MLMD -Chapter 354 Blocking Every Path

Zhu Yuanzhang, who had once been a monk and begged for food, was a very interesting figure. After ascending the throne, he came up with one of the most “interesting” institutions of all—the military household system.

Strictly speaking, the military household system was not originally invented by Old Zhu himself. It first appeared during the Eastern Jin and the Northern and Southern Dynasties, though it was still quite crude back then. The system was truly developed and expanded during the Yuan and Ming dynasties.

Zhu Yuanzhang was born under the Yuan dynasty and was very familiar with its military household system. He believed that the reason the Yuan system collapsed was that the rulers exploited military households far too harshly. Yuan soldiers were often dispatched to distant regions, and the cost of equipment and daily expenses was enormous. Military households were frequently forced to sell off their family property due to the heavy burden. Moreover, officers at all levels and Ordo officials extorted soldiers and their families under various pretexts, pushing military households into bankruptcy and flight. This, he believed, was the real reason for the demise of the Yuan military household system.

After the founding of the Ming dynasty, Old Zhu believed that the Great Ming he had established would certainly be far cleaner than the Yuan, and that all the officials under him would be incorruptible—otherwise, the executioner’s blade would await them. Thus, Zhu Yuanzhang restored the military household system, and did so even more thoroughly than the Yuan. Not only did he reinstate military households, he also historically created a whole range of household categories: “military households,” “civilian households,” “yin-yang households,” “entertainer households,” “merchant households,” and so on. Compared to the household registration systems of previous dynasties, this invention was far more detailed and far more severe. Old Zhu believed that sons inheriting their fathers’ occupations was an excellent system. For example, if your father was the emperor, you were naturally born to be emperor; if your father was a fisherman, then his son should naturally fish as well. Passed down generation after generation, this would supposedly create eternal peace.

What Old Zhu forgot, however, was that nothing in this world remains unchanged forever—human nature and institutions included. His fantasy that whatever the father did, the son should continue doing for generation after generation was naively terrifying. Coupled with the continuous decay of state finances and institutions after the mid-Ming period, the Ming military household system had already completely collapsed.

What was interesting, though, was that even though the system had entirely fallen apart, no one seemed willing to address it. In theory, the primary role of military households was to provide soldiers and officers for the state, and they should be the first to go to war when conflict arose. Now that all military households existed in name only, the state should no longer waste grain and pay on armies that could only eat but not fight. Yet throughout the entire Great Ming, it was as if everyone had developed an eye disease—every official chose to turn a blind eye. Even the civil officials, who were most hostile toward military officers, dared not utter a single word on this issue. The reason was simple: the interests involved were simply too great. Anyone who touched this matter would face frenzied backlash from millions. The risk was so enormous that even the emperor himself dared not act lightly.

Thus, when Yue Yang laid out the three things he intended to say, everyone was stunned.

Wang Pu was the first to stammer, “Mar… Marquis, what did you say? The court is no longer issuing grain and pay?”

“Yes,” Yue Yang replied calmly, repeating himself clearly. “The court has decided that starting today, all grain and pay subsidies for military households in Shanxi will be stopped. All military households must find their own means of livelihood. And next month, I will begin re-measuring military land and redistributing it.”

“Boom—”

Yue Yang’s words exploded like a bomb. Everyone present—including figures like Hu Dawei and Yang Guozhu—couldn’t take it anymore. Yue Yang was clearly determined to block every possible path.

Tang Tong, the Commander of Miyun, shouted, “Marquis, the court cuts off our pay, and now you want to re-measure military land—aren’t you forcing us to our deaths?”

“To your deaths?” Yue Yang sneered coldly, staring at Tang Tong. “Whether those fools who only know how to eat empty pay but can’t fight live or die has nothing to do with me. In the time of our dynasty’s founder, all Ming military households were self-sufficient and even had surplus grain to submit to the court. But since after the Zhengtong era, military households across the empire not only stopped submitting grain—they began demanding continuous subsidies from the court year after year. Why is that? Did military households suddenly become too stupid to farm? Or did they all die out? No… neither. The truth is that the military lands were all seized by officers. Though most of these officers can neither ride a horse nor draw a bow, each and every one of them is an expert at oppressing military households and grabbing land. In principle, all military land belongs to the court—but look at it now. How much of it is left? The court has long wanted to get rid of these parasites who only eat and do nothing. Now that I hold authority over Xuanfu and Datong, the court is naturally happy to shove them off onto me. What—do you expect me to replace the court and raise those leeches? Or do you think I look like a fool with money to burn?”

At this, everyone exchanged glances. Thinking it over carefully, they had to admit Yue Yang had a point. Though he was wealthy, his money didn’t fall from the sky. If they were in his position, they wouldn’t be willing to act as a sucker either.

Still, another deputy general asked, “Marquis, even if the court stops issuing pay, you still can’t just take back the military land!”

