Chapter 24: Endurance Means Letting Go and Holding On

For these impoverished Hanlin scholars, it had reached a point where, if they could trade their own lives to tear a chunk of flesh from the high-ranking officials, some would do so without a second thought.

Do you know why? Because this is the capital. Do you know what the capital signifies? Prosperity!

The damn high-ranking dignitaries spend thousands of taels of silver in a single night at the Jiaofangsi or the brothels just to win a smile from a courtesan. I have spent decades studying the classics of the sages and fought tooth and nail to be admitted to the nation's highest institution of learning, only to find in the end that I don't even earn as much in a lifetime as they do in one night! Who could stand that? Answer me! Since that is the case, even if I die, I will drag you bastards down with me!

The squabble between the low-level officials and the civil official bloc grew increasingly intense. You call me corrupt; I say you are venal. What began as a dispute over state affairs soon devolved into pure personal attacks.

Zhu Youjian sat upon the Dragon Throne, expressionless as he watched the indignation of the crowd in the court. Below him, Wei Zhongxian, Cao Huachun, Wang Cheng'en, Xiao Hongzi, and a group of palace guards watched every movement in the court, vigilant against any incident that might disturb the Imperial presence.

Further down, Zhang Weixian stood stunned. *When did the Emperor win over such a ferocious group of low-level officials? How did I not hear a whisper of this?*

It was not that Zhang Weixian was naive; the matter of back-paying salaries never concerned a Duke like him. Moreover, the Emperor had ordered him to indulge in wine and song daily, and he had been dutifully obeying. Consequently, he had not been fully aware of much that had transpired outside in recent days.

Yet, amidst his shock, Zhang Weixian felt a surge of wild joy. He had been worrying about how the Emperor would govern the Beijing Garrison, but it seemed he could just stay home and wait. The Beijing Garrison? It was nothing more than a roadside weed. He was also immensely grateful that he had submitted his heartfelt proposal for reforming the garrison on his very first day at court. Otherwise, he might have been finished off without even realizing something was amiss.

At that moment, the argument reached a fever pitch. One of the lower-ranking officials suddenly shouted, "Damn them! The Great Ming is in such dire straits now precisely because of these vermin and traitors!"

"Beat them to death! Restore a clear sky to our Great Ming!"

Once the words were spoken, the low-level officials ignited like a powder keg. The impoverished Hanlin scholars rolled up their sleeves, their faces contorted with rage as they pushed through the crowd, roaring, "Beat them! Beat them! The state has nurtured scholars for a hundred and fifty years; the time to uphold integrity and die for righteousness is today!"

Seeing the situation spiraling toward chaos, Cao Huachun turned anxiously to the Emperor on the throne. Zhu Youjian nodded calmly. Seeing this, Cao Huachun gathered his strength and bellowed, "Stop at once! Are you all trying to incite a rebellion?!"

Hearing this, both sides—previously at daggers drawn—instantly ceased their clamor. The sheer authority of the new Emperor, who had executed a hundred officials in a single day, had already planted seeds of fear in their hearts. Had it been a weaker ruler, neither side would have stopped just because of a eunuch's shout. The atmosphere had been so heated; how could they stop just like that? Besides, there were precedents for officials brawling in court. If a Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard could be beaten to death on the court floor, lesser officials were certainly not exempt.

Watching the officials fall into silence, Zhu Youjian rose slowly from the throne, and the officials hurriedly knelt. The court became deathly quiet. Zhu Youjian paced slowly until he stood before the Minister of Rites, Lai Zongdao. Lai, kneeling on the ground, felt his heart rise to his throat as the Emperor approached. *Don't call on me! Please, don't call on me!*

"Lai Zongdao, as Minister of Rites, you oversee the protocols. How should this rowdiness in the court today be handled?"

As Zhu Youjian spoke, Lai Zongdao felt a bitterness rise in his throat, as if bile were surging from his stomach; his heart finally sank. It was no wonder he felt this way; the Emperor’s question was impossible to answer. The civil official bloc that controlled the court, the rising faction of low-level officials, and the Eunuch faction he himself relied upon—which one could he afford to offend? Not to mention the Imperial power looming above. A single wrong word meant certain death.

Fortunately, Lai Zongdao was a legitimate imperial scholar who had been steeped in officialdom for decades. A rapid turn of thought led him to an answer that minimized the risk of offense. "Cough... Your Majesty, I believe today's disturbance stems from the impeachments. Therefore, the evidence against Eunuch Wei should be verified by Your Majesty. As for the instigators, Chen Xinjia and the censor who petitioned to the death... according to protocol, I suggest twenty strokes of the heavy staff for each, and three months' salary docked for the other involved officials."

As Lai Zongdao finished, the censor who had been petitioning to the death suddenly stood up. "Your Majesty, I have failed in my remonstrance! I have no face to face Your Majesty, nor the Great Ming!"

With that, he lunged toward a massive pillar in the hall. A glimmer of hope rose in the hearts of the civil official bloc. If this man died hitting the pillar in the hall today, they would not have lost this round!

Zhu Youjian remained expressionless. As the man opened his mouth, the Emperor had already gestured slightly. Behind him, Xiao Hongzi moved like a flash, pinning the censor down in two strides. The man struggled to shout something, but Xiao Hongzi decisively stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth.

Zhu Youjian then spoke again, "This man and the Prefect of Dingzhou, Chen Xinjia, shall each receive twenty strokes of the staff. The remaining officials will have three months of salary docked. Wei Zhongxian, Director of the Ceremonial Staff, though there is no concrete evidence of guilt, shall have six months of salary docked and be confined to the palace for three months."

After speaking, Zhu Youjian returned to his throne. Several burly eunuchs immediately dragged Chen Xinjia and the censor away, stripped them, and executed the punishment in the court.

Chen Xinjia had been apprehensive as he was dragged away, unsure if he had gone too far today. But the moment the first blow landed on his buttocks, his heart settled—he had bet correctly! The reason he felt excited despite the pain was that the punishment was real. There was a craft to the "heavy staff." The censor next to him had already turned pale and couldn't even cry out after the first blow. Chen Xinjia, however, let out a pig-like shriek that echoed through the hall. After a dozen blows, noticing the censor next to him had gone completely silent, he let his own cries fade into a weak, dying moan.

One need not worry about the acting skills of officials; it was a basic requirement of the trade.

After the court adjourned, the two groups that had nearly come to blows earlier exchanged glances, sparks still flying. The low-level officials, previously a scattered heap of sand, began to develop a collective consciousness. As for the civil official bloc, they were not discouraged by today’s setback. A single failure or success meant nothing; the one who laughs last is the true winner. In officialdom, the most important thing is patience. Patience means being able to think things through and being able to endure!