The Emperor’s furious questioning caused the Minister of Honglu Temple to kneel in terror — he could never have imagined that a routine reading of the envoys’ roster would escalate into such a scene.
“Answer me,” the Emperor said.
The Minister of Honglu Temple replied, “Your Majesty, when the Wokou envoys arrived at Quanzhou Harbor, the sea vessel was indeed damaged.” He dared only to answer truthfully, not daring to mention the matter of repairing or gifting ships, and even less daring to say a single kind word on behalf of the Wokou envoys.
The moment a tribute ship entered Quanzhou Harbor and immediately suffered damage — this was a well-worn trick of the Wokou. On the way here, they would deliberately choose old, decrepit vessels on the verge of falling apart, and once in port, they would strike the hull from inside the hold with mallets, making the damage too severe to repair.
Risking sinking along with the ship, all for the sake of petitioning the court to bestow a new vessel to carry them home. Once back in their country, they would keep the gifted ship, and the following year set out again in the same old, worn-out boat.
Da Qing’s shipbuilding techniques were exceptional — fine timber, stable on the seas. A thousand-liao vessel was worth several thousand taels of silver and could carry hundreds of men. Naturally, the various foreign nations coveted them greatly.
Even as the Emperor seethed with anger, his mind was muttering to himself — was this not the same as the scoundrel grandson who, after receiving fine food and drink, still expected Minister Zhang to throw in a carriage on top?
When Wokou envoys came to court for an audience, they always spoke beautifully — things like, “We will absolutely rein in our people so they do not take to the seas for piracy,” and “Under Da Qing’s generous rewards, Wokou people are well-fed and well-clothed, so naturally none will take to the seas to harass passing ships”… And yet, the Wokou pirates who had spent these past years burning, killing, and plundering on the seas with utter impunity had grown ever more brazen, with not the slightest sign of letting up.
It was feared that the Wokou nation itself was the greatest pirate chieftain of all. Dressed in the robes of subjects they were envoys; don a suit of armor and they became brigands — men of divided hearts.
Gifting them ships would only embolden them to rampage even more freely at sea, would it not?
A scoundrel grandson is a scoundrel grandson. They make a special point of ambushing the Ministry’s grain shipments on the road — greed is a hunger that can never be satiated.
In the past, the Emperor had always felt that losing a little money was of no great consequence. Now, thinking of how every year the various foreign nations swindled and cheated the court, with untold amounts of silver and copper expended year after year, he was so furious he could not find words.
With the Son of Heaven in a towering rage, not only was the Minister of Honglu Temple trembling with fear — every civil and military official in the hall trembled as well, and was filled with bewilderment. In past years, when the myriad nations came to pay tribute, Da Qing had been glorious and magnificent, and the Emperor had always been in high spirits. Why, this year, before the tributes had even begun, had the Emperor flown into a rage at court?
It was as if he had flown into a rage over some perfectly ordinary, trivial matter.
Many officials had intended to report important matters to the Emperor at today’s morning court session, but now, one by one, they fell silent. Today was not a good day — no one dared to court bad luck.
The Emperor asked, “Are there any other matters to report?” After a few moments, he said, “If not, court is dismissed.”
Yet no one below dared to move. The more experienced officials all knew that the reigning Emperor was an even-tempered man who never flew into a great rage at morning court — but this in no way prevented him from erupting in the Imperial Study afterward.
Sure enough, the Emperor had someone announce: “His Majesty’s edict: summon the five Grand Secretaries, six Ministers, and the heads of the Nine Courts to the Qianqing Palace to discuss matters.”
Every single one of them had been summoned.
The Deputy Minister of War stepped forward with a troubled expression and reported, “Your Majesty, Minister Zhang… has taken leave.”
As a general rule, when the Minister was absent, the Deputy Minister presided.
The Emperor thought for a moment, then said, “Then let the Supervising Secretary Pei come along as well.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the assembled officials. The Six Ministries, Nine Courts, and five Grand Secretaries — plus one seventh-rank Supervising Secretary? This could only mean that today’s matter was closely tied to Supervising Secretary Pei.
Furthermore, this Supervising Secretary Pei was only twenty years old and in his third year of serving at court.
The summoned officials walked out of the great hall and proceeded in the direction of the Qianqing Palace. Pei Shaohuai, of his own accord, fell in at the very end of the procession.
Wearing his seventh-rank official robes among a crowd of high-ranking officials, he was like a single point of green amid a sea of crimson — the most conspicuous figure of all.
