Chapter 20: Jianwen

Amidst the sounds of laughter and joy, the two quickly reached a mutual understanding. Mu Qi and the Xiao Ge Lao exchanged a satisfied glance and then had the butler bring out the Western wine they had bought a few years ago to drink together.

The Yan family estate was luxurious, and Mu Qi spared no expense. The wine jug brought out was a rare Song Dynasty official kiln piece, the teacups were treasured items from Cai Jing’s collection, and the porcelain plates were top-notch—white glaze inscribed with the Emperor Daojun’s own handwriting!

Even the Xiao Ge Lao, with his wealth, was momentarily stunned: “This is incredible! I wonder where the Young Master got these?”

Mu Qi gave a slight smile, thinking to himself, Should I tell you that I have even a pottery bowl once handled by Prime Minister Zhuge? But someone like you, what right do you have to touch items that belong to the father of the Emperor?

After three rounds of wine, the Xiao Ge Lao, now slightly tipsy, began to open up. He took the Young Master’s hand and, with genuine emotion, remarked:

“Ah, it’s only because the current Emperor is so kind-hearted and virtuous, unwilling to resort to excessive bloodshed, that major issues can always be resolved in a smaller way. 

If it were during the reign of Emperor Taizong, just one label of ‘Jianwen’s remaining remnant’ would have been enough to solve all problems once and for all…”

Though repeatedly praising benevolence, the feeling of regret is unmistakably evident. The old Taoist, after all, is not an emperor who can decisively make choices like his ancestors did in battle. 

Even if he were to accuse Zhou Zhicheng and his associates of being remnants of the Jianwen emperor, it might not be enough to deal with them—striking the snake might not kill it and could instead turn it into an enemy. 

If he only banishes them to remote places, there could be some who, feeling sympathy for the hare, secretly lend a hand. Therefore, the method of dealing with them requires some thought.

Mu Qi calmly withdrew his right hand and gave a slight smile. “Xiao Ge Lao worries too much. Isn’t this Zhou, the official, always praising the virtue of Emperor Yingzong? As I recall, after Emperor Yingzong’s restoration, he built temples in the Beijing to commemorate the Taishi Wara grand master, Yeshen, and seemed to miss his days on the grasslands.”

Yan Donglou was surprised. “Are you going to send him to a temple?”

“The Xiao Ge Lao is joking. Why would a temple be suitable for him?” Mu Qi said slowly. “What I mean is, after Emperor Yingzong returned to the Beijing, he never had the chance to visit the grasslands again, which was a great regret. 

Since this person admires Emperor Yingzong, why not let him fulfill the emperor’s wish by appointing him as an envoy to the Mongolian border to establish connections? If he admires the emperor’s virtue so much, he should be able to imitate the emperor and build good relations with the Mongols, leaving behind a great story…”

The Xiao Ge Lao: ………

The Xiao Ge Lao fell silent. Although the fact that Emperor Yingzong had studied among the Taishi Wara people was a taboo of sorts in the country, it was not big news for the pavilion ministers. 

Although Emperor Yingzong claimed that he was “respected” in the northern desert, the truth behind it was ambiguous, with some matters said to be unspeakable.

However, since Emperor Yingzong felt comfortable in the north, no one could argue with his comfort. And since Zhou Zhicheng so admired Emperor Yingzong’s virtue, how could he rashly contradict the emperor’s own account?

Since the emperor was comfortable, it wouldn’t do to be too picky.

With that thought in mind, the Xiao Ge Lao let out a burp, and a vague suspicion arose in his mind. He vaguely remembered that in the current court, he and his own father were supposed to be the treacherous officials persecuting loyal subjects… right?
·
After drinking a few more cups and eating some trendy appetizers, Mu Qi noticed the timing was right and refilled the Xiao Ge Lao’s cup, asking a question he had been pondering for a while.

“To be honest, I have some doubts,” he said slowly. “In Zhou’s memorial, he knows a lot about the tribute system. 

Some of the details about the negotiations with the Japanese are very accurate, things that only those present would know. I wonder who leaked the information?”

The Xiao Ge Lao thought for a moment and shook his head. “The clerks who were on site were all people I trusted. The head of the Imperial Secretariat, Duke Huang, would only listen to His Majesty and would never speak carelessly. 

I think it was most likely the Japanese envoy who leaked the information.”

