“This isn’t from my personal interests. Master Huang, you’re also from Jiangxi—you would benefit from this too.”
Fang Xiaoru insisted on reform. “Throughout dynasties, there has only been the rule that officials from their native regions cannot return home to serve as local governors. Only our Great Ming prohibits officials from Jiangnan regions from serving in the Ministry of Personnel. Throughout dynasties, no matter where—within all lands under heaven, all king’s territory—everyone pays the same taxes. Only the Great Ming has heavy taxation in Jiangnan. This is unfair, and unfair things should be changed. Now is the perfect opportunity for change.”
From a logical standpoint, Fang Xiaoru’s reform proposals were faultless—they corrected chaos, eliminated discrimination, and were politically correct. But correct things aren’t necessarily right.
Huang Zicheng had the opposite view. “That’s right, I’m from Jiangxi. If taxes are reduced and restrictions on Jiangnan-origin officials in the Ministry of Personnel are removed, I would benefit and pay less tax. But Master Fang mustn’t forget—everyone has selfish interests. Currently, court officials mostly gained office through imperial examinations. Southerners have always excelled at exams, far outnumbering northerners. Most court officials are southerners. Only the Ministry of Personnel, due to Ancestral Emperor’s balancing strategy, consists entirely of northern officials—a unique exception. Now inserting southern officials, wouldn’t this artificially create conflicts, making officials argue with each other and alienating northern officials from the Emperor? Master Fang, forcing people to spit out what they’ve already swallowed—who would be willing?”
“Confucius said: ‘Do not worry about scarcity but about inequality; do not worry about poverty but about instability.’ Jiangnan has fertile land and wealthy people—they can afford high field taxes and have paid them for thirty-five years. The combined taxes from the north, southwest, and northwest don’t equal those from Jiangnan alone. Nominally, we’re only reducing unfair Jiangnan field taxes, but actually this will reduce national tax revenue by at least one-fifth. We’re at war now—who will make up this shortfall? Armies need provisions, officials need salaries—all depend on tax revenue. So the Ministry of Personnel will inevitably use nationwide new taxes to compensate for reduced Jiangnan heavy taxation. Meaning Jiangnan’s shortfall will be made up by people in other regions—this is disguised tax increase. Isn’t this forcing people in three regions to join the rebel Prince Yan’s camp?”
To put it simply, it’s like a family with four sons where the eldest, Jiangnan, is richest and contributes most to household expenses, while the other three poor sons contribute less. Suddenly the parents say the eldest is too wronged—from now on, you and your three poor brothers should all contribute the same amount monthly.
Originally this was a good thing, making previous unfairness fair. But worldly matters can’t be explained through simple addition and subtraction.
With reduced household contributions but no decline in family living standards, to maintain original quality of life, parents must fairly distribute household expenses among all four sons.
The eldest is naturally happy—he couldn’t ask for more, as he’ll ultimately pay less. But the three poor brothers were already poor, and after paying more they’ll be poorer still. Previously they were poor with peace of mind—after all, Elder Brother Jiangnan was blessed with the richest land—but now their poverty breeds resentment, blaming parents for favoritism and not treating poor sons as sons.
Are the parents showing favoritism? No. What parents do is supremely fair and correct, but from human nature, emotion, and practical perspectives, parents’ absolute fairness is a form of disguised favoritism. The three poor sons will inevitably become estranged from their parents.
Huang Zicheng spoke passionately with spittle flying, every sentence reasonable. Emperor Jianwen listened carefully, nodding frequently.
But Fang Xiaoru remained composed, striving to pull Emperor Jianwen toward his idea: “Reform can never satisfy everyone’s interests comprehensively. As long as it satisfies most people’s interests, it’s correct reform. Precisely because most court officials come from Jiangnan, I propose removing the Ministry of Personnel’s barrier against Jiangnan-origin officials—this way we can gain most officials’ support.”
