Chapter 601: The Sun Rises as Always

Zhu Zhu Yilu believed the emperor was fishing.

Prince of Lu Zhu Zhu Yilu's greatest wish was to live lazily and wait for death, and he had successfully achieved this goal by indulging in frivolous affairs with women from across the empire—only for the emperor to suddenly appoint him as regent, then fall ill with a fever after a minor dental procedure, his limbs weak and powerless.

Zhu Zhu Yilu did not believe it.

Zhu Zhu Yilu stubbornly believed the emperor was using the tooth extraction as a trap, intending to lure out ambitious men before launching his southern tour.

The Prince of Lu was not foolish—he was just lazy.

But upon seeing his brother's face, Zhu Zhu Yilu was startled: the emperor, once as robust as an ox, had truly fallen ill—yet Zhu Zhu Yilu still stubbornly believed the emperor was fishing, for in his eyes, his brother was invincible; since childhood, countless demons and monsters had been reduced to ashes under the emperor's hand.

Faced with countless crises, the emperor always had a hidden card to turn the tide at the critical moment; Zhu Zhu Yilu firmly believed that even if the fever were real, there would be miraculous pills to save him.

Zhu Zhu Yijun knew his own condition—he truly had not been fishing, nor had he set any trap for the ministers; the tooth extraction had genuinely caused the fever, and even the chief physicians Chen Chen Shigong and Li Li Shizhen were as frantic as ants on a hot pan.

The emperor weakly waved his hand, signaling Zhu Zhu Yilu to leave—he had no strength left to speak.

Zhu Zhu Yilu did not leave; instead, like Qi Qi Jiguang, he stood guard outside the emperor's sickroom—anyone could become that fish, but it could not be Zhu Zhu Yilu.

Zhu Zhu Yijun lay on his sickbed; the nine gates of the capital were under the control of the Imperial Guards, and everyone waited in dread. The nine gates were sealed, yet news still spread like wildfire—throughout the vast capital, even with the gates closed, essential water, food, and coal still had to enter the city, so news would fly like wings to every corner.

Zhang Zhang Juzheng gazed anxiously toward the Anatomy Institute, behind him stood Grand Secretaries Wang Wang Guoguang and Wan Shihé; the deputy grand secretary Wang Wang Chonggu, who had never attended the Zhang Wenyuan Pavilion, had gone to the Western Hills Coal Bureau to ensure continued coal and steel production.

Wang Wang Guoguang and Wan Shihé both knew one thing: if the emperor's death were announced, Zhang Zhang Juzheng could no longer avoid usurpation.

Whether Zhu Zhu Changzhi or Zhu Zhu Yilu ascended the throne, the outcome would not change—the emperor, while gravely ill, should have killed Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Qi Qi Jiguang, just as the founding emperor had killed Lan Yu.

Zhu Zhu Changzhi was only three and a half years old; Zhu Zhu Yilu was even more absurd, lacking any reputation for virtue—they could not control Zhang Zhang Juzheng or Qi Qi Jiguang.

When the emperor ascended the throne at age ten, Zhang Zhang Juzheng was newly appointed chief minister and lacked the conditions for rebellion—but now, Zhang Zhang Juzheng had held supreme power as imperial chief minister for twelve years, and Qi Qi Jiguang commanded the most elite troops of the Imperial Guards.

Even if Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Qi Qi Jiguang had no intention of rebellion, others would force them to go further.

As the emperor lay gravely ill, the Great Ming Empire plunged into severe crisis, even risking dynastic change—the illustrious emperor had flashed across the sky like a meteor, dazzling like fireworks before vanishing in an instant.

What should be done?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng, who had served twelve years as chief minister, was utterly at a loss.

He remained chief minister because he was confident the emperor was young and could outlast him, waiting until he and Qi Qi Jiguang were worn out; among Zhang Zhang Juzheng's countless calculations, he had never imagined the Great Ming losing its emperor—and losing him so young—what then?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng had undergone surgery himself—he had been in terrible shape then, but he had endured it; with the current strength of the Anatomy Institute's physicians, a simple wisdom tooth was nothing—Chen Chen Shigong alone had performed hundreds of such procedures, with no mishaps.

