Sovereign and subject returned from the back courtyard to the main hall of the Imperial Study. Pei Shaohuai followed closely behind the Emperor — a few games of Go and a meal together had given him a somewhat deeper understanding of the man.

Inside the Imperial Study, the assembled ministers heard the eunuch announce the Emperor’s arrival and set down their brushes to receive him.

Pei Shaohuai read the room at once. The moment he stepped through the door, he slipped quietly back to his original position, making no sound and drawing no attention from the senior officials. These ministers had been poring over accounts all morning, their backs aching and heads swimming. If they caught sight of Pei Shaohuai strolling in without a care in the world, there was no telling how much resentment it would stir up.

On the various writing desks, some ledgers had been turned over in disarray; others remained neatly organized — the manner of each official showing through plainly.

The Emperor settled back onto the dragon throne and swept his gaze around the hall. “How is everyone’s progress?”

Silence. Every head bowed.

As before, the Emperor began calling on them one by one. “Ministry of Works — how many ships have been sent out from the Treasure Shipyard in the past ten years?”

Once again, Minister Zhou of the Ministry of Works was called on first.

The figure he had arrived at was one he could barely bring himself to announce. With bowed head, he replied, “Your Majesty, a total of seven thousand-liao large vessels, and thirteen medium vessels of five hundred to seven hundred liao.”

The Emperor already knew the numbers, but hearing them again, he could not suppress his indignation. He slapped his palm on the desk and thundered, “The Nanjing Treasure Shipyard hauls timber from every direction by canal — a massive undertaking — and produces no more than three to five thousand-liao vessels a year. Yet in ten years, seven have been given away.”

The Ministry of War had repeatedly lamented the shortage of warships for the coastal garrisons, and yet the court had been bestowing ships on foreign nations. What a bitter irony. At this rate of giving, no matter how many great ships were built, there would never be enough.

The Emperor suppressed his anger and asked, “How many bolts of silk and brocade does the Jiangnan Weaving Bureau produce, and what proportion of that has been given away?”

Minister Zhou replied, “Each year the various offices in Jiangnan weave more than thirty-five thousand bolts of silk and cloth. Last year, more than eighteen thousand bolts were bestowed upon the envoys of the four directions.”

More than half.

At last, the assembled officials understood why the Emperor had been in such a fury today. In ordinary times, one always thought of Da Qing as having fertile land stretching for a thousand li, rich and bountiful, and it seemed of no great consequence to gift the tribute-bearing foreign nations a little silk and silver. But when the numbers were carefully laid out, half the silk had been given away — leaving only seventeen thousand-odd bolts for Da Qing’s own use.

The Emperor demanded of those assembled, “With figures this large, why has no one ever raised this at court? Instead, petty trifles fill the halls of accusation.” Everyone had their attention fixed on factional infighting.

The ministers hung their heads in shame, unable to speak.

The Emperor continued calling on them. “Ministry of Personnel — read aloud from the third volume of the History of the Song, the Chuan Cheng – Chapter on maritime trade.”

It was now Pei Jue’s turn. He opened the history and read aloud: “…In the twenty-fifth year of the Shaoxing reign, the tax revenue from the Quanzhou Port Maritime Trade Office reached one million strings of cash…”

One string was one guan, roughly equivalent to one tael of silver.

And that was from Quanzhou alone in the Song dynasty — there had been other commercial ports as well.

When he finished, the Emperor asked, “How much did the Quanzhou Maritime Trade Office collect in ship taxes last year, converted to silver?”

Da Qing’s official merchants primarily registered to sail through the Quanzhou Maritime Trade Office, accounting for seventy percent of all official vessels sailing out to sea — yet the figure Pei Jue provided was: “Your Majesty, less than three hundred thousand taels.”

In the Song dynasty the figure had already exceeded one million strings; after Da Qing unified the realm, ship tax revenues had not grown but actually fallen — from over one million strings to less than three hundred thousand. Laid side by side, the contrast was enough to shake the ear.

The Emperor thought of what Pei Shaohuai had told him — that the old steward of Minister Zhang’s household had monopolized the purchasing contracts, setting prices himself, obscuring the truth, and lining his own pockets. Were these dominant official merchants not exactly like that cunning old steward? He wondered whether the ship taxes truly could not be collected, or whether they were flowing into someone else’s pockets.

“What accounts for such a great disparity?” the Emperor asked.

Although the Maritime Trade Office was established under the supervision of the Ministry of Personnel, it was directly administered by the Fujian Provincial Administration. The Ministry of Personnel had never seen a single benefit from it. Pei Jue was a sharp man — how could he fail to read what the Emperor meant? He replied, “Your servant will immediately select capable men to proceed to the Quanzhou Maritime Trade Office for inspection, and will report back to Your Majesty.”

