The daily lectures differed from the Classics Colloquium. While the Classics Colloquium emphasized admonition and moral philosophy, the daily lectures focused on imparting fundamental knowledge, primarily serving as basic schooling.
To put it simply, the daily lectures were about how characters were pronounced, how sentences were punctuated, and what they meant.
In practical terms, a lecture official would step forward and recite a passage once, and Zhu Yijun would follow along, repeating it ten times.
Once it was certain there were no errors in punctuation or pronunciation, the passage would be explained in plain vernacular.
As for whose punctuation and interpretation were used?
Naturally, each lecture official had his own interpretation, and they took turns translating and explaining.
As the saying went, "The Six Classics are footnotes to my thoughts"—the role of the classics was to explain and substantiate one's own views.
This also allowed the student to listen broadly so as to perceive clearly, achieving a comprehensive synthesis.
Going deeper—what moral principles an essay taught or what philosophical vision it expounded—that was matter for the Emperor's Classics Colloquium, not something meant for discussion during daily lectures.
Unlike the Analects, the chapter "Taijia" merely recounted historical facts and carried little controversy in its content. Apart from touching on sensitive ground, it posed virtually no political risk.
Were that not the case, Gao Yi would never have agreed to this.
And so, guided by Gao Yi, Zhu Yijun began studying word by word, sentence by sentence.
"When Taijia succeeded to the throne, he was unprincipled. Yi Yin banished him to Tong. After three years, he returned to Bo."
...
"Calamities sent by Heaven may be avoided; but from calamities brought upon oneself, there is no escape."
...
After reading it ten times, Zhu Yijun felt his mouth and throat parched.
Unlike the pronunciation before his transmigration, the pronunciation of this era involved far too much retroflex curling, particularly in the courtly Guanhua, where recitation sounded almost like rolling the tongue.
Only now did he truly understand why eloquent speech was described as having a "tongue as nimble as a reed organ."
Without some tongue-rolling skill, even reciting was an ordeal, to say nothing of engaging in fierce verbal debate.
Having finished guiding the recitation, Gao Yi stepped aside to allow the various lecture officials to take turns explaining the text.
The lecture officials had all been selected from the various ministries and yamens, including Vice Minister of Rites Zhang Siwei, Yu Youding of the Classics Bureau, Vice Minister of Rites Ma Ziqiang, and others, all of whom were renowned scholars.
"And this gentleman is called..."
Just as one of the lecture officials finished his explanation and prepared to step back, Zhu Yijun suddenly called out to him.
Zhang Siwei paused in his tracks and replied, "Your humble subject is the Left Vice Minister of Personnel and Hanlin Academician, Zhang Siwei."
Zhu Yijun was taken aback.
Zhang Siwei of the Shanxi Faction?
Wasn't he Wang Chonggu's nephew?
It turned out he even had credentials as a daily lecture official.
Yet now was not the time to probe into Zhang Siwei. Zhu Yijun nodded and said, "Academician Zhang, this prince has a question."
Zhang Siwei hesitated briefly before replying, "Pray speak, Your Highness."
Zhu Yijun inquired, "Academician Zhang said just now that employing virtuous men brings order to the state, while discarding them brings chaos.
"What sort of person, then, counts as a virtuous man?"
Zhang Siwei hesitated, on the verge of speaking, but ultimately answered, "Your Highness, this is the meaning of 'Virtue alone produces good government; lack of virtue produces disorder.' As for what constitutes a man of virtue—such as the three Grand Secretaries of our court, all are men of virtue.
"The late Emperor left these three ministers of eminent virtue to Your Highness; our Ming Dynasty will surely enjoy long-lasting peace and stability!"
With that, without even waiting to see if Zhu Yijun had more to say, he turned and stepped back into the ranks.
Zhu Yijun did not make an issue of it.
How Zhang Siwei answered was unimportant; Zhu Yijun had staged this inquiry mainly to probe Gao Yi.
If the daily lecture on "Taijia" had simply been Gao Yi's own attempt to remonstrate with him, fishing for fame and forthrightness to garner political prestige, Gao Yi should have picked up the thread right then.
Yet Gao Yi remained expressionless, clearly showing that he had nothing to say on the matter.