"Once, His Majesty told me at the Quanzhou Assembly: 'Life is about never knowing whether misfortune or tomorrow will come first.'" Zhang Zhang Juzheng's upright figure suddenly slumped; he turned to Wang Wang Guoguang and Wan Shihé and said: "The Six Ministries shall carry on as usual."

"His Majesty is under Heaven's favor."

Zhang Zhang Juzheng did not believe in gods or Buddhas, but at this moment, he hoped the ancestors of the Great Ming would protect the empire and see it through this life-or-death crisis.

Wang Wang Chonggu, stationed at the Western Hills Coal Bureau, brought his son Wang Qian there; Wang Wang Chonggu had voluntarily withdrawn from the capital court and even avoided the Anatomy Institute, for as a former rebel, his presence in the city meant danger—he left voluntarily for self-preservation, and in this situation, he could only rely on the craftsmen of the Western Hills Coal Bureau to ensure his safety.

Wang Wang Chonggu understood clearly: Zhang Zhang Juzheng had now accumulated sufficient power, sustained by the emperor's favor and imperial grace; over these twelve years, the Zhang faction had grown into a torrential flood—and once the emperor, the sole legitimate heir, passed away, this flood would be unstoppable.

"Zhang Zhang Juzheng is a loyal minister—there is no doubt. He is loyal to the people, to the Great Ming, to the state, and above all, to His Majesty. Even when selecting his sole disciple, he chose the tiny Xiong Xiong Tingbi—not because Xiong Xiong Tingbi was exceptionally talented, but to ensure his own power became the emperor's power. Had Xiong Xiong Tingbi not been so gifted, Zhang Zhang Juzheng would never have taken him as a disciple." Wang Wang Chonggu leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window at the gloomy sky, his face showing rare fear.

"Then why are we hiding in the Western Hills Coal Bureau? If His Majesty truly passes, shouldn't Father go to pay homage to the new emperor? The emperor's decree names Prince of Lu." Wang Qian asked, puzzled.

"Do you truly believe that if His Majesty dies, Prince of Lu can ascend the throne?" Wang Wang Chonggu countered. "Do you think Zhang Zhang Juzheng will agree? What happens to the New Policies if Prince of Lu ascends?"

"Son, don't forget: the state factories, the military-industrial battalions, and the equalized land and labor service—these three reforms were my doing. We are reformers, and now we are the ones leading the charge."

"Prince of Lu has repeatedly expressed his disdain for the New Policies. Even when His Majesty still took him to the Zhao Wenhua Hall for court sessions, Prince of Lu repeatedly called the state's reforms unnecessary and troublemaking."

"If Prince of Lu ascends, the first to suffer will be you and me—and the Industrial Party—then comes Zhang Zhang Juzheng."

Wang Qian pondered, recalling how the founding emperor had named the Jianwen Emperor successor, only for him to lose the empire within four years; if Prince of Lu ascended, he would merely be another Haihun Marquis. Zhang Zhang Juzheng's power now was no less than Huo Guang's in his prime.

Especially with Duke Duke Fengguo Qi Qi Jiguang—once the emperor, the anchor of stability, was gone, Qi Qi Jiguang would remain firmly under Zhang Zhang Juzheng's control.

"But the crown prince is only three and a half years old. The Great Ming has just survived one crisis of a young sovereign and uncertain succession—how can it endure another?" Wang Qian felt his hands trembling; it was simple: a child who could not express his own will was easier for the court to accept.

But the problem was, no one knew whether the Great Ming could survive another crisis of a young sovereign—could they rely on Zhang Zhang Juzheng's conscience? They had already relied on it once.

When Yang Bo had once offered a hand of friendship, Zhang Zhang Juzheng had refused—what if he had accepted?

Wang Wang Chonggu sat upright and said: "If His Majesty truly passes, I will follow him in death. You, however, shall submit a petition to retire—then Zhang Zhang Juzheng will spare our family."

"Surrender without resistance and rely on Zhang Zhang Juzheng's mercy?!" Wang Qian rejected his father's plan; if Wang Wang Chonggu truly vanished, Zhang Zhang Juzheng would strike without restraint.

"Then what else? Do you think I can defeat him alive? How many times have I won? Better to rely on his mercy." Wang Wang Chonggu spoke with perfect candor.

