Chapter 11: Laws Alone Cannot Execute Themselves

A faint tang of blood still seemed to linger in the air of Qianqing Palace.

Zhu Youjian sat on the gently swaying sedan chair; beside him, Zhou Yu's small hand was ice-cold, held tightly in his palm.

He said nothing, only clasped her hand a little tighter.

Wei Zhongxian's howls, the young eunuch's ruthlessness, the dull thud of fists smashing into teeth, and that final scene of him being dragged out like a dead dog…

This understated yet violent drama of "eradicating the powerful eunuch" had truly been far too intense for a sixteen-year-old girl.

But when would the days ahead ever be calm?

The storm — had only just begun.

Outside the sedan chair lay the palace city in early autumn.

The late-autumn sunlight filtered through thin clouds, lazily spilling over red walls and yellow tiles; far from bringing any warmth, it only gilded this enormous cage with a layer of desolate gold.

Occasionally, patrolling guardsmen of the Imperial Guard marched past, their armor plates clinking with crisp sounds that only deepened the silence pervading the palace.

"Your Majesty."

A somewhat youthful voice came from outside the sedan, breaking the stillness.

Zhu Youjian came back to himself and lifted a corner of the curtain to see a young eunuch with fine, clear features, his body bent in a bow as he kept pace beside the sedan chair, his steps swift yet steady.

It was the very same young eunuch who had been waiting outside the hall earlier and had later finished off Wei Zhongxian with his own hands.

The fear and ruthlessness from before had vanished from his face, replaced by the humility and deference befitting a palace attendant.

It was as if the man who had just shoved his fist into Wei Zhongxian's mouth was not him at all.

"What is it?" Zhu Youjian asked flatly.

"In reply to Your Majesty, the Depot official… the traitor Wei has been disposed of properly," the young eunuch said, head lowered, choosing his words with extreme care.

"Mm." Zhu Youjian acknowledged, letting it be known he had heard.

He paused, then asked, "In the end, did he leave any last words?"

The young eunuch's body seemed to falter for an instant before he answered, "In reply to Your Majesty, there were no last words. Only… he struggled right up to his death."

Struggled, did he?

Zhu Youjian sighed inwardly. He had half-expected some sort of heroic-epic, or perhaps villainous-epic, ending.

Historically, hadn't he hanged himself at a post station? Had that hanging been just as wretched as this?

Or was this the butterfly effect? What wing had he actually flapped to make the great eunuch Wei's state of mind change so drastically?

Zhu Youjian's gaze settled on the young eunuch's face.

He looked quite young, around sixteen or seventeen, with a hint of the scholar still lingering between his brows — a rather rare sight among the generally illiterate palace attendants.

"Can you read?" Zhu Youjian asked casually.

At these words, a barely perceptible glint flashed through the young eunuch's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it and replied with the same deference, "In reply to Your Majesty, this slave entered the Inner Palace School in the first year of Tianqi and studied there for a few years."

"Oh? Who were your teachers?"

"This slave's esteemed instructors were Master Hou Ke and Master Ding Qianxue."

Hearing these two names, Zhu Youjian drew a blank.

If he had said Hou Xun, or Hou Fangyu, he would have recognized them, but this Hou Ke and Ding Qianxue — he had not the faintest impression of them.

They were probably not any sort of rare-card figures, he supposed.

But there was still some distance to go before they reached Ciqing Palace.

Having just weathered a storm, he had no desire to tax his mind further, so he idly struck up a conversation with the young eunuch.

"Where are they now, and what official posts do they hold?" Zhu Youjian continued.

The young eunuch's voice took on a note of barely detectable dejection.

"Master Ding… was a Probationary Compiler at the Hanlin Academy. He passed away just this year, in the third month."

At this point, as if afraid Zhu Youjian might misunderstand, he added, "When Master Ding served as Chief Examiner for Jiangxi, the policy-question topics he set offended… offended the traitor Wei. He was stripped of his rank and reduced to a commoner. After returning to his hometown, the indignation festered in his heart, and before long… he died of grief and rage."

He paused, then lowered his voice even further, as though fearful of being overheard.

"This slave and a few companions from the Inner Palace School secretly pooled together some bits of loose silver at the time and had someone deliver it to Master Ding's widow. I wonder… how our teacher's wife is faring now."

Zhu Youjian listened in silence.

He noticed that as the young eunuch spoke these words, the rims of his eyes had reddened slightly.

