At the Center of Power, Each Displays Their Prowess

Night fell. “What on earth is Gao Gong waiting for?” Lü Diaoyang muttered to himself. It was the riddle that had troubled him all day. At court, faced with Yang Bo’s defection, Gao Gong’s reaction had been far too mild. So mild that even the impeachment against Gao Gong had landed like a punch thrown into cotton—Gao Gong had barely put up any resistance at all. Was it because those two pressing edicts had finally made Gao Gong realize that neither the Empress Dowager nor the emperor could tolerate him any longer? Or was it that, seeing Lü Diaoyang’s impeachment, he had understood Zhang Juzheng’s will to be behind it, and lost heart? No matter how he turned it over, he could not convince himself—the more he thought, the less he understood. Lost in doubt, Lü Diaoyang walked up to his own gate. So deep in thought was he that he failed to notice no servant had come out to greet him today; nor did he notice that not a single lamp was lit within. He pushed open the side gate of the courtyard and walked in as though in a trance. Only when he pushed open the door did he suddenly realize that all was pitch-dark, within and without. He was just about to react. Then, inside, two lights suddenly flared to life. One to the left and one to the right of the main seat, a pair of hands held up candles. His gaze swept over at once, and he saw Feng Bao seated erect in a grand armchair. Leaning forward, Feng Bao abruptly raised his head and looked at Lü Diaoyang. His expression dark, his tone aggressive, Feng Bao said, “Minister Lü, this one does know what Gao Gong is waiting for.” “But you cost me the Eastern Depot, Minister Lü. So can this one still trust you?” * * * At Gao Gong’s residence, the study was still perfectly calm. Gao Gong, at the very center of the storm of public criticism, sat bent over his desk, rewriting the memorial begging to be dismissed. He showed not the slightest trace of anxiety, as though it truly were only because the draft had been damaged that he was copying it out again. Ge Shouli pushed the door open and walked in, just in time to see this. He stood to one side without a word, waiting quietly. Gao Gong glanced up, then lowered his head and went on writing. “Yuli, how many times must I tell you—close the door behind you when you come in.” Yuli was Ge Shouli’s courtesy name. The friendship between the two was anything but ordinary. In the early years of Longqing, when Ge Shouli was Minister of Revenue, Xu Jie had led a faction in besieging Gao Gong. Even when Gao Gong had almost no strength left to strike back, Ge Shouli had still supported him without reservation. After Gao Gong was defeated, Ge Shouli too had submitted a memorial requesting his own dismissal. And once Xu Jie retired and Gao Gong rose again, the very first thing Gao Gong did was raise Ge Shouli to the post of Censor-in-Chief. The two could be said to have weathered many storms together—sworn friends who trusted each other with their very backs. An affair as grave as today’s seemed to carry Ge Shouli back several years, to the time when Gao Gong had come under siege from Xu Jie. That was why, heedless of the gossip it would stir, he had come calling at night. He had come in the greatest urgency, and yet the first thing he heard upon entering was this. Seeing Gao Gong act as though nothing were amiss, Ge Shouli sighed, turned, and closed the door. Only then did he turn back to Gao Gong. “The Senior Grand Secretary truly has admirable composure—it makes my own temperament look poor by comparison.” Even he could not tell whether Gao Gong was truly unruffled in the face of danger, or had begun to harbor thoughts of retreat. Gao Gong grunted. “I do need to polish it up a little more.” To still be in the mood to jest at a time like this—Ge Shouli was even more astonished. Puzzled, he asked, “Did the Senior Grand Secretary know all along that Yang Bo would turn?” As for why Yang Bo had acted as he did, Ge Shouli had racked his brains and still could not make sense of it. Was it that Wang Chonggu had been promised a seat in the Grand Secretariat, and Yang Bo had grown resentful over it? Or did Yang Bo have some other plot with Feng Bao or Lü Diaoyang? Gao Gong shook his head. “I’m no worm in his belly, nor do I command the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard—how would I know what he’s thinking?” These words brought Ge Shouli’s bewilderment to its peak. He gave up trying to puzzle it out and asked outright, “Gao Suqing, stop keeping me in suspense.” Seeing that Ge Shouli had grown impatient, Gao Gong finally set down his brush. He smiled. “Of course I didn’t know Yang Bo would pull this. But…” He reined in his smile and went on. “It is only that I had long been prepared for it.” Ge Shouli was puzzled. “Prepared long ago?” Gao Gong nodded. “Not just Yang Bo. Even you—were you suddenly to impeach me, I would not be surprised.” Ge Shouli fell silent. There was nothing wrong with the words themselves, but to hold himself up as such an example—no one could feel comfortable hearing that. With such a foul temper, it was no wonder he had