Gao Yi had to attend the regular court audience today to discuss the Evaluation Law, so he took leave from the daily lectures beforehand, leaving Zhang Siwei temporarily in charge of the group.
Zhu Yijun did not slack off in his performance just because his primary audience was absent.
The old maxim still held: he could not afford to halt his growth.
These daily lecturers were the most promising young and middle-aged elite of the Great Ming. Even if winning them over was merely picking up extra chips, he still had to play his persona to perfection.
Thus, Zhu Yijun continued to meticulously burnish his image, exactly as he had in days past.
In truth, Zhu Yijun’s learning progress had already far outpaced the curriculum of the daily lectures.
Over the past few evenings after dinner, he had barely let a book leave his hands, committing the contents of both the *Great Learning* and the *Classic of History* entirely to memory.
The introductory level of the daily lectures was far too rudimentary for him—he was simply waiting for the Classics Colloquium to begin so he could hold back and deliver a massive surprise, thoroughly brainwashing the colloquium lecturers when the time came.
The fruits of this advanced studying made the new sovereign appear exceptionally brilliant during the lectures.
Simmered by him like frogs in warm water, the lecturers had gradually grown accustomed to it.
Today, he mastered everything on the first try without the slightest hitch, and none of them found it out of the ordinary.
With Zhu Yijun intentionally speeding up the pace, the lecturers finished the day’s curriculum just past the middle of the hour of the Snake.
"Your Highness, let us conclude here for today," Zhang Siwei said, stepping forward.
As lecture and reading officials, they all held posts in the various ministries and yamens and had to return to sit at their desks after the daily lectures.
Yet, having deliberately freed up this time, Zhu Yijun naturally had no intention of letting them leave early.
He spoke in a measured voice, "Gentlemen, pray wait a moment."
The lecturers exchanged glances.
Zhang Siwei hesitated. "Does Your Highness have any further instructions?"
Zhu Yijun smiled. "These are our daily lectures. You are the teachers, and I am the pupil. How could a pupil instruct his teachers?
"It is merely that our study has concluded early today, leaving a bit of spare time. Rather than letting it go to waste, I might as well seek your guidance on other matters."
Zhang Siwei felt only foul luck.
Among the lecturers, his seniority and official rank were second only to Gao Yi’s. With Gao Yi away, he was inevitably bound to lead the group.
Were it not for this, he would never have stayed behind to play house with a child.
With deep, sturdy roots behind him, the daily lectures were nothing more than a stepping stone to temper his credentials; he had no real heart for teaching.
Though he rolled his eyes internally, his face remained entirely respectful. "If Your Highness has questions, we subjects shall do our utmost to resolve your doubts."
Zhu Yijun nodded and asked casually, "You gentlemen have attended the daily lectures for several months now.
"I have yet to inquire into your backgrounds and scholarly lineages, which has truly been a neglect on my part."
His gaze swept over Zhang Siwei and Ma Ziqiang. "If I remember correctly, Academician Zhang and Academician Ma passed the metropolitan examination in the same year?"
The two exchanged a look.
In unison, they replied, "We both became metropolitan graduates in the thirty-second year of Jiajing."
At the end, Ma Ziqiang added, "However, Vice Minister Zhang placed in the second class, whereas this humble subject was conferred status in the third class."
A single roster of metropolitan graduates was divided into three classes: three in the first class, eighty or ninety in the second, and over two hundred in the third, ranked sequentially.
Those conferred status in the third class were considered half a notch lower.
Zhu Yijun nodded to show his understanding.
Turning his eyes toward Tao Dalin, he said, "I recall Academician Tao began as a compiler in the Hanlin Academy, so you must have placed in the first class?"
By precedent established after Emperor Yingzong, those who placed in the first class of the civil service examinations were appointed compilers in the Hanlin Academy, while young, outstanding talents from the second and third classes were selected to enter the academy as bachelor academicians—a practice known as 'selecting for the academy.'