After another lecture official finished explaining the classic, Zhu Yijun called out to him as well: "And this gentleman is...?"
Yu Youding replied with utmost deference, "Your servant is the Librarian of the Classics Bureau and Senior Compiler of the Hanlin Academy, Yu Youding."
Zhu Yijun was taken aback once again.
It seemed none of the men serving as daily lecture officials were ordinary.
He knew of this Yu Youding. Ten years ago, in the forty-first year of Jiajing, Yu Youding had placed third in the palace examination, the Tanhua—the so-called "Mr. Yu of '41."
The Bangyan of that same examination was Wang Xijue, and the Zhuangyuan was Shen Shihang. In history, all three would successively enter the Grand Secretariat. Throughout the more than two hundred years of the Ming Dynasty, only this single examination class saw its entire top three tier all become Grand Secretaries, a legendary tale in its time.
Steeling his thoughts, Zhu Yijun spoke: "Tanhua Yu, this prince has another question."
Caught in an equally awkward dilemma, Yu Youding braced himself and said, "Pray speak, Your Highness."
Zhu Yijun nodded and said, "Yi Yin said that Taijia, as a sovereign, was 'unrighteous,' and therefore banished him.
"Tanhua Yu, what constitutes an unrighteous sovereign? What did Taijia do? If this prince were to act unrighteously, would the Senior Grand Secretary banish this prince as well?"
Yu Youding's vision nearly went black. In the past, the Crown Prince struggled even to memorize passages—how had he suddenly started thinking about such things today?
This was a question he knew how to answer, yet absolutely must not answer.
He could only offer a vague, perfunctory response: "Your Highness, your servant possesses meager talents and shallow learning, but will venture a brief answer to Your Highness's inquiry.
"A sovereign's unrighteousness means defying Heaven above, tormenting the people below, and abandoning the Way.
"Yet Your Highness is benevolent, filial, and supremely virtuous, harboring concern for all living beings, while men of upright character fill the court. It is the sign of great revival. How could such unforeseen misfortunes ever repeat themselves?"
Zhu Yijun could not help but cast an inquiring gaze toward Gao Yi.
Gao Yi had originally sat there detached and composed, as though none of this concerned him. But met with this look, he had no choice but to speak.
He stood up, weighed his words, and answered, "Your Highness, the daily lecture curriculum is extensive, and time is limited. It would be best to first memorize the text. When the Classics Colloquium commences, Your Highness may listen to the various academicians dissect the classics in depth."
The daily lectures were one thing; when it came to the Classics Colloquium, at least Gao Gong or Zhang Juzheng would have to step forward. By then, Gao Yi would not have to deal with this trouble.
Zhu Yijun uttered an "Oh" and readily nodded in agreement.
Yu Youding wiped cold sweat from his forehead and returned to his place in line.
The remaining lecture officials stepped forward one by one to deliver their explanations, the contents largely similar, and Zhu Yijun indeed asked no further questions.
On the surface, he pretended to listen attentively, but in his mind, he was recalling Gao Yi's reaction when he had just mentioned Gao Gong, ruling out once more the possibility that Gao Gong had orchestrated this to warn him.
That left only Zhang Juzheng!
He tried to divine Zhang Juzheng's thoughts and attitude.
Zhu Yijun knew that Zhang Juzheng could not be called a mere politician; he should be called an exceptional statesman. His every move inevitably served his political ideals.
So, what were Zhang Juzheng's political ideals?
To shore up the realm, bring about dynastic resurgence, and make the Ming great once more.
Even though this prodigy—who had passed the provincial examination at fifteen and earned the Jinshi degree at twenty-three—possessed depth and restraint far beyond ordinary men, he had never hidden his political ideals.
In the twenty-eighth year of Jiajing, newly entered into officialdom, Zhang Juzheng had declared his ambitions, sending a memorial titled Memorial on Current Affairs directly to the imperial ear.
It laid out what he saw as the Ming Dynasty's most urgent crises, touching upon imperial clansmen and nobility, official recruitment, bureaucratic morals, local military readiness, and financial bankruptcy.
Unfortunately, for the political situation back then, this memorial was too high-minded to find an audience.
