Chapter 350

Zhu Zhu Yilu was not foolish; on the contrary, he had been clever since childhood, learning anything quickly and grasping it at a glance, but as a man born to nobility, Zhu Zhu Yilu disliked hard work, detested scheming with court ministers, and refused to become a Kuxingseng laboring year-round while enduring scholarly sneers.

Thinking of this made Zhu Zhu Yilu furious—what right did these scholars have to insult His Majesty? All they did was idle away their days drinking at brothels, yet they spat venom at the Emperor who toiled tirelessly for the state; they deserved to have their tongues torn out and heads chopped off, just as the Taizu Emperor would have done—then who would dare speak nonsense?

Zhu Zhu Yilu had grown up beside Zhu Zhu Yijun since childhood, daily attending court sessions in the Zhao Wenhua Hall, occasionally accompanying the Emperor in military reviews, and often listening as Zhang Zhang Juzheng and the Emperor discussed state affairs. He was no fool to begin with, and with the Emperor and the Grand Secretary and Tutor constantly guiding him by word and example, Zhu Zhu Yilu, raised as the Crown Prince, possessed exceptional insight.

Choosing the path of gathering beauties from ten thousand nations was driven first by physical need, and second by survival.

"You brat! Are there needles on the throne? Do you think sitting on it will feel like sitting on a bed of nails?" Zhu Zhu Yijun slapped Zhu Zhu Yilu lightly, grumbling. Zhu Zhu Yilu was now only one step away from the throne—he was the current Crown Prince of Great Ming, educated in imperial ways—but human nature varied, and Zhu Zhu Yilu simply wanted to enjoy himself.

"Isn't it exactly like sitting on a bed of nails? Brother, you're busy day and night, exhausting yourself for state affairs—that's fine—but just thinking of having to outwit those ancient demons in court for a lifetime? Ugh! Heaven above, the thought of spending my whole life like that is terrifying!" Zhu Zhu Yilu shook his head like a rattle drum.

Outmaneuvering court ministers was no pleasant task; among them were dragons and phoenixes, none easy to provoke.

Since ancient times, struggles over the throne had never ceased to be bloody and fierce—how many had dreamed of this seat? Zhu Zhu Yilu simply and directly abandoned it.

Then again, it made sense: Great Ming's state affairs were in decline, imperial authority weak. To be a true Emperor meant relentless toil; if one refused to revive the realm and preferred to be a foolish ruler, one must be prepared to endure constant abuse—first the Grand Secretaries scolded, then the court ministers, then the censors and remonstrators, then the ministers again, then the hundred officials, and finally the scholars joined in.

But as a Prince, one faced none of these worries. Great Ming's only demand of Princes was to indulge in eating, drinking, and pleasure, and to avoid ambition.

Zhu Zhu Yilu's logic was crystal clear: as long as his elder brother remained on the throne, he could live in ease one day at a time—truly second only to the Emperor, enjoying all comforts without any obligations.

A carefree Prince, a joyful life—let the hard work fall to Brother!

"Enough pretending to be dead. I'm going to review the troops." Zhu Zhu Yijun kicked Zhu Zhu Yilu, who feigned death, then rose to his feet, preparing to head to the Northern Camp. Daily court sessions, troop reviews, reviewing memorials, and personally overseeing farming in the Western Garden were Zhu Zhu Yijun's routine—he had long grown accustomed to it.

Zhu Zhu Yilu spoke truly: to be a real Emperor, one must endure such hardship.

"Ohhh!"

As soon as his brother left, Zhu Zhu Yilu leapt up, spun three times left, three times right, let out three wild cries, and hopped away in ecstatic delight—clearly overjoyed, for his long-cherished wish of the beauties from ten thousand nations had finally been granted!

Zhu Zhu Yilu was pretending—he was not exhausted. To enjoy the beauties of ten thousand nations, he had trained diligently; his stamina was good. He simply couldn't defeat his brother and was constantly beaten senseless, so pretending to be dead was the better option. His serious training had its own strategy: a strong lower body ensured longevity.

Zhu Zhu Yilu's temperament closely resembled that of his father, the Emperor Longqing Emperor: no passion for state affairs, but a strong pursuit of pleasure.