Both cohorts had long been celebrated as future Grand Secretaries.
Tao Dalin replied deferentially, "This humble subject was a metropolitan graduate of the thirty-fifth year of Jiajing, placing second in the first class."
Zhu Yijun had initially wanted to call him Bangyan Tao, but the title felt too awkward on his tongue, so he simply continued addressing him as Academician: "No wonder Academician Tao possesses such profound learning."
With that, he looked toward Yu Youding. "Tanhua Yu, I already know: third place of the first class in the forty-first year of Jiajing."
Yu Youding was taken aback. Not knowing how he had so inexplicably caught the future sovereign’s attention, he could only clasp his hands in respect.
Passing over him, Zhu Yijun looked at Chen Dong. "Did Academician Chen also begin as a compiler in the Hanlin Academy?"
Among the many lecturers, Chen Dong was remarkably striking yet remarkably devoid of presence.
He was striking because of his distinctive appearance—gaunt, extraordinarily gaunt, not with a chiseled lean frame, but with the frail thinness of someone poorly nourished.
He lacked presence because he was extremely sparing with his words during lectures. Beyond explicating the texts, he never uttered an extraneous syllable, remaining reserved and inscrutable throughout.
Chen Dong replied, "This humble subject took third place of the first class in the forty-fourth year of Jiajing."
Before Zhu Yijun could question them one by one, the remaining lecturers took turns declaring their examination years and backgrounds.
Zhu Yijun listened with great patience.
The men before him were the future Grand Secretaries of the Great Ming, or rather, the vanguard of its rising generation.
Now that he had the Embroidered Uniform Guard shielding his flank and had secured Gao Yi’s endorsement, it was time to test the waters with this core pillar of the civil bureaucracy.
As the lecturers stated their credentials one after another, Zhu Yijun committed every word to memory.
Only then did he look back at Ma Ziqiang and Tao Dalin, who had taken leave yesterday. "Academician Ma and Academician Tao took leave yesterday. I heard you went to the Ministry of Rites to deliberate on my late imperial father’s posthumous title and temple name?"
The two exchanged a look and answered together, "Your Highness, that is indeed so."
A posthumous title and temple name represented the final, definitive judgment on an emperor’s lifelong deeds.
Good or bad, a verdict had to be rendered.
Just as on the first day of the sixth month, the petition urging his ascension had contained a line: *'The state has flourished for more than two hundred years, and wise and sagely monarchs have arisen in roughly six or seven reigns.'*
From the dynasty’s founding to the present, twelve generations had spanned two centuries, yet only six or seven could be called good emperors.
As for the rest? That went without saying.
Why 'six or seven'?
Precisely because the late emperor’s final verdict had not yet been sealed; whether he was worthy or unworthy still hung in the balance.
Zhu Yijun pondered for a moment and said, "Speaking of this...
"I have been studying the *Great Learning* and the *Classic of History* with you gentlemen, and the deeds of the ancient sage kings are gradually becoming clear to me.
"Looking through the prism of the Four Books and Five Classics, how would you gentlemen evaluate my late imperial father?"
*From the perspective of your Confucian classics, how would you judge the late emperor?*
Hearing this, the two felt their scalps tingle. When such momentous affairs passed through ministerial and court deliberations, they represented the collective will of the entire civil bureaucracy, and no one had to fear speaking.
Yet now, with the Crown Prince questioning them privately as individuals, how could they answer?
Who would dare crane their neck to proclaim that his father had neglected governance, indulged in carnal pleasures, and died on a woman’s belly from overdosing on aphrodisiacs?
What could they offer aside from empty praise?
Tao Dalin quietly took half a step back.
Ma Ziqiang could only look left and right to evade the question, saying, "Your Highness, yesterday we were merely collating the late emperor's merits, missteps, and deeds. The matter has not yet been settled."
