MLMD -Chapter 163 The Question of Rewards

Yue Yang’s battle report swept through the court and the country like a violent gust of wind. The imperial court, the common people, and every provincial office in Shanxi were all shaken by it.

The first reaction of the civil and military officials was that the report had to be fake—that Yue Yang must be falsely claiming military merit. The very next day, a flood of memorials from censors and remonstrators poured in, demanding that the Chongzhen Emperor severely punish Yue Yang for daring to fabricate his achievements.

Before the emperor even had time to respond, however, another piece of news arrived: Yue Yang had already dispatched a detachment to escort the severed heads of the defeated Tatars to the capital. At that, all the censors fell silent. Military merit could be faked, but Tatar heads could not—surely Yue Yang was not foolish enough to use the heads of innocent civilians to pass them off as enemy trophies.

Inside the Warm Fragrance Pavilion, where Chongzhen conducted his daily affairs, sat Grand Secretary Wen Tiren, Vice Grand Secretary and Minister of War Yang Sichang, Left Censor-in-Chief Zhang Yandeng, Vice Minister of War Chen Xinjia, and the Jinyiwei Commander Luo Yangxing, along with other senior civil and military officials.

On Chongzhen’s desk lay a stack of memorials nearly two inches thick, the yellow slips and seals glaringly conspicuous. In the sunlight, the emperor’s once fair face looked pale and worn. Though he was only in his twenties, deep lines already marked the corners of his eyes, and dark shadows lay in his eye sockets.

Yet his expression at this moment was complicated—there was excitement and relief, but also anger and disdain.

No one spoke inside the pavilion. Every official stared at the tips of his own boots, as though flowers might bloom from them.

Chongzhen gave a cold snort. “Minister Zhang, my desk is piled high with memorials from your Censorate. I’ve only read a few. The rest I intend to have you take back and read for yourself. What do you think?”

Zhang Yandeng immediately stepped forward and knelt. “Your Majesty, this minister is terrified. I failed to restrain my subordinates. I am guilty!”

“Guilty?” Chongzhen sneered. “What guilt do you have? The founding emperor established the censors and the Six Ministries precisely so you could find fault. And it seems you’ve been doing it with great enthusiasm—even to the point of slandering loyal subjects! Tell me, is there anything you wouldn’t dare do?”

When Chongzhen spoke the words ‘slandering loyal subjects’, Zhang Yandeng shuddered violently, his face turning even paler. Struggling to speak, he said, “Your Majesty, it is true that I failed in my supervisory duty, but we act in accordance with the ancestral laws. I am at fault—yet also not at fault.”

At the mention of the “ancestral laws,” a trace of helplessness crossed Chongzhen’s face.

Ming-dynasty censors and remonstrators possessed a special privilege personally granted by the founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang: fengwen zoushi—“reporting based on hearsay.” Under this system, one could lodge an accusation based purely on rumor, without evidence and without signing one’s name. Even if the accusation was wrong, the emperor was forbidden to punish the accuser.

It was an outrageous power. From the Hongwu era onward, Ming censors had been like men pumped full of stimulants, denouncing anyone and anything they disliked. If they were wrong, it didn’t matter—it was all “hearsay reporting.” Just like now: they could hurl accusations freely, and even if they hit the wrong target, there were no consequences.

Thinking of this, Chongzhen felt a surge of bitterness. He would dearly love to send Zhang Yandeng and all those gossip-mongering tea-house busybodies back to their hometowns to farm for a living, but for now he had to endure it. Their power had been granted by his ancestors. At most, he could replace them—but whoever replaced them would act exactly the same.

Taking a deep breath, Chongzhen turned his gaze to Vice Minister Chen Xinjia.

“Minister Chen, you are responsible for verifying enemy heads and confirming military merit. Tell me—how many heads did Yue Yang send, and are they genuine?”

Chen Xinjia hurried forward. “Your Majesty, this minister examined the heads yesterday by imperial order. A total of two thousand one hundred and twenty-seven were counted. All are genuine Tatar heads—there was no killing of innocents to falsify merit. This is a great joy for Your Majesty and for the Great Ming! Long live the Emperor! Long live! Long live forever!”

He even took the opportunity to flatter the emperor.

