“You all should rest. I’ll stay in the study tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late,” Zhu Ping’an said, gently urging Li Shu and the others to retire. He remained alone in the study, poring over the regional reports again and again.
“Alas,” Zhu Ping’an sighed deeply, overwhelmed with guilt and self-reproach as he read of the countless civilian casualties. As the Governor of Zhejiang, the slaughter of tens of thousands of people by Japanese pirates within his jurisdiction weighed heavily on him.
Even though he had only assumed his post less than a week ago.
The Japanese pirates!
The greatest scourge of Zhejiang and the Jiangnan region—how could they be dealt with?
The garrisons were utterly unreliable. While the militia were somewhat better, they were not a regular army. Lacking guaranteed provisions, weaponry, and training, they were far from a match for the pirates, merely struggling a bit longer than the garrisons before falling.
The court was aware of the garrisons’ uselessness; otherwise, why would they have allowed Zhang Jing to bring wolf soldiers from Guangxi, thousands of miles away?
In Zhu Ping’an’s view, wolf soldiers were not the solution to eradicating the pirates. Historically, it wasn’t wolf soldiers who defeated the pirates.
To eliminate the pirates, the only way was to recruit and train a new army.
But recruitment required provisions and pay, which posed the first major hurdle.
The garrison system, established by Emperor Hongwu, was remarkably cost-effective for the court. Garrison soldiers farmed their own land, providing their own food and pay. Most worked the fields, while a few trained, essentially covering their own provisions. They tilled the soil with hoes and fought with weapons when needed.
This was one of Emperor Hongwu’s proudest achievements: “I maintain an army of a million without costing the people a single grain of rice.”
But now, the garrison system was rotten. While it demanded little from the court’s coffers, it was also useless.
Recruiting soldiers, however, required provisions and pay, which the court would need to provide.
The court was already strapped for cash. The northern frontier’s provisions had forced the court to tighten its belt repeatedly. The cost of recruiting soldiers in the south would be no less than in the north—how could the court afford it?
If the court bore the cost, it would shift the burden onto the common people. How? Simple: raise taxes.
The more funds needed, the higher the taxes on the people. This year, an extra 3.5 *li* per *mu* of land; next year, another 3.5 *li*.
The more soldiers recruited, the heavier the tax burden on the people.
Eventually, when taxes became so oppressive that the people could no longer survive, they would revolt.
This created a paradox for the Ming Dynasty: To fight wars, the useless garrisons necessitated recruitment. Recruitment required taxing the people. When the people could no longer survive, they rebelled, necessitating more wars, more recruitment, and more taxes. The cycle became an unsolvable death spiral.
Once the Ming Dynasty entered this spiral, it would plunge into a nightmare of peasant uprisings.
The fall of the dynasty would not be far off.
From a certain perspective, the recruitment system could be seen as the first straw that broke the Ming Dynasty’s back.
Historically, during the Wanli Emperor’s three major campaigns, recruited soldiers had become the backbone of the Ming army, with provisions and pay consuming half of the dynasty’s annual tax revenue.
With such massive expenditure, how much was left for crafting weapons, paying officials, repairing waterways, aiding the people, or developing the economy?
Peasant uprisings alone had gravely wounded the Ming. When formidable enemies from the northeast charged the empire, its collapse became inevitable.
In this light, calling the recruitment system the first straw to break the Ming was not without reason.
Yet, with the pirate crisis in the south so severe, recruitment was unavoidable.
What could be done?
How could recruitment be achieved without overly burdening the court’s provisions?
Zhu Ping’an furrowed his brow, lost in thought for a long time, unable to devise a perfect solution.
“What should I do?” he muttered to himself, writing “Garrisons,” “Recruitment,” and “Provisions” on a sheet of rice paper. He stared at the three words repeatedly, deep in contemplation.
Over and over.
Suddenly—
*Chapter 2007: Requesting Recruitment Again*
A flash of inspiration struck Zhu Ping’an. He hurriedly grabbed a brush and jotted it down on the rice paper, drawing a line connecting “Recruitment” and “Garrisons.”
Since the garrisons were useless and recruitment was necessary, why not reduce the number of garrison households in proportion to the number of recruited soldiers? The garrisons were ineffective anyway. Converting some military households into ordinary civilians, turning portions of military farmland into regular fields, and having these former military households farm the land would allow their taxes to offset the cost of recruiting soldiers.
Currently, under the garrison system, military households paid taxes—sometimes up to half their yield—but due to corruption, much of it lined the pockets of garrison officers, who treated the households like slaves.
It would be better for the court to directly convert these military households into civilians, sparing them exploitation by garrison officers.
How many civilians would be needed to support one recruited soldier?
The smaller the ratio, the lighter the burden on the people. Based on ancient productivity, roughly twenty civilians could sustain one soldier—a ratio that wouldn’t drive the people to rebellion.
In other words, for each soldier recruited, twenty military households could be converted to civilians, with their corresponding military fields turned into civilian farmland. Their taxes and labor would support the recruited soldiers, easing the court’s financial strain while also reducing the tax burden on ordinary civilians.
This wasn’t about abolishing the garrison system but combining it with recruitment, adjusting their proportions and structure.
The more Zhu Ping’an thought about it, the more promising the idea seemed.
However, under the Ming Dynasty’s garrison system, converting military households to civilians required the emperor’s special decree.
How could he secure such a decree?
During the Xuande era, the Ming Dynasty issued the *Military Administration Regulations*, stating: “If a military household has only one male, and he becomes a scholar, he is sent to the Ministry of War. The Hanlin Academy tests him. If he performs well, he is exempted from military service per regulations. If not, he is returned to military duty.”
Zhu Ping’an lacked the authority to convert military households to civilians.
So, he spread out a fresh sheet of rice paper and detailed his proposal.
“Your humble servant trembles, offering an immature proposal on recruitment. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness.”
At the end, he added, “Your servant requests to recruit eight thousand soldiers to eradicate the Japanese pirates in Zhejiang.”
After reviewing it for accuracy, Zhu Ping’an transcribed the proposal onto a secret memorial, sealed it, and entrusted it to Liu Daqiang to deliver to Xiyuan.
By his calculations, Liu Mu and the others were already on their way back.
The next day, as Liu Daqiang set out, Zhu Ping’an, in his capacity as Zhejiang’s Governor, issued an official order for Liu Dadao to recruit eight thousand able-bodied men in Yiwu—no, to *gather* able-bodied men, with the full cooperation of Jinhua Prefecture.
These eight thousand wouldn’t all be recruited from Yiwu. Neighboring counties like Dongyang, Yongkang, and Wuyi were also included. Recruiting so many from Yiwu alone would overly disrupt its livelihood.
This wasn’t Zhu Ping’an acting first and reporting later.
Officially, this wasn’t recruitment but a gathering of able-bodied men. Once the imperial decree arrived, they would be converted into soldiers.
It was merely doing the groundwork in advance.
Emperor Jiajing might not approve combining recruitment with garrison reform or converting military households to civilians, but he would surely approve recruitment itself.