Zhu Yijun waved his hand. "This is not a formal deliberation on posthumous titles, merely a simple appraisal from the standpoint of scholarship.
"Once I ascend the throne, it will help me emulate what is good and examine myself against what is flawed."
Ma Ziqiang stood rooted to the spot, sweat gradually beading on his forehead.
Zhu Yijun watched him with great patience.
Only after a long while of careful weighing did Ma Ziqiang speak. "The late emperor was, naturally, a sovereign of sagely virtue."
Whatever their private thoughts, the lecturers nodded in succession.
Zhu Yijun pressed, "Wherein lies this sagely virtue?"
He had no intention of meddling in the late emperor’s posthumous titles; he merely wanted to use this exchange to familiarize himself with the ecosystem of the civil officials.
More precisely, he wanted to glean from their evaluations of the late emperor what truly constituted a good emperor in the eyes of these rising stars bound for the Grand Secretariat.
Though the men in the Grand Secretariat and the Six Ministries held supreme power, they were advanced in years after all, unable to reflect the ideological currents of these younger literati.
After all, before putting on a show, one had to ask the audience what sort of persona they fancied.
Ma Ziqiang replied vaguely, "The late emperor was dignified, poised, and weighty, commanding awe without resorting to executions. Reserved, serene, and tranquil, he was indeed a benevolent sovereign."
Zhu Yijun paused for a beat, nodding only after a brief silence.
Ma Ziqiang was saying that the late emperor was honest, mild-tempered, and quiet, never relying on bloodshed to exert his authority.
Naturally, this was also a veiled barb aimed at Emperor Shizong, who had flaunted his majesty by having court ministers caned to death.
Praising one by putting down another was good. At the very least, it revealed genuine feelings. It seemed Ma Ziqiang deeply resented autocratic emperors prone to arbitrary executions; he likely favored the style of Emperor Xiaozong.
Zhu Yijun then signaled Tao Dalin with a glance.
Seeing no way to dodge, Tao Dalin sighed inwardly and spoke. "The late emperor possessed an inscrutable, natural wisdom. Though commands had not yet issued forth, transforming influence galloped like a courser; though words were unspoken, the resonance struck swift as thunder. He was truly an enterprising sovereign."
Zhu Yijun tilted his head back, barely suppressing a burst of laughter.
This was claiming that the late emperor’s wisdom was difficult to fathom—that even before orders were issued, his subordinates had already sprung into action, and though no words left his mouth, his influence struck like thunder.
To put it bluntly: he was somewhat foolish and neglectful of affairs, leaving his subordinates to do as they pleased.
These literati certainly knew how to turn a phrase; when it came to passive-aggressive mockery, they had reached the pinnacle of the craft.
It seemed Tao Dalin held a measure of disdain for the late emperor, believing he had failed to carry out a ruler’s duties. Did that mean he hoped the new sovereign would strive vigorously for governance?
Zhu Yijun feigned ignorance of the underlying jab.
He turned his gaze toward Zhang Siwei. "Academician Zhang, what say you?"
Zhang Siwei made no effort to conceal his stance, speaking frankly: "The late emperor was especially adept at honoring his grand ministers and trusting experienced hands. He gathered all strengths and pooled all minds, adhering faithfully to the ancestral laws without the turmoil of vexatious revisions and constraints. He truly possessed the demeanor of the ancient sage kings; he was a sagely ruler."
Honoring grand ministers and trusting experienced hands meant entrusting governance to his senior advisers. Adhering to ancestral laws was plain enough.
Was this the ideal emperor in the eyes of the Shanxi Faction? No wonder Zhang Siwei’s maternal uncle had chosen the style name Chonggu, Revering Antiquity.
Though Zhu Yijun appeared naive on the surface, he sighed inwardly. Indeed, praise from a hypocrite left an unpleasant taste in the mouth.
