Chapter Twenty-Two: The Current State of the Ming Frontier Army

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Current State of the Ming Frontier Army

Ma Shun had indeed gained his position through Wang Zhen’s influence, yet he possessed some ability of his own. Within only a day, he had nearly fully investigated the Lü Zheng case.

The next day, it was already dusk when he came. Throughout the day, Zhu Qizhen only had this time to receive Ma Shun.

Inside the warm chamber, Ma Shun entered swiftly, bowed, and said, “Your humble servant pays respects to Your Majesty.”

Zhu Qizhen replied, “Sit.”

A young eunuch quickly brought over an embroidered stool, and Ma Shun dared only perch on the edge, cautious and delicate, as if a dragonfly touching the water. He immediately said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Zhu Qizhen asked, “How is the investigation?”

Ma Shun responded, “I have already sent people to Henan and to the Tatars. The documents from the steppe are being organized; in a day or two, I can report them to Your Majesty. Please grant me a little more time.”

Zhu Qizhen said, “Has the Lü Zheng case been clarified?”

Ma Shun answered, “It has been cleared up. Lü Zheng is a subordinate of Fang Zheng. The Ministry of War wanted to punish him severely as a warning, but Fang Zheng felt it unjust and wrote to the Duke of England for support.”

“With the Duke of England intervening, Minister Wang Ji of the Ministry of War could only seek help from Grand Secretary Yang Shiqi. Yet Grand Secretary Yang did not wish to stir up trouble with the Duke during this extraordinary time. Thus, the matter was not suppressed.” Ma Shun detailed the circumstances behind this incident fully.

Zhu Qizhen perceived the underlying currents.

He knew Fang Zheng well, the commander at Datong, an old official, one of the contributors to the Campaign of Pacification, though without any grand achievements. Still, his seniority and experience on the battlefield had earned him his current position, making him a reliable general. Datong, under his command, was not without faults, but had remained largely peaceful. Lü Zheng was his subordinate.

Minister Wang Ji of the Ministry of War was also familiar to Zhu Qizhen.

Although he attended court ceremonially, ministers regularly appeared before him. The Minister of War, one of the six highest officials, ranked just below the Grand Secretaries. Naturally, Zhu Qizhen had seen and spoken with him, though not at length. His impressions mostly came from memorials and official documents.

Wang Ji was a capable minister, a model of efficiency. Yet, in the conflict between civil officials and nobility, he was also a leading figure.

Under his leadership, the Ministry of War had almost reduced the Five Army Command Office to an empty institution. The Ministry expanded both personnel and organizational structure, swelling its power. Nominally, the Command Office governed all military affairs and officers, but the Ministry claimed authority over many of these matters.

The nobility, of course, were dissatisfied but powerless to resist. There were many reasons, but two were paramount. First, the Emperor sided with the civil officials. Since the reign of Emperor Renzong, Ming Emperors had favored civil officials over the nobility. During struggles for succession, many nobles sided with the Prince of Han, and though they were purged, the royal family still felt the Grand Secretaries were more trustworthy.

Zhang Fu’s current status owed much to his closeness with civil officials.

Second, the nobility themselves suffered from a lack of strong successors.

Since the founding of Ming, the nobility had been divided into founding contributors and those from the Campaign of Pacification. Now, nearly all the latter had died, and their replacements were far inferior.

The generals currently in favor were mostly less capable than those from the era of Yongle.

Meanwhile, the civil officials, having recovered since the founding, now boasted a group of able ministers after the era of the Three Yangs. Wang Ji and Yu Qian were among them.

Zhu Qizhen understood these connections and asked, “Did Lü Zheng truly kill surrendered prisoners?”

Ma Shun hesitated slightly at the question. Seeing this, Zhu Qizhen said, “Are there matters you cannot share with me?”

Ma Shun broke out in a cold sweat. “Your humble servant would never dare. The Embroidered Guard is Your Majesty’s eyes and ears; I dare not conceal anything. Lü Zheng did embellish his merits, but to say he killed surrenders is somewhat exaggerated.”