The others were inwardly disgusted by Chen’s sycophancy, but still they had no choice but to kneel and echo his words.

At last, a faint smile appeared on Chongzhen’s face.

The grandson of the Wanli Emperor and the younger brother of the Tianqi Emperor, Chongzhen had ascended the throne determined to save a crumbling empire and even to restore it to glory, dreaming of becoming a “reviving sovereign.” Unlike his grandfather and brother, who had neglected court affairs for years on end and left everything to eunuchs, he personally handled state business—but events did not always bend to a single man’s will.

This was already the seventh year of his reign, yet the realm remained in chaos. Since the second year of Chongzhen, the Later Jin had repeatedly breached the borders, killing, looting, and departing at will, while the Great Ming could do nothing. The humiliation weighed heavily on him.

This time, when the Jin army invaded, he had been ready to dismiss or even execute several officials to vent his anger. But amid the string of defeats, a single piece of good news appeared: that farmer who had produced a thousand catties of grain per mu had led his troops to a resounding victory.

A truly great victory.

By late Ming standards, the most important military merit was the taking of enemy heads. By regulation, one head earned forty taels of silver; three heads earned a promotion of one rank. Yue Yang’s forces had not taken a handful or a few dozen, but over two thousand.

Chongzhen was both delighted and worried. Delighted because the empire had won a great victory and regained some prestige; worried because rewarding two thousand heads would cost a fortune—without a hundred thousand taels, it could not be done.

Caught in this “happy dilemma,” Chongzhen fell into thought, forgetting that a group of officials were still kneeling before him.

At last the eunuch Wang Chengen stepped forward and whispered, “Your Majesty, the ministers are still kneeling.”

Startled back to reality, Chongzhen smiled apologetically and waved his hand.

“Ministers, rise!”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

After rising, all but Zhang Yandeng looked at the emperor expectantly. Chongzhen paused, then asked Yang Sichang:

“Minister Yang, what plan does the Ministry of War propose for rewarding these meritorious soldiers?”

Normally, military merit was verified by inspecting censors, then reviewed by the Ministry of War—a process that could take months. But for a victory of this scale, special measures were taken, and the ministry had already drafted a proposal.

Yang Sichang cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, we have discussed the matter. Lord Yue has performed great merit, taking countless enemy heads. Not to reward him would fail to encourage the army and fail to demonstrate the court’s fairness. However…”

He glanced at Chongzhen’s face, saw the emperor’s brows lift slightly, and hurried on.

“However, the state treasury is empty and the court is short of funds. Therefore, the Ministry proposes first issuing ten thousand taels of silver as a reward, with the remainder to be paid when the treasury has money again.”

This Yang Sichang truly understands my heart, Chongzhen thought with great satisfaction.

Outwardly, however, he merely nodded thoughtfully. “Yue Yang previously turned over one hundred thousand taels in salt tax and sixty thousand dan of grain. Now he has taken over two thousand enemy heads. He has rendered great service to the state. I am deeply pleased.”

His admiration was obvious now. “In principle, such a great victory cannot be rewarded too generously. But Minister Yang is right—we lack silver. So be it. The treasury shall issue ten thousand taels. I will also grant two thousand taels from my private funds to Lord Yue. In addition, he shall receive ten bolts of silk and six pairs of golden flowers.”

After thinking for a moment, Chongzhen felt this still too meager and added, “Furthermore, Yue Yang shall be promoted to General of Manifest Might. His principal wife shall be made a fifth-rank Yiren. He has two concubines—very well, they shall be granted the rank of seventh-rank Ruren. His grandmother shall also be ennobled as Lady of Bright Valor. That will suffice for now. What do you ministers think?”

The officials exchanged glances. Everyone could see how stingy this was—so many words, yet most of it cost not a single tael of silver. Still, Chongzhen was the emperor, and Yue Yang had been in the limelight far too much lately. Letting him cool off a little was no bad thing.

Finally, Chongzhen also remembered the newly appointed Governor-General of Xuan-Da, Lu Xiangsheng. Though Lu’s performance had not been impressive, he had only just taken office, so the emperor did not press him too harshly. He merely issued an edict ordering him to strengthen the defenses of the Xuan-Da region and never again allow the Tatars to raid the borders so easily.