Anyone who looked would notice him first.
Lord Yang deliberately slowed his steps, gradually falling back until he was walking beside his son-in-law, and asked quietly, “You haven’t witnessed His Majesty lose his temper in the Imperial Study before, have you?”
Pei Shaohuai answered, “I have not.”
Lord Yang seemed to speak from considerable experience, and cautioned him in a low voice, “It may be somewhat different from what you have seen of His Majesty on ordinary days. Just listen quietly, and only speak when the Emperor asks you a question.”
“I understand.”
Entering the Imperial Study, the officials lined up in two rows on either side, leaving the center of the main hall open. Two eunuchs carried in more than ten sets of tables and chairs, arranging them in a line down the middle of the hall, and set out brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones on each one.
With his father-in-law’s forewarning, Pei Shaohuai thought to himself — was the Emperor going to have them handle official business right here, in his presence?
He glanced at the assembled officials, men who ordinarily commanded great power and authority, yet each wore a solemn, heavy expression. Evidently, this was not the first time they had been through something like this.
The Emperor reclined against the dragon throne, lacking his usual dignified bearing, yet his authority was undiminished — indeed, it seemed to have grown. Gone was the habitual “my dear ministers” with which he usually addressed them. He opened his mouth and said, “Ministry of Works.”
Just those two words.
Minister Zhou of the Ministry of Works gave a start, his face draining of color — clearly, he had not expected to be called on first. Minister Zhou shuffled sheepishly to the first table and stood before it, whereupon a eunuch brought three thick, yellowed ledgers and placed them on his table.
The ledgers bore headings such as “Nanjing Treasure Shipyard” and “Jiangnan Weaving Bureau” in large characters.
The Emperor spoke again: “Ministry of Personnel.”
Pei Jue paced to the second table, considerably calmer than Minister Zhou. A eunuch brought him a ledger as well, its cover bearing the words “Quanzhou Maritime Trade Office,” along with a copy of the History of the Song Dynasty.
Tribute affairs were closely bound up with matters of rites, so the Ministry of Rites could hardly escape. The Emperor said, “Ministry of Rites.”
Minister Xu of the Ministry of Rites took his place at the third table. The ledgers on his table were thicker than the combined stack of those before him. Pei Shaohuai had once consulted him regarding tribute matters, and Minister Xu had done his homework in recent days — he had some confidence in what lay ahead.
“Court of the Imperial Stud.”
Lord Lu stepped forward.
Of the first four men called, three — all except the Ministry of Rites — seemed to have roles not obviously related to tribute affairs, yet they had been summoned first.
The Emperor then called upon the remaining officials, some receiving individual assignments and others designated to assist a particular minister. When he was done, only the five Grand Secretaries and Pei Shaohuai remained.
“Have seats brought for the five Grand Secretaries,” the Emperor ordered.
The five Grand Secretaries were not required to do any direct work, but they would sit and observe the proceedings throughout.
Just as Pei Shaohuai had guessed from the beginning — the Emperor was going to have the heads of the Six Ministries and Nine Courts conduct official business right here in the Imperial Study.
The Emperor said, “Since these are matters you have not handled properly in your ordinary duties, you shall make it up to me here today.”
Then he began assigning tasks: “The Ministry of Works shall calculate carefully how many sea vessels We have bestowed upon the Wokou, and how much silk has been gifted over the years, accounting for what proportion of the Jiangnan Weaving Bureau’s annual output this represents.”
“The Quanzhou Maritime Trade Office was established under the supervision of the Ministry of Personnel. You shall likewise calculate carefully how many official ships have been sent out to trade over the past ten years, how much in ship taxes has been collected, and how this compares to the figures from the Song dynasty.”
“The Ministry of Rites and the Honglu Temple shall calculate for Us how much silver Siam exchanged for bowl-stones, how many times the Ava Kingdom sent blue peacocks, and the unsharpened Wokou swords… In short, list out every one of those worthless trinkets for Us.”
“The Court of the Imperial Stud oversees all land transport throughout the realm. Calculate carefully for Us how much labor of the common people is required to transport the tribute goods from the frontier passes to the capital.”
“…”
Even Lord Yang of the Court of Judicial Review was assigned the task of tallying every offense committed by foreign envoys during their time in Da Qing.
With every item the Emperor named, his fury was plain to hear — every task that had been neglected in ordinary times now had to be accounted for.