The Jiajing Emperor was entirely consumed with seeking Daoist immortality and had little interest in governing the realm, while factional strife within the Grand Secretariat raged so fiercely that no one had time for anything else.
Coupled with his low status and humble voice, the memorial naturally sank without a trace.
From then on, he held his tongue, and aside from drafting congratulatory memorials to the Jiajing Emperor, he never again submitted a memorial commenting on the state of affairs.
Even when depressed, he at most lamented in his essays, "The land tax is uneven, the poor are dispossessed, and the people suffer under land consolidation."
Had he given up? Of course not. The phrases "cherishing extraordinary ambitions within while blending with the crowd without, awaiting the right moment to act" were the true portrait of his life.
In the forty-third year of Jiajing, Zhang Juzheng gambled his political career on the certainty that the late Emperor would succeed to the throne. Recommended by his mentor Xu Jie, he entered Prince Yu's Estate as a lecturer and tutor.
Naturally, his gamble paid off, and the rewards were immense. It was relying on this credential that Zhang Juzheng entered the Grand Secretariat in one leap!
After the new sovereign ascended the throne—in the second year of Longqing—he finally submitted the second manifesto of his political career: the Memorial on Six Matters.
This time, speaking with the status of a Grand Secretary, his voice resonated like a great bronze bell.
Right from the opening, he declared plainly that the Ming was headed for ruin—what he called "the realm showing signs of deep-seated rot too entrenched to reverse"—before once again laying bare current abuses and expounding the necessity of eradicating the old to establish the new.
Yet the late Longqing Emperor had paid it little mind as well, replying with nothing more than a perfunctory "acknowledged," followed by no action.
So, after two failures, what was Zhang Juzheng's mindset?
Zhu Yijun tapped his knuckles against the desk, staring at the text of "Taijia," lost in thought.
Had he finally abandoned all hope in virtuous ministers and enlightened rulers, wanting to become Yi Yin himself?
Was he thinking: The emperor cannot save the Ming Dynasty, so I shall do it myself?
In history, when Zhang Juzheng later declared, "I am no prime minister; I am the regent"—was that satisfaction with the fruits of his New Policies, or a helpless sigh as he took that irrevocable step?
Even when Zhang Juzheng submitted memorials requesting retirement, he spoke of "bowing low to return the government," clearly aware that all state affairs were held in his grasp, and inevitably knowing that doing so would not lead to a good end.
So, fully aware of the perils, did he want to act as this de facto executive emperor?
Then was this lecture on "Taijia" an oblique negotiation with him? Had Zhang Juzheng sensed his intention to seize power?
Or was it a political manifesto for reform, signaling his resolve to those wishing to align with him?
Zhu Yijun only felt that dealing with such a clever man was an excruciating headache.
This Ming prodigy had not even stepped onto the field to cross swords, yet a single chapter of "Taijia" had already rattled his composure and thrown his thoughts into disarray.
"Your Highness, let us conclude here for today."
Gao Yi's voice pulled Zhu Yijun back from his thoughts.
Only then did Zhu Yijun realize that the daily lecture had ended. He hastily returned the courtesy: "Gentlemen, thank you for your labors."
Gao Yi said respectfully, "We pray that Your Highness will review your lessons diligently upon returning to the palace; tomorrow we shall examine Your Highness's recitation."
This was homework.
Having given these instructions, Gao Yi took his leave and practically fled from the Eastern Side Hall.
Watching Gao Yi's retreating figure, Zhu Yijun shook his head inwardly. This Grand Secretary always believed he could remain detached from the fray; even with all sides forcing his hand like driving ducks onto a perch, he still harbored wishful hopes.
It was utter fantasy.
How could anyone holding such exalted stations as a regent minister of the late Emperor's testament, Grand Secretary, and Grand Guardian of the Heir Apparent avoid the political tide and stay aloof?
He, Zhu Yijun, was contending; Gao Gong was contending; Zhang Juzheng was contending; even palace eunuchs like Feng Bao and Zhang Hong were contending. You, Gao Yi, occupy such a high post—what makes you think you can refrain from the fight?
Gao Yi simply failed to understand this, which was why in the end, after Gao Gong was ousted, he would be denied retirement and die in terror and grief at home.