“Hm!” A cold glint flashed in Yue Yang’s eyes as he stared at the speaker. “Let me ask you—who does that military land belong to?”

“It… it…”

The deputy general choked and couldn’t continue. Though the land was nominally owned by the court, over the past hundred years it had long been carved up by officers at all levels. In their hearts, it had already become their private property. But this was merely an unspoken reality—one neither recognized by Ming law nor acknowledged by the court. Now that Yue Yang asked directly, he had no answer.

“What—can’t say it now, can you?” Yue Yang sneered. “Those who seized military land have sucked blood from the court generation after generation. The court didn’t pursue the matter, fine—but now they still have the nerve to question me? Who gave them such guts? Or do they really think my steel blade won’t kill?”

Years of fighting the Qing, coupled with personally killing Yueto and crushing Qing forces, had left Yue Yang’s words dripping with killing intent. Especially with the Yingzhou Army standing rigidly around him, their icy gazes fixed forward, bayoneted Minié rifles in hand—the atmosphere in the tavern turned frigid. Everyone understood clearly: this Marquis was nothing like those governors from civil-official backgrounds. If any other governor had said such things, they’d dismiss it as hot air. After all, was the military household system so easy to touch? Smashing the rice bowls of over a hundred thousand military households in Shanxi would shake the entire realm and cost heads.

But this man dared. And they were certain—if the military households dared to riot, Loyal and Brave Marquis Yue Yang would lead his army without hesitation and slaughter them all. He commanded tens of thousands of the best-equipped and most combat-capable troops in the Ming—that was his confidence.

Realizing the resolve of the new governor, the most senior figure present, Shanxi Garrison Commander Yang Guozhu, stepped forward and asked, “Marquis, if the land is re-measured, what will happen to the more than one hundred thousand military households in Shanxi? And what about the tens of thousands of troops under us commanders and deputies?”

Seeing Yang Guozhu step out, Yue Yang’s stern expression softened somewhat. For this Ming general—who in history would fall into a Qing ambush during the Songjin Campaign and choose death over surrender, dying from arrows—Yue Yang always maintained a trace of respect.

He said to Yang Guozhu, “Commander Yang, there’s no need to worry. Those military households who wish to farm will be given land, seeds, and tools. They’ll be registered as civilian households and can farm peacefully for life—I won’t let them starve or freeze. As for the troops under your command…”

Here Yue Yang swept his gaze across the room and fell silent. Everyone’s hearts tightened. To them, an army was their lifeline—without troops, they were nothing.

After a pause, Yue Yang said, “If you wish to serve under me, that’s not impossible. All pay and rewards will be brought in line with the Yingzhou Army.”

“Really…?”

“What? Did I hear that right?”

The tavern erupted. Everyone knew the rewards of the Yingzhou Army well: each soldier received one and a half silver dollars per month, three meals a day with meat, three mu of military family land for their households, and immediate rewards for meritorious service in battle. Such rewards were unparalleled in the entire Ming—utterly unique. Countless people tried to force their way in, yet the Yingzhou Army had only grown to several tens of thousands over the years, most slots taken by refugees from other regions. Locals in Shanxi actually had fewer opportunities, which left many envious. Now Yue Yang was saying their troops could enjoy the same rewards—it was like a pie falling from the sky.

Seeing the crowd boil over, Chen Dazhi, standing behind Yue Yang, curled his lips in a cold smile. Did these people really think the Marquis’s silver dollars were so easy to earn?

Soon, Yue Yang’s voice rang out again. “Don’t celebrate too early. I’m not finished. I’m no sucker—I won’t spend money raising a bunch of useless trash. If you want my silver, you must first do one thing: break up your troops, reorganize them, and retrain them for three months. Only those who pass will be allowed into the Yingzhou Army. Do you understand?”

“What…?”

“Uh…”

The excited faces froze. What was Yue Yang trying to do? He wanted to reorganize their troops—this was tantamount to taking their lives.

“What, unwilling?” Yue Yang sneered at the indignant crowd. “Of course, I won’t force you. I already said it—if you don’t want reorganization, fine. But then you’ll have to raise your own troops. If you don’t want to serve under me, I won’t keep you. You’re free to go to Henan and join Governor Lu, or go anywhere else in the Ming. But let me say this again—if any of you think you can rely on your troops to play tough with me, I will accompany you to the bitter end!”

His words were like a bucket of cold water poured over everyone’s heads, extinguishing certain dangerous thoughts. When a bully meets someone even stronger and more unreasonable, the bully wilts.

Though the food and wine in the tavern were abundant, many had lost all appetite. Faces grew grim as they calculated how much wealth and manpower they would lose.

Yue Yang had made it perfectly clear: military land would be re-measured and redistributed; military households would be dissolved and registered as civilians. Those who wanted to follow Yue Yang had to hand over their troops for reorganization. Those who refused could keep them—but would have to support them themselves, as the court would not issue a single tael of silver.

