Chapter Sixty: The Second Northern Strategic Conception
Chapter Sixty: Northern Strategic Vision II
Where was the mistake? Zhu Qizhen could hardly say. He simply wished not to confront the Grand Empress Dowager head-on, and so he found himself at a loss for words.
Observing his reticence, the Grand Empress Dowager’s voice grew cold. “You believe you’ve made no mistake, don’t you?”
“Your grandson is dull,” Zhu Qizhen replied in a low voice. “I do not know where my thinking was wrong. I beg Your Majesty’s guidance.”
The Grand Empress Dowager said, “I’ll set aside the matter of rice cultivation in Liaodong for now. But simply moving people from various regions to Liaodong is a grave error.”
“People are attached to their homeland; it is the nature of the common folk. Families cling to one another; it is the human wish. If you want to relocate the population, you cannot do so without military force. Once the army is involved, how can the people sleep peacefully?”
“In the early days of the dynasty, the founder did relocate people. But where did he move them from? Jiangnan was Zhang Shicheng’s stronghold; Shanxi belonged to Wang Baobao. When the great wars had just been settled, people were anxious, and the gentry hostile. Moving populations across regions was not only to balance the census, but more importantly, to subdue local powers and make the people submit.”
“Even so, the people harbored deep resentment. Do you know why the founding emperor abandoned the Central Capital?”
Zhu Qizhen listened, unsure in his heart. But he did know about the founding emperor’s construction of the Central Capital.
If one were to name the greatest unfinished project of the Ming era, none would surpass Fengyang’s Central Capital.
At that time, the founding emperor was dissatisfied with Nanjing and sought a new capital. There were several candidate cities—Xi’an, Kaifeng—and, moved by nostalgia, Fengyang.
The Central Capital was planned on a scale greater than Beijing or Nanjing, but after only the outline was built, the project was inexplicably halted.
The Grand Empress Dowager continued, “To increase Fengyang’s population, the founding emperor relocated masses from Jiangnan. When he inspected the Central Capital’s construction, he discovered curses written beneath the roof tiles.”
“Many of these came from the migrants themselves.”
“Thus the founding emperor realized that Fengyang was no longer what it once had been, and abandoned his plan to move the capital.”
“The founding emperor pacified the realm and brought peace. Yet even so, the people hated the relocations bitterly.”
“Was it wrong for the founding emperor to move the people?”
“Shanxi and Jiangnan are narrow regions, densely populated, while Henan and the area between the Huai Rivers were the main battlegrounds at the end of the Yuan. For a thousand li, there was no one. Migrants from Jiangnan and Shanxi found it easier to live there.”
“But even then, the people still hated it bitterly.”
“Does Your Majesty think your virtue surpasses the founding emperor’s, that moving northern folk to Liaodong will make Liaodong a granary, but first throw Henan, Hebei, Shandong, and Shanxi into chaos?”
Zhu Qizhen listened, and his heart was chilled.
He had considered the difficulties of migration, but never imagined they would be so great. In the Grand Empress Dowager’s eyes, relocating the people was tantamount to shaking the foundations of the realm.
“Your grandson’s considerations were insufficient,” he said.
The Grand Empress Dowager replied, “No, your plans are thorough.”
“You wish to coordinate from all sides—first secure Liaodong, then the southern steppes, then ascend to the northern steppes. Are you not also thinking of building a city to accept surrenders beyond the northern border, to campaign in the Western Regions, to restore the protectorate, to subjugate Annam, and to revive the voyages to the West?”
A hint of confusion crossed Zhu Qizhen’s face, for the Grand Empress Dowager’s words struck directly at his ambitions.
What keen insight she possessed! She saw instantly the thoughts behind Zhu Qizhen’s expression and was inflamed with anger.
“Good, good, good! Have my words to you been nothing but empty wind?”
“The people suffer so, yet you still wish to mobilize armies, to seize barren lands in the desert. Have all the books of the sages I made you read gone to the dogs?”
The Grand Empress Dowager rose, enunciating each word: “Do you truly believe I cannot depose you?”
She was truly disappointed.