Zhu Zhu Yijun reviewed troops at the Wu Ying Pavilion in the Northern Camp, then returned to the palace to bathe, change clothes, and dine. Afterward, he reviewed today's memorials, mostly following the recommendations on the "floating tickets" from the Grand Secretaries—their authority to decide policy. Occasionally, Zhu Zhu Yijun would add a few comments, and sometimes he would discuss matters briefly with Feng Bao and Zhang Hong.

The Lanzhou woolen factory established by Shaanxi Provincial Governor Shi Shi Mao Hua was performing exceptionally well—far exceeding Zhu Zhu Yijun's expectations—and had become a pillar industry in the region. After Shi Shi Mao Hua finally succeeded in building the woolen factory, woolen mills sprang up like mushrooms after rain across Great Ming's frontier regions, both government-run and privately operated.

Even without the silk-currency trade, fine-spun wool remained an excellent fabric, and the profits from coarse-spun wool continued to drive profit-seeking merchants to overcome countless obstacles and complete the construction of woolen factories.

Shandong Provincial Governor Ling Ling Yunyi reported that the garrison at the Mishi Customs Office had been properly arranged; though only three thousand strong, it was more than sufficient. Their target was not Japanese pirates, but sea bandits who stole fishermen's kelp—an outrage beyond tolerance! Even kelp was stolen!

Zhu Zhu Yijun stretched, ending his daily memorial review. Feng Bao placed all reviewed memorials into a box, sealed it with two wax seals, stamped the seam, and carried them away from the Western Garden. At the garden's gate, he boarded his "cunwu"—a pedal-driven cart.

Palace servants called it the "land duck." Even though the Emperor had named it "cunwu," few used the name—even the Emperor himself didn't. Now, only Feng Bao still insisted on calling it "cunwu."

Feng Bao still had duties: he must deliver the memorials to the Grand Secretariat, hand them to the Secretaries, then proceed to the Directorate of Palace Affairs to clear his duties, descend from the Donghuamen Gate via a basket, visit the Eastern Depot to settle its affairs, and return to the Western Garden.

Zhang Hong managed the Emperor's daily life and routines; after all, he was only the "Second Ancestor"—greater power meant greater responsibility.

As soon as Zhu Zhu Yijun finished his work, Wang Yao, who shared the Western Garden with the Emperor, drifted in with a waft of fragrance. When no outsiders were present, Wang Yao was always bold—after all, she had dared to take the upper position on their wedding night; in matters of the bedchamber, she was far from conservative.

Legally, Wang Yao, as Empress, should reside in the Kunning Palace—that was the Empress's quarters. But since the Emperor did not live in the Qianqing Palace, she followed his lead, becoming unconventional herself, moving into the Western Garden with him and indulging in mischief. Empress Dowager Li, eager for grandchildren, turned a blind eye and refused to interfere.

"Husband," Wang Yao glided to Zhu Zhu Yijun's side, spun around, and settled into his lap, hooking her fingers under his chin, tilting her head up: "Is my ladyship beautiful today?"

"Beautiful," Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled.

"Today, the two chief physicians came to court. I heard you visited Mother in Cining Palace?" Wang Yao blinked her big eyes at the Emperor, clearly stirred—on such matters, Wang Yao was always greedy.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sighed, remembering Empress Dowager Li's tactics against him—his head ached. She was no gentle soul; rising from a palace maid to the exalted title of Empress Dowager, she had mastered palace intrigue to its fullest.

"Yes, Mother pulled out all her trump cards. We couldn't resist—we could only agree." Zhu Zhu Yijun held Wang Yao close, his eyes brightening—her undergarments were no ordinary affair; clearly, the palace matrons had taught her well how to please the Emperor. The Empress need not rely on her beauty alone, but she had mastered every necessary skill.

"Mother chose me because she saw I was a gourd—easy to bear children. I'm fine, husband, don't worry." Wang Yao leaned against Zhu Zhu Yijun, whispering. Empress Dowager Li had chosen her not only for her beauty, but because she was fertile—two bellies, wide hips, low risk of difficult childbirth.

The ancient dilemma of "save the mother or save the child" need not trouble them.

"Has Mother been nagging you again?" Zhu Zhu Yijun played with Wang Yao's ear, asking softly.