“Ministry of Revenue — what is your view?” the Emperor asked.

The Minister of Revenue offered a number of insubstantial remarks — things like “official ships are sent out primarily to foster friendly relations, with trade as a secondary consideration,” and “official voyages take anywhere from three to eight months and are time-consuming with little profit.” Finally, perhaps hoping to say something pleasing to lift the Emperor’s mood, he said, “Da Qing is rich and its people prosperous — we can produce, sell, and supply ourselves. Da Qing’s goods are fine in quality and reasonable in price, so why spend silver buying foreign imports? Therefore, the people have little use for goods brought in from overseas, and over time, ship tax revenues have naturally declined… Your servant is of the view that this reflects Da Qing’s great strength, and Your Majesty ought to take pleasure in it.”

If he had stopped before those last remarks, he would have merely been ignorant. But having added them, he had revealed himself to be incompetent. He himself wore a tortoiseshell bracelet on his wrist, yet declared that the people had no use for foreign goods — was this not the same as asking why people did not eat minced meat?

His career at court had reached its end.

Grand Secretary Lou, seated nearby, wore an expression as dark as thunder.

The Emperor did not deal with the Minister of Revenue on the spot. He said only, “To hold the post of Minister of Revenue while being ignorant of tax systems, to occupy a high position while remaining indifferent to the hardships of the people — the Ministry of Revenue is in need of thorough reform.” Given this assessment, one feared the Emperor would show him no dignity of a minister when the “reform” came.

The Minister of Revenue broke into a cold sweat, swaying and nearly collapsing, barely managing to remain standing by leaning against the desk. He looked toward Grand Secretary Lou with a pleading gaze — only to see the Grand Secretary’s cold face turned firmly away.

Afterward, as the Emperor questioned each official in turn, the Ministry of Rites, the Court of Judicial Review, the Court of the Imperial Stud, and the Honglu Temple all gave substantive accounts.

Of all the nations’ dealings, tribute affairs involved the Ministry of Rites most deeply. Minister Xu therefore led off by acknowledging his ministry’s failure in its duties, then proceeded to list in detail the prices at which the Ministry of Rites had bought up goods from foreign nations in recent years as a backstop measure.

Over several years, bowl-stones had dropped from three hundred guan per jin to fifty guan; sappanwood had fallen from five hundred guan per jin to eighty guan… Though it still amounted to a losing deal, the Ministry of Rites had consistently worked to drive prices down, saving the court money wherever possible.

When Minister Xu had finished speaking, the Emperor recalled how Xu Zhiyi had on several occasions engaged in spirited debate with foreign envoys, upholding the dignity of the court. Facing such a minister, and despite the faults of both the Ministry of Rites and the Honglu Temple, how could the Emperor bring himself to impose a heavy penalty?

Lord Lu, reporting on the matter of overland transport of tribute goods, said, “When the envoys of the four directions come to pay tribute, it falls exactly in the spring farming season. To transport their tribute from the frontier passes to the capital, conscript labor is pressed into service everywhere. Large stones and heavy objects often require more than seven or eight men, while rare animals must be carefully fed and tended, often requiring more than ten men.”

It was, in the truest sense, a drain on the people and a waste of resources.

Lord Yang, together with the Ministry of Justice, reported, “When tributary nations’ envoys come to present tribute, it is not uncommon for the envoys and their attendants to bully and abuse ordinary people.” He cited several specific cases — for instance, an envoy on a parade through the streets, fancying himself a great dignitary of the court, who attempted to seize a commoner’s daughter by force.

When the Emperor had heard it all, every official in the hall had heard it as well. Case by case, every instance was laid out plainly — beyond dispute. Da Qing’s prestige already resounded to the four seas. Why should it pay to construct such an elaborate display?

“Such tribute as this is like sucking every drop of the people’s blood and sweat to nourish a swarm of parasites — it cannot be allowed to continue.” The Emperor said, “We are sovereign of a nation, and We know well that water can both carry a boat and overturn it. If the tributary nations stand beneath Da Qing, then they stand beneath its people as well. How can We lavish generosity upon outsiders while chilling the hearts of our own people?”

“In years of good harvest, one might overlook it. But if misfortune brings famine — if the people starve and riot, gnaw on bark and eat dirt, if the dead lie in the fields and families are torn apart — how could We bear to spend the national treasury feeding the comfort of foreign nations?” The Emperor spoke with deep sincerity.

This, at last, was his ultimate purpose today — to deliberate on revising the policy of tributary relations.

“Beloved Subject Pei — come and share your views,” the Emperor said.