Wang Qian nodded in full agreement: "That's true—Father has never won."

These words nearly drove Wang Wang Chonggu to death.

The emperor's death, in ancient times, was called "Heaven's Collapse." In this pivotal historical moment of the Emperor Wanli Reforms, if the emperor truly passed, it would be a cataclysmic event.

Prince Zhu Zhu Zaiyu, troubled and restless, put down his brush. He had forced himself to immerse in the study of the infinite principles of all things, yet his thoughts remained chaotic. He had recently made slight progress and planned to share it with the emperor—but now, staring at the stone before him, he wondered if he would ever have the chance.

If the emperor dies, the Confucian scholars will devour the Institute of Investigation whole—from the Anatomy Institute, which studies the infinite principles of the human body, the most vulnerable front. If the emperor died under the care of the Anatomy Institute, would the institute even survive?

From the Anatomy Institute, the nascent movement of investigating things to gain knowledge would vanish.

Zhu Zhu Zaiyu had no power to protect the Institute of Investigation, nor could he count on Wan Shihé—Wan Shihé would be lucky to survive the backlash.

Outside the Anatomy Institute sickroom stood another woman: Empress Wang Wang Yaozhuo. She had dried her tears; if her husband truly passed, she would walk the path he could not, and become a wicked empress if necessary!

She clearly understood the immense effort her husband had devoted to the Great Ming's realm and state.

Could she let the emperor's lifelong dreams and sacrifices be washed away?

If His Majesty passed, she planned to conceal his death, immediately send Prince of Lu to his fiefdom—she knew Zhang Zhang Juzheng would accept it: for the sake of the New Policies, a young emperor who could not express his own will was easier to control, allowing the reforms to continue—just as Guo Guo Ziyi had done, granting Qi Qi Jiguang and Zhang Zhang Juzheng princely titles.

This was undoubtedly a high-stakes gamble, but Wang Wang Yaozhuo had already prepared herself.

"How is His Majesty?" Wang Wang Yaozhuo asked Chief Physicians Li Li Shizhen and Chen Chen Shigong.

Li Li Shizhen and Chen Chen Shigong remained silent for a long while; finally, Li Li Shizhen spoke: "We'll know by tonight—if he survives the night, he'll be fine; if not…"

Wang Wang Yaozhuo felt the world spin, her vision blurring white—the physicians had avoided saying it, but now they had delivered the grim truth: the emperor had one foot in the gates of death.

"Is there truly no way?" Wang Wang Yaozhuo's freshly dried tears flowed again.

Li Li Shizhen fell silent again, long and deep, then whispered: "All possible measures have been exhausted."

Zhu Zhu Yijun felt he was asleep, yet not asleep—perhaps this was the threshold of death. He saw Tan Lun and Yu Yu Dayou, two deceased senior ministers, seemingly speaking anxiously—but Zhu Zhu Yijun could not hear a single word.

"Kill!"

Zhu Zhu Yijun finally understood what they were saying: Tan Lun and Yu Yu Dayou fought shoulder to shoulder, back-to-back, their enemy the Japanese pirates who had ravaged the southeast.

The battlefield was dire: Tan Lun, a civil official, led the Taizhou death-soldiers in fierce assault; pirates, outlaws, red-haired barbarians, and even black-skinned foes surged against the crumbling line—but Tan Lun and his Taizhou death-soldiers fought to the death, not retreating a single step.

The scene blurred; the cries of battle faded into whispers. Zhu Zhu Yijun felt nothing—he sensed his thoughts had completely halted, only emptiness remained. Sleepiness came repeatedly, as if a voice, speaking in an incomprehensible tongue, urged him: Sleep. Sleep. You are too tired.

Zhu Zhu Yijun suddenly jolted awake—he still had unfinished business! The pirates were not yet destroyed! How could he sleep?!

"What time is it?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, his lips cracked, voice weak.

"Your Majesty, it is the third watch of yin, one watch away from mao—dawn is coming." Feng Bao and Zhang Hong had not dared close their eyes, nor leave; as soon as the emperor spoke, Feng Bao immediately replied.