Wang Yao's expression was one of utter exhaustion. She sighed: "Yesterday, Mother summoned me to Cining Palace. After a few words, she steered the conversation to when Emperor Xuan Sect deposed Empress Hu."

"Empress Hu Hu Shanxiang was under the protection of Empress Zhang, but what did that matter? After years of marriage, she bore no children. When Empress Sun gave birth to a son, even with Empress Zhang's protection, Empress Hu was still deposed. In this palace, a mother's status depends on her child. I've held your affection for so long, yet nothing has happened—idle talk is inevitable."

Empress Zhang of Renzong had been an extremely powerful Empress Dowager; she favored Hu Hu Shanxiang, but what could she do? Hu Hu Shanxiang bore no children. When Empress Sun gave birth to Zhu Zhu Qizhen, he immediately rose in status. Indeed, the fault lay with Hu Hu Shanxiang—Emperor Xuan Sect had another son, Zhu Zhu Qiyu, born to Lady Wu.

Wang Yao felt immense pressure. Two concubines watched her like hawks, even without needing Empress Dowager Li to whisper poison.

"Then have a child," Zhu Zhu Yijun mused briefly. If she conceived now, the birth would come next year—perfectly timed for maturity, not overly dangerous.

Wang Yao lifted her head slightly, whispering in Zhu Zhu Yijun's ear: "Husband, put some effort into it!"

"You've gotten bold!" Zhu Zhu Yijun lifted Wang Yao into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.

The next morning, the Great Ming Emperor rose early—he still had to attend court in the Zhao Wenhua Hall. Wang Yao, who normally rose early, lay lazily in bed, half-closed eyes, curled warmly under the quilts, clearly planning to oversleep.

"Pathetic," Zhu Zhu Yijun adjusted his robes, looking down at Wang Yao with a teasing smile.

"Hmph! If you weren't going to the Zhao Wenhua Hall for morning court, who knows who'd win?" Wang Yao bit her silver teeth, pouting at Zhu Zhu Yijun.

"I'm off. Sleep more," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, hands behind his back, striding out of the Western Garden with grand, arrogant steps.

Zhang Hong brought the imperial jade carriage—not the "land duck"—clearly showing deep deference. If the Emperor had to personally instruct him on such matters, then Zhang Hong, the "Second Ancestor," was useless.

"Proceed to the Zhao Wenhua Hall," Zhu Zhu Yijun said calmly, leaning on Zhang Hong as he boarded the jade carriage.

There are oxen that die from overwork, never fields worn out. Zhu Zhu Yijun's legs trembled slightly—whether pedaling the "land duck" or reviewing troops, he must act within his limits. He had won, but Wang Yao hadn't lost.

The reason they hadn't conceived also lay in the early days of marriage—both young spouses had been too fond of pleasure. Once pregnant, things became inconvenient—this was one reason, perhaps the main one.

On the twenty-fourth day of the fourth month of the seventh year of Emperor Wanli, a young eunuch hurried into Cining Palace, holding up his trousers. As he passed the Buddha hall and entered the palace gate, he tripped over the threshold and rolled smoothly in a full circle, raising his bright red congratulatory memorial high above his head, shouting: "Congratulations to Empress Dowager! Congratulations to His Majesty! Congratulations to Great Ming! The chief physicians have confirmed—the Empress is with child!"

Empress Dowager Li, who had been troubled by Zhu Zhu Yilu's antics—how the younger brother acted foolishly and the elder helped him, how the younger demanded beauties from ten thousand nations and the elder actually granted them—had been uneasy, fearing fraternal strife: had the Emperor granted the request out of exhaustion, or was he afraid Zhu Zhu Yilu would challenge the throne?

Hearing the eunuch's announcement, Empress Dowager Li leapt to her feet. She abandoned her prayers, stepped before the eunuch, took the memorial, opened it, and exclaimed with joy: "Truly, the Emperor keeps his word! He never breaks a promise! Go fetch Sister, and prepare the carriage to the Western Garden!"

"Bring rewards—generously!"

"Thank Empress Dowager's mercy!" The eunuch, overjoyed, knelt and kowtowed three times.