Then the eunuchs began bringing in all manner of teas and refreshments, arranging them along both sides of the main hall for officials to take at any time.
Judging by the scale of all this, even arriving at rough estimates would not be finished in several hours.
“Begin,” the Emperor said, with a certain casualness. The very fact that he was able to assign these tasks meant that after hearing Pei Shaohuai’s words, he had already had people look into these accounts and run the numbers. Having the six ministries and nine courts do it again was merely punishment.
At once, the rustling of turning pages filled the hall — it was as though one had been transported back to the imperial examinations, racing against the clock to put brush to paper in frantic strokes. The only difference was that the young scholars in blue robes had been replaced by senior officials in crimson, their hair all white.
The Emperor had quite a distinctive way of expressing his displeasure.
In the end, only Pei Shaohuai remained standing, a single junior official in blue robes, awaiting the Emperor’s command.
The Emperor rose from his throne and began walking toward the back courtyard of the Imperial Study, beckoning to Pei Shaohuai as he went: “Beloved Subject Pei, walk with Us.”
That was the only “Beloved Subject” spoken in the Imperial Study that day. All the others had been addressed simply as “Ministry of Works,” “Ministry of Personnel”…
Pei Shaohuai straightened his robes, lifted the hem of his gown slightly, and followed at an unhurried pace, uncertain of the Emperor’s purpose.
The two of them — sovereign and subject — came to a stone pavilion in the back courtyard. The stone table was carved with a grid for the game of Go.
“Beloved Subject Pei, be seated.”
Pei Shaohuai was a little taken aback, and hesitated awkwardly before sitting down — in truth, he was reluctant to reveal his poor skill at Go before the Emperor.
“This is an imperial command,” the Emperor added.
“Your servant obeys.”
“There is no one else here — you may be at ease with Us, no need for formality.” The Emperor’s voice was relaxed; much of the morning’s fury had subsided. He picked up the container of white stones and said, “Keep Us company for a few games.”
Pei Shaohuai had no choice but to comply. He thought to himself that being a poor player was actually not so bad — at least he would not need to deliberately throw the game and pretend to lose. He felt that with his level of skill, playing genuinely, there was absolutely no chance he would beat the Emperor.
And so he placed every stone with complete seriousness.
But as the game progressed, with white and black stones filling half the board, Pei Shaohuai suddenly realized — this game was remarkably evenly matched. White and black were locked in a fierce, grinding contest.
Did this not mean that the Emperor’s skill was roughly on par with his own…?
In other words, the Emperor was poor at Go, yet deeply addicted to it…
In the end, the Emperor proved just slightly the better player, winning over Pei Shaohuai by a narrow margin. He exclaimed, “Thoroughly satisfying!”
“I can see that Beloved Subject Pei is perhaps not especially skilled at Go?” the Emperor asked.
This was not unusual — not every scholar devoted himself to studying the game.
The Emperor’s words put Pei Shaohuai in an awkward position. If he admitted it, would that not be implicitly suggesting that the Emperor was poor at it as well?
The Emperor read the answer from Pei Shaohuai’s expression and said cheerfully, “Being poor at Go is a fine thing! We enjoy playing precisely with someone like you. You must accompany Us often in the future.” When the Emperor played against the Grand Secretaries, he always felt that they were holding back to let him win.
Pei Shaohuai was both amused and exasperated. “Your servant obeys.”
He thought of all those high-ranking officials inside the Imperial Study, writing furiously, while the Emperor sat here playing Go — and felt more than ever that the Emperor was an unfathomable figure.
Beyond his reckoning.
After several more games, the head eunuch Xiao came forward and said, “Your Majesty, it is time for the midday meal. Shall the meal be served?”
The Emperor turned to Pei Shaohuai. “Beloved Subject Pei, what dishes do you enjoy in ordinary times?”
Pei Shaohuai was taken aback a second time.
First companion for Go, now companion for the meal.
Head Eunuch Xiao came to his aid: “Your Majesty, the imperial kitchen has prepared several new dishes. Perhaps today would be a good opportunity to try something different?”
“Very well.”
This neatly resolved Pei Shaohuai’s predicament. He glanced toward Head Eunuch Xiao with a look of gratitude.
Inside the Imperial Study, the officials were too occupied to manage more than a few bites of the refreshments on offer.
After the midday meal, the Emperor gauged the hour and murmured, “They should be about done by now.”
It was time to go in and see the results.