The Grand Empress Dowager, wife of Emperor Renzong, shared his political outlook. But Emperor Renzong and Emperor Taizong’s political philosophies clashed; otherwise, Taizong would not have made things so difficult for Renzong. Upon ascending the throne, Renzong did not change course, and abandoned many policies from the Yongle reign.
It was true—she did not object to Zhu Qizhen associating with military officers, or even mastering the art of war like Emperor Xuanzong, and leading campaigns in the future.
But she absolutely did not wish for another Yongle Emperor to emerge.
The same actions look very different in the eyes of different people.
Zhu Qizhen’s strategy might seem grand and ambitious to many, but to the Grand Empress Dowager, it was a tableau of misery: people exhausted by transport, rising in rebellion; soldiers dying on distant frontiers; the realm in turmoil, disasters unchecked, no one to offer relief.
The legacy of the ancestors, teetering in the storm.
Though modern historians rehabilitate Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han, those of old never thought them good emperors—Qin Shi Huang needs no explanation. And Emperor Wu, in the eyes of many ancient scholars, was not a good ruler. How did Sima Guang judge him? “He had the failings of Qin but escaped Qin’s doom.”
Yet, her threat to depose Zhu Qizhen was born of anger.
Deposing an emperor was never easy.
After all, Zhu Qizhen was now the lawful ruler of Ming. There was no Han dynasty precedent here; the empress dowager’s interference was already abnormal.
If she wished to depose him, she would stir up a great storm.
And whom would she place on the throne—Zhu Qiyu?
Zhu Qiyu was even less suited than Zhu Qizhen.
Zhu Qizhen, hearing her words, broke out in a cold sweat, soaking his back. He immediately said, “Your grandson admits his faults. But it is not that I do not understand the people, nor cherish their strength. Yet some things must be done.”
“My plan is indeed arrogant, and even mistaken. But my heart is only to secure the Nine Borders, so the people may live in peace and prosper.”
“‘Peace’ is a weighty word, heavier than a thousand catties. But to achieve it, is it possible without bloodshed?”
“If the steppe remains chaos, I could hold the frontier, foster internal strife. But now, the Oirat leader Toghon seems a hero, like Modun of the Xiongnu, Kebineng of the Xianbei, Ashina of the Turks, Temujin of the Mongols. He has unified the steppe for tens of thousands of li, with four hundred forty thousand households. The steppe is newly settled, and they lack strength to march south. But once their position stabilizes, can we hope they will not invade?”
“I too wish for peace, but the ancestral land cannot go undefended. Rather than fight along the Great Wall, bringing disaster to the people, it is better to battle in the vassal territories.”
“This is your grandson’s heartfelt wish, clear as the sun. I would never sacrifice the people’s lives for barren lands.”
Zhu Qizhen spoke sincerely.
Of course, he avoided certain issues—his grand ambitions, as the Grand Empress Dowager had observed.
Her expression softened somewhat, but she would not be swayed by his words. For now, she did not know how to deal with him.
Deposing him was out of the question.
Education would not help.
If he were an ordinary child of nine or ten, she might use severe punishment to correct him—but for the present Zhu Qizhen, it was useless.
She understood well that his mind was fully mature. To change his thinking would be too difficult.
It was easy to make him submit in words, but who knew if his heart followed.
She wondered to herself: how many days do I have left?
Once she was gone...
The world would be in Zhu Qizhen’s hands, and if he grew more extreme, who could restrain him?
Thus, it was neither too heavy nor too light, neither urgent nor slow, like a flawless jade with one blemish—too precious to break, impossible to repair.
It drove her to despair.
She said, “Stay here for now and reflect behind closed doors.”
The Grand Empress Dowager left the main hall of the Palace of Benevolent Tranquility. All doors and windows were shut.
For a time, silence reigned. Though it was not yet evening, the light grew dim. Zhu Qizhen’s mind was awash with thoughts.
“I was mistaken,” he reflected. “Between myself and Her Majesty, it is not a simple relationship of grandmother and grandson. When affection and power mix, everything changes.”
“I am emperor in this life—but is that fortunate, or not?”
His gaze wandered, and the slanting light entering the room seemed much like his own.