Jiajing, the thirty-ninth year of his reign.
The Lower Yuan Festival.
The Beijing sky was overcast that afternoon, seeming to hold an unusual portent.
...
The Hanlin Academy.
Young Zhu Mo, carrying a bucket, walked into the corridor. On his way to clean the Hall of Rites and Teachings, he looked up at the sky and felt an inexplicable sense of loss.
He was a transmigator, having arrived in the Jiajing era over a decade ago. He was only five years old when he arrived, knowing almost nothing of his past.
He vaguely recalled living in a luxurious and extravagant estate in his childhood, which later seemed to have been consumed by a great fire... Afterward, he wandered with a Taoist priest and only found refuge in a dilapidated temple on Mount Wutai at the age of thirteen.
The priest said that a jade pendant he wore in his childhood, inscribed with the character "Ming" on the front and "Mo'er, age five" in seal script on the back, led to him being named Zhu Mo, with the courtesy name Zi Xuan. Beyond that, Zhu Mo could recall nothing about which family he had transmigrated into, nor his true name. These past ten-plus years had been spent in a muddled state.
Two years ago, the system finally arrived, but it remained unactivated, leaving him lamenting his fate day after day. He eventually left the Taoist temple and came to the capital alone to make his way.
The current Jiajing court was indeed much like what was depicted in dramas and books. The Jiajing Emperor never showed himself but controlled the overall situation from the shadows. The Yan faction was merely his tool, used to exert his authority and force his officials to bend to his will.
What was different was that by the thirty-ninth year of Jiajing's reign, this tool of the Yan faction had reached a point where it was difficult to control. To cast it aside would not be easy, and a misstep could even lead to usurpation by the Yan family.
For the past two years, whispers of the Yan family's ambitions had been rife in the capital, practically an open secret. A saying had quietly spread across the provinces: "The Zhu family's empire, the Yan family's party." To put it bluntly, while the Zhu family held the imperial title, it was effectively the Yan family that called the shots.
Zhu Mo, who had always been fond of Ming Dynasty history, was naturally well aware of the current situation and felt a profound helplessness. He had initially considered seeking patronage from upright officials like Xu Jie and Zhang Juzheng, but then he reconsidered, wondering why they would pay attention to a little Taoist of unknown origin. Moreover, he mused, after all their struggles, wouldn't they all end up as "yyds" (forever the same, meaning ultimately doomed to perish) decades later?
No one knew better than he did: the Yan family was bound to fall...
But what then?
Xu Jie and his son were on the verge of becoming a new Yan family. Zhang Juzheng, a pillar of strength, though he governed well for decades, had set a precedent for authoritarian rule. Later still, the upright faction, through stagnation, mutated into the Donglin party, advocating "following principle, not the ruler." On the day they achieved "universal uprightness in court," the Ming Dynasty would be beyond salvation.
It was evident that:
Though the Yellow River's turbid currents could drown, the Yangtze's clear waters could drown just as easily!
Zhu Mo had personally seen the crooked-neck tree and knew that upright officials could also become corrupted, perhaps ten times more terrifyingly than the Yan faction.
In the final analysis, there was little difference between the upright and the corrupt. Neither were benevolent rulers chosen by Heaven, nor ordinary citizens. They were the existence that stood between the common people and the emperor. They had their own interests, their own wills, and their own destinies. One could even say that on this vast land, they had become a distinct race, enduring for two thousand years without interruption. They were the greatest winners, not anyone else! httpδ:/m.kuAisugg.nět
Who could change this throughout history?
In the rolling long river, emperors changed like a revolving lantern, while the common people were born and died in cycles, becoming fertile soil for history underfoot. Yet, the vast land only saw the perpetual continuation of this official clan... At the same time, righteousness was trampled, good and evil were inverted, and the law of the jungle reigned supreme. Humans, lowly as dogs, still clung to life... A wordless despair permeated the air like a curse, eroding all ambitions of generations.
Lost in thought, Zhu Mo felt a sense of bewilderment—
Would this Ming Dynasty, even if it were to be reborn once, or ten times, likely meet the same end? Much like the consensus reached in online debates of the past: the Ming Dynasty was beyond saving.
Perhaps, there was only one way?
A thought that had vaguely crossed his mind, and one he had become more certain of since arriving in the Ming Dynasty, was this: a fundamental change, a thorough self-revolution from top to bottom, simultaneously eradicating deep-seated ailments and cultivating vitality among the populace. Perhaps, there was a glimmer of hope...
But, was this even possible?
Zhu Mo looked up at the somber twilight in the courtyard, and once again felt how laughable and pathetic this notion was in this rigidly hierarchical world...
...
At the same time,
Outside the Imperial City, by the Jinshui Bridge.
Over twenty court officials, heads bowed and with hurried steps, emerged from the palace gates. Following them were several solemn-faced upright officials, the leaders of the current upright faction: Xu Jie, Zhang Juzheng, and Gao Gong.
The three walked and spoke in low tones, their expressions tinged with a hint of panic. This was because the memorial by Censor Zou Yinglong, accusing Yan Shifan of corruption, had just been rejected by the Directorate of Ceremonial. Even worse, the Emperor had repeatedly struck his jade cauldrons in response to the "qingci" (reports written in verse) submitted by these upright officials.
This indicated that the Emperor not only disliked them but was also furious!
At such a crucial juncture, with irrefutable evidence and on the verge of a decisive blow, they had failed due to a "qingci" failing to win the Emperor's favor... A single failure might be acceptable, but the question was, would the Yan family desist? They would undoubtedly seize the advantage, and it was likely that at least one of the three—Xu, Gao, or Zhang—would be expelled from the Grand Secretariat this time.
And now, they had to rush to the Prince of Yu's mansion to deliver this dire news to the notoriously timid Prince of Yu, Zhu Zaihou. One could only imagine the feelings involved.
...
A moment later,
The frail old Yan Song, supported by his son Yan Shifan, also emerged, accompanied by several Yan faction officials such as Luo Longwen and Yan Maoqing. They appeared remarkably relaxed.
They had come prepared today, presenting the blueprints for the reconstruction of the Wanshou Palace, which had caught fire. Coupled with a masterful "qingci" crafted over three months, they had won the Emperor's favor and dealt a heavy blow to the upright faction.
Just moments ago, the Emperor had not only rejected Censor Zou Yinglong's memorial but had also struck Xu Jie's cauldron. Yan Shifan clearly remembered that the Emperor had struck his jade cauldron six times when Xu Jie recited his "qingci," signifying not only dissatisfaction but also genuine anger.
This was a rare sight.
Even Yan Song, who had served as Grand Secretary for twenty years, felt somewhat surprised by this great victory. It was truly rare for the Emperor to be so angry...
Having been cautious and diligent for decades, the old Yan Song felt the great victory had come rather suddenly and remained somewhat uneasy. He said, "Shifan, is that 'qingci' of yours truly that good? You, recite it again, read it one more time for me to hear..."
Yan Shifan, his face beaming with joy, laughed heartily, "Father! You can rest assured! The Emperor was so pleased that Xu, Gao, and Zhang didn't even mention the major issue of the Wanshou Palace fire and reconstruction, and we quickly presented the blueprints..."
Yan Song, somewhat impatient, said, "I told you to recite the 'qingci' you wrote."
Yan Shifan replied again, "Father! This 'qingci' took me over three months to ponder... I lost quite a bit of hair. The Emperor truly likes it, there's no mistaking it!"