If His Majesty truly passed, the court would be purged, and the palace would see massive replacements—Feng Bao and Zhang Hong would be lucky to be exiled to Fengyang to farm.

"Thirsty. Give me water." Zhu Zhu Yijun's mind was still hazy, but he voiced his need—he was truly thirsty, his body sticky with sweat.

"Water! Water!" Zhang Hong had already brought water, spooning it to the emperor's lips.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sipped twice, then shook his head weakly: "I'll rest a while."

Feng Bao and Zhang Hong's hearts leapt to their throats—if the emperor truly fell asleep, it would be fine; if he never woke, the Great Ming's sky would truly collapse.

Soon, the emperor's steady breathing came, easing their fears, while Chief Physicians Li Li Shizhen and Chen Chen Shigong stood guard at the bedside.

"How is he?" Feng Bao asked nervously.

"The fever has broken! The pulse has stabilized! His Majesty has Heaven's favor!" Li Li Shizhen wiped the sweat from his brow, speaking to Feng Bao and Zhang Hong.

Dawn came—the emperor had survived.

The sun rose as always, illuminating the earth and shining on the emperor's strong face—he slept peacefully, exhausted from his battle with illness.

Chen Chen Shigong collapsed to the floor—he would not become a historical villain. Who knew how posterity would judge him if the emperor had truly died under his care?

"Go tell the Empress Dowagers and the Empress!" Zhang Hong grabbed a young eunuch by the shoulders and shoved him out.

The young eunuch dashed out, tripped at the doorway, and slid smoothly across the floor. Qi Qi Jiguang, half-asleep, heard footsteps and snapped open his eyes; seeing the eunuch fall, he reached out and caught him.

"Your Majesty…" Qi Qi Jiguang dared not finish the question. Fearless before armies, Qi Qi Jiguang had never trembled—but now, for the first time, he was terrified, too afraid to ask what he longed to know.

Qi Qi Jiguang only wished to remain Duke Duke Fengguo—he did not wish to become a traitor.

"His Majesty just woke, drank two sips of water, and fell asleep again. The chief physicians say he has survived—the fever has broken, his pulse is steady." The eunuch hurriedly said; Qi Qi Jiguang's grip was so tight he feared his arm would break—he wondered if Qi Qi Jiguang's hands could crush stone.

"Ah? Ah, good, good, good! Wonderful!" Qi Qi Jiguang saw the eunuch's pale face and immediately released him; his heart finally settled.

When Zhu Zhu Yijun awoke again, he saw a room full of people—truly a room full. The two Empress Dowagers, the Empress, Prince De, Prince of Lu, Grand Secretaries, and court ministers—all gathered, but kept at least seven paces from the sickbed, separated by a screen.

Zhu Zhu Yijun propped himself up, feeling perfectly well—first sensation: hunger. His body type, fasting a full day, made hunger unbearable.

Second sensation: strength had returned. The weakness that had left him unable to lift himself had vanished completely.

Third sensation: pain. The tooth extraction had been excruciating—especially after the numbing effect of the death-vine wore off.

"Your subjects pay homage to Your Majesty." Zhang Zhang Juzheng, who had waited anxiously, immediately bowed upon seeing the emperor awake and sitting up.

Beyond the emperor's sickbed, a sea of heads knelt.

"Rise. All of you have red eyes from sleeplessness—go rest. Don't crowd here." Zhu Zhu Yijun waved his hand, signaling them to leave; now was not the time for talk. That he could speak at all was the best news for everyone.

They had gathered to hear the emperor's voice, to confirm his condition and prepare accordingly. Though his voice was hoarse, his breath was strong—he had truly survived, as the chief physicians said. The crowd dispersed; the outer ministers left, while the two Empress Dowagers and the Empress, as family, remained to speak.

"Zhu Yilu stays to be scolded." Zhu Zhu Yijun, seeing Zhu Zhu Yilu trying to slip away, was furious.

"Huh?" Zhu Zhu Yilu stared left and right—why was he the only one being scolded?

"I appointed you regent—why didn't you go? Did you deliberately anger me? Did you defy me to my face?!" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, annoyed.

Wang Wang Yaozhuo had also endured a full day and night, her eyes red, yet she calmly ordered Feng Bao to bring food—no heavy meats, but nourishing broth was fine. She was delighted; ignoring the crowd, she seized the emperor's hand, asking questions nonstop.