“Also regarding reducing Jiangnan heavy taxation, mainly the field taxes nearly three times higher than other regions—Jiangnan is a heavily taxed region, but field taxes aren’t the main component. Supported by commercial and salt taxes, slight adjustments won’t be as exaggerated as Master Huang suggests, immediately requiring other regions to increase taxes to compensate for Jiangnan field tax shortfalls. Moreover, Yunnan is now stable, with new immigrants settling and prospering there, clearing farmland—annual tax totals keep increasing. Master Huang, we should be optimistic and view problems with a developmental perspective!”
“Furthermore, the capital is in Jiangnan. If the Emperor reduces Jiangnan taxes, he’ll certainly win Jiangnan people’s support. For the Emperor to establish authority and win popular support, this has immediate results…”
After hearing this, Huang Zicheng angrily stamped his feet. “Before the imperial examination system, officials were selected through recommending the filially pious and honest or noble hereditary succession. The saying went ‘no poor scholars in high ranks, no nobles in low ranks’—strict hierarchy where poor families’ children wanting office was harder than reaching heaven. They needed to curry favor with nobles for recommendation. Noble children were born officials. When imperial examinations for selecting officials were implemented, didn’t this also harm most officials’ interests? Why did Sui and Tang dynasties risk political turmoil to forcibly implement imperial examination selection? Wasn’t it to break noble monopoly so the capable could occupy positions?”
“Master Fang only considers southern officials’ futures, the so-called ‘satisfying most officials’ interests’—isn’t this the same as officials who protected noble hereditary succession back then? Southern and northern people are all Great Ming subjects with equal opportunity for office. Don’t harbor prejudices about family background and household registration. The Northern and Southern Rankings Case of Hongwu’s thirtieth year—the new top scholar suffered dismemberment! This was only three years ago—has Master Fang already forgotten?”
In Hongwu’s thirtieth year, after two rounds of metropolitan and palace examinations, all fifty-one successful candidates were southerners—not a single northerner.
Northern candidates who participated felt wronged and caused uproar in the capital, calling the honor roll the “Southern Rankings.” They claimed examiners showed favoritism and mistreated northerners. Throughout dynasties’ imperial examinations, how could only southerners succeed?
Never mind other provinces—even Shandong, historically a major producer of northern civil servants and Confucius’s homeland, had no one succeed. This was unscientific.
At that time, Ancestral Emperor had less than a year to live. Suspicious in his old age, he greatly doubted these results, feeling these examiners were inadequate and deliberately promoted southerners while suppressing northerners. This harmed national political stability. Long-term, with officials protecting each other and regional cliques forming mutual support groups while talented individuals remained frustrated, it would inevitably cause political crisis.
Ancestral Emperor saw the examiner list—all southerners—increasing his suspicions. But examination results were already announced and couldn’t be retaken. Imperial examinations weren’t child’s play, or court authority would be destroyed.
So Ancestral Emperor ordered this examination’s Top Scholar Chen and other new scholars, plus several Hanlin Academy academicians, to form a second marking group. From failed candidates’ papers, each person selected ten for re-admission to appease northern candidates’ resentment and settle disputes.
However, Ancestral Emperor still underestimated how shameless scholars could be—even after remarking and supplementary admission, the new scholars were still all southerners, not a single northern candidate!
Now not only northern candidates were angry, but the court’s few northern-origin officials all submitted memorials questioning supplementary results, accusing southerners of sectarian prejudice and gang exclusion of northerners. The court belonged to the Emperor, not to southerners.
As mentioned earlier, Ancestral Emperor only allowed northern officials to serve in the Ministry of Personnel—the court’s money bag. Everything cost money, and without Ministry funding, nothing could be accomplished. So while northern officials were few overall, their influence wasn’t small. Never underestimate those controlling finances.
Contradictions not only didn’t settle but grew worse, even causing official division and hostility.
Ancestral Emperor was furious and ordered Top Scholar Chen and others to bring northern candidates’ papers for his imperial review—he wanted to see if northern candidates were really so poor they couldn’t even qualify for supplementary admission.
Top Scholar Chen had only been top scholar for twenty-some days. Like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers, he decided since he’d done it, he’d go all the way down this path. After all, he was the Emperor’s personally appointed top scholar, famous throughout the realm—what could happen to him?
