Chapter Thirty-Six: The Hope of Great Ming

Zhu Cilang spoke as he raised his Ministry of Revenue badge high above his head.

At once, the crowd erupted into astonishment. Those who had just sneered or spoken words of mockery were struck dumb, their expressions changing dramatically.

He had come from the Ministry of Revenue!

He had come to this long-neglected place to offer hope to all the disappointed and miserable scholars—a glimmer of future, a chance to display their talents and fulfill lifelong ambitions in a single battle!

In that instant, regardless of age or ability, every gaze turned to Zhu Cilang, burning with renewed fervor. The sycophantic ones changed their demeanor immediately, crowding forward with their most ingratiating smiles in hopes of securing a government post. The pitiful ones knelt and rushed forward, eager to win sympathy with their tragic stories.

In the blink of an eye, every manner of behavior was on display.

But before anyone could speak, Zhu Cilang pressed his hand down in the air and thundered angrily, “I am not here for those who idle away their days, awaiting death without purpose! I do not want the mediocre, those who flatter and fawn! Nor am I here to shelter the pitiful, self-pitying souls!”

“There are elders in the Imperial Academy who think themselves seasoned and wise, believing they can parade their nauseating tricks before me and gain advantage. Let me tell you, I want none of your kind. Those with the talent to benefit the world, with practical ability, will not be found among you who grow older and weaker by the day!”

“There is a distinction between old and young. Elders dwell on the past, youths look to the future. Dwelling on the past breeds nostalgia, dwelling on the future breeds hope; nostalgia brings conservatism, hope brings progress; conservatism keeps things stagnant, progress renews them daily. Those who focus on the past know only routine, those who focus on the future dare to break convention. Elders are given to worry, youths to enjoyment; worry breeds discouragement, enjoyment breeds vigor; discouragement brings cowardice, vigor brings heroism; cowardice leads to mediocrity, heroism leads to risk. Mediocrity destroys the world, risk creates it. Elders tire of affairs, youths delight in them; tiredness makes everything seem impossible, delight makes everything seem possible. Elders are like the evening sun, youths like the morning sun. Elders are like emaciated cattle, youths like nursing tigers.”

“Search your hearts, gentlemen. In this hour of Ming’s peril, are you content to cling to a meager existence, living each day in despair? Or does your blood still run hot, yearning to achieve fame and serve your sovereign, to realize your ambitions before the throne? Tell me, speak from your hearts—when the nation is in such crisis, when decline is so evident, do you still have the courage and passion to turn the tide, to save Ming, to save our people?”

The hall fell silent. All eyes were fixed on the man from the Ministry of Revenue, and not a word was spoken.

The older scholars wore the same numb expressions.

The middle-aged ones sneered, clearly not believing a word from this young upstart.

But that was not all.

Some slightly older, or just beginning to turn gray, felt their chests about to burst, their blood surging. Countless memories tumbled through their minds.

The younger scholars felt their hearts revive, their pulse stronger than ever, hot blood rising, withered ambition blooming anew.

One young scholar shouted, “I, Chang Zhilang, have long benefited from imperial grace. If calamity comes to the nation, how could I forsake my duty and honor? But let me ask, brother—where in the court is there a place for scholars like us? Where, across the realm, has our ambition ever been realized? The people labor day and night without food, students study diligently yet find no use for their learning. Look throughout Ming, children are sold by desperate parents for survival! In this world, where is justice, where is righteousness? Brother, you speak of cleaning the filth—what power do you have to do so? Are we not still left to pour out our hearts, only to see them wasted in vain?”

Zhu Cilang strode forward and stood firm, gazing at them all, his voice ringing out, “No justice? Then let us ourselves establish justice in this world! No righteousness? Then let us uphold righteousness with our own hands, punish the wicked and treacherous, and restore justice and integrity to the world!”

“Today, I lead you to take the first step in purging corruption—to bring those greedy officials to justice!”

As Zhu Cilang spoke, a young man emerged from the crowd and asked at just the right moment, “Are you working on a major case? One that could let us earn merit?”

“Indeed! The very ones I seek to punish are the corrupt officials of the Ministry of Revenue!”

“Do you know what has kept your stipends and meals from ever being fully distributed? Do you know why the warriors guarding our borders have never received their full pay? Consider: as scholars of the highest academy, how do you face those who embezzle stipends and food? Consider again: why is it that those defending our families and nation cannot support their own with their pay—why, sometimes, is there no pay at all, leaving them destitute?”

“Listen, gentlemen!”

“On July 19th, the first year of Chongzhen, hungry troops in the southern capital raised their voices in protest. On July 20th, soldiers stationed at Jimen, starving, demanded pay, rioted, and burned gunpowder. On July 25th, troops at Ningyuan and Chu, unpaid for four months, mutinied. On December 24th, troops at Guyuan, unpaid, mutinied. In the second year of Chongzhen, the Eastern Wandering Army, and reinforcements at Yumuling and Baiyangyu, gathered outside Zunhua’s west gate on the third and eighth days of the second month, cut wood to build camps, wore dragon robes, raised banners inscribed ‘Red Hearts for the Nation, Hungry Troops Demand Grain…’”

“Do you not wish to know where your stipends and meals have gone? Do you not wish to know where the soldiers’ pay and food have vanished? Do you not wish to know who is bleeding Ming dry, leaving it unable to recover, unable to nourish its own?”

No one spoke. The scholars were not fools; most knew how many powerful figures lurked behind these chains of corruption.

Only a few felt their blood boil, their breath quicken, hands clenched, chest shaken as they looked at Zhu Cilang.

The hall was so silent one could hear a pin drop. Only Zhu Cilang’s voice, slightly hoarse but full of emotion, echoed: “If the youth of the nation truly remain young, then Ming is a nation of the future, and its progress cannot be measured. But if the youth of the nation become old at heart, then Ming is a nation of the past, and its demise is inevitable. Thus, today’s responsibility lies not with others, but entirely with us, the youth. If the youth are wise, the nation is wise; if the youth are prosperous, the nation is prosperous; if the youth are strong, the nation is strong; if the youth have ambition, the nation has a future; if the youth uphold justice, the nation retains righteousness; if the youth bear the burdens of the nation, the world can be made peaceful; if the youth surpass the Manchu invaders, the nation will triumph. Youth, dare you stand forth, join me in examining the Ministry of Revenue’s accounts, and see for yourselves which demons and monsters have brought Ming to the brink?”

“Fellow scholars! Having received the nation’s favor, how can you sit idly by? Now is your chance to display your ambition—if not now, when?” Chang Zhilang strode forward, calling out loudly, “I am willing to follow you, even through fire and steel, without regret!”

With that, the silence of the Imperial Academy was shattered. One by one, voices rose:

“I will go!”

“I will join!”

“I will join!”

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