The demeanor of ancient sage kings? Ha. The fabled deeds of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors had fooled countless passersby through the ages; did they think they could fool him now?
Just as he was about to press further...
Yu Youding took the initiative to speak up: "Your Highness, this subject believes the late emperor abolished all the precarious practices of Emperor Shizong and redressed wrongful convictions.
"He swept away the decay in military readiness, concluded the peace and tribute with Altan Khan, and pacified the border frontiers.
"Furthermore, changing with the times rather than clinging to worn-out ways, he lifted the maritime ban.
"He rectified the conduct of scholars, rooted out official corruption, reorganized the bureaucracy, and audited the landed estates of the imperial kin and nobility.
"With such deeds, he deserves to be hailed as a sovereign who reformed the old and inaugurated the new!"
Zhu Yijun cast an astonished glance at Yu Youding, not expecting Tanhua Yu to belong to the reformist faction.
The dead were used to speak for the living.
What kind of man the late emperor had truly been did not matter; what mattered was what kind of man everyone needed him to have been.
Zhang Siwei praised the late emperor for ruling by non-action, honoring ancestral laws, and adhering to established precedents—the very portrait of reverence for antiquity.
Yu Youding immediately championed the opposite, asserting that the late emperor had reformed the old and inaugurated the new, possessing the heart of a reformer.
This was the clash between the old and the new.
Naturally, Zhu Yijun would not lay this bare; he merely feigned a look of deep contemplation.
Ma Ziqiang, on the other hand, offered a timely reminder: "Mind your propriety. Do not speak rashly of Emperor Shizong."
Even under the principle of concealing flaws for the honored, one ought not speak so brazenly before the new sovereign; after all, they were grandfather and grandson, so there was no need to make it so glaring.
Zhu Yijun waved his hand magnanimously. "As I said, this is an academic inquiry; there is no harm in it.
"At the very least, keeping the avenues of speech wide open is something I can accomplish. None of you need fear punishment for your words."
From the words of these few men, their inclinations were readily discernible.
Whether reforming through innovation or upholding ancestral laws, they only approved of an emperor who treated civil officials well.
Emperor Shizong had caned court officials to death, and look how thoroughly his reputation had been blackened.
Therefore, regardless of whether Zhu Yijun intended to suppress the civil bureaucracy once he held absolute power, he had to broadcast the right signals for now, projecting a ruler who welcomed open speech and possessed a benevolent, magnanimous heart.
The lecturers hurriedly bowed in unison. "None exceeds Your Highness in sagacity."
Aside from this...
Zhu Yijun assumed an air of sudden inspiration. "Lately, I have heard that the Grand Secretariat has been deliberating on the Evaluation Law?"
The lecturers were baffled.
As the group’s temporary leader, Zhang Siwei could not evade. He had to take up the thread: "Your Highness, that is indeed so."
Zhu Yijun uttered a soft 'oh' and smiled. "Assessing the late emperor's merits and faults—does that not resemble an evaluation and appraisal?"
Deliberations over temple names and posthumous titles generally revolved around distinguishing merits from missteps.
Once the deeds were weighed, they decided whether to confer a derogatory title or an honorable one.
Framed that way, it indeed bore a striking resemblance, except that it happened only once in a lifetime.
Yet how could the lecturers dare affirm such a comparison?
An evaluation? Civil officials subjecting an emperor to evaluation? Even if such a thought crossed their minds, none would dare admit it aloud.
Ma Ziqiang said in haste, "Your Highness, the *Book of Rites* states: *'Ritual begins with the capping ceremony, roots itself in marriage, and finds its gravity in mourning and sacrifice; these constitute the core of ritual.'*
"Posthumous titles and temple names pertain to mourning and sacrifice. They are not an evaluation, but the very foundation of the great rites."
It was no wonder these lecturers were so anxious.
