Although Zhu Qiyu had never received an Emperor's education, he had been born into the imperial family. What he had seen and heard had taught him enough.
He asked, "The root of it lies in the military farmlands?"
Pan Yun said expressionlessly, "Over these twenty-odd years, military officers have grown arrogant and seized military farmlands. It has become commonplace for soldiers to become the tenant farmers of a handful of officers. In earlier years, they would still drill during the slack season. But I hear that in recent years, apart from several major border strongholds that have retained the habit of drilling a certain proportion of their troops, soldiers elsewhere have had no slack season at all. Not only must they farm land for certain individuals, they must also make silage for them and raise poultry. They are worse off than tenant farmers—reduced directly to hired hands."
Scenes of arguments suddenly flashed through Zhu Qiyu's mind: after court adjourned, some censorial officials and military commanders cursing each other outside the palace gates;
And in taverns, whenever civil and military officials ran into each other—especially if one side included a censor—they would quarrel, sometimes even coming to blows;
The four words "seizing military farmlands" exploded in his mind.
Whenever he had seen or heard of it before, he had treated it as entertainment.
Their quarrels and brawls had been too amusing. A pack of finely dressed officials, yet they cursed each other like fishwives and fought in the streets like thugs and hooligans...
He would recount it to his Imperial Brother as a joke, yet he had never imagined that this was the root of disaster behind this personal campaign, much less that it would kill his Imperial Brother.
Zhu Qiyu's lips moved as he asked, "If Chen Huai is unsuitable,