So Top Scholar Chen went down the road of seeking death with no return, deliberately selecting several poor-quality northern papers to present for Ancestral Emperor’s imperial review…
Though Ancestral Emperor was an illiterate Fengyang farmer by origin, after thirty years as emperor, couldn’t he understand examination papers?
You’re not only challenging my imperial authority but insulting my intelligence!
Ancestral Emperor had nearly slaughtered all founding officials—would he fear killing one top scholar? Top Scholar Chen was guilty of deceiving the sovereign and was torn apart by carriages. Others were executed or exiled—swift and decisive resolution.
Not only that, Ancestral Emperor cancelled this examination’s results and reopened testing, personally serving as chief examiner and establishing a new scholar list. All fifty-one new scholars were northerners—not a single southern candidate—historically called the Southern Rankings.
With Top Scholar Chen dismembered, southern officials and candidates dared not protest further. From then on, Ancestral Emperor ordered imperial examinations divided into northern and southern papers with regional quotas ensuring relatively fair ranking allocations, preventing another Northern-Southern Rankings Case.
Huang Zicheng came from being third-place scholar, properly rising through imperial examinations. He deeply understood examinations’ importance to scholars. Though southern, he supported Ancestral Emperor’s methods ensuring examination relative fairness—national civil servants from all regions benefited national stability.
Precisely because of Huang Zicheng’s enlightened performance, Emperor Hongwu designated him as testamentary minister. Fang Xiaoru never took imperial examinations—being Song Lian’s student, he was typically “recommended for filial piety and honesty,” so he lacked Huang Zicheng’s sensitivity to southern-northern official conflicts.
Fang Xiaoru said, “Everyone knows the Northern-Southern Rankings Case—this was the result of long-term power control leading to complacency and disregard for fairness! So now examinations are divided into northern-southern papers to ensure fairness. Otherwise, southerners only protecting southerners and northerners only protecting northerners—with the Ministry of Personnel monopolized by northern officials—will eventually produce a second ‘Northern-Southern Rankings Case,’ harmful to the nation. Reform is needed, eliminating Ministry of Personnel household registration barriers and fairly treating officials from northern and southern regions.”
Fang Xiaoru engaged in concept substitution, borrowing force to deflect force, using four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, leaving Huang Zicheng tongue-tied.
Essentially, tax reduction and eliminating Ministry of Personnel household registration barriers were both proposals appearing absolutely fair and correct but actually unfair and unreasonable—having similarities to politically correct liberal progressives of modern society five hundred years later.
They appeared quite correct but deliberately ignored human nature’s selfish and evil aspects, being impractical. However, in debate, political correctness always held advantage, so orthodox imperial examination third-place scholar Huang Zicheng couldn’t out-argue public intellectual celebrity Fang Xiaoru.
Emperor Jianwen ultimately chose to listen to Fang Xiaoru’s apparently very correct suggestions—reducing Jiangnan heavy taxation and eliminating the old rule that only northern officials could control the Ministry of Personnel.
Huang Zicheng became disheartened and grew even more silent afterward.
Emperor Jianwen worked through the night drafting reform edicts. Regarding taxation: “Equalize Jiangnan field taxes” and “Each mu pays no more than one dou in taxes.”
Regarding Ministry of Personnel personnel reform, Emperor Jianwen said he would “rather bend national law than bear to let law harm the people,” meaning he’d rather violate ancestral institutions established by Ancestral Emperor than continue making the same mistakes.
With edicts issued, Emperor Jianwen was confident, preparing to welcome cheers from people above and officials below.
Emperor Jianwen never anticipated that precisely because of his hasty reforms harming too many people’s interests, he would later dig his own grave and hand over his realm.
Now, after the national mourning, Emperor Jianwen actively promoted new policies, almost forgetting food and sleep. In the rear palace, Empress Ma used caring for the frightened Crown Prince as excuse and rarely found opportunities to talk with Emperor Jianwen.
Busy with affairs, Emperor Jianwen overlooked his wife’s changes, only sending daily inquiries about Empress Ma’s health and fetal movement. Empress Ma’s responses were always two words: “Very well.”
