Chapter 566: The Giving and Receiving of Favors

Before leaving the Hanlin Academy for the Ministry of Justice, Zhu Ping’an was stopped by Hanlin Compiler Zhang Bo.

The scholar poured him a cup of freshly brewed tea and handed over a folded list.

Noticing the puzzled look on Zhu Ping’an’s face, Zhang Bo smiled and explained patiently.

“Before Ziwei left, he entrusted me with handling your social obligations and gift exchanges. This list records all the contributions our Hanlin Academy colleagues made on your behalf while you were away on leave.”

Social obligations?

Zhu Ping’an paused briefly before understanding.

In other words—gift-giving.

Whether in ancient times or the modern era, officialdom could never be separated from the intricate web of favors and reciprocal obligations. To receive without giving in return was considered improper. Such customs had long since become one of the unspoken rules governing bureaucratic life.

The “gifts” exchanged within official circles were especially diverse.

There were congratulatory gifts, seasonal gifts, thank-you gifts, birthday gifts, promotion gifts, farewell gifts, and countless other varieties.

It was a complicated system.

Zhu Ping’an realized he had overlooked this aspect entirely.

As expected of someone from a distinguished clan, Zhang Siwei had thought of everything in advance and arranged these matters before leaving.

“I’ve troubled Brother Zhang with unnecessary work.”

Zhu Ping’an accepted the list and bowed in gratitude.

“It was merely a small matter.”

Zhang Bo waved his hand dismissively and smiled.

After thanking him, Zhu Ping’an glanced over the list.

The corners of his lips couldn’t help twitching upward.

There really were a remarkable number of occasions requiring gifts.

The records had been kept with meticulous detail:

Yuan Wei welcomed a son — one string of cash.

Zhang Song’s routine inspection — two taels of silver.

The Li family’s relocation to a new residence — one string of cash.

Lord Wang’s departure from office — two taels of silver.

Minister Li’s wife’s birthday — five taels of silver and two bolts of silk.

At the bottom was an additional note:

“All gifts accepted except those sent to Minister Li.”

Well then…

In barely half a month, six taels of silver had already gone out.

Had Li Mo accepted gifts, the amount would have exceeded ten taels.

No wonder so many officials constantly complained that their salaries were insufficient.

With this endless cycle of social expenditures, even if the salaries of Ming officials were doubled, they might still struggle to keep up.

Of course, that was only true for lower-ranking officials.

Once a man climbed high enough, these same customs often became a source of enormous profit.

Gift exchanges and social obligations frequently served as little more than disguised transactions of power and money.

Perhaps the old saying that “within books lies a house of gold” had more to do with such realities than scholars cared to admit.

Young officials entering government service usually spent far more than they received.

But once they rose to positions of authority, how many could resist using those same unwritten rules to recover their losses—and perhaps earn a fortune besides?

Social obligations often became the first step toward corruption.

Many officials comforted themselves with the excuse that gifts exchanged between acquaintances could not possibly count as bribery.

By the time they realized otherwise, they had already sunk too deeply into corruption to escape.

And once officials became rotten, the decline of the empire inevitably followed.

Zhu Ping’an understood all of this clearly.

Unfortunately, understanding and changing were two entirely different matters.

He disliked the system.

But disliking it accomplished absolutely nothing.

The unwritten rules of officialdom were not something a mere sixth-rank official could overturn.

For now, he could only drift along with the current.

Leaving the Hanlin Academy, Zhu Ping’an weighed the noticeably lighter money pouch hanging from his waist.

The diminished weight made him sigh inwardly.

It seemed he would need to find another source of income.

Though he still possessed considerable savings, no amount of wealth could withstand endless expenditures forever.

The Ministry of Justice was not far from the Hanlin Academy.

After only a few minutes of walking, Zhu Ping’an arrived at the imposing government compound.

Unlike the Hanlin Academy, which was prestigious yet largely academic in nature, the Ministry of Justice was a true seat of power.

It supervised criminal law throughout the empire.

It judged cases, determined sentences, administered prisons, and controlled the machinery of punishment.

The ministry’s headquarters reflected that authority.

Its grounds were far grander than those of the Hanlin Academy.

Massive stone lions guarded the entrance.

Towering vermilion gates stood beneath sweeping eaves.

Simply standing before the compound inspired a natural sense of awe.

Beside the entrance hung a prominently displayed peachwood couplet:

“Powerful ministers must not allow personal grudges or favors to influence justice.

The Son of Heaven must not weigh crimes according to his likes or dislikes.”

Zhu Ping’an glanced at the couplet.

Then he curled his lip slightly.

The words were admirable.

They perfectly embodied the ideals that the Ministry of Justice was supposed to uphold.

Unfortunately, they were far too idealistic.

Even in modern societies, judicial systems struggled to remain entirely independent from politics.

How could one expect such purity within a feudal empire?

Decorations for appearances, nothing more.

The thought crossed his mind as he climbed the stone steps and passed through the great gate.

“Please wait, my lord.”