The rite of posthumous titles had originated in the Zhou dynasty, only to be abolished during the Qin because the First Emperor believed posthumous titles carried the taint of 'sons judging fathers and ministers judging sovereigns.' It was not restored until the Western Han.
By the Ming dynasty, though often muddied by glossing over faults, it remained a potent weapon for civil ministers to constrain the sovereign—very few men cared nothing for their posthumous reputation.
Now that the Crown Prince was drawing a parallel between deliberating posthumous titles and the Evaluation Law, no one knew what he was scheming, and it frightened them considerably.
If the system of posthumous titles were talked out of existence by their discussion today, Ma Ziqiang would likely face the blistering condemnation of every civil official under heaven.
Watching Ma Ziqiang’s reaction, Zhu Yijun scoffed inwardly.
He had no intention of abolishing the posthumous title system; he was simply using the topic to make his point. Or rather, all his preceding words had been meant to lead up to the Evaluation Law.
Now that the Grand Secretariat was charging on the front lines, he could not very well pull the rug out from under them.
Infighting was infighting, but state affairs could not be neglected.
Zhu Yijun spoke: "I understand what Academician Ma means.
"It is merely that hearing you gentlemen evaluate my late imperial father's successes and failures stirred a sudden wave of emotion. In the days ahead, I shall need you, my pillar ministers, to keep a close watch over me.
"If I stray from the proper path and earn a derogatory posthumous title, it will not only be my lifelong regret, but also a failure of duty on your part.
"Only if I can emulate even half of my late imperial father's achievements and earn an honorable posthumous title in the future will I have the face to pay homage to him in the nether court."
With varied thoughts stirring within them, the lecturers bowed one after another. "We subjects are filled with trepidation."
Seeing that the moment was ripe, Zhu Yijun said, "Gentlemen, as the saying goes, knowledge and action must be united. Since you agree with my words, they must be put into practice.
"How about this: let my daily lecture studies be submitted to an evaluation by you gentlemen alongside the Two Palaces!
"What do you say?"
Citing his swift academic progress, Zhu Yijun made a show of wanting to display his diligence.
In truth, however, he was openly throwing his weight behind the Evaluation Law.
If I, the emperor who will ascend the throne the day after tomorrow, humble myself to submit to evaluation, what further excuses could those officials unwilling to be evaluated possibly muster?
What? Did they consider themselves more precious than the emperor?
Once word of this spread, resistance to piloting the reform—whether in the Grand Secretariat or the inner court—would diminish drastically.
In many endeavors, when those above took the lead in shouldering hardships, the efficiency of implementation was incomparable.
As for whether he might fail the evaluation? He had lived two lives, and he had never once failed an exam.
The lecturers exchanged stunned glances.
Zhu Yijun was in no hurry. He smiled and said, "Gentlemen, I am not jesting.
"The *Analects* say: *'I daily examine myself on three counts.'* Since the hopes of all rest upon me, how could I afford to slacken? This is also meant to spur myself forward.
"Why do you not wait for Senior Grand Secretary Gao to return, confer with him, and submit a joint memorial?
"As for my two mothers, I shall personally speak with them."
The lecturers still hesitated, caught in indecision.
Chen Dong suddenly stepped forward from the ranks. "This subject obeys the decree!"
Zhu Yijun was taken aback; it was rare to see this man take the initiative to respond.
Recovering his senses, he smiled faintly, took Chen Dong’s hand, and gave it a gentle shake. "Then I shall trouble you ministers.
"Very well, let us end here for today. You gentlemen may return to your yamens to attend to your duties."
With that, he turned and walked into the Warm Chamber.
Only after Zhu Yijun had vanished entirely did Chen Dong leave the hall, offering no parting words to the others.
The remaining men, grouped in twos and threes with heavy hearts, finally followed him out.
Yu Youding glanced back once more toward the direction in which the Crown Prince had departed, his heart brimming with boundless emotion—compared to the late emperor, this was the true countenance of a sagely monarch.
Chapter 25