The Ming Dynasty: Starting with Emperor Chongzhen's crackdown on factionalism

Or rather, these records simply don't appear in official documents.

Chen Zhiyuan put down the canal transport files and walked back to the main warehouse.

He needs to see the distribution records of the grain and salary received in Liaodong.

However, such records are not found in the Ministry of Revenue's archives.

Those are the account books of the various towns in Liaodong; they cannot be seen unless they are retrieved.

Those booklets were thinner.

Each volume contains only a few pages, recording the amount of silver and rice received in a certain town in a certain year and month, followed by the amount of silver actually paid to soldiers and the amount stored in the treasury.

The numbers are all neatly arranged.

For example, in Ningyuan Town, 80,000 taels of silver were collected in March of the second year of Chongzhen's reign, which was recorded as "76,000 taels were actually issued to the soldiers, and 4,000 taels were stored in the treasury".

In Jinzhou Town, 60,000 taels of silver were collected in April, "57,000 taels were actually distributed to the soldiers, and 3,000 taels were stored in the treasury."

The portion stored in the warehouse should be marked "for unforeseen needs" or "for supplementing back pay".

As Chen Zhiyuan looked at these neat numbers, the chill in his heart grew stronger.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 10 ...

The account is perfect.

From the Ministry of War's approval to the Ministry of Revenue's allocation, to the Grand Canal's transport, to the local receipt, and then to the distribution to various towns—every step was recorded, every figure matched, and every deduction had a specific purpose.

This appears to be a rigorous, transparent, and efficient military expenditure management system.

Why are the frontline workers still owed wages?

Why did the soldiers desert?

Why did Yuan Chonghuan risk his life to reorganize military farms and force merchants to lend him grain?

Chen Zhiyuan sat back down at the table and spread out all the booklets.

The Ministry of War's troop quota register, the Ministry of Revenue's allocation book, the canal transport transfer slips, the local collection receipts, and the distribution records of each town—five sets of files, five links.

He picked up a pen and drew a simple diagram on the paper.

Ministry of War (approval) → Ministry of Revenue (allocation) → Grand Canal Transport (transfer) → Local authorities (receive) → Various towns (distribute) → Soldiers (actual receipt)

Then he began to label each arrow with a number.

Taking the first half of the second year of Chongzhen's reign as an example:

The Ministry of War approved a quota of 70,000 soldiers for Liaodong, requiring an annual salary of 1,075,200 taels of silver.

The Ministry of Revenue actually allocated 1.2 million taels.

After deducting "losses" of about 2%, the actual amount transported via the Grand Canal was 1.17 million taels.

After deducting approximately 2.5% for "discount," "transfer fee," and "warehouse expenses," the local government received 1.14 million taels.

The money was distributed to various towns, and records show that approximately 1.08 million taels were actually distributed to the soldiers, with 60,000 taels remaining in the treasury.

Sergeant's actual income... I don't know.

Because there are no records of actual receipts by sergeants.

Chen Zhiyuan stared at the chain.

From 1.2 million taels to the "actually issued" 1.08 million taels, there was a difference of 120,000 taels.

These 120,000 taels were rationalized by categories such as "losses," "discounts," "work costs," "warehouse losses," and "stored goods."

But that's not the problem.

The question is, were the 1.08 million taels of "actual" pay for the soldiers actually paid out?

He recalled Yuan Chonghuan's words in the imperial prison.

"If the soldiers get ten out of thirty-five taels, I'll consider myself to have done right by them."

At the time, he thought it was exaggerated.

Looking at these account books now, I suddenly feel that Yuan Chonghuan might not have been lying.

Chen Zhiyuan continued to dig deeper.

He found the "list" of soldiers from each town that the Ministry of War checked every year.

These lists were submitted after the Ministry of War dispatched censors or officials to the border towns to conduct on-site inspections, and in theory, they were the closest to the truth.

A register from November of the first year of the Chongzhen reign shows that Ningyuan Town had 7,800 soldiers.

During the same period, Ningyuan Town reported to the Ministry of War that it had 12,000 soldiers.

There is a shortfall of 4,200 people.

These 4,200 people were "ghost employees." Their salaries had been embezzled.

The inventory of April of the second year of the Chongzhen reign (1643) states: Jinzhou garrison actually had 5,400 soldiers. Jinzhou itself reported 9,000 soldiers.

