Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Construction of the City of Beijing

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Construction of Beijing

Zhu Qizhen’s attitude toward Ruan An had changed significantly. Previously, he merely wanted to employ a eunuch of Annamese origin as a covert agent, nothing more. But now, seeing Ruan An as the chief architect of Beijing, Zhu Qizhen regarded him as a talent of the highest order—someone who, in later generations, would surely be granted the title of an academician in both national academies.

This shift was a matter of values. Take, for instance, Li Shimian: though he had risked his life to remonstrate repeatedly, earning fame throughout the land and being revered by the common folk as a star descended from heaven, Zhu Qizhen himself felt little resonance with him. Yet, to someone capable of designing and building the city of Beijing, he felt this person was a genius—an engineer and artist of the first rank.

One must realize that the layout of Beijing remained largely unchanged from the Ming to the Qing dynasties. The city that Ruan An fashioned was precisely the Beijing of old that Liang Sicheng, centuries later, would long to restore. In this comparison, Zhu Qizhen’s respect for Ruan An was naturally distinct.

Zhu Qizhen asked, “How goes the construction of Beijing?”

Ruan An replied, “From the fourteenth year of Yongle, when the Emperor Taizong ordered the building of Beijing, to the eighteenth year, when the palace city was roughed out, the city walls still relied on those from the Yuan dynasty. This has proven inconvenient. The Minister of Works, Wu Zhong, and I have already discussed plans to reconstruct the city walls, but the Empress Dowager Grand has suspended all non-urgent works, and every project has been halted.”

Zhu Qizhen then inquired, “When can the Three Great Halls be restored?”

Every time he attended court at the Gate of Supreme Harmony, Zhu Qizhen would pass by the charred and barren ruins of the Three Great Halls. Each time, the sight unsettled him.

Ruan An answered cautiously, “This is not for me to predict. The blueprints for the Three Great Halls are ready, only gold-thread nanmu is lacking. If the court allots the funds, I guarantee that within a few months the halls will be restored.”

All Zhu Qizhen heard was that the issue lay with money. Procuring gold-thread nanmu in this era was a formidable task; one had to venture deep into the mountains to find trees of such girth. Even finding the timber was only the beginning—the true challenge was transporting it out of the mountains.

Reading memorials, Zhu Qizhen often saw complaints from the people of Sichuan and Yungui, who suffered greatly from timber collection.

Furthermore, the Empress Dowager Grand had ordered a halt to all works not of immediate necessity. Zhu Qizhen, having just ascended the throne, needed to placate the army, and the Empress Dowager Grand had repeatedly bestowed rewards upon the troops and shown favor to the meritorious families. They were also preparing the mausoleum for Emperor Xuanzong, who had even led an expedition beyond the passes in the ninth year of Xuande. The court, while not destitute, was hardly in a position to embark on grand construction projects.

He said, “If we reduce the workforce and proceed slowly, how long would it take to restore the Three Great Halls and the gates of Beijing?”

Ruan An pondered carefully and responded, “If it is as Your Majesty suggests, then within eight to ten years, Beijing can be perfected.”

Zhu Qizhen mused privately, “Eight to ten years? By the history books, the defense of Beijing owed much to people like him.”

After all, Beijing had to be built. It was a matter of national dignity—one could not let the city become a colossal abandoned project.

By careful reckoning, the fourteenth year of the Zhengtong era was only a few years after the city’s complete construction—less than a decade, indeed.

After his inquiries, Zhu Qizhen courteously dismissed Ruan An, leaving the latter somewhat overwhelmed by the favor shown him. Wang Zhen, on the other hand, was tinged with jealousy. “Why treat Eunuch Ruan with such regard?” he asked.

Zhu Qizhen replied, “I had no idea there was such talent among the eunuchs. To command tens of thousands in construction—such a man would be a general of the highest caliber even in the army. How could I not value him?”

Wang Zhen did not quite understand, but he realized that Ruan An’s status would henceforth be different.

Zhu Qizhen asked, “What is Ruan An’s reputation?”

Wang Zhen answered, “He is a taciturn man, not given to worldly ways, and upright to the point of austerity. Though he has great talent for construction, he has never been promoted within the palace, which speaks to his character.”

Zhu Qizhen sighed softly to himself, thinking, “Technical officials are often this way.”

Suddenly, Zhu Qizhen thought of something else. “Are there any posts available in the palace?”