It was only then that the assembled officials remembered there was still a seventh-rank junior censor in the Imperial Study.

The Emperor had carefully arranged this whole scene — compelling every official to understand the abuses of the tribute system, building the atmosphere to just the right pitch — before sending Pei Shaohuai forward. Pei Shaohuai walked from the very back to the very front and spoke: “Your servant believes that what brings the myriad nations to pay homage is Da Qing’s strength — not benevolent accommodation. And what brings the foreign vessels coming one after another is profit — not any genuine display of submission or goodwill.”

Strength and profit.

Without power, mere accommodation could never bring the foreign nations to bow their heads. The foreign nations came with tribute partly to collect what they could, but also because of Da Qing’s declaration of “no conquest of foreign peoples.”

“Profit to be had” was not limited to the court’s gifts and rewards — it included commerce, the buying and selling of goods, which constituted the larger part of the gain. Selling bronze, sulfur, spices, and sappanwood, then purchasing silk cloth, iron pots, tea, and porcelain from Da Qing — a single round trip yielded handsome returns.

As long as this trade remained available, even without the court’s gifts and rewards, the foreign nations’ vessels would still cross the seas and come in a steady, unbroken stream.

Pei Shaohuai said, “Your servant believes that fostering good relations through tribute is not a matter of gifts and rewards, but of buying and selling.”

The court had placed far too much emphasis on tribute exchanges — giving money, giving goods — and had somehow turned what should have been a profitable enterprise into a losing one.

Pei Shaohuai was confident that in many crafts and techniques, Da Qing far surpassed the foreign nations. If private trade were allowed to operate freely, Da Qing would only come out ahead.

The assembled officials could all see that the Emperor had already set his mind on revising the tribute policy, and so none raised further objections.

Only the Minister of Honglu Temple felt compelled to step forward and raise a difficulty: “Supervising Secretary Pei makes some valid points, and your servant concurs. However… however, this year’s tribute has already begun. Many envoys have already brought their tribute goods to the capital, and this year it may be too late…”

One could not, after all, accept the tribute and then refuse to give rewards in return.

The implication of the Honglu Temple Minister’s words was that perhaps it could wait another year, with this year continuing according to established precedent.

The Emperor was also somewhat at a loss. “What tribute goods have the various nations brought?”

“The Kingdom of Ava has sent a pair of green peacocks…”

The Honglu Temple Minister had barely finished his first sentence when the Emperor’s sigh cut him off.

“Sigh — why is it green peacocks again?” the Emperor said.

The Kingdom of Ava abounded in these birds, their plumage brilliant and their tail feathers dazzling. In the first few years when they were first presented as tribute, the consorts of the inner palace had been greatly taken with them, all competing to adopt the peacocks.

Once the Kingdom of Ava learned this, they sent peacocks as tribute year after year. But as the tributes piled up, the birds lost their novelty — there was no longer room in the inner palace to house so many peacocks, and besides their plumage, the creatures were little more than common ground birds. And the Emperor particularly disliked how peacocks refused to eat anything but the finest grain.

Hearing this, an idea surfaced in Pei Shaohuai’s mind. He said, “Your Majesty, your servant has a proposal.”

“Beloved Subject Pei, please speak,” the Emperor said with evident pleasure. Pei Shaohuai had never yet disappointed him.

“Since tribute has been offered, it is only proper to offer something in return,” Pei Shaohuai said. “Why not exchange treasure for treasure? For instance, the peacocks offered by the Kingdom of Ava — Your Majesty has seen them so many times they hold no novelty — yet to the Joseon Kingdom, they would be a rare and wondrous creature, never before seen, worthy of careful keeping and admiration.” Who knows, perhaps a peacock dance might even come of it.

Some officials had not yet caught on, but the Emperor had already understood Pei Shaohuai’s meaning — turn around and use the tribute goods received as gifts to send to other nations.

These were all “precious” tribute goods the nations had offered. To send them out as imperial gifts gave no one any grounds to question their worth.

The Emperor accepted Pei Shaohuai’s idea with a playful gleam in his eye, and at once issued his decree: “The Joseon Kingdom loves fine clothing, so the pair of peacocks from the Kingdom of Ava shall be bestowed upon Joseon… The Wokou vessels frequently suffer damage at sea, so the officers aboard ought to be well practiced in swimming — the champion divers sent as tribute by the Kingdom of Annam shall be bestowed upon the Wokou, so they may drill at water skills and, in future, when their ships break apart or are gone altogether, they can simply swim home…”

The Emperor went on at considerable length.

In this way, he disposed of the surplus tribute goods while dispensing with the need to spend silver or silk on rewards.