"Your Majesty, whether I go or not makes no difference—so long as Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Commander Qi are here, chaos won't break out. If they're gone, even if I were regent, it would be useless, wouldn't it?" Zhu Zhu Yilu quickly explained his absence.

If the emperor truly took Zhang Zhang Juzheng and Qi Qi Jiguang with him, Zhu Zhu Yilu's regency would mirror Jianwen Emperor Zhu Zhu Yunwen's situation—no capable ministers left.

If the emperor kept them, Zhu Zhu Yilu's regency would merely make him a living seal—just stamping documents. That would be enough—he might even become another Haihun Marquis.

Did he truly think the throne was easy to sit on? Zhu Zhu Yilu had witnessed his brother's journey from a young sovereign amid uncertainty to the sovereign of the realm—he still held the same view: better not to be emperor at all!

Could an emperor still play with women from across the empire? Don't even dream of it!

"You won't even call me Brother!" Zhu Zhu Yijun explained why he had kept Zhu Zhu Yilu alone—this man still refused to take any responsibility under such circumstances!

"There is a distinction between sovereign and subject." Zhu Zhu Yilu spoke with perfect composure, abusing his status as the Emperor's younger brother. The Emperor would never forgive him—he would punish him severely! After his wedding, Zhu Zhu Yilu knew that the little brother who once trailed behind His Majesty with snot on his nose could only be the Prince of Lu.

"Sigh, go on, return to rest—you've been up all night." Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at Zhu Zhu Yilu's bloodshot eyes; his anger faded. He waved his hand, signaling Zhu Zhu Yilu to go back and sleep.

"Your servant obeys the imperial decree." Zhu Zhu Yilu slipped away like a gust of wind.

"Bring me the memorials—from yesterday and today." Before eating, Zhu Zhu Yijun ordered Feng Bao to fetch the memorials; he still needed to observe further at the Dissection Institute. Naturally, he had them brought—memorials must not pass the night; all must be reviewed and approved. This was Zhu Zhu Yijun's promise.

"Your Majesty!" Empress Dowager Li could no longer hold back. "My son, you're not made of iron—rest for a few days! The Great Ming won't collapse!"

Empress Dowager Li was always prone to tears. Since the Emperor's tooth extraction and subsequent fever, she had nearly wept all day. Now that he was finally recovering, he hadn't even eaten, yet already thought of those memorials, those state affairs.

"Mother, I merely had a tooth pulled—a minor mishap. Isn't it over? I've already broken my fever. Right now, I feel strong enough to punch a bull to death! Of course, I must eat first." Zhu Zhu Yijun chuckled cheerfully. The wound still hurt slightly; his smile tugged at it, causing fresh pain.

"Fine, fine." Empress Dowager Li, seeing she could not persuade him, waved her hand and returned to Tonghemen Palace with Empress Chen.

"How did I pull through?" After eating, Zhu Zhu Yijun grew curious. Did the chief physicians of the Dissection Institute have some miraculous elixir? He himself had thought he was going to die.

"Of course, Your Majesty, medicine played a role—Chen Chen Jiecai brine, which contains the penicillin culture derived from fermented Chen Chen Jiecai. The Dissection Institute doesn't just collect your salary without working. The selection of penicillin strains from Chen Chen Jiecai brine has been ongoing for nine years now. This is it." Chen Chen Shigong quickly pulled out a transparent glass bottle containing a small amount of clear liquid.

Chen Chen Jiecai brine, aged brine—these are penicillin. It originated from the giant vats of Tianning Temple in Changzhou. Back then, the Kong family of Yanzhou provided abundant samples for fermentation and process improvements; the Kong family contributed twelve specimens, advancing the clinical application of aged brine.

Penicillin is potent—it can cure incurable diseases like pulmonary tuberculosis.

"Your Majesty is not allergic to aged brine; even if you were, it wouldn't matter—the Dissection Institute has another option: garlic-aged brine. This is also one of our backup solutions." Li Li Shizhen produced another small bottle.

The Dissection Institute had prepared thoroughly—but accidents still occurred.

