Wanli Emperor Chapter 113 Part 1

Chapter 113 Part 1: Two Blossoms, One to Fuel the Fire

First year of the Wanli era, sixth month, twenty-second day—the Great Heat.

This was the hottest of the solar terms, the so-called "third Fu days" of summer. In Huguang, great floods converged with extreme heat; the situation was like a pot of boiling congee. Beijing, by contrast, had received rain, though without flooding—perhaps the waters had all seeped into subterranean undercurrents, leaving only pure, sweltering heat above.

Fortunately, during the morning court sessions in Wenhua Hall, the inner court attendants placed blocks of ice to cool the chamber, making the proceedings more bearable for the court officials. It was one of the few "extravagant" expenditures the emperor had not cut.

After a year of navigating political matters large and small, the Grand Secretariat, led by Zhang Juzheng, had at last begun to exhibit a centripetal force rarely seen in the Great Ming. 

At least within the Grand Secretariat and the Six Ministries, a pragmatic principle had taken root: forbearance for the good of the realm. 

The Court Conferences were no longer raucous as vegetable markets; sessions where officials presented facts and reasoned through issues gradually became more common. Efficiency, naturally, improved as well.

At today's conference, the first item concerned a proposal from Governor-General Wang Zongmu to eliminate eleven delivery post stations in Huai'an, Yangzhou, Fengyang, and Xuzhou. 

Next, with the completion of the Zhaoling mausoleum for the late Emperor Muzong, Minister Zhu Heng and others received silver rewards in varying amounts, while Vice Minister Xiong Rudá was granted shadow privilege for one son to study at the Imperial College.

Afterward, the Grand Secretariat requested that the Two Palaces dispatch Censorate Officials to audit all funds and grain expended on the mausoleum's construction. 

The Western Garden approved the request and further decreed that henceforth, upon the completion of any major public work, an audit must be submitted—establishing this as permanent precedent.

Subsequently, Governor-General of the Capital Garrisons Gu Huan and Grand Secretariat Auxiliary Minister Wang Chonggu proposed five matters concerning garrison administration: to clarify the generals' duties, align the war carts for drills, discuss recruitment to fill the ranks, cultivate officer talent for advancement, and manage weaponry for practical use. 

The emperor, presiding from Wenhua Hall, immediately ordered the Ministry of War to examine each matter in detail.

At the noon hour, news arrived from Shanxi: Zhu Tingqí, the Prince of Dai, had passed away. The Two Palaces and the Emperor grieved and dispatched Zhu Gang, the Marquis of Funing, to offer sacrifices. 

Following protocol, court sessions were suspended for three days.

Yet suspending court was no holiday. All shifts required of the various ministries and departments proceeded without remission. 

This was especially true as the eighth month approached. The one-year pilot program for the Law of Evaluation in the two capitals and one province was nearing completion, and every government office in the Northern Directly-Administered Region was exerting its utmost effort—though in decidedly different directions.

Those whose performance over the year had been unsightly devoted themselves to sending gifts and seeking connections. 

Those determined to resist to the end colluded with their allies, searching for an opportunity to trouble the Grand Secretariat and the throne. 

Naturally, those with the most to gain were officials who had distinguished themselves this year. Everyone understood: a new official makes a bold start, and a new policy was like paying a thousand gold for rare horses. This was a ladder for advancement. Who would not seize it?

The subordinate officials were busy, so the high officials were busier still. Even the emperor, who had not yet assumed personal rule, could not escape such demands.

In the eastern side hall of Wenhua Hall, another sovereign-and-minister audience was taking place. 

Zhu Yijun sat upright and extended a formal gesture of courtesy. "Minister Yin, please rise. The summer heat is oppressive; you have endured a tiring journey. It has been hard on you."

As he spoke, he observed the former Grand Secretariat Cabinet Minister before him: Yin Shidan. He was one of the few high officials Zhu Yijun had seen who was unremarkable in appearance. 

The other Grand Secretariat ministers—Zhang Juzheng, Gao Yi, Lü Diaoyang, and Yang Bo—each bore the steady, righteous visage of an official: square-faced, or refined and long-faced with prominent foreheads. But Yin Shidan had prominent cheekbones and a somewhat flat nose. His looks were merely average.

More peculiar was the faint scar on his lower jaw, one that had not healed cleanly. Did the saying not hold that those without an official's countenance could not rise to a high rank? Zhu Yijun found himself stealing several curious glances.

Yin Shidan, observing the young emperor in turn, noticed the frequent glances toward his face and took no pains to conceal it. He spoke frankly: "Your Majesty, this mark on my jaw was acquired after I entered the Grand Secretariat."

Zhu Yijun, caught in his curiosity, felt no embarrassment—only deeper intrigue. "Newly acquired?"

The scar hardly resembled a simple fall.

Yin Shidan cupped his hands respectfully, lowering his head so the emperor could not see his expression. "Your Majesty, this injury was left from a brawl I had in the Grand Secretariat with the Earl of Ding'an."

