Chapter Sixty-One: The Grand Empress Dowager Seeks Counsel

Chapter Sixty-One: The Grand Empress Dowager Seeks Advice

After leaving the Palace of Benevolent Peace, the Grand Empress Dowager hesitated for a moment before deciding to go to the Hall of Literary Brilliance.

The Hall of Literary Brilliance was not only the place where the emperor attended his lessons but also one of the principal halls where state affairs were managed. Most importantly, it stood close to the Imperial Secretariat.

Upon her arrival, she ordered the three Yangs to be summoned together. This was precisely why the Grand Empress Dowager did not choose the Wenyan Pavilion—raising such a matter there would make it a public affair. Her true intention was to resolve the issue privately, as quietly as water flowing past a stone.

Hu Ying was an old minister who had served under the Emperor Taizong, while Zhang Fu came from a family of noble merit. In the Grand Empress Dowager’s view, if she confided in them, she could not predict what they might think. Only Yang Shiqi, Yang Pu, and Yang Rong, all scholars from the Hanlin Academy and veteran officials, could be trusted to understand her concerns.

The Grand Empress Dowager was already quite familiar with the three Yangs, and even after Zhu Qizhen’s ascension, she often summoned them to audience.

Upon meeting them, she dispensed with pleasantries and told them the emperor’s thoughts. With a sigh, she said, “I am old and do not know when my time will come. The emperor is exceptionally intelligent, but I worry that his brilliance may turn into arrogance, leading him to act on his own and jeopardize the legacy of our ancestors. As a woman, I am at a loss as to how to guide him. You gentlemen are pillars of the state and have longstanding ties to my family. I ask you, please, advise me.”

The three Yangs immediately rose and bowed, saying, “We dare not presume.” Yang Shiqi, as their leader, sighed and said, “My own son is a scoundrel and should not be mentioned, but having served three reigns—Taizong, Renzong, and Xuanzong—I cannot keep silent. Grand Empress Dowager, I believe your worries are excessive.”

“Excessive?” she replied.

“My son, as you know, is a lost cause, and His Majesty has already far surpassed him. The emperor is young and unfamiliar with the hardships of the world; this is only natural. When I was young, did I not also harbor wild ambitions? Your deep love brings you to criticism.”

The Grand Empress Dowager felt a faint relief in her heart.

Sometimes, in her dealings with Zhu Qizhen, she forgot that he was only nine. Raised in the palace, surrounded by luxury, he was already well above the ordinary, and his words and actions betrayed none of the immaturity of a child.

Moreover, since the death of Xuanzong, the full weight of responsibility had fallen on her shoulders. Though she appeared calm and unruffled, in truth she bore great pressure, which she transferred to Zhu Qizhen.

Her sole aim was to raise a wise and enlightened ruler.

If Zhu Qizhen were dull, she would worry he might one day be deceived by eunuchs or ministers; if he were clever, she feared he would act willfully. No matter the circumstance, some doubt always lingered in her heart.

She knew, too, that she was pushing Zhu Qizhen very hard. He rose before dawn each day, his schedule packed with lessons, affairs of state, social etiquette, historical anecdotes, and palace matters, often working until the lamps were lit.

It could not be said he lacked diligence. The more the Grand Empress Dowager saw his efforts, the more she placed her hopes in him.

At first, she merely wished for him to be a competent ruler, but now she hoped he would become a benevolent emperor like Renzong—one who understood the people’s suffering and cherished his subjects as his own children.

At least, in her heart, Emperor Renzong was such a figure.

Now, she could not help but wonder if she had been too demanding.

Yang Rong said, “Congratulations, Grand Empress Dowager. The emperor’s words are wise indeed.”

“Oh? Why do you say so?” she asked.

Yang Rong replied, “In truth, if His Majesty had not brought it up, I intended to do so myself. The rise of the Oirat confederation bodes ill for the court.”

Yang Rong had won Xuanzong’s favor largely due to his expertise in military affairs. He carried in his mind the details of all the empire’s garrisons, passes, and terrain, and knew the backgrounds of most commanders as if reading from a book. He was, in short, a living repository of knowledge.

