Chapter 112: Discussing Lu Chuan, Part Three

Chapter 112: Discussing Luchuan (Part 3)

Zhu Qizhen asked, "Minister Wang, you are surely aware of the situation in Luchuan?"

Wang Ji replied immediately, "The entire court is abuzz with the news; how could I not be aware of it?"

Zhu Qizhen said, "Grand Secretary Yang Rong has recommended you to suppress the rebellion in Luchuan. What are your thoughts on this?"

Wang Ji had long been prepared for this; he answered, "I shall accept the duty without hesitation."

"Good," said Zhu Qizhen. "The state is in need of men like you who can shoulder such responsibilities. However, the memorials submitted suggest mobilizing the frontier troops to head south. The greatest threat to the Nine Frontiers is the Oirat. With forty thousand Oirat cavalry joined by forty thousand Mongol riders, if they were to strike south, the security of the Nine Frontiers would be in jeopardy. Therefore, I do not wish to mobilize those forces. What is your opinion?"

Wang Ji felt a sinking sensation upon hearing this. As a favored general of Yang Rong, it was impossible that he hadn't been briefed before the recommendation was made. Yet, he had never imagined the Emperor would refuse to mobilize the frontier troops, and judging by the tone, using the Capital Garrison was even less likely. While the southern garrisons were not entirely useless, they lacked the readiness and expertise of the Nine Frontiers or the elite Capital Garrison.

However, since the Emperor had already laid out his position so clearly, what more could Wang Ji say? As the Minister of War, he understood the state of the empire well. The Emperor was right; the strategic center of the Ming Dynasty could only be, and must only be, the Nine Frontiers. After all, the capital was merely a few hundred miles from the border, while Luchuan was ten thousand miles away. Even a blind man could see which carried more weight.

Wang Ji replied, "There is no one wiser than Your Majesty."

Zhu Qizhen asked, "Then, do you have a candidate in mind for the commander-in-chief?"

Wang Ji hesitated. He certainly had someone in mind—Jiang Gui. Jiang Gui was capable and they had worked together before; they were old acquaintances. But given Zhu Qizhen’s stance, Wang Ji immediately realized that the Emperor would never allow Jiang Gui to be pulled back from the Northwest. Suddenly, a name occurred to him. He said, "I believe the Marquis of Baoding, Meng Ying, would be a suitable candidate. He is a distinguished general from the Jingnan Campaign and spent time in Yunnan, so he is quite familiar with the situation there."

"Meng Ying?" Zhu Qizhen was surprised; he had not expected Wang Ji to recommend him. In truth, Wang Ji himself hadn't considered Meng Ying until Jiang Gui was ruled out. He had quickly scanned the list of generals qualified to lead over a hundred thousand troops and capable of keeping the Mu family in check. In reality, there were few to choose from—Zhu Yong, Zhang Fu, and perhaps a handful of others, certainly no more than ten. In any era, men capable of leading such a massive army were rare, and this campaign would require at least a hundred thousand men.

Wang Ji knew that Zhu Qizhen had recently shown special favor to the Meng family, and his recommendation was partly an attempt to align with the Emperor's unspoken inclinations. Zhu Qizhen realized this as well and felt a wry smile forming within. In truth, he hadn't planned on using Meng Ying, thinking only that the man might be a reserve option, though the young men of the Meng family did seem quite capable.

However, as he pondered Wang Ji’s suggestion, he found he could not refute it. Meng Ying had shown his prowess on the battlefield during his youth in the Jingnan Campaign. He had fought side-by-side with the "Han Commoner" (Zhu Di) multiple times, which led to his involvement in the struggle for succession, but when it came purely to warfare, he was undeniably skilled. He had fought in numerous campaigns throughout the Yongle era; while not present in every single engagement, he was a veteran of a hundred battles. He was indeed a suitable choice.

The only concern Zhu Qizhen had was Meng Ying’s age. He asked, "How old is the Marquis of Baoding now? Is he like Lian Po—aged, yet still able to eat?"

Wang Ji replied immediately, "The Marquis was born in the sixteenth year of the Hongwu reign. He is fifty-six this year. However, I have long heard that he drills his descendants in archery and horsemanship daily. Your Majesty need not worry on that account."