“Oh?” Zhu Qizhen asked, “What do you mean?”

Ma Shun explained, “Your Majesty knows I once followed the Taizong Emperor to the northern desert; I am familiar with the frontier situation. From the Hongwu era until now, war with the Tatars has been incessant. On the border, we have formed habits; every autumn, small cavalry detachments cross the frontier to burn the grasslands, both to deprive the Tatars of forage and prevent surprise attacks.”

“Thus, there is deep enmity between the borders.”

“Although some criminals occasionally cross the wall to trade with the Tatars, most of the time, seeing Tatars means killing them for satisfaction.”

“No matter man or woman.”

Zhu Qizhen asked, “Is it only Datong, or all nine frontiers?”

“Most border regions are like this,” Ma Shun replied.

Zhu Qizhen said, “What about accepting surrenders? Taizong and my father accepted many Mongol surrenders. These dozen Mongols might have surrendered.”

Ma Shun answered, “The numbers are too small.”

“Taizong repeatedly issued proclamations to the Mongols, but those who surrendered were mostly upper-class, rarely ordinary Mongols,” Ma Shun explained. “To bolster appearances, Mongol nobles surrendering would never come in such small numbers.”

“So you mean Lü Zheng is innocent?” Zhu Qizhen asked.

Ma Shun replied, “I dare not vouch for Lü Zheng, but in my view, these dozen Tatars, including women, might have been unable to endure hardship and surrendered with their families.”

“But such surrenders merely add a few military households to the frontier; killing them is not unique to Lü Zheng.”

“If Your Majesty wishes to clarify the truth, I can go to Datong and investigate thoroughly.”

Zhu Qizhen considered and said, “No need.” He waved Ma Shun away.

By this point, Zhu Qizhen’s thoughts were no longer focused on Lü Zheng’s alleged massacre of surrenders.

He pondered two things. First, the discipline of the Ming army. Lü Zheng’s actions, Zhu Qizhen believed, were likely true—after all, the supplementary documents were flawless, with virtually no loophole. Even Ma Shun’s tone was ambiguous, suggesting uncertainty. Though the charges might differ, the injustice was minimal. All the military officials sympathized with Lü Zheng; even Ma Shun, the commander of the Embroidered Guard, shared this sentiment.

They believed Lü Zheng’s actions were all too common.

Thus, Ming military discipline was probably severely lacking.

Zhu Qizhen made a mental note of this matter.

The second issue was the power struggle between the Ministry of War and the Five Army Command Office.

This was not the first he’d heard of it, but now he saw it firsthand. The Ministry had taken down a commander—a high-ranking officer.

The noble faction’s reaction seemed intense, yet powerless.

The outcome spoke for itself. The memorials submitted by the Grand Secretariat all came with recommended resolutions; if the Emperor did not overturn them, they were enacted as written.

The recommendation for Lü Zheng was exile to Guangxi.

This was neither a trivial nor a momentous affair—taking down a senior officer. Zhang Fu’s protest was little more than a show.

It was clear that while the military still enjoyed higher status than the civil officials, this was a time of shifting tides.

For now, the Three Yangs simply used the Emperor Renzong’s trust to suppress the nobles, but truly governing civil over military would take much longer.

The presence of Zhang Fu was a crucial example.

When the Emperor could not rule personally and the Grand Secretariat’s power grew, Zhang Fu remained among them, proving that the Ming’s highest power structure could not do without the nobility.

Zhu Qizhen understood this much.

But how should he deal with such a situation?

“What kind of truth is the truth I want?” Zhu Qizhen mused. “Or rather, what truth do I wish to give this case?”

The recommendation was in his hand; he could strike it out in red ink at any time. Yet, although erasing was easy, deciding what to write above it was not.

Zhu Qizhen pondered and struggled, but could find no answer.