Li Li Shizhen continued: "Medicine is only part of it. Another reason is that Your Majesty's physique is robust. I've previously explained to Your Majesty the concept of 'shaqing'—when one engages in intense physical exertion repeatedly, body temperature briefly rises above 40°C. Whether human, animal, or plant, all follow the principle: use it or lose it. The more you use, the stronger it becomes; if abandoned, it atrophies."

Humans possess disease resistance. Some recover quickly during epidemics; others do not. The reasons are complex, but regular exercise is never harmful. Your Majesty's physique is as strong as an ox—twelve years of relentless training from age ten to twenty-two, sustained high-intensity exertion, has strengthened Your Majesty's disease resistance through repeated cycles of shaqing.

"Within Your Majesty's body are many well-trained elite troops of the Capital Garrison. The Northern Barbarians might sneak through the passes and raid unexpectedly—but once these elite troops respond, the invaders are doomed." Li Li Shizhen tried to make his words easier to grasp.

The pathogenic microbes may temporarily gain the upper hand, but once Your Majesty regains strength and endures, you truly endure.

"How much of this aged brine can be produced?" Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at the two small bottles and asked curiously.

"One unit per person per day. We can produce only four thousand units annually. This output is extremely low—only suitable for the capital, impossible to benefit the masses." Li Li Shizhen spoke with deep regret. It works well, but the scarcity is so severe that it remains reserved exclusively for the imperial family, ministers, and military nobles—even the Capital Garrison cannot receive it.

"We must find a high-yield strain." Chen Chen Shigong outlined the dilemma. With the microscope, the Great Ming has kicked open the door to the microscopic world. Just as rabbits have different breeds, so too do the strains producing aged brine. The Dissection Institute is still searching for high-yield strains.

Progress so far is not encouraging.

"It doesn't matter—take it slowly. If not today, then in ten years. If not in ten years, then fifty, a hundred. Eventually, it will be achieved. There may be twists along the way, but it will surely be done." Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled.

Li Li Yashi is pure nonsense—what nonsense about "high morality disadvantage"? High morality is an advantage!

Taking responsibility for history is one product of high morality—a precious treasure the Westerners will never attain!

Li Li Shizhen said: "Your Majesty, the Great Ming is like a human being; Japan is like a strain. Compared to the Great Ming's stability, Japan is extremely unstable—so too are vassal states. This is because mutations and accidents occur constantly—it's a result of scale."

"Strains, compared to the vast system of a human, mutate more easily. We've used arsenic—realgar—to induce mutations in strains, and we've achieved some results."

Your Majesty is a statesman—undoubtedly so. Thus, when explaining certain matters, Li Li Shizhen interpreted them thusly to aid Your Majesty's understanding.

"Er—I don't quite understand, but since there are results, the direction must be correct." Zhu Zhu Yijun admitted he was not an expert in this field, but the path of induced mutation was right.

In truth, the Dissection Institute's mutagenesis experiments used more than just realgar—every kind of extreme poison was applied, even snake venom. Light exposure, temperature, and other variables were all tested in controlled experiments. Realgar was merely one method. The general idea was to drastically and violently alter the environment to induce mutation—this is a concrete practice of human selection theory.

Theory guides practice; practice refines theory. This is the unity of knowledge and action, the realization of innate conscience, and the resolution of contradictions to reveal myriad principles.

Studying the infinite principles of all things means slowly shattering the boundaries of understanding, summarizing experience, and achieving results. Each step is difficult; solving one problem often reveals ten more waiting ahead.

"Your Majesty, Wang Ci and his son request an audience." The eunuch whispered.

"Admit them."

"Your Majesty, your servant bows before you! Heaven blesses the Great Ming—Your Majesty's imperial health is restored! Your servant rejoices for the Great Ming, rejoices for Your Majesty!" Wang Wang Chonggu rushed into the ward with Wang Qian, having received the news late from the Western Hills Coal Bureau.

"Your Majesty, Zhang Zhang Juzheng wants to kill me! Your Majesty, please protect me!" Wang Wang Chonggu knelt on the ground, weeping and sniffling, utterly wronged.

"Huh? Tell me in detail." Zhu Zhu Yijun was stunned. Could his teacher really harbor such murderous intent?