Chapter Sixty-six: Yang Shiqi and Yu Qian, Part Three

Chapter Sixty-Six: Yang Shiqi and Yu Qian, Part Three

The power of the Ming dynasty appeared to be at its zenith, flourishing like oil boiling over a roaring fire. Yet, in truth, this was merely the residue of the foundations laid during the reigns of the founding emperor and his successor. Now, after seventy years since the founding of the dynasty, those reserves were nearly exhausted.

Seventy years had passed since the nation’s establishment. Old problems persisted endlessly, each arising from the last.

Yang Shiqi had held his position for nearly a decade. From the central government to the provinces, he was well aware that there were countless issues that could no longer be delayed.

Bandits in Jiangxi were causing chaos; their numbers had swelled to over thirty thousand. Even if the court dispatched forces to suppress them, it would not be a matter settled within a few months.

In the south, tax inequalities plagued Jiangnan, while Annam eyed the region covetously.

Did anyone truly believe that after so many years of campaigns against Annam, the peace would last simply because the Ming troops had withdrawn? In the north, the Oirat Mongols had grown powerful, and in Yunnan, the Luchuan chieftain was also eager to stir trouble.

It seemed that the Ming’s retreat in Annam had emboldened certain forces.

Within the court and the imperial household, problems existed in every direction. Though others might not perceive it, Yang Shiqi saw it all too clearly. He also understood that some matters lay beyond his power to resolve.

“If only Emperor Xuanzong were still alive,” Yang Shiqi sighed inwardly.

He was old now; how many more years could he hold on? Even if he endured another decade, by the time the young emperor came of age, he might well be cast aside. With a child monarch on the throne and the Grand Empress Dowager halting all but the most pressing affairs, stability was prized above all, and Yang Shiqi would certainly not be allowed to take bold action.

Within the limits of his authority, Yang Shiqi could only do so much. After all, a Ming Grand Secretary was not a true prime minister, no matter the backing of the Grand Empress Dowager.

All he could do was mend and patch, refreshing the administration where possible.

As for the larger tasks, they would have to await those who came after him. Yang Shiqi did not know whether Yu Qian before him was equal to this heavy responsibility. But since Yu Qian had won the emperor’s favor, Yang Shiqi was willing to offer him opportunities.

“Tingyi, though the Grand Empress Dowager has entrusted you with dual posts, you know well which must take precedence. Your timing is fortunate; with some time before the New Year, go first to Shuntian Prefecture to familiarize yourself and arrange your staff. In the spring, participate in the metropolitan examination as a room examiner, then serve as lecturer to His Majesty. The affairs of Shuntian Prefecture can be handled by the assistant magistrate.”

Yu Qian, hearing Yang Shiqi’s words, immediately replied, “I shall never forget your kindness in nurturing me, teacher.”

There was more to this than met the eye. Yu Qian had already heard that the chief examiner for next year’s special examination would be none other than Wang Zhi.

Given Yu Qian’s academic credentials, his participation was perhaps a stretch. Yet with Yang Shiqi’s endorsement, there could be no issue.

In the Ming dynasty’s civil service examinations, the roles of examiner and room instructor were ideal for cultivating valuable connections.

If Yu Qian were not Yang Shiqi’s student, Yang Shiqi would hardly have gone to such lengths for him.

Such was the operation of the bureaucracy—whether for good or ill, everyone played the same game.

Yu Qian could not be an exception. With a circle of students behind him, he would gradually gather his own supporters.

Of course, these supporters were still feeble for now, but in a few years’ time, a decade hence, they would form a new faction within the bureaucracy.

Yang Shiqi accepted all this with equanimity.

What he did for Yu Qian was not limited to offering opportunities; he also shielded Yu Qian from many tempests.

For example, this time the summons from the palace had been urgent.

Yet Yang Shiqi insisted that Yu Qian serve in Shuntian Prefecture for a period before entering the palace as lecturer.

The reason was simple: the Grand Empress Dowager’s insistence on making Yu Qian the somewhat ill-suited prefect of Shuntian must have had a purpose. If Yu Qian entered the palace without first understanding Shuntian’s affairs, and were then questioned by the Grand Empress Dowager or the emperor, his ignorance could spell disaster.

At such a time, it was all the more crucial to remain calm. Better to move slowly than to rush and make mistakes.

Yang Shiqi said, “My two sons are not promising. When I am gone, I will rely on you, their elder brother, to look after them and see that they may live out their days in peace.”