Empress Dowager Li's reward was generous—worth the eunuch's tumble. To signal urgency, the smooth, rolling fall had become a required skill among palace eunuchs, a tradition dating back to the Emperor Jingtai era—the ancestor who wrote "The Book of Annoyance" was a master of this trick.

Empress Dowager Li and Empress Chen arrived at the Western Garden in high spirits, met Wang Yao. Empress Dowager Li was barely over thirty; Wang Yao bowed, but Empress Dowager Li waved her off cheerfully: "No need, no need—we're family."

"Finally! Finally! This old woman can now pray in peace."

"If I'm an old woman, then what am I, an ancient witch?" Empress Chen beamed. If Zhu Zhu Yijun and Zhu Zhu Yilu clashed, Empress Chen supported Zhu Zhu Yijun, for nominally, Zhu Zhu Yijun had been adopted into her household and called her mother.

"At last, the palace has another joy! Come, girl, let Mother see you." Empress Dowager Li pulled Wang Yao close, chattered about family matters, and switched from "Empress" back to "girl"—a sign of deep affection.

Consort Liu Liu Mengshu and Consort Li Jin exchanged glances, both envious—not only of Wang Yao's pregnancy, but of the warmth of her relationship with the Empress Dowager. Wang Yao was the Emperor's wife, the Empress Dowager's daughter-in-law. Why fight? The Empress Dowager loved her, the Emperor adored her—there was no way to compete.

They dared not fight at all. When Wang Yao's belly had been empty, they had entertained fanciful hopes; now, those vanished entirely. Empress Dowager Li loomed like a mountain in the palace—they dared not overstep.

Empress Dowager Li had risen through palace intrigue; their petty schemes were merely what she had already mastered long ago.

Empress Dowager Li held Wang Yao's hand affectionately: "Girl, don't rush, don't fret. If it's a son, I'll have the strength to face the late Emperor. If it's a daughter, no matter—still young, have more. Don't worry. Having one is enough. Having one is enough."

Pregnancy meant her body was sound. A princess was fine—have more later.

"His Majesty arrives!" A eunuch shrilled loudly.

Zhu Zhu Yijun entered with regal strides, bowed slightly: "Mother, Lady Mother."

"Son, have you seen the chief physicians?" Empress Dowager Li asked first about the matter of greatest importance.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sat beside Wang Yao and smiled: "Both chief physicians, the Director of the Imperial Medical Bureau, and twenty-six imperial physicians all took her pulse. The court ministers grilled them relentlessly—they were sweating bullets. These were respected ministers; the physicians had never faced such a tribunal of nine ministers."

"At last, those ministers are of some use," Empress Dowager Li said, her last worry lifted.

The chief physicians and imperial doctors were certain: she was indeed pregnant. Beyond pulse-taking, they checked body temperature and menstrual cessation. Chen Chen Shigong even demonstrated a master technique, confirming it beyond doubt.

Female frogs ovulate only when embraced. Injecting a pregnant woman's urine into a female frog's skin causes it to ovulate.

This method had been practiced for decades. Chen Chen Shigong repeated it several times—all confirmed pregnancy beyond question.

Concealing illness and fearing doctors—preferring death over healing—is foolish. There is no taboo in seeking medical care; refusing treatment out of fear is the height of stupidity.

Inside and outside the palace, joy abounded. The Great Ming Emperor's health was sound—this was the greatest cause for celebration. The Emperor had long practiced martial arts, vigorous and strong—give him more concubines, let him breed as he pleases.

The court of Great Ming truly did not wish to endure another episode of collateral branch ascending to the main line. Last time, when Wu Zong died childless, Emperor Jiajing Emperor's accession sparked the Great Rites Controversy and left chaos in its wake. The lesson is clear: if the Emperor can sire children, it is a blessing.

As for the inevitable intrigues surrounding the imperial heir, everyone was prepared.

San San Niangzi entered the pass from Guihua City, taking over ten days to reach the capital. After registering with the Ministry of Rites and awaiting audience, she saw the official notice posted at the Sanyi Pavilion: the Great Ming Empress was pregnant.

This was a tremendous blessing. San San Niangzi touched her own belly—she finally had hope. Bearing a child of noble status would solidify her position. Altan Khan had forced a child upon her to rule the Oirat tribes; she could now seek a child from Great Ming to advance her political vision—to unify Great Ming and the Northern Barbarians during her reign, securing her name in history.