“Oh? The Japanese envoy dared to secretly communicate with officials and leak information?” Mu Qi pretended to be shocked. “Isn’t that a huge crime?”

“Well, that’s something the heir might not know,” the Xiao Ge Lao said, a little drunk, pouring out his heart. “Back in the days of Emperor Gaozu and Taizong, it was indeed a serious crime for foreign envoys to secretly communicate with court officials. 

Their entire family could be punished. But times are different now! These days, we just turn a blind eye to it. Such things aren’t rare…”

Though Mu Qi had expected it, he was still speechless. Since Emperor Xiaozong’s reign, when civil officials were allowed more leniency, the weakness and disorder of the tribute diplomacy system had become a firmly entrenched habit. 

The barriers set by the Ministry of Rites were as loose as a garden hose, with both inside and outside officials coming and going freely. Given the large sums of silver in the Japanese envoy’s possession, it wasn’t surprising that they could secretly bribe a mid-level official.

Perhaps there was a silent connection between humans. The emperor’s affection for Mongolia and his lingering attachment to his past dealings with the Taishi Wara people had somehow been passed on. 

Now, Zhou, who admired the emperor, had no Mongolia to interact with, so he had turned to secretly communicating with the Japanese. Such a connection of hearts—perhaps Zhou Zhicheng should be buried with the emperor to discuss their feelings in the afterlife.

However, this blatant collusion between internal and external parties revealed the grave intelligence crisis that was developing—decades later, Japan would land in Goryeo, attempting to recreate its centuries-old dream of using Goryeo as a stepping stone to conquer China. 

The invading generals at the time would even be able to describe the emperor’s living conditions in detail and the decision-making process of the pavilion.

How did such confidential information leak out? It seemed clear that this was not a simple problem.

Mu Qi said calmly, “Since it’s the old custom of our ancestors, why is it treated as nothing? Can’t it be punished severely?”

The Xiao Ge Lao exhaled impatiently, clearly displeased with the Japanese—though don’t misunderstand, the Xiao Ge Lao wasn’t suddenly concerned with the country’s welfare. 

It was just his treacherous instincts at work. He was angry that these foreigners, who didn’t speak human language, dared to collude with the righteous factions and obstruct his money-making endeavors, causing his frustration to overflow.

“Damn it, the tribute system is my responsibility, alongside the heir. How dare someone like Zhou, a low-ranking official with a background as a scholar, climb the ranks by clinging to the Xu family’s power, talk to me about the country?”

Nevertheless, his anger aside, the Xiao Ge Lao could only sigh deeply, feeling lost.

“The heir should know that those idiotic scholars in the Ministry of Rites always talk about ‘cultivating culture and maintaining distance,’ trying to use benevolence to influence the barbarians. 

If the Japanese haven’t committed some major crime, they won’t agree to investigate. A mere secret communication would only warrant a warning…”

Even treacherous officials have their limits. If they only needed to handle a few people, it would be fine. But dealing with so many stubborn idiots in the Ministry of Rites, the Xiao Ge Lao felt helpless.

Yet Mu Qi only smiled faintly.

“Hasn’t the Japanese committed any major crimes? I’m not so sure about that,” Mu Qi said softly. “Brother Yan, do you know that a Japanese noble once compiled a book, claiming that the fugitive descendants of the Jianwen emperor might have had connections with Japan?”

The Xiao Ge Lao: “…huh?”

He suddenly sucked in a cold breath, and in an instant, the alcohol was half gone from his system. He felt a chill run through him from head to toe, as if the golden knife of Emperor Taizong was already hanging by his neck!

“Damn it, this is no joke!”

“Do the Japanese really dare to do this?” he hissed. “What are they—what exactly do they want to do?”

Mu Qi smiled slightly, thinking that this might not necessarily be some deep conspiracy. It was likely just the usual show-off behavior of the Japanese, trying to gain attention by casually stealing a famous figure from the Central Plains. 

This kind of thing was common; historically, they had done it from Xu Fu to Yang Guifei. This time they were too pleased with their success and inadvertently hit a wall.

It was just that Emperor Taizong was truly unable to rise; if this had been in the Yongle years, those few words would have had them sent off to work under the eunuch Sanbao.

Of course, some things are easy to ignore until they are exposed. When there’s no leak, everything is fine, but once it’s made public, the excuse of “casually gaining attention” can no longer be explained. The real question is—what is it that the Japanese are implying with these things they write and circulate? What are they hinting at? 