No sooner had he entered than a minor official stationed at the entrance hurried forward respectfully.

The man wore the uniform of a low-ranking clerk responsible for registration.

“May I ask what business brings Your Excellency to the Ministry? This humble official can report your arrival.”

Zhu Ping’an halted and turned around.

Returning the courtesy with a slight bow, he answered calmly.

The clerk finally got a good look at him.

His eyes widened.

So young!

This youth already held a sixth-rank position?

His future prospects must be extraordinary.

Immediately, the clerk became even more respectful.

He hurriedly brought over a chair, invited Zhu Ping’an to sit while registering his visit, and even poured him a cup of tea.

“I have come to submit a petition to the Ministry.”

After signing the visitor registry, Zhu Ping’an casually asked,

“Could you tell me where I should go?”

The clerk lowered his eyes to the registry.

Then he saw the name.

Zhu Ping’an.

His expression changed instantly.

All traces of courtesy vanished.

These past several weeks, that name had become impossible to ignore.

The Ministry of Justice had already issued three separate summonses regarding him.

Such treatment was unprecedented.

How could the clerk possibly not know who he was?

What a pity.

The clerk couldn’t help sighing inwardly.

Such a talented and promising young top scholar.

And yet his political career was practically over.

The three impeachment memorials circulating throughout the capital had caused an enormous stir.

Memorials attacking Grand Secretary Yan Song were not unheard of.

But three successive memorials?

That was exceedingly rare.

Naturally, the commotion was far greater than usual.

Although the clerk’s duties consisted primarily of recording visitors, he enjoyed ample free time and frequently read official bulletins.

There was no way he could have missed such major news.

Yan Song stood beneath only the Emperor himself.

To impeach a man of such power—

Wasn’t that simply courting death?

The fates of the other two memorialists had already proven the point.

Both had been imprisoned.

Both had been stripped of office.

Both had been reduced to commoners.

Their lives were effectively ruined.

As for Zhu Ping’an?

The clerk saw no reason why he should fare any differently.

Soon enough, he would be nothing but an ordinary citizen.

And if that were the case, why should a government official show him any special respect?

The clerk’s tone immediately turned cold.

“Turn left after entering. Second door.”

He paused briefly.

“I won’t be seeing you off.”

Then, before Zhu Ping’an could respond, the clerk reached over, picked up the cup of hot tea he had poured moments earlier, and began drinking it himself.

He did not even bother looking at Zhu Ping’an again.

Heh.

Watching the dramatic transformation, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help smiling.

Just moments ago, the man had been almost painfully courteous.

The instant he saw the name on the registry, his attitude had changed completely.

The reason was obvious.

Rising from his seat, Zhu Ping’an merely said:

“Thank you.”

His tone remained calm and indifferent.

Holding the Ministry’s summons, he followed the directions, entered the compound, turned left, and proceeded through the second doorway.

At the same time, discussion of Zhu Ping’an within the Hanlin Academy was growing increasingly heated.

For the most part, almost everyone shared the same opinion.

They believed he was finished.

“Zhu Zihou is still too young and impulsive.”

One Hanlin scholar shook his head regretfully.

“To impeach a general who has shed blood and sweat for Great Ming—and one promoted by Grand Secretary Yan, no less. What a pity.”

“Indeed.”

Another scholar sighed.

“He was a top scholar, favored by His Majesty, with limitless prospects ahead of him. Yet one wrong move has ruined everything. Truly regrettable.”

“You can impeach anyone you like, but why choose someone promoted by Lord Yan?”

“Imperial Censor Zhao Jin of Yunnan-Guizhou and Ministry of War Official Zhou Mian have already been imprisoned and stripped of office. I’m afraid Zihou won’t escape the same fate.”

“His was actually the first memorial. In that case…”

The speaker trailed off.

Everyone understood the implication.

His outcome might be even worse.

“That only proves he brought it upon himself.”

A voice suddenly interjected.

Yuan Wei leaned back in his chair, unable to conceal the satisfaction in his expression.

“After becoming top scholar, he forgot who he was. If you ask me, he became obsessed with making a name for himself.”

The schadenfreude in his voice was unmistakable.

As far as Yuan Wei was concerned, Zhu Ping’an was doomed.

When he had first learned of the impeachment memorial, he had been stunned.

Then he had nearly burst with joy.

For some time, Zhu Ping’an had been a source of concern.

He was a top scholar.

His calligraphy was excellent.

He could compose imperial ritual texts.

He had earned the Emperor’s notice.

He had even received a promotion shortly after entering the Hanlin Academy.

All of those achievements threatened Yuan Wei’s own standing.

But now?

Now the fool had destroyed himself.

It was wonderful news.

The best news imaginable.

Yet not everyone shared Yuan Wei’s opinion.

At least one man did not.

Seated quietly in a corner of the hall, Zhang Juzheng observed the lively discussion unfolding around him.

His gaze swept across the gathering of scholars.

Then a trace of unmistakable disdain appeared in his eyes.