Amid the swirling wind and snow, Yan Song, Xu Jie, Li Mo, and the other ministers summoned by Emperor Jiajing hurried to the Wuyi Hall in Xiyuan without delay.
When the Emperor called, no one dared be late.
In the Tang and Song dynasties, things were milder—mostly salary fines. But in the Great Ming, punishments were far harsher. The *Ming Code* stipulated that a single tardiness earned twenty lashes. Three instances, and you’d get a bonus beating right in front of the hall—not only losing face but also risking serious injury from dozens of strikes.
Then there were the unspoken penalties: tardiness soured your standing in the Emperor’s eyes, collapsing your political prospects.
So, no one dared dawdle—everyone moved as fast as they could.
Soon, the ministers were all present, lining up in two rows according to rank and seniority, respectfully awaiting Emperor Jiajing.
It was the depths of winter, and the hall had no brazier burning. The cold was biting, and every official inside shivered slightly.
They wore court robes for the occasion, and for appearances’ sake, they couldn’t layer up underneath—just a thin cotton garment. Too much padding would make the robes bulky and wrinkled, unbecoming and improper.
In the hall, they couldn’t rub their hands or stamp their feet—that would be a breach of etiquette before the Emperor. They had to endure the chill with sheer willpower.
Younger officials managed alright, but for the older ones, like Yan Song, their hands and feet were numb from the cold.
Writing later would likely be a struggle.
Beyond his limbs, Yan Song’s head and face were freezing too, thanks to the fragrant leaf crown bestowed by Emperor Jiajing. Made of gauze, it was neither stylish nor warm—its sole purpose was to boost his “imperial favour points.”
Fortunately, eunuchs brought cups of hot tea, allowing them to sip and warm their hands.
Before long, Emperor Jiajing entered the Wuyi Hall slowly, surrounded by a retinue of eunuchs.
As usual, despite the snowy winter morning, he wore little—a spring-and-autumn robe embroidered with dragons, dominated by a Taiji Bagua pattern. Its wide sleeves fluttered, exuding an ethereal, chilling aura.
“Long live our Emperor, ten thousand years and more!”
Yan Song, Xu Jie, and the assembled ministers knelt in unison to pay their respects.
“All rise, my vassals.”
Emperor Jiajing plopped onto the hall’s sole chair at the centre, waved a sleeve, and bid the ministers stand.
“Weizhong’s no spring chicken—grant him a seat. The rest of you, stay on your feet; it’ll keep you sharp,” Emperor Jiajing said, scanning the group. His gaze lingered on Yan Song’s fragrant leaf crown before he beckoned a young eunuch to offer the privilege.
“Thank you, True Lord,” Yan Song hurriedly knelt in gratitude.
Soon, a eunuch brought a chair, smaller and lower than the Emperor’s dragon throne.
Yan Song thanked him again before taking his seat.
“Right, it’s year-end. You’ve all got families waiting at home, so I won’t waste time on small talk. Let’s get to business. First matter: strategies for dealing with the Mongol Altan tribes. Speak freely, my vassals.”
Emperor Jiajing opened the discussion.
“The northern barbarian Altan is utterly detestable. Just this year alone, he’s ‘invaded Datong four times, Liaoyang three times, Ningxia twice, and Liaodong once,’ destroying homes, plundering goods, and tormenting the people—his crimes are too numerous to list!”
An official from the Ministry of War recounted Altan’s incursions this year, gnashing his teeth in hatred.
“What Altan seeks is tribute and wealth. Why not reopen the horse markets to meet some of his demands, requiring him to cease hostilities in exchange for border peace? It’d protect the people’s livelihoods and ease the strain on our military funds.”
An official from the Ministry of Rites stepped forward, suggesting reopening the horse markets to pacify Altan and achieve peace.
“No! This year, under the guise of tribute, Altan’s men came to Datong’s outskirts. They first offered forty horses, then traded 413 more for 3,000 jin of tea and 5,000 jin of salt. But that night, they caught us off guard, stole all the tribute and traded horses, raided Datong, looted nearby villagers, livestock, and goods, and burned over a hundred homes! Since then, Altan’s raids have been relentless. It’s clear he’s shameless, faithless, and acts like a beast—not a man to reason with. Against these barbarians, only a heavy blow will do—no room for negotiation! Beat them until they hurt, fear, and submit—only then will we have peace.”
“I request increased funds for Datong, Xuanfu, and other borders—reward the troops, repair weapons and armour, and prepare day and night to strike the barbarians hard.”
The Ministry of War official shook his head vehemently, requesting more funds to reward soldiers and deliver a crushing blow to the invaders.
“More funds?! You don’t manage the household, so you don’t know the cost of firewood, rice, oil, and salt. How much tax revenue does the Great Ming collect yearly? The bulk goes to military expenses already. Add more, and how will the court survive?! What about disaster relief, the royal family’s upkeep, river maintenance…?”
Before he finished, a censor stepped forward, immediately opposing the request. The treasury had limited funds, stretched across military, salaries, the royal family, infrastructure, and more. More military spending meant less elsewhere—every coin was precious.
“Ministry of Revenue, Ministry of Works—how much came into the treasury this year, and how much went out? Have you tallied it?”
Emperor Jiajing asked from the dragon throne.
The Minister and Vice-Minister of Revenue whispered briefly before the Left Vice-Minister stepped forward. “Replying to Your Majesty, from the first month to now, preliminary figures show regular taxes, additional levies, and surplus salt revenue totaling over 5 million taels, plus over 4 million from miscellaneous collections—nearly 9.9 million taels in total. Expenditures include annual allocations and border troop costs at 2.8 million taels, plus an additional 2.45 million for military funds these past months, along with border repairs and relief efforts, totaling over 8 million taels. We’ll return, verify the exact figures, and present them for Your Majesty’s review.”
Many officials in the hall looked surprised. They knew spending was high, but not *this* high.
Emperor Jiajing frowned slightly, then turned to the others. “And the Ministry of Works?”
Yan Shifan stepped forward. “Replying to Your Majesty, from the first month to today, labour and material costs have totaled 345,000 taels.”
“Labour and materials are one thing, but why are border military expenses so high? Is there fraud or embezzlement? It’s not unprecedented. Cabinet, take note: select three men from the remonstrators and censors to inspect the borders. Every tael received and spent must be thoroughly checked and recorded. Anyone found at fault, regardless of rank, will be impeached and severely punished,” Emperor Jiajing said, frowning as he issued the order.
“As you command,” Yan Song, Xu Jie, and Li Ben stepped forward to accept the decree.