Who is directing them? I think it’s time for the long-tested eunuchs of the Dongchan (Eastern bureau) to start a thorough investigation!
Weiji of the Western Bureau, Wei Junjie, suggested that the remnants of Jianwen in Japan should not make things difficult for the eunuchs.

The little pavilion minister, however, did not possess the sharp eye of the long-experienced eunuchs and couldn’t quickly spot the traces of the Jianwen remnants among the Japanese. 

After looking around, he whispered, “Is this true?”

“Of course, it’s true. And that’s exactly why I find it strange,” Mu Qi replied carelessly. “The Japanese are writing about the descendants of Jianwen in their own country, and now they are desperately trying to win over ministers and gather information in the Beijing; yet, this Zhou Zhicheng suddenly takes an interest in the tribute affairs with Japan—seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

The Japanese are promoting the descendants of Jianwen, and you’re just playing along? Is this merely a coincidence?

It could be forgiven if it were just one remnant of Jianwen, but if it’s a remnant of Jianwen colluding with foreigners, then it’s an unforgivable crime, severe enough to make Zhou Zhicheng drink a few jugs, intimidating the Hanlin Academy and the Ministry of Rites into silence. 

The problem isn’t in other places, but if it concerns the Jianwen issue, your entire family might be implicated!

The little pavilion minister’s expression changed between shades of dark and light, and even the wine cup in his hand swayed—if Zhou Zhicheng could be tied to the Japanese and implicated in the Jianwen case, it would not only prevent the scholarly faction from challenging the case but also provide an opportunity to strike at Japan and vent his frustration.

However, dealing with Zhou Zhicheng would be one thing, but using the label of Jianwen’s followers to target the Japanese, or even the officials in the Beijing who are colluding with them, would be a huge matter, and even the Yan faction would hesitate.

As if sensing his hesitation, the heir to the Duke of Mu spoke softly:

“Brother Yan, what are you still worried about? Think about it, our actions are actually relieving His Majesty’s concerns—His Majesty wants to give Emperor Taizong a temple name, to change the ritual system. These are not easy matters…”

In historical fact, a few months later, Feixuan Zhenjun began his grand plan to change the temple names of the deceased emperors, causing chaos in the court, with many remnants of Jianwen implicated. It is said that among the few hundred officials in the Nanjing court, dozens were found to be sympathetic to Jianwen, and all were punished.

The sweeping actions from top to bottom made even the long-tested eunuchs of the Dongchan question how the remnants seemed to be multiplying, almost wondering if the court’s most critical issue lay not outside but within the Western Garden.

This kind of disrespectful speculation spread uncontrollably, causing trouble for Feixuan Zhenjun, who nearly became a laughingstock.

But it didn’t matter; for now, the attentive heir to the Duke of Mu and the small pavilion minister had discovered the fundamental reason behind the increasing number of Jianwen remnants—if even Japan had been taken over by remnants, then foreign interference in the court and ministers secretly colluding was only to be expected.

It’s not that the true monarch didn’t try hard, but that the remnants had foreign support. Or rather, it was precisely because the true monarch was wise and great, seeing through Japan’s attempts to infiltrate through the descendants of Jianwen, that he acted in time to stop their penetration in tribute affairs.

Such a monarch, truly virtuous!

—Thus, the frequent incidents in the court cannot be blamed on the true monarch for failing to recognize people, being blind, obstinate, punishing indiscriminately, or changing the system recklessly. 

If blame is to be placed, it should fall on the eunuchs who didn’t eliminate the remnants earlier, allowing them to spread uncontrollably. 

Therefore, not only should they continue to hunt them down, but once the navy is ready, they should send the eunuchs to Japan to clear out the remnants and rescue Japan’s court from the Jianwen faction.

Naturally, the small pavilion minister, born from a background of cunning ministers, quickly grasped the situation. His eyes spun, and he suddenly grabbed Mu Qi’s hand (this time the heir couldn’t avoid it).

“You’re right, young master!” he said solemnly. “In my opinion, at least regarding the Japanese, the influence of the Jianwen remnants is already serious. How to clear it up in the future, I’ll need your guidance.”

Mu Qi opened his eyes slightly, momentarily forgetting to pull his hand back. Listening carefully, Yan Donglou emphasized the severity of the influence, which seemed to hint at the way to handle the matter: 

it wasn’t just Zhou Zhicheng, but anyone who responded to Zhou’s call, anyone who leaned toward Japan in the tribute matter, could be dismissed and cleared out. Afterward, the remaining positions would be split between the Mu family and him.