Thus, he was well aware of the changes the Oirats’ rise would bring. However, as a high minister, he understood the need to weigh priorities. The most pressing matter at present was not the Oirats, but the consolidation of imperial authority.

Though the Oirats were ascendant, their foundations were still shallow, and internal strife persisted; within a few years, it was unlikely they could threaten the northern frontier. Yang Rong intended to set aside the problem for the moment—not to ignore it, but to address it in due course.

The Grand Empress Dowager’s expression grew grave. “Is what the emperor says true?”

Herein lay her limitation. She had seen the devastation war could bring, but was not particularly sensitive to strategic matters. Perhaps it was a limitation of her gender; even the illustrious Wu Zetian suffered repeated defeats in foreign wars, her saving grace being the depth of the Tang dynasty’s resources.

So it was with the Grand Empress Dowager. In matters of statecraft, she was the equal of any emperor, but in military affairs, she was somewhat shortsighted, or perhaps too trusting of assumptions.

All she had seen in her life was how Emperor Taizong had relentlessly pressed the northern tribes, beating them back from the borders. Even if the Oirats united the steppe, what of it? She did not believe they would dare move south.

Yet, the same words carried different weight depending on who spoke them. When Zhu Qizhen spoke, she believed only half; but when they came from Yang Rong, she could not help but take them seriously.

“I would not presume to deceive Your Majesty,” Yang Rong declared. “So long as the Oirat leader aspires to great deeds, an invasion of the south is inevitable. There will be war between the court and the Oirats. Whether it will be large or small, I cannot yet say.”

As the most militarily astute of the civil ministers, Yang Rong’s strategic insights even surpassed those of some generals—after all, many Ming generals were brave fighters, capable of winning a battle or two, but not as skilled at interpreting the larger strategic picture.

The Grand Empress Dowager frowned. “Why did you not say this sooner?”

Yang Rong responded, “I discussed this with the late emperor. His intention was to prepare the army and lead a campaign in person. But Heaven did not grant him the years.”

She sighed. “Had my son lived, why would we fear the Oirats?”

Yang Rong said, “You need not be overly concerned, Your Majesty. I have a plan regarding the Oirats.”

“Speak,” she commanded.

“After defeating the Northern Yuan, Toghon crowned Togh Temur as Great Khan, but he himself claims the title of Prince of Huai and Grand Preceptor, holding all military and political power. With forty thousand Oirat households dominating the four hundred thousand of Mongolia, he relies on Togh Temur’s golden lineage for legitimacy, yet harbors ambitions of his own.”

“To stabilize the steppe, Toghon must use Togh Temur, but to seize power, he must destroy the golden family. Conflict is inevitable.”

“The court should send envoys to the steppe, conferring titles on both Togh Temur and Toghon, treating them equally. At the same time, we should open trade with Togh Temur, encouraging his ambitions.”

“When the balance of power tips, war will break out between them.”

“Thus, the alliance between the Oirats and Mongols will collapse, and the court can play them off against each other, leaving them too weak to threaten the south. Let us watch the tigers fight from the mountain.”

The Grand Empress Dowager, upon hearing this, praised him. “This is the counsel of a true statesman. What is your view, Master Dongli?”

Yang Shiqi said, “I believe we should prepare on two fronts: on one hand, foment internal strife among the Mongols; on the other, strengthen our defenses. Let us reward the soldiers and promote able commanders in Gansu, Datong, Xuanfu, and Liaodong, and repair the fortresses in readiness.”

“Even if the northern tribes harbor thoughts of invasion, they shall not cross the Great Wall.”

“Then I am at ease,” she said. “But how should I advise the emperor?”

The three exchanged glances. It is said that outsiders should not meddle in family matters. The Grand Empress Dowager was the emperor’s grandmother—no matter how she treated him, what could the emperor do? At worst, her trusted servants might bear the brunt.

But the three of them were different. If they said anything displeasing, what would become of them when the emperor came of age? Even now, though she seemed at a loss as to how to handle her grandson, if anyone dared criticize him, she might well vent her anger on them.

All three were shrewd men, and would never make such a blunder. This was a burning coal no one wished to touch.