Wei Zhongxian had barely just fallen, and he already dared, right in front of him, to voice a grievance for a Donglin official hounded to death by the eunuch faction?

This young eunuch truly had nerve.

A man who, at the critical moment, for the sake of his own future — or his own neck — could unhesitatingly shove his fist into Wei Zhongxian's mouth.

Yet in private, to repay his teacher's kindness, he would risk helping his teacher's widow.

He could even have simply said that his teacher was dead, but he had to bring up offending the eunuch Wei — was he seeking posthumous vindication?

Zhu Youjian sighed along with him. "The traitor Wei brought calamity upon the realm; many upright men fell victim. It is truly unbearable to contemplate."

He immediately followed up with another question: "And what of Master Hou?"

"Master Hou is a man of Henan. He was also demoted to commoner status and now… should be in his native place," the young eunuch answered.

Zhu Youjian thought to himself: Well, well — both of his teachers at the Inner Palace School had actually been opponents of the eunuch faction.

He looked at the young eunuch and asked, "What is your name?"

At this question, the young eunuch could no longer suppress the wild delight that burst from his eyes, but he still reined himself in with all his might and bowed his head deeply.

"This slave is Ma Wenke."

Ma Wenke.

Zhu Youjian silently repeated the name to himself.

No recollection whatsoever…

"Mm. We will remember it."

Zhu Youjian spoke a single indifferent line, then let the curtain fall and closed his eyes.

Ma Wenke heard those words and his face instantly flushed crimson with stifled rage, yet he dared not make a sound — he only pressed closer alongside the shoulder-carriage.

Inside the shoulder-carriage, Zhou Yu leaned against Zhu Youjian's shoulder, and as if soothed by the steady presence radiating from him, she had actually drifted into a light sleep.

Zhu Youjian, however, felt not the slightest drowsiness.

Within his mind, thoughts churned and surged.

So this is the real world.

In his former life, as someone who had spent years navigating officialdom, he too, like many of his colleagues, had enjoyed discussing Ming history.

But that was merely a way to make conversation.

That kind of reading, in the end, was nothing more than skimming the surface — a pretension to refinement.

Who would ever go to the trouble of carefully committing to memory the name and fate of every minor figure?

He could remember the famous eunuchs — Gao Shiming, Xu Yingyuan, Wang Cheng'en, Cao Huachun.

He could remember Sun Chengzong, Yuan Chonghuan, Mao Wenlong as well.

But the offices of the realm numbered in the thousands, and the humbler the post, the more profoundly it shaped the outcome of any policy.

Relying solely on the pitiful scraps of memory in his own head to find the right men was no viable long-term strategy.

This was not some game of Three Kingdoms Heroes, where you station a few officers with 100 Intelligence in a city and — whoosh — grain pours in, then you conjure troops from thin air and steamroll everything.

A vast empire requires a set of effective institutions — to select talent, to restrain officials, to ensure the smooth operation of the entire machine.

It cannot depend on the memory and personal preferences of one emperor.

Mencius said: Good laws alone cannot execute themselves.

The finest laws, the finest institutions — if the men who carry them out are flawed, they are nothing but empty paper.

And yet, are the men who go wrong not themselves driven there by the system?

When all around are corrupt, for one man alone to remain incorrupt — that is fundamentally impossible to survive in officialdom.

He thought of Wei Zhongxian's account book, of those densely packed rows of names.

Among those listed there — had they not, in the very moment they passed the jinshi examination, once held the original resolve to plead the people's cause?

And of those old retainers he had brought with him from the Prince Xin Residence, the trusted followers of his princely days — under this new order he was about to establish, how many would be left standing in the end?

Could it be that, when all was said and done, this Great Ming was truly beyond saving?

For the first time, a thread of uncertainty toward the future stirred in Zhu Youjian's heart.

The road he had to walk was too hard.

Amid these tangled thoughts, the shoulder-carriage slowly came to a halt.

"Your Majesty, Ciqing Palace — we have arrived."

Ma Wenke's voice came from outside the carriage.

Zhu Youjian opened his eyes. The bewilderment and contemplation within them were, in an instant, replaced by perfect clarity.

He helped up the drowsy Zhou Yu beside him, smoothed her hair at the temples, and said gently, "Changqiu, we are here."

Then, he stepped down first from the shoulder-carriage and raised his head to look upon the palace before him.

Ciqing Palace. They had arrived.

His imperial sister-in-law, Zhang Yan, was waiting for him inside.