meeting."

Wang An bowed. "This servant will take care of it."

…………

On the way back to the East Palace.

The passageway had become cooler. As the sun began to set, a chill seeped from the cracks in the brickwork, creeping up from the soles of my boots.

The meeting was interrupted.

But the question, "Where did the money go?" had already been asked and couldn't be taken back. We'll discuss it again tomorrow; this question is a sword hanging over the heads of all the officials.

Fang Congzhe interrupted the discussion with military intelligence, but he couldn't cut off this knife.

Zhu Youxiao paused at the corner of the passageway.

Take a deep breath. Exhale.

Tomorrow's plans need to be rearranged.