Chapter 79: In the End, It Was the Emperor Who Saw Further

Liu Ji spoke with passion and conviction, showing no leniency despite Li Shanchang’s darkening expression. Zhu Yuanzhang, meanwhile, remained silent, watching from the sidelines. As Liu Ji developed his argument, his reasoning became increasingly clear, and even though Li Shanchang was angry, he had to admit defeat before Liu Ji. Zhang Zhengchang and Zhu Biao, both less experienced, suddenly saw the light as well.

Zhu Yuanzhang and the ministers he led were confronting a world in turmoil. At the end of the Yuan dynasty and the dawn of the Ming, the land had been ravaged by years of war. The imperial court and various warlords had plunged the country into chaos, scattering the hearts and loyalty of the people. Although Zhu Yuanzhang had emerged as a formidable force and unified the South, the new dynasty had existed for less than a year. Ordinary people might not even know the emperor’s name; in many remote regions, word of a change in dynasty had yet to reach them.

If the emperor were to heed Li Shanchang’s suggestion and promote variolation by decree, the first problem would be whether the people believed in the court at all. Why should they trust it? The essence of variolation was fighting poison with poison—a method so extraordinary that even Liu Ji and Li Shanchang found it shocking. How, then, could the common people be expected to believe in it?

After years of war, what little trust the people had in the government had long since vanished—Zhu Yuanzhang himself had come up regarding officials as enemies. Even if most commoners weren't so extreme, how much trust did the Ming dynasty have in their eyes? With the realm unsettled, the people could not be sure if the so-called Ming dynasty would simply vanish like the Red Turbans. It was, therefore, incredibly difficult to enforce any decree at this time—let alone one so astonishing.

Without popular support, policy could not be implemented—this was the first point. Moreover, Li Shanchang had suggested making variolation part of officials’ performance evaluations, which was precisely what Liu Ji ridiculed. His intentions might have been good, but if the people did not trust or cooperate with local officials, those officials would likely resort to force, as their own futures depended on the outcome. According to the norms of previous dynasties, the people were always the easiest to sacrifice.

How would they be evaluated? Simply by the number of people inoculated. For the sake of political achievement, local officials might opt for the simplest but most dangerous method, using "fresh matter" as the primary form of variolation. Everyone present, except Zhu Biao, had witnessed such things before and knew they would inevitably occur.

The result would almost certainly be public resentment and perhaps even rebellion. What would be the point of promoting the variolation method, then? Li Shanchang was no fool—he simply hadn’t considered the matter deeply, and Liu Ji had caught him off guard. After some thought, he realized Liu Ji was right and had no rebuttal. Yet, each man’s position prevented him from conceding in public:

"Then let us proceed gradually without making it a performance metric. We need not hurry. If we proceed step by step and educate the people, they will come to understand the court’s intentions."

When Li Shanchang finished speaking, he noticed Liu Ji merely looking at him with a cold sneer. In that instant, he realized the real crux of the matter. Proceeding slowly and educating the people was indeed the most prudent and orthodox approach, but if that was all, why had the emperor summoned them? Zhu Yuanzhang’s seriousness about the matter made it clear: he wanted to claim the credit for disseminating the vaccine—an achievement of enduring significance for an emperor. And to do that, he needed to see substantial results, at least in the early stages of promotion.

“You two are good at pouring cold water on my plans. Liu Ji, since you say it can’t be done, then tell me a way that can work!” Zhu Yuanzhang, who had been watching in silence, finally spoke once the two were finished. With this, Liu Ji found himself in a bind—how could this be done well? In truth, it was very difficult. The greatest challenge was educating the people and dispelling their distrust of the court; actual implementation at the local level was less of an obstacle.

At that moment, his gaze swept over someone, and Liu Ji was startled. He quickly settled his eyes on Zhang Zhengchang. Li Shanchang did the same. At last, they understood! The problems they had identified—the emperor could see them too. Zhang Zhengchang might indeed be the optimal solution.

The Mongols had bestowed prosperity upon Mount Longhu for eighty years, and among the common people, its prestige perhaps surpassed that of the current emperor. Though Liu Bowen and Li Shanchang, seeing things through the lens of Confucian scholars, looked down on Zhang Zhengchang, neither could deny his status. The issues of popular sentiment and trust might be resolved if entrusted to the Orthodox Daoists.

Liu Ji turned to Zhu Yuanzhang, only to see the emperor half smiling, half serious.

“Now, do either of you have anything more to say?”

“Your Majesty’s vision far surpasses mine,” Liu Ji sighed. Though unwilling to admit defeat, he had to concede that in this matter, the emperor saw further than he did. Likely, when Zhu Yuanzhang had been so generous with privileges for Zhang Zhengchang, he had already planned how to make use of this Daoist master.

“The hardest part of promoting variolation is educating the people. If we do it in the name of Mount Longhu and make use of the spiritual influence of the immortals, we can shorten the process. I plan to have the government lead the promotion, with Daoist priests from Mount Longhu to reassure the people... Moreover, this should not be enforced directly. If I beg the people to undergo variolation, they may not value it. Rather, it’s better to let them see the results for themselves... Li Shanchang, have any reports come from the prefectures about smallpox outbreaks?”

Without hesitation, Li Shanchang replied:

“There’s no major epidemic, but localized outbreaks have never ceased...” Li Shanchang was intimately familiar with Ming administration and casually named several prefectures. Zhu Yuanzhang committed them to memory, then nodded.

“Zhang Zhengchang!”

“Your servant is here!”

“Go to Yangzhou for me. I want you to bring back results...”

“Yangzhou...” Zhang Zhengchang was briefly stunned, then immediately knelt to accept the order.

“If you succeed, I have greater use for you in the future!”

Zhang Zhengchang was quietly excited—for the more valued he was by the emperor, the closer he was to fulfilling his hopes.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Old Zhang once more knelt in acceptance.

“There are parts of the ‘Record of Subtle Words’ that I still don’t understand. I believe Lord Li and Lord Liu are in the same position...” Zhu Yuanzhang glanced at Liu Ji and Li Shanchang, who both smiled awkwardly. Though they did not consider themselves dull, the book had indeed left them utterly perplexed for the time being.

“I can explain it to Your Majesty and the ministers, but my son, Yu Chu, understands it even more deeply. If Your Majesty does not mind, he could be the one to present it!”

Zhang Yuchu, who had been standing quietly, suddenly became the focus of everyone’s attention and grew a bit nervous. But the emperor laughed heartily:

“The sons of the Zhang family are all outstanding. Don’t be nervous, young man. Speak well, and I will reward you!”

His kind demeanor made Liu Ji and Li Shanchang exchange wary glances. Their expressions, however, did not escape the emperor’s notice. He showed no change in expression and waited for Zhang Yuchu to begin his explanation.

(End of Chapter)