Yu Qian replied, “Rest assured, teacher; I will see to the well-being of both your sons.”

Yang Shiqi personally escorted Yu Qian out of his study.

Upon leaving, Yu Qian found a donkey cart waiting for him. He waved it off, preferring to walk briskly through the wind and snow, his official boots creaking on the snow-covered ground. Before long, he felt the chill of melted snow seeping into his boots, but Yu Qian took no notice.

He was lost in thought, pondering Yang Shiqi’s words.

Yu Qian was a good and upright official, to be sure, but it was not that he lacked political acumen—quite the contrary. To rise from third-tier graduate to a third-rank official in just fourteen years since the nineteenth year of Yongle’s reign required no small measure of skill.

Yu Qian’s rise truly began when Emperor Xuanzong had him publicly denounce the crimes of the Han pretender. His impassioned and righteous words had struck a chord with the emperor, and thus, over a dozen years, he had ascended to his current post.

A few more years’ seasoning, and he would be qualified to serve as Minister.

Yet, among so many successful scholars in the Ming dynasty, not all were so fortunate as Yu Qian.

Yang Shiqi’s words had two implications, as Yu Qian understood. First, that he was already in the emperor’s inner circle.

Yu Qian had sensed as much. He had noticed the activities of the Embroidered Uniform Guard in Henan, but as he had nothing to hide, he took no action, especially since the guards did not reveal themselves. He simply pretended to be unaware.

Second, Yang Shiqi regarded him as one of his possible successors, passing on his own political legacy. With these two points combined, Yu Qian understood that so long as he made no grave mistakes and achieved further merit over the next few years, once the new emperor came of age and Yang Shiqi retired, a seat in the Grand Secretariat would be his.

With such prospects, even as snow seeped into his clothes, Yu Qian’s heart blazed with excitement.

Is it not every scholar’s wish, to one day guide his lord to the heights of sage-kingship and restore purity to the customs of the land? Now, with such an opportunity before him, how could Yu Qian not feel elation? He merely kept his feelings tightly in check.

It seemed even the wind and snow could not fully cool the fire within his heart.

Abruptly, Yu Qian stopped in his tracks, thinking to himself: “Who knows how many open and hidden dangers lurk in the palace? To serve beside the emperor for several years will not be easy. Moreover, harmony between the Cining and Qianqing Palaces depends on the utmost devotion of ministers.”

“This is not the time for joy.”

Though he thought thus, Yu Qian could not suppress a growing sense of responsibility.

Looking up, he realized he had, without noticing, arrived outside the Duke of England’s mansion. He turned away, found another road, and returned to his inn to prepare for his appointment at Shuntian Prefecture the next day.

Sorting out the affairs of Shuntian Prefecture was a routine matter for Yu Qian, who had long served as a local official. He found nothing daunting in the task.

Within the Duke of England’s mansion, the festivities never ceased. The honored guest tonight was none other than the Duke of Cheng, Zhu Yong.

Zhu Yong, unaffected by the singing and dancing women, rose and saluted the Duke of England, Zhang Fu. “Brother Zhang, I did not come merely to see your performers—if you’ll pardon my saying so, your singers are rather lacking. I have come today to discuss something important. Please, have them withdraw.”

Zhang Fu, hearing this, forced a wry smile, but knew he could not refuse. He waved the attendants away and said, “You know me well; I have little taste for such pleasures. It’s all for show, nothing more.”

Zhang Fu’s reputation was made during the Annam campaign, when the previous Duke of Cheng, Zhu Neng, died in camp and Zhang was appointed commander-in-chief. Their families had always been close.

After the Yongle Emperor captured Nanjing and rewarded the heroes of the Jingnan campaign, he once asked if there were any grievances. The late Duke of Cheng, Zhu Neng, replied, “All is well, except that Zhang Yu’s merits surpass ours—Zhang Fu’s reward is too meager.”

Thus, Zhang Fu and Zhu Yong had always been on good terms.

He knew full well what Zhu Yong wanted to discuss, but had hoped to avoid involvement in this murky business. Now, it seemed, there was no avoiding it.

Sure enough, once the attendants had withdrawn, Zhu Yong asked directly, “My son and your nephew both serve in the palace guard. You must have heard of His Majesty’s desire to campaign against the Oirat Mongols?”

Zhu Yong’s son, Zhu Yi, also served among the emperor’s bodyguards. Though not outstanding among them, Zhu Yong did not mind; all he wanted was for his son to become a familiar face to the emperor.