At midnight, autumn wind and rain brought melancholy.
East-West Long Street remained brightly lit. Bell sounds rang out—each chime accompanied by “All Under Heaven Is Peaceful.”
This was the rear palace bell-carrying punishment, ringing once each hour until dawn.
Tonight, the punished palace person held special status—fifth-rank Palace Director of the Palace Administration Bureau, Hu Shanwei.
Assassins appeared at the Mid-Autumn family banquet, with the Empress Dowager and Prince Heng assassinated. Palace Director Hu bore responsibility for oversight failure. According to palace rules, she should at least be dismissed and expelled from court. But Emperor Jianwen pardoned her crime, only fining half a year’s salary and three nights of bell-carrying, requiring Palace Director Hu to atone through merit.
When Empress Xiaoci faced assassination by the silkworm mother during the personal silkworm ceremony, Palace Director Cao, Palace Etiquette Official Cui, and Palace Merit Official Song all received bell-carrying punishment.
Bell-carrying couldn’t use umbrellas, so Hu Shanwei wore a bamboo hat and waterproof straw cape. Weighed down by rain gear, movement became even more difficult.
Hu Shanwei walked her predecessors’ path, ringing the bell each time and saying “All Under Heaven Is Peaceful.”
Without personal experience, one could hardly appreciate bell-carrying’s suffering. Hu Shanwei wasn’t in her strong twenties anymore—by midnight, she felt nearly too exhausted to continue, her body swaying unsteadily.
Seeing no one around, Hu Shanwei quickly took tiger-eye silk candy that Chen Er’mei had prepared, hidden in her straw cape, into her mouth. The sweetness restored some energy, but being too cloying made her throat uncomfortable while still needing to shout “All Under Heaven Is Peaceful”—truly unpleasant.
Thirsty, Hu Shanwei simply tilted her head back, using her mouth to catch rainwater for relief.
“Palace Director Hu.”
Haitang, Empress Ma’s personal attendant, approached holding an umbrella. “Her Majesty the Empress requests Palace Director Hu come speak.”
Hu Shanwei was startled. “So late and the Empress hasn’t slept? Is she about to give birth?”
Haitang shook her head. “Her Majesty says the weather turned cold with rain, worrying Palace Director Hu can’t endure bell-carrying punishment. She wants me to find an excuse for Palace Director Hu to rest, exempting the second half of night bell-carrying.”
Warmth filled Hu Shanwei’s heart, but she said, “Due to my oversight failure causing the Chrysanthemum Terrace tragedy, the current punishment already shows the Emperor’s mercy. How can rules be abandoned for my sake? Return and thank Her Majesty the Empress for her concern.”
Haitang helplessly returned to report. When Hu Shanwei reached her second round of bell-carrying, Empress Ma actually came personally, supporting her large belly!
About to give birth, Empress Ma’s eyes remained gentle and clear with the simple kindness characteristic of refined ladies, though now her gaze held traces of light sorrow that inevitably inspired pity.
Empress Ma said, “If the Emperor’s sacred edict is effective, isn’t this palace’s gracious edict effective too? This palace is the rear palace’s female master. This palace pardons your crime and has ordered the Palace Regulation Bureau to exempt your bell-carrying punishment. You may return to rest now.”
With Empress Ma coming despite her pregnancy, braving autumn wind and rain—pregnant women took priority—Hu Shanwei quickly said, “Yes, this guilty subject accepts the edict.”
Empress Ma leaned close and whispered to Hu Shanwei, “The Chrysanthemum Terrace matter… Palace Director Hu knew beforehand, didn’t you? Only this palace was kept in the dark, used by the Emperor as a prop to perform on the Chrysanthemum Terrace. Haha, in the entire Forbidden City, this palace is the most foolish and naive. However, from now on, this palace won’t foolishly let herself and the child in her belly fall into danger again.”
After speaking, Empress Ma departed with Haitang’s support, leaving Hu Shanwei dumbstruck.
Watching Empress Ma’s lonely yet strong retreating figure gradually overlap with a long-absent empress: Empress Ma had finally become Empress Ma.