There is a shortage of 3,600 people.

Jizhou Town actually has 11,000 soldiers. They reported 18,000.

There is a shortage of 7,000 people.

Chen Zhiyuan accumulated the quotas for each town.

Ningyuan 4,200, Jinzhou 3,600, Shanhaiguan 2,800, Jizhou 7,000, Changping 3,000, Baoding 2,500... In total, there are approximately 23,000 vacancies.

Based on an annual salary of eighteen taels per person, these vacant positions consume approximately 414,000 taels of silver annually.

And this is only the data from the second year of the Chongzhen reign.

Chen Zhiyuan felt a sense of suffocation.

The figures in the account books, the inventory of the Ministry of War, the reports from Liaodong, and the records of the Grand Canal transport—each set has its own logic, and each set can be explained in its own way.

But when you put them together, contradictions arise.

The Ministry of War allocated 70,000 soldiers, and the Ministry of Revenue disbursed funds accordingly. However, the Ministry of War's own records showed that there were actually only 47,000 soldiers.

What about the salaries for the extra 23,000 people?

Whose pocket did it go into?

Chen Zhiyuan recalled one of the charges Yuan Chonghuan listed when he executed Mao Wenlong: "He was a tyrant in one region, and his military supplies and provisions were not subject to approval."

When Mao Wenlong was on Pi Island, he falsely reported a troop strength of 200,000, but in reality there were fewer than 40,000, and he embezzled a huge sum of money.

Therefore, Yuan Chonghuan killed him.

But what about the Guan Ning Army? What about the Jizhou Army? What about the Xuanda Army?

How much more vacant positions do these towns have combined compared to Mao Wenlong's?

Why is no one investigating? Why is no one killing anyone?

Because this is the "rule".

It is the "rule" tacitly accepted by the entire system.

Chen Zhiyuan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

It's been three days.

He was checking these files at the Censorate!

Take a short rest when you're tired.

All I could see were numbers.

84,000, 71,000, 48,000, 1.2 million, 1.17 million, 1.14 million, 1.08 million... In the end, the number that actually ended up in the hands of the soldiers was probably less than 800,000.

What they had to face was the Manchu Banner troops from beyond the Great Wall, who were eyeing them covetously.

Last October, Huang Taiji broke through the pass and plundered his way back with a full load.

Why couldn't the Ming Dynasty's border troops stop them?

Because the soldiers were starving, the generals were busy drawing salaries without working, and the court was still arguing about "how much should be allocated" and "how to allocate it".

The ledger is perfect.

It perfectly records how this dynasty gradually bled out of its resources and how it gradually headed towards its doom.

Chen Zhiyuan opened his eyes, picked up his pen, and began to write a memorial.

He wanted to list these contradictions one by one: the discrepancy between the number approved by the Ministry of War and the actual number counted, the discrepancy between the amount allocated by the Ministry of Revenue and the amount actually received by the local governments, the discrepancy between the troop numbers reported by each town and the actual number counted in the registers...

He wanted to calculate the total amount of military expenditure in Liaodong from the first to the second year of the Chongzhen reign: how much of it actually became a "ghost fund," how much was deducted at each level, and how much was truly used for border defense?

But he knew that writing these things was pointless.

Because everyone in the court knew the truth.

From the cabinet to the six ministries, from the Censorate to the local governors, who didn't know that the border troops were severely understaffed? Who didn't know that their salaries were being embezzled at every level?

But who would dare to expose it?

If you expose it, you're making an enemy of the entire bureaucratic system.

If this is exposed, it will cut off the source of wealth for countless people.

If this gets out, there might be an impeachment memorial tomorrow, accusing him of "slandering border officials" and "undermining morale."

Chen Zhiyuan put down his pen.

The sky outside the window has darkened again.

He hasn't been back to his place for three days, hasn't changed his clothes for three days, and hasn't had a proper meal for three days.

But he can't stop.

He wants to continue the investigation until he finds solid evidence pointing to specific people and specific steps.

He wanted Zhu Youjian to see that the Ming Dynasty's military expenditures were not insufficient, but rather being embezzled.

It was devoured piece by piece by its own people.

He put away his paper and pen and called Zhao Delu over.