"I've heard the Great Ming Emperor practices martial arts without ceasing. I'd like to see just how strong he is," San San Niangzi said to her sister, smiling. Her sister was a concubine of Chen Chen Xuehui, Director of the Bureau of Barbarian Affairs.

"Sister, you want to climb the dragon bed? How dreamy," her sister scoffed. Having lived in Great Ming for years, she understood it well—the dragon bed was no place San San Niangzi could simply climb. Even climbing Chen Chen Xuehui's bed had caused uproar; she had no faith in San San Niangzi's ambition.

San San Niangzi, long in the northern frontier, had no clear grasp of the power of feudal etiquette.

San San Niangzi turned in a circle, smiling brightly: "Am I unattractive? Or is my figure poor?"

"Sister is beautiful and has a fine figure," her sister shook her head. "But human effort has limits. This isn't something effort alone can achieve."

"No matter—I'm still Altan Khan's wife. Great Ming never conquered Altan Khan. But conquering his wife? Hmm, just thinking of it makes the blood rush. The Great Ming Emperor is accustomed to defying convention. Can the Ministry of Rites really stop him?" San San Niangzi's eyes gleamed.

Being married sometimes offered advantage. Cao Cao had Dian Wei; the Emperor had Qi Qi Jiguang—and one hundred thousand troops of the Capital Garrison!

"If it won't work, forget it," San San Niangzi pondered long, then shook her head. She was a First-Rank Lady of Loyalty and Obedience; ordinary men weren't worth her effort. If the Emperor had no intention, she would let it go, follow the Ministry of Rites' lead, and abandon the idea. Reconciliation was one path—there were others.

As for securing her status, when Altan Khan died, she could marry his son and remain Princess of Prince Shunyi. When his son died, she could marry his grandson—and still remain Princess of Prince Shunyi.

San San Niangzi had come to the capital herself not only to deliver the goods extorted from Great Ming, but most importantly, to deliver wool. Spring wool must be fully transported into Great Ming. Last year, the number of horses on the steppe had dropped by twenty percent, while sheep increased by twenty percent—wool was abundant. With the silk-currency trade collapsing, she feared Great Ming might reject so much wool.

After days of Benbo, San San Niangzi realized she had worried needlessly. As she had told Altan Khan, Great Ming was a glutton—no matter how much raw material entered, it was swallowed whole. At the agreed price, the Ministry of Revenue paid promptly.

In the Western Garden, the Great Ming Emperor studied the ledgers, clacking his abacus for a long time, then slumped back in his armchair, sighing: "This Lady of Loyalty is truly a master of business! I extorted so much from her—and still barely broke even."

Zhang Hong smiled: "Your Majesty, the silver San San Niangzi received from the Ministry of Revenue was all spent in Great Ming—she took back iron pots, salt, and tea. We still profit."

In frontier trade, Great Ming never lost money. Previously, the trade was entirely controlled by the Jin Party, making the court appear severely in deficit. Now that the court controlled it, the court could not possibly lose.

Great Ming held a commodity advantage. Previously, trading with the Northern Barbarians had resulted in losses—where the money went was obvious.

Zhang Hong, having witnessed these matters firsthand with the Emperor, understood them well: the Jin Party's original sin was stealing the state for private gain—the very basis of Zhang Zhang Siwei's audacity.

"If San San Niangzi took the silver back, the steppe would be filled with starving corpses. She's a remarkable woman!" Zhu Zhu Yijun had often marveled: Altan Khan had won a brilliant wife in San San Niangzi. Without her mediation, Great Ming and Altan Khan would have been at war long ago.

Each time San San Niangzi came to Great Ming, the silver she received was exchanged for goods and taken back to the steppe—not hoarded for personal profit. She truly upheld her political promises.

Bringing peace and stability to the steppe.

"The system of indirect rule is a bridle around the Northern Barbarians' necks—the more they rely on Great Ming, the tighter the bridle becomes," Feng Bao analyzed from a political perspective. The booming wool trade was good for Great Ming: the bridle tightened, and fewer troubles arose.