so few friends. Gao Gong, of course, had no such delicate feelings, nor did he care what Ge Shouli was thinking. He went on. “Just watch. Besides Yang Bo and Lü Diaoyang, there are plenty more with their eyes on me.” Once a man reached the rank of one of the Six Ministers, he no longer stood for himself alone. Never mind the Ministry of War—even the Ministry of Rites, which seemed to hold little power, had for years controlled the very lifelines of the academies and the imperial examinations. Roughly speaking, it was a blend of cultural dissemination, diplomacy, and education, and its influence among the literati was beyond compare. Not to mention Lü Diaoyang and Yang Bo, with the whole host of the Shanxi Faction and the New Faction at their backs. No matter who stepped forward, none could be taken lightly. But… to accomplish something great, how could a man pin his hopes on everyone standing united at his side? It was something even the emperor could not achieve—so on what grounds could he, Gao Suqing? Onlookers, traitors within, enemies—he had made his preparations to deal with them all. Just as he had said: even were Ge Shouli himself to betray him, he would still carry on unflinchingly, steady to the last. Ge Shouli was taken aback, not quite grasping the meaning. He frowned. “Not just Yang Bo? Who else?” Gao Gong rose to his feet, saying as he did, “Only Heaven knows.” * * * Lü Diaoyang looked quietly at Feng Bao and said in a low, grave voice, “I, Lü, am Minister of Rites and concurrently a Hanlin Academician, holding the rank of Senior Second Grade—a high official of the court!” “This is my residence. Feng Bao, how dare you force your way in!” At this moment, his anger outweighed even his curiosity over what Feng Bao had said of Gao Gong’s scheme. A mere eunuch—daring to break into his home uninvited! And with such an overbearing, take-what-he-pleases air, too—did he truly think Lü Diaoyang’s temper was molded of clay? Feng Bao met him head-on. “A fine ‘high official of the court’ indeed!” He suddenly smiled and executed a full, formal bow, precise in every detail. “Then, since my Eastern Depot has been stripped from me, will the high official of the court see justice done for me?” Lü Diaoyang did not dare accept such a bow and hurriedly stepped aside to avoid it. The anger that had filled his chest was, instead, worn away by half through Feng Bao’s posturing. He held his ground on the surface alone. “What do you mean, ‘my Eastern Depot’? It is the Great Ming’s Eastern Depot, the Emperor’s Eastern Depot.” Feng Bao gave a soft laugh, rose, and pressed close to Lü Diaoyang. “Either way, it is not the Eastern Depot of a high official of the court like yourself, is it?” “So Minister Lü merely stood by and watched me be stripped of my post?” Feng Bao kept hammering at this, and Lü Diaoyang at last found himself unable to hold up under it. Softening his tone, he said, “Grand Eunuch Feng, at yesterday’s court deliberation you saw it yourself—I was dragged off by the emperor by force; I was at a loss myself.” “Would you have me throw a tantrum and roll on the floor right there in court?” Feng Bao’s face turned grim. This too was something that had caught him off guard. Never in his wildest imagining had he thought this matter would take such an inexplicable turn, and that within a single day the Eastern Depot would be gone. He pressed on. “Then what did Minister Lü say before Empress Dowager Li?” Had it been in Cining Palace, never mind what was discussed between them—even had a fly buzzed a few times, he would have known. But of all the ill timing, Zhu Xizhong, as a minister of the outer court, could not be received within the inner palace chambers, and so the meeting had moved to Qianqing Palace. That place was filled with men of the Embroidered Uniform Guard; if they could not keep Zhu Xizhong’s private dealings under wraps, then the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard might as well not hold his post. And so, to this very moment, he had no idea what had happened yesterday. Lü Diaoyang glanced at Feng Bao and said, without letting his feelings show, “Yesterday, Empress Dowager Li asked me why the censors had impeached, and what the ancestral laws and institutions were.” “With Zhu Xizhong present, I could only answer truthfully.” An honest answer was to Feng Bao’s disadvantage. This, both of them knew full well. Hearing this, Feng Bao waved away the two eunuchs who held the lamps, telling them to keep watch outside and let no one draw near. Only then did he say to Lü Diaoyang, “Then what was all that about Li Jin?” Lü Diaoyang told the plain truth. “By the time I arrived, the Imperial Father-in-Law and the Duke of Chengguo had already come.” “Li Jin, too, was recommended by the Duke of Chengguo; whether there was any understanding between him and the Imperial Father-in-Law, I cannot say.” To an outsider’s eye: No sooner had word of the outer court’s impeachment of Feng Bao spread than the Imperial Father-in-Law brought Zhu Xizhong to see the Empress Dowager. And then, as it happened, Zhu Xizhong recommended one of Empress Dowager Li’s maternal