Chapter Thirty-Seven: Requesting His Majesty to Reinstate the Mining Tax (Celebrating the Birth of the First Helm Master, "His Majesty Personally Handles State Affairs")

The day after Yang Lian received the imperial edict, he set off at once. Li Sancai resided in Tongzhou, scarcely half a day's journey from the capital; if riding swiftly, one could arrive in less than an hour. The party proceeded directly to Li Sancai’s manor in Tongzhou, which spanned more than thirty acres, encircled by a high wall. Li Sancai’s eldest son respectfully welcomed the imperial envoy at the gate and led Yang Lian and his companions inside. Passing through the main entrance, they found rows upon rows of lofty buildings. The columns of the galleries soared five or six fathoms high. Between clusters of houses lay either artificial hills or ponds, where lotus flowers blossomed upon the water and colorful carp swam in the shallow pools. Li Zhen could not help muttering, “This is even more splendid than the palace itself!”

Yang Lian heard this remark but pretended not to. In his heart, he mused that the accusation of Li Sancai employing imperial timber to build his private residence was evidently true. The manor consisted of nine courtyards, and at the seventh, Li Sancai himself stood before the gate. He clasped his hands to Yang Lian and said, “Master Wenru, you have traveled far; please come inside and rest for a while.” He ignored Li Zhen entirely.

Yang Lian responded courteously, “Thank you, Master Daofu. After you, please.” They entered together, and Li Zhen followed awkwardly, silent and subdued.

When their seats were arranged, Li Sancai began, “His Majesty has created this so-called Weekly Report, letting the people freely criticize and ridicule the ministers of the court. If this continues, loyal officials will be forced aside, while the wicked flourish. The upright spirit of the late emperor’s court will be no more—how lamentable!” He shook his head, his face full of sorrow. Standing behind Yang Lian, Li Zhen wished to contradict him but dared not.

Yang Lian remained silent. Li Sancai’s expression shifted as he continued, “It was only an idle article in the Weekly Report, yet His Majesty sent you, Master Wenru, to investigate in person. I have served for many years, and I cannot help but feel bitterly disappointed.”

Yang Lian thought, It was you who requested the emperor investigate you, yet now you feign disappointment—what is the meaning of this? Unable to remain silent, he replied, “His Majesty sent me at your request, Master Daofu, to ensure there is no misunderstanding and to clear your name. There are no ulterior motives. You need not take it amiss.”

Li Sancai’s expression softened at last. He respectfully offered tea, and after setting down his cup, said, “I have instructed the steward to move all the account books from past years into a single room, awaiting your inspection.”

Yang Lian replied, “Then I must trouble you, Master Daofu.” With a wave of his hand, Li Zhen led several seasoned clerks from the Ministry of Revenue outside, guided by Li Sancai’s eldest son. Li Sancai, though confident in the accounts, nevertheless found Yang Lian’s strict adherence to official protocol somewhat irksome.

Yang Lian, wishing to avoid suspicion, spent his days conversing with Li Sancai and refrained entirely from involving himself in the audit. Li Sancai, increasingly displeased, hinted twice that he should show more interest, but Yang Lian feigned ignorance, and so Li Sancai desisted. He penned a letter to the capital, venting his grievances about Yang Lian before the Donglin faction.

After five days, the audit was complete. Li Zhen drafted a memorial detailing the findings, which he first showed to Yang Lian. Yang Lian glanced over it and affixed his signature. Li Sancai, however, examined it carefully, glared fiercely at Li Zhen, then cast a resentful look at Yang Lian before signing his name.

The task complete, the group returned to the capital after bidding farewell to Li Sancai. On the following morning at court, Zhu Youxiao ordered the clerk to read the results aloud: “...There are three estates, each comprising thirty-five acres, twenty acres, and eighteen acres; in addition, there are thirty pawnshops, forty-five silver shops... The household holds a total of 1,238,735 taels of silver. Real estate and shops are valued at approximately 1,750,000 taels, ships at about 1,804,000 taels, making a grand total of roughly 4,792,735 taels.”

The ministers were astonished, awaiting further clarification: “All these assets were acquired by Minister Li through commercial dealings. Their origins are entirely legitimate; no evidence of bribery or corruption has been found.”

Silence fell. Some keen observers noted the phrase “no evidence has been found” rather than “none exists”—a subtle distinction with much implied.

Zhu Youxiao smiled and asked, “Minister Xu, what was the court’s annual revenue last year?”

Xu Guangqi stepped forward, “Reporting to Your Majesty, in the first year of Taichang, the annual revenue totaled 4,608,964 taels and five qian, three fen.”

Zhu Youxiao waved him back, then fell silent, his gaze sweeping across the ministers. The court was hushed, with heads bowed and eyes exchanged.

At last, someone broke the silence. Qi Shijiao, the Right Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, stepped forth. In history, this leader of the Qi faction had been forced to retire after his mentor Fang Congzhe was compelled to step down in the first year of Tianqi. But now, with Fang Congzhe still serving as Grand Secretary, Qi Shijiao remained at court and had even been promoted recently.

“Your Majesty, Minister Li’s household wealth exceeds the court’s annual revenue. I am ignorant, but I do not understand how a merchant could possess such riches. Such circumstances cannot bode well for the state.”

Wu Liangsi, Senior Grand Master of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, stepped forward, “Your Majesty, since merchants are so wealthy, I request the reinstatement of the mining tax.”

Like a stone hurled into a thousand waves, his words—long debated in private—now caused a sensation. With Wu Liangsi, a leader of the Chu faction, raising the issue in court, many were shaken.

Zuo Guangdou was the first to oppose, “Your Majesty, at the accession of the late emperor, the realm suffered under the mining tax. Out of benevolence, the tax was abolished, and the people rejoiced. Now, after less than a year, Your Majesty proposes to reverse the late emperor’s policy. I fear public opinion will be stirred, and Your Majesty’s reputation will suffer.”

Guan Yingzhen, Assistant Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, immediately stepped forward. His fate had also changed—he should have already resigned in history, yet now he thrived at court. “The late emperor abolished the mining tax upon his accession—was that not a change to Emperor Shenzong’s policy? If the mining tax is truly so harmful, why has Li Sancai amassed such wealth?” His dislike for Li Sancai led him to address him by name in open court.

The court had become a battleground. Since Zhu Youxiao had not allowed Fang Congzhe to retire, the Zhejiang, Qi, and Chu factions were not as weak as in history. Zhu Youxiao’s respect for Fang Congzhe, frequently seeking his counsel, further united the factions around him, forming a subtle opposition to the Donglin party. Fang Congzhe had already informed the three factions: the emperor intends to reinstate the mining tax, and regardless of personal views, all must support him this time and strike a heavy blow against Donglin.

Donglin members, mostly from the commercially vibrant Southern Direct Administration, were most vehement in their opposition to the mining tax. The three factions, however, mainly resented the mining tax officials’ methods and greed. Now, with their leader’s instructions to support the emperor in opposing Donglin, they threw themselves wholeheartedly into the fray.

Thus, a fierce battle erupted between the Donglin party and the three factions. Neither side yielded, contesting every point from historical precedent to current realities, from the shortage of funds for Liaodong to Li Sancai’s wealth, from the arrogance of mining tax officials to the plight of ruined commoners... The court was a boiling cauldron, though everyone remained restrained, and it did not devolve into a physical brawl.