"When has the Ministry of Rites scheduled the audience for the Lady of Loyalty and Obedience?" Zhu Zhu Yijun set down the ledger and inquired about the date of San San Niangzi's audience; since 1574, when San San Niangzi began her tributary missions to court, she had always been granted an imperial audience—a mark of special favor.

"The Ministry of Rites no longer wishes San San Niangzi to have an audience." Feng Bao's expression was one of profound difficulty; recently, officials of the Ministry had silently united in opposing the audience, their intent clear: let San San Niangzi finish her business and depart promptly.

As for why they opposed it, the reason was too shameful to utter—everyone knew, yet no one spoke it aloud: this audacious witch dared to attempt to bear the Emperor's child! Even Wan Shihé, Yiguanyuanhua, who never acted without imperial approval and never moved until the rabbit appeared, had joined the opposition to curb San San Niangzi's reckless ambition!

During San San Niangzi's last audience, she had twice spoken brazenly of children; Wan Shihé had already sensed her intent.

San San Niangzi must not succeed!

After learning the full story, Zhu Zhu Yijun pondered long, then shook his head and said: "We cannot sacrifice public duty for private concerns. The Lady of Loyalty and Obedience is a crucial piece placed by the Great Ming court on the steppe—a key figure to restrain Altan Khan and divide the Caoyuan. She must be granted an audience. As for her scheming, she still underestimates the complexity of this matter."

Upon receiving the imperial edict, Wan Shihé immediately rushed to the Western Garden to request an audience. In the Zhao Wenchang Pavilion of the imperial study, the Emperor of Great Ming received Wan Shihé.

Wan Shihé, ever the opportunist, entered, performed the full kowtow, and declared with absolute certainty: "Your Majesty, I have counsel to offer."

"They say Grand Minister Wan is the Great Ming's foremost flatterer—that if I say east, he waits in the east. But I say these courtiers are utterly blind. Grand Minister Wan's boldness in condemning Chen Shan rivals even that of Grand Inspector Hai!" Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled. "Rise. Speak."

"Your Majesty, Grand Inspector Hai has arrived," Feng Bao whispered, reminding the Emperor that another upright minister waited outside.

Speak of Cao Cao, and Hence Hai Rui appears.

Seven years—seven long years—the vile Confucians had dreamed of this scene: Hence Hai Rui raging at the Emperor. Now it had come. Hence Hai Rui arrived, bringing with him his unyielding integrity to the Western Garden.

"Admit him," Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded, granting Hence Hai Rui audience.

It was easy to understand: Zhu Zhu Yijun's edict ordering San San Niangzi's audience was tantamount to ordering her to spend the night with him. How could Hence Hai Rui not come upon hearing this?

"Your Majesty, I pay my respects. May Your Majesty's health be well?" Hence Hai Rui bowed respectfully.

"I am well. Both of you, sit and speak," Zhu Zhu Yijun gestured for them to be at ease. "We must see her. If the steppe's myriarchs learn the Lady of Loyalty and Obedience came to the capital and was not granted an audience, it will stir unnecessary trouble. She must be seen. But as for bearing a child—could she possibly declare such a thing publicly, in the Zhao Wenhua Hall?"

"She can!" Wan Shihé declared with absolute certainty.

Zhu Zhu Yijun blinked. "Ah? Grand Minister Wan is so certain?"

"She's done it before! Last winter, when she came to the capital, she mentioned it twice in the Zhao Wenhua Hall—utterly disgraceful to civility!" Wan Shihé spoke rapidly. "She is a steppe woman; steppe women care nothing for such matters."

Cultural differences: the Great Ming was deeply conservative on such matters, but San San Niangzi was a steppe woman—and utterly unconcerned.

"Your Majesty, during the reign of Emperor Yingzong, a son was born to him on the steppe—it was a complete mess," Hence Hai Rui warned, still shaken. The Great Ming has its own national conditions and historical burdens; the son born to Emperor Zhu Qiyu on the steppe caused no small turmoil.

San San Niangzi first married Altan Khan, then his son Huang Huang Taiji, then his grandson Chilike, then Chilike's grandson Bushi Tu—the grandson of Altan Khan's grandson. Her words and deeds in history are not reckless. Please vote for monthly tickets! Awooo!!!!!!!

(End of Chapter)