The little pavilion minister, with his rough background, was all about action, not playing politics. Once political opponents were removed, vacant positions could be shared.

Of course, the Mu family didn’t lack official positions, but if they could take the opportunity to place people in tribute affairs or in the defense against Japan, it would be a huge advantage in the anti-Japanese effort. Mu Qi was moved but then hesitated—his preparation time was too short, and there weren’t enough people in place, so he couldn’t decide right away.

“Should we push General Qi and others forward now? Forcing growth prematurely might attract too much attention, wouldn’t it?”

He hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided to delay the matter. With a faint smile, he gently clasped the younger official’s hand.

“I am deeply grateful and naturally cannot shirk this duty. However, the time is not yet ripe. I must ask for your patience, dear sir.”

I’ve even held your hand; my sincerity in this collaboration should be evident enough, no?
·
After seeing off the younger official, Mu Qi mulled over the situation. He eventually ordered his trusted aide to mobilize personnel from the household to covertly monitor the residence of Xu Ge Lao Shaohu. 

While Zhou Zhicheng’s bold petition may not have had Xu’s direct backing, if things escalated in the future, Xu might feel compelled to support his relative. If the Grand Secretary were to get involved, the situation would become extraordinarily troublesome. Caution was paramount.

For a nobleman to spy on a Grand Secretary was an enormous taboo in the empire’s politics. Yet, given the broader imperative of resisting the Japanese invaders, there was no room for hesitation. 

Mu Qi ordered his subordinates to gather intelligence, but by the afternoon, no significant leads had emerged. His trusted informants reported that Xu Ge Lao had remained behind closed doors for days, receiving no visitors. 

According to a reliable source, Xu had even ordered the collection of the emperor’s writings on ceremonial texts, claiming he was deeply engrossed in their study and had no time for other matters.

The absurdity of the news left Mu Qi dumbfounded.

“What?”

The trusted aide bowed. “I dare not deceive you, my lord. The informant told us that Xu Ge Lao instructed his family that he had recently experienced some revelations and was inspired by the Taoist teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi. Thus, he decided to study His Majesty’s writings in seclusion, hoping for enlightenment.”

Mu Qi: …

Fair enough. The emperor, over decades of relentless Taoist pursuits, had indeed penned numerous essays, sharing profound reflections on the path to immortality and summarizing years of alchemical and pharmacological experimentation. 

These writings formed a vast collection, voluminous enough to compile centuries’ worth of reading comprehension material for foreign adversaries. Mu Qi could easily curate an endless array of unique passages. However, producing papers was not a matter of quantity alone. 

Otherwise, wouldn’t the most prolific poet under heaven be none other than Zhang Zong of the Qing dynasty?

In summary, the emperor’s Taoist achievements were on par with Zhang Zong’s literary prowess. 
While it would be unfair to say there was no merit at all, the quality was generally mediocre—occasionally inspired but mostly akin to the kind of drivel one might scrape together in desperation.

Relying on the emperor’s uninspired writings to achieve enlightenment was akin to studying poetry through Zhang Zong’s collected works. If one could succeed in that, what logic was left in this world?

Mu Qi stood in silence for a moment before exhaling softly.

Xu Shaohu, after all, was a scholar of the highest caliber, a luminary of Confucian thought. Surely he could discern good writing from bad. For him to treat the emperor’s barely passable texts as treasures and engage in such blatant flattery was deeply uncharacteristic of a man who valued his reputation so highly. 

The Grand Secretary must have a significant ulterior motive to risk the dignity of his family name.

As for what that motive might be, it was not a matter for a noble scion to concern himself with.

 Since Xu was keeping to himself and disconnected from the outside world, his ability to react quickly was limited. In political maneuvering, speed was paramount. If Zhou Zhicheng could be dealt with in the coming days, even if Xu reemerged later, he would struggle to extract anyone from the northern frontier. 

Regardless of how strong Zhou’s backing was, his remaining days would be spent wandering the northern wilderness, tending to cattle and horses.

Thus, the current situation hinged on swiftness. It seemed that the matter of inserting a candidate into the tribute system needed urgent action.

With this in mind, Mu Qi furrowed his brows once more.

“Who should it be?”