"Ahem, cough—"

Zhu Yijun could not contain himself, tried to suppress a laugh, and ended up choking on his own saliva.

As expected of Gao Gong.

The incident flashed vividly to mind. After Gao Gong had returned to the Grand Secretariat, he had grown extremely domineering, manufacturing pretexts to expel anyone beyond his command. 

Yin Shidan had naturally not been spared. When the moment came, Yin had rebuked him sternly: "First you drive out Duke Chen, then Duke Zhao, then Duke Li, and now you drive me out." With that, he had raised his arms and struck.

Zhu Yijun had assumed they had not actually come to blows. Now it appeared they had fought quite fiercely indeed.

A brawl in the Grand Secretariat—two words that ought never to appear together. Zhu Yijun's thirst for gossip satisfied, he cleared his throat and feigned composure, allowing the moment to pass.

He turned to proper business. "I hear you visited the Southern Directly-Administered Region before entering the capital. Now that you have been in Beijing for several days, you must have formulated a plan for the Salt Administration Office?"

Such was the pace of the Great Ming court: a matter decided with the Grand Secretariat the previous year would only now, at the end of the sixth month, finally be implemented.

Yin Shidan nodded, speaking with confidence. "This subject has visited not only the Lianghuai Salt Distribution Commission, but has also investigated the salt distribution commissions in Liangzhe, Changlu, Shandong, and Fujian. The central government's original intentions in establishing the General Salt Tax Office, the disagreements between the Ministry of Revenue and the Inner Court, and the requests from each commission—I have taken them all to heart."

Zhu Yijun regarded him with mild surprise. He had not known this former Grand Secretary possessed such a practical inclination. But since he had ventured so far, he clearly intended to display his capacities.

Zhu Yijun read the moment; there was no reason not to grant him the opportunity. He swallowed his prepared remarks and asked gently, "What counsel does Minister Yin offer?"

Yin Shidan felt a jolt of warmth. Excellent. The rumors were true: this young emperor was deeply versed in the classics and possessed the bearing of a virtuous ruler.

Merely for this respectful conduct toward a minister, today's audience had justified itself—something he had never felt under Emperor Muzong, who had sided with Gao Gong even when he was being beaten.

He straightened his spine and raised his head. "Your Majesty, this subject dares not speak of counsel, only offer some crude observations. The common people whisper that the central government established the Salt Administration Office to consolidate authority over salt taxation and bolster revenue. Those in the bureaucracy speculate that the intention is to coordinate the Kaizhong System and balance power between north and south."

Zhu Yijun listened carefully, nodding frequently. These guesses were indeed all sound.

Yin Shidan's tone shifted. "However, this subject humbly surmises that Your Majesty's and the Grand Secretariat's intentions do not end there."

Zhu Yijun's expression brightened with interest.

Yin Shidan continued with confidence. "The central government intends to reprint the Salt Certificate using the Kaizhong System, yet it refuses to delegate printing authority to the Salt Administration Office and the various distribution commissions according to precedent. This subject believes Your Majesty means to layer an intricate design upon the Salt Certificate itself."

Zhu Yijun remained noncommittal, observing that this Elder Yin was somewhat proud and enjoyed demonstrating his acuity—fair enough for a literary master rivaling the Former and Latter Seven Masters. The man had earned a scholar's vanity.

He feigned astonishment and instructed the eunuch Wei Chao at his side, "Quickly! Grant Minister Yin a seat." Turning back, he urged, "Minister Yin, continue."

Yin Shidan was greatly pleased. He bowed in thanks and sat gracefully, then met the emperor's gaze. "Does Your Majesty intend to use the Salt Certificate to lay the groundwork for the Treasure Notes?"

Zhu Yijun rose at once, speaking with genuine agitation. "Minister Yin is truly a great talent!"

The performance was half feigned, yet the surprise was genuine. He had divined his intention exactly. Fiat currency was a path the era had to take. 

Unfortunately, the Grand Progenitor's Treasure Notes had failed utterly. Fiat currency without a credit anchor was mere waste paper. Salt, however, being a hard currency throughout the realm, possessed the necessary qualifications to serve as that anchor.

If every Salt Certificate could be exchanged for its corresponding weight in salt, the Salt Certificate would become the prototype for the next generation of Treasure Notes. The name "Treasure Notes" was now ruined beyond salvage; the term would have to change. Whether it was called a Salt Certificate or a salt voucher was immaterial—it was essentially fiat currency.

For now, it could only be exchanged for salt. But if it could one day be used to pay taxes, it would no longer be limited to the salt tax alone. This was, in a sense, a pilot program. 

He had wished to issue fiat currency directly and do so in one step, but he currently had no silver mines, and the Treasure Notes bore a foul reputation. To attempt it would be to hasten the Great Ming's demise.

This method had its merits and drawbacks, yet it was controllable—far preferable to ceding mintage rights to the common people. 

Once experience matures, the mines in Japan should be nearing production. Then he could graft one upon the other, issuing fiat currency anchored to gold and silver, advancing both in parallel without impeding either.

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