This move was nothing short of pulling the rug out from under them, forcing the commanders into a corner. When the banquet ended, the commanders and deputy generals returned to their territories in a daze.

Yue Yang also returned to his new residence—the former Xuanfu–Datong Governor’s Office. As soon as he entered the rear courtyard, Dong Xiaowan, Li Xiangjun, and Wang Yue, accompanied by maids and old servants, welcomed him into the inner quarters.

This time, Yue Yang had originally planned to come to Datong alone. But Hai Lanzhu and the Linglong sisters insisted that he bring Li Xiangjun, Dong Xiaowan, and Wang Yue along. Yue Yang hadn’t wanted to agree, but after Hai Lanzhu’s gentle persistence and the Linglong sisters’ tearful gazes, he had no choice but to surrender.

In truth, Yue Yang knew they were worried he might bring home more sisters. Given his current status, if he so much as hinted at it, plenty of people would rush to send beauties his way—and his resistance to women wasn’t exactly strong. The fact that a single trip to Jinling had added three more women to the household was proof enough. This time, having him bring the three women along was Hai Lanzhu’s subtle way of making her stance clear.

The three women led Yue Yang into the inner residence and into a small side hall. Seeing the dishes laid out on the table, Yue Yang knew they had been waiting for him. A wave of tenderness rose in his heart as he gently scolded, “You knew I was going to a banquet. You should’ve eaten first—why wait for me? What if you went hungry?”

Li Xiangjun smiled softly. “This concubine said the same to Sister Xiaowan and Yue’er, but they insisted on waiting for you. I had no choice but to wait with them.”

“Sister Xiangjun, you’re blaming us now?” Wang Yue immediately protested, puffing out her cheeks. “Who was it who said just now that husband surely didn’t eat well at the tavern and would come back asking for food—who told us to wait? And now you’re saying it’s our fault!”

Yue Yang chuckled, reached out, and pinched Wang Yue’s cheek. “Little one, you’re the chattiest. Sister Xiangjun was speaking up for you.”

Wang Yue giggled. “I know—I just didn’t want to lie to husband.”

“You clever little minx.” Yue Yang shook his head helplessly, his gaze full of indulgence.

Among Yue Yang’s wives and concubines, Wang Yue was the youngest—only fifteen this year. Her actions still carried a trace of childishness, making her the most doted upon.

“Let me see what you’ve cooked.” Yue Yang walked to the table. There were two meat dishes, four vegetable dishes, six items in total, plus a soup. Though not as fancy as a tavern chef’s work, they were delicate and appetizing.

Having been in this era for five years, Yue Yang had fully adapted to the decadent lifestyle of the nobility—being dressed by maids or wives after waking, having someone warm the bed in winter, and so on. He’d grown accustomed to such “decadent bourgeois behavior.” But there was one thing he would never compromise on: meals. In feudal times, concubines held very low status and were not allowed to dine at the same table as the household head. Yue Yang despised this. In his home, every mealtime meant the whole family—seven or eight people—sat around one table, lively and warm. As for rules like “no talking while eating,” he dismissed them as nonsense.

When they were halfway through the meal, Wang Yue asked curiously, “Husband, are we moving to Datong to live again?”

Yue Yang smiled. “Yes. Your husband has been promoted to Governor of Xuanfu and Datong—of course we’re moving here. Yue’er, are you unwilling?”

Wang Yue puffed out her lips. “Husband is teasing me. I already belong to you—wherever you are is my home. How could it be my place to object?”

Her innocent words made all the women laugh. Dong Xiaowan added with a smile, “Husband, just now Yue’er was saying this place is much bigger than the Marquis’s residence in Hunyuan Prefecture. She can’t wait to pick out her own courtyard.”

“Pick what courtyard?” Yue Yang waved his hand grandly. “You’ll all have to attend to me together at night anyway—running back and forth would be troublesome. Might as well live together. Don’t you agree?”

“Pah—”

Hearing Yue Yang speak so bluntly, the three women spat in unison, their faces flushing red. The maids serving nearby lowered their heads, stifling laughter.

As the youngest among them, Wang Yue pouted coquettishly. “Husband calls himself a scholar, yet speaks so crudely—no sense of propriety at all. It’s so embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing? I’m talking about the rites of Zhou—Confucius spoke of them too. You’re all educated; surely you know this?”

Once Yue Yang thickened his skin, he was utterly shameless. He stood up with a grin. “Your husband is full now. I’m going to wash up and rest. Which of you would like to accompany me to practice the rites of Zhou?”

Though the three women had long understood their husband’s nature since marrying him, his words still made them blush furiously. They all shot him a look, yet in the end, their lotus steps followed obediently as they walked toward the room together. Needless to say, it would be another sleepless night…