clansmen. Whether there was any connection between these things was truly hard to say. As for the emperor suddenly hauling him off to meet the Empress Dowager—whether it was a sudden whim or also part of that tacit understanding—Lü Diaoyang dared not think too deeply. Seeing Feng Bao’s grim look, he could only try to soothe him. “Grand Eunuch Feng, Li Jin is, after all, one of the imperial affines. Once Gao Gong has retired, we can find some pretext and impeach the imperial affines for meddling in government—and that will be that.” For such a distant relative, whether he counted as an imperial affine at all rested entirely on the whim of the court officials. Whether a thing accorded with ritual propriety was for him, Lü, to declare—it did not represent the censors’ position in any case. But at these words, Feng Bao’s mood did not improve in the least. Instead he flared up. “Wait for Gao Gong to retire?! I fear I’ll die at his hands first!” Lü Diaoyang’s expression changed as he caught the meaning in the words. He hurriedly pressed, “What do you mean by that? And what is this thing the Grand Eunuch says Gao Gong is waiting for?” Feng Bao gave a cold snort. All his posturing had merely been to seize control of this conversation; it was not truly meant as an accusation. Where cooperation served them both, he naturally knew which grievances to swallow. Feng Bao drew a memorial from his bosom and handed it to Lü Diaoyang. “I copied this out from the Grand Secretariat’s main hall. Minister Lü may take his time reading it.” Lü Diaoyang’s expression changed. “You dared steal documents from the Grand Secretariat!” Even if the target was Gao Gong, this was something Lü Diaoyang absolutely could not tolerate. If today a man could steal into the Grand Secretariat and secretly copy out a memorial, then what he might dare tomorrow Lü Diaoyang did not even wish to imagine. Feng Bao said not a word. Lü Diaoyang gave Feng Bao a long, deep look; he could only think that Feng Bao was, indeed, worthy of the name—even stripped of the Eastern Depot, his weight was not to be underestimated. He understood, too, that this was no time to take issue over it. Disgusted as he was, he still took the memorial. The few characters on its cover were crooked and scrawled, plainly the work of too great a hurry. At first Lü Diaoyang had not taken it seriously, but after turning two pages, his expression changed drastically. In horror he cried out, “How dare Gao Gong!?” * * * Gao Gong chose a seat among the guest chairs to one side and casually settled his robes. There was about him a certain unrestrained ease. Bad-tempered as he was, when faced with a great matter he instead possessed a certain calm. He gestured for Ge Shouli to sit as well. “Never mind who steps forward to oppose me—we need only go about our own work in proper order.” Ge Shouli sat down as bidden, but did not understand. “But the palace keeps pressing again and again, and with Yang Bo’s impeachment on top of it, they are forcing you to submit a memorial to retire—how are we to do any work at all?” Gao Gong handed over the memorial requesting retirement he had just finished writing. “It is just as well that you came.” “This is my memorial begging to be dismissed. First thing tomorrow morning, it will go to the Office of Transmission.” Ge Shouli shot to his feet. “Senior Grand Secretary…” Gao Gong reached out a hand to hold him back. “Calm yourself.” Ge Shouli’s tone was full of alarm. “Is the Senior Grand Secretary truly going to retire?” Gao Gong looked into Ge Shouli’s eyes, his expression suddenly turning grave. “Yuli, I will speak, and you will remember.” Ge Shouli at once sat up straight and proper. Gao Gong began slowly. “After I submit my memorial, the Office of Transmission will not send it into the palace at once; they will stall it for me for the better part of a day.” “At tomorrow’s court deliberation, you will present another memorial on my behalf.” From his sleeve he drew out a memorial and gestured with it to Ge Shouli. Ge Shouli was puzzled. “The Senior Grand Secretary will not attend the court deliberation?” From the sound of it, both memorials were to be presented on his behalf—then what of Gao Gong himself? Gao Gong shook his head. “I have other important business.” Seeing that Gao Gong would not say more plainly, Ge Shouli could only nod helplessly and take the memorial Gao Gong offered. Across its face were written several large characters in a bold, flowing hand: “Memorial on the Five Urgent Matters of the New Administration.” Not knowing the details, Ge Shouli turned two pages. Murmuring, he read aloud. “Hold court at the palace gate to attend to governance. For all matters memorialized by the various offices, follow the old rules of the ancestors—the Emperor shall give his personal imperial reply, so that it may be seen that all decrees issue from the sovereign himself, and that his ministers dare not presume to intervene…” His expression changed drastically; within his breast it was as though thunder crashed and lightning flashed. What did “the personal imperial reply” mean! It meant that when the Grand Secretariat had