At these words, Wang Zhen’s heart skipped a beat. Among the twenty-four directorates of the inner court, only the Directorate of Ceremonial and the Directorate of Imperial Horses were truly vital. The former was Wang Zhen’s private domain, and he would never allow others to intervene. The latter commanded thousands of elite soldiers, yet was not under Wang Zhen’s control—he had only managed to place his adopted son, Cao Jixiang, there with the tacit approval of the Empress Dowager Grand. The real power remained with the old eunuchs loyal to her.

Wang Zhen quickly said, “Eunuch Ruan is already in charge of Beijing’s construction—a high and weighty post. If he were to be promoted further, it would naturally be into the Directorate of Ceremonial, but in my humble view, he is not suited for such a role.”

Zhu Qizhen agreed, sensing that Ruan An was not one for office politics. “Very well. If there are future building projects, let him take charge.”

Wang Zhen thought to himself, “This is even better than promoting him to the Directorate of Ceremonial—he is now directly favored by the Emperor.”

In fact, Wang Zhen even felt a trace of jealousy toward Ruan An. No matter how he looked at it, he had not expected Zhu Qizhen to value Ruan An so highly, treating him more as a minister than as a eunuch. Even Wang Zhen rarely enjoyed such respect.

“By the way,” Zhu Qizhen continued, “I almost forgot. You’re in charge of the Eastern Depot, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Wang Zhen replied.

“Replace the supervising eunuch at Hepu for me. Choose a capable young man from the Eastern Depot—someone patient enough to endure solitude and willing to guard Hepu for ten or even twenty years.”

“When he arrives there, I want him to gather all intelligence concerning Annam. It will be useful for future military campaigns.”

“This matter must not leak out.”

“I understand,” Wang Zhen said immediately.

Although Zhu Qizhen knew that the Embroidered Uniform Guard was now under Wang Zhen’s control, he still instinctively set the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard as checks on each other—the Guard in the north, the Depot in the south.

By now, it was already near noon. That morning, Zhu Qizhen had met with two people—Zhang Zhong and Ruan An—plus the time spent waiting; the morning had flown by.

He returned to the Palace of Earthly Tranquility, where Lady Sun was already waiting for him. As soon as he entered, she took his hand and sat him down; eunuchs and maids quickly filled the table with dishes.

She asked, “Your uncle came to the palace today—did you see him?”

Hearing this, Zhu Qizhen paused, chopsticks in midair. He recalled only catching a glimpse of him in the crowd, and it was only when Wang Zhen reminded him that he remembered this was his uncle.

The Sun family had five sons; of those of suitable age, the eldest, Sun Jizong, was already over thirty and thus not suitable. Only the third and fourth sons were of the right age and had been chosen as guards—they were Zhu Qizhen’s third and fourth uncles, Sun Shaozong and Sun Xuzong.

According to the intelligence from the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, both men were of mediocre ability.

Zhu Qizhen’s mind was still occupied with his conversations with Zhang Zhong and Ruan An, so he hadn’t fully registered what Lady Sun had said. He quickly replied, “I have seen them. If Mother wishes, she may come to the Palace of Heavenly Purity to meet her brothers.”

Lady Sun was tempted, but then shook her head. “That would not be proper. Besides, I see them every year at the festivals—there’s no need to trouble you, especially with Her Majesty at Cining Palace watching over my son.”

At the mention, Lady Sun’s emotions rose, and she said, “My son must go to Cining Palace every day to receive instruction. It must be hard on you, but you must endure.”

“My son, you are already the Emperor of Great Ming—no one can take that from you.”

At this, Zhu Qizhen immediately put down his chopsticks. “Mother, why do you say such things? It is my honor that Grandmother is willing to instruct me.”

Seeing Zhu Qizhen like this, Lady Sun smiled gently. “Do not worry, my son. In my palace, you may speak freely. All these people are my own.”

For a moment, Zhu Qizhen was at a loss for words. If everyone here was loyal to her, why did anything he said here always reach the ears of the Cining Palace?

Still, he did not wish to argue with her. Though Lady Sun was young, her thinking was already that of an old woman, and nothing could change it. Fortunately, the Empress Dowager Grand cared little about such details.

With a mixture of cajoling and evasion, Zhu Qizhen managed to steer the conversation elsewhere, letting the matter rest for now.