Hearing that he was fifty-six, Zhu Qizhen felt much more at ease. In later ages, fifty-six was considered the prime of life, though it was considered somewhat elderly in this era. Considering that Meng Ying had spent several years in exile in Yunnan, he would surely be accustomed to the climate there. In this light, he was indeed an appropriate choice.

Zhu Qizhen said, "I have taken note of this. Minister Wang, I have no doubt that you can crush Luchuan, but defeating them is not the hard part. How can you ensure long-term peace in Luchuan after the battle? What can you teach me in this regard?"

Wang Ji replied, "The barbarians fear power but do not cherish virtue. We need only hang the heads of the Si family father and son at the southern border, and the various chieftains will naturally tremble and obey. Then, Your Majesty can appoint one or two elders to pacify Yunnan."

Zhu Qizhen was somewhat disappointed. It wasn't that Wang Ji was wrong, but rather that Zhu Qizhen did not want to tie up so many troops in Yunnan. Wang Ji’s strategy did not satisfy him. Yet, Zhu Qizhen was perhaps being unreasonable—demanding long-term peace in Yunnan without being willing to pay the price.

Wang Ji had considered this problem, but he believed that everything must be brought to heel through power. The Mu family had bestowed many favors upon the chieftains of Yunnan, yet Luchuan had become so arrogant that force was unavoidable. Winning over hearts, however, was a long-term endeavor.

Zhu Qizhen spoke with Wang Ji for a while longer. Wang Ji produced a long list of dozens of names—officers from the Capital Garrison and the frontier armies—and introduced them one by one. He spoke of their battle records and accomplishments as if they were his own family treasures. These were junior officers, and the names that stood out to Zhu Qizhen were Dong Bin, Ma Rang, Wang Xi, Lu Quan, and Chen Yi.

Zhu Qizhen had Wang Zhen record these names and said, "The court is facing a gap in leadership as the great generals of the Jingnan Campaign wither away. As you go to Yunnan to suppress Luchuan, you must not neglect the task of cultivating new generals."

Wang Ji replied, "Your Majesty is wise. However, regarding the cultivation of generals, I have something I must say."

Zhu Qizhen said, "Speak."

Wang Ji continued, "Your Majesty, the current inability to utilize officers at various levels cannot be resolved through one or two campaigns. I have inspected the garrison troops; the centurions and chiliarchs are all hereditary positions. While there are those who surpass their ancestors, most are mediocre men merely living off their family's past glory. I suggest we strictly limit the hereditary succession of military officers."

Zhu Qizhen’s interest was piqued. "Sir, please elaborate." He had changed his address from "Minister" to "Sir."

Wang Ji seemed to sense the gravity of the Emperor’s attention and spoke with renewed vigor. "Your Majesty, the hereditary succession of garrison officers has always been too lenient, which inevitably leads to those who hold positions without merit."

Zhu Qizhen said, "The idea of requiring examinations for succession has been proposed before, but it has always been in vain. What is your higher insight, Sir?"

The implication was clear: if it was just another cliché, he need not bother. Zhu Qizhen never underestimated the ancients. Having observed the political struggles of the court over the years, he understood that the Chinese talent for political maneuvering was innate, regardless of the era. From the tenth year of the Xuande reign to the fourth year of the Zhengtong reign, despite the stability brought by the Grand Empress Dowager, the undercurrents had never ceased. He had seen clearly how Yang Rong and Yang Shi-qi had clashed over the post station case, appearing harmonious in the Wenyuan Pavilion while their subordinates fought in the shadows.

Zhu Qizhen had spent enough time on the throne that suspicion had become part of his marrow—a professional hazard, for if an emperor trusts the wrong person, his life might be in their hands. Thus, he refused to believe in coincidences; he believed that some things were hidden even from the Imperial Guards. He understood that in terms of institutional construction, there was little difference between the past and present. The wisdom behind why the Ming Grand Secretaries, the Qing Grand Council, and even modern leadership groups usually number five or seven is identical.

Wang Ji did not disappoint. His first words left Zhu Qizhen astonished, almost suspecting that Wang Ji was a traveler from another time.

Wang Ji said, "Please, establish a Martial Academy."