matters to memorialize, the emperor would personally answer whether they were permitted or not. In the old way, the Grand Secretariat submitted its rescripts to the Directorate of Ceremonial, and then the Two Palaces and the emperor would review them. Now that the emperor was to give his personal reply, what business would be left for the Directorate of Ceremonial at all!? This was, in effect, the abolition of the Directorate of Ceremonial! And this memorial was precisely Gao Gong’s bid to seize the power of the Directorate of Ceremonial! He read on through several more clauses, his heart pounding with dread. “Should any rescript ever be issued directly from within the palace, without first going through the drafting (piao ni), then allow us ministers to memorialize and have it clarified, and only then shall it be carried out.” An inner rescript was simply a palace rescript—an edict handed down straight from the palace. If a palace rescript still had to wait for the Grand Secretariat to memorialize and clarify it, what sort of palace rescript would that be!? The meaning was unmistakable: any palace rescript that did not pass through the Grand Secretariat’s drafting could not be put into effect! Ge Shouli scarcely dared read further. “The memorials of officials and commoners, whether they are to be acted upon or halted—there has never been any principle by which they may be held within the palace and left unissued… We hope that from now on all memorials shall, without exception, be issued and sent down.” These were simply the memorials submitted. And what did it mean, that there was “no principle of holding them within the palace and leaving them unissued”? It meant that the emperor could not hold back any memorial and refuse to issue a response. This curbed even the emperor’s privilege of withholding memorials from issuance! His heart was shaken with dread, and at last he dared read no more. He abruptly closed the memorial. “Senior Grand Secretary…” On the matter of seizing true chancellorial power, Gao Gong had indeed sounded him out beforehand. But he had never imagined Gao Gong would carry it this far! No wonder! No wonder Gao Gong had said that even if he, Ge Shouli, turned on him, he would not be surprised. Just glancing at it, his legs were already trembling, and he nearly wanted to flee the room. Gao Gong shook his head. “Do all that lies within human power, and leave the rest to Heaven.” * * * Feng Bao said hatefully, “He is not merely after this one’s life.” “He is setting himself against the entire inner court—even against the emperor and the Two Empress Dowagers!” Were things truly to go as this memorial proposed, then never mind the Directorate of Ceremonial—even the Two Empress Dowagers would no longer be permitted to meddle in government, and the emperor would have to route every single matter through the Grand Secretariat. How could anyone endure that? After finishing the memorial, Lü Diaoyang’s heart remained unable to calm for a long while. Gao Gong… This was Gao Gong? He was, indeed, worthy of the name Gao Gong. A single “personal imperial reply,” and it had made Lü Diaoyang lose all his composure. If ruler and minister were in accord, and the emperor could handle so much governance himself, then such words would not be overstepping. But the problem was: why did the Grand Secretariat exist in the first place? It existed precisely because the emperor could not handle so much governance himself—and so the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial had come into being. There might be several Grand Secretaries to assist, but there was only one emperor. How could a single man possibly oversee all the great affairs of the realm? Not everyone possessed the talent of the founding Emperor Taizu. And once that time came, would not most matters still be decided by the Grand Secretariat? More absurd still was that the present emperor was only ten years old! Have the emperor give his personal imperial reply? How could he possibly answer? “How can a ten-year-old Son of Heaven govern the realm?”—was that not your own argument? And now you would have him give a personal imperial reply? To say nothing of curbing the emperor’s palace rescripts and forbidding him to hold memorials back unissued. What sort of Grand Secretariat was this anymore? This was a chancellery in all but name! How did he dare? The inner court, the Two Palaces, the emperor—no one would support him. To act with such fearless confidence, what other trump card did he truly hold? Lü Diaoyang raised his head and looked at Feng Bao. “For Gao Gong to dare submit such a memorial, he must have something to rely on!” “Grand Eunuch Feng, the situation has changed—go quickly and summon Grand Secretary Zhang back!” Feng Bao shot Lü Diaoyang a sidelong glance and said irritably, “As if I needed you to tell me.” “Grand Secretary Zhang has unfortunately come down with ‘heatstroke,’ and will return to recuperate in a couple of days.” Lü Diaoyang did not take issue with Feng Bao’s manner. He merely clutched the memorial, staring blankly, lost in thought. How had the state of affairs come to such a pass?