The various lecture officials withdrew one after another.
Seeing the hall empty, Zhu Yijun turned to the attendant eunuch: "Has the court deliberation adjourned?"
When Zhang Juzheng offered yesterday to analyze state affairs for him, Zhu Yijun had still felt a trace of disdain in his heart.
Yet as soon as this chapter of "Taijia" was lectured, his heart leaped into his throat, putting him on maximum alert.
Now he could not help but take the initiative to ask.
The eunuch replied, "Your Highness, today's court deliberation has already adjourned."
Zhu Yijun nodded and asked again, "Where is Grand Secretary Zhang?"
Another eunuch stepped forward: "Your Highness, Grand Secretary Zhang is already waiting in the East Wing."
Zhu Yijun rose. "Go invite Grand Secretary Zhang to the Warm Chamber."
The East Wing of Wenhua Hall comprised three rooms. The seating for the Eastern Palace lectures was set up in the northernmost room, while the adjacent Warm Chamber served as the Crown Prince's private resting chamber, as well as the room where he routinely granted audiences to ministers.
Zhu Yijun went to the Warm Chamber, sat behind the desk, and rubbed his face, rousing his spirits which had grown weary from the daily lecture.
At the same time, he pondered what attitude he should adopt when facing this indispensable titan of the Ming Dynasty.
Was Zhang Juzheng trustworthy?
The question was complex.
Toward the Ming Dynasty, Zhang Juzheng was naturally worthy of trust.
Yet toward him?
Zhang Juzheng certainly harbored the ambition to prop up the falling heavens, but should Zhu Yijun entrust himself into Zhang Juzheng's hands?
Zhang Juzheng wished to sweep away all obstacles and enact reform.
Did not Zhu Yijun likewise wish to hold supreme power and carry out his own new policies?
In such a struggle, either the east wind prevailed over the west wind, or the west wind prevailed over the east.
...
The young eunuch arrived at the East Wing and hurried with small steps before Zhang Juzheng, who sat upright sipping tea. "Grand Secretary, His Highness's daily lecture has concluded; he invites you to the Warm Chamber."
Zhang Juzheng set down his teacup and rose. "Pray lead the way, Eunuch."
His words were polite, bearing none of the haughtiness of a Grand Secretary addressing a junior eunuch.
Flattered and overwhelmed, the young eunuch hastily led the way.
Zhang Juzheng had a square-jawed face, delicate, handsome features, and a fine, flowing beard, naturally projecting the dignified aura of a statesman.
Walking briskly, the two arrived before the Warm Chamber in short order.
The eunuch stationed at the door greeted them: "Grand Secretary, His Highness instructed that you may enter directly without announcing yourself."
Zhang Juzheng nodded and strode straight inside.
The private chamber was not large; turning a corner, he was already in the center of the room.
Imperceptibly sweeping his eyes over the Crown Prince seated behind the desk, he bowed low: "Your humble subject pays respects to His Highness the Crown Prince."
Zhu Yijun rose hastily, stepped out from behind the desk, and made a gesture to help him up: "The Grand Secretary is a pillar of the realm. This prince is scant of virtue and young in years, unworthy of such a grand courtesy. Pray rise at once."
Zhang Juzheng shifted slightly to sidestep the touch. "Your Highness inherits the imperial ancestral line and is the lord of all under Heaven. How could Your Highness decline your subject's modest observance of propriety?"
Zhu Yijun accepted the bow in stride and helped him up: "The burdens of the Nine Provinces and myriad lands have suddenly fallen upon my shoulders, leaving this prince in great trepidation. I must rely upon the Grand Secretary's assistance."
Zhang Juzheng straightened, cupping his hands. "Whenever Your Highness has inquiries, your servant shall explain and report with utmost clarity, so that Your Highness's wisdom may brighten with each passing day and the governance of the realm will become second nature over time."
Zhu Yijun knew the moment was ripe.
Maintaining an impassive countenance, he asked, "What does the Grand Secretary have to instruct me today?"
Zhang Juzheng answered with stern gravity: "Your Highness, the Ming Dynasty is on the brink of collapse!"
Zhu Yijun blurted, "Ah... what?!"
Chapter 11