Chapter 3: Wei Zhongxian: Find Someone to Play the Plum

When Zhu Youjian stepped into Qianqing Palace, the hall blazed with candlelight yet was so silent one could hear a pin drop.

The four Grand Secretaries of the Grand Secretariat — Huang Liji, Shi Fenglai, Zhang Ruitu, and Li Guopu — all stood in plain mourning robes, heads bowed, in the center of the hall.

Wei Zhongxian, Wang Tiqian, Li Yongzhen, and the rest of the inner court eunuchs stood ranged along either side, their expressions a study in contrasts.

The moment they saw Prince Xin enter, every gaze in the hall converged upon him.

On the civil officials' side, their hearts were tangled beyond words.

Truly, the subject was born before the sovereign, and the sovereign was born after the subject had already grown old.

Every one of them had toiled through the classics until their hair turned white; who among them, the day their name appeared on the golden roster, had not dreamed of making their sovereign a Yao or a Shun and restoring purity to the common mores?

Only, to climb higher — even simply to stay alive — these past few years they had had no choice but to cling to the eunuch faction.

Who would not want to be a man of pure integrity? It was simply that the path was impossible to walk, and they lacked the courage to walk it.

Now they bore the stain of history upon them, and when the new sovereign ascended the throne, even as he replaced the inner court's personnel, he would likely sweep them all away as well.

The inner court eunuchs' thoughts were more nakedly transparent; a single sweeping glance from Zhu Youjian was enough to see through nearly all of them.

Wei Zhongxian and his core clique were naturally in a state of panic — that can be set aside for the moment.

The faction of powerful eunuchs led by Wang Tiqian, even if not deeply entangled with Wei Zhongxian, were no less terrified at heart.

But from the brush-holders in the hall on down, especially among the attendant eunuchs, eyes brimming with ambition were everywhere to be seen.

And why not? If they did not seize this chance to push those old fossils down, how would the young ever get their day in the sun?

Zhu Youjian looked at no one; his gaze fell directly upon the cold imperial coffin resting in the center of the hall.

He fixed his eyes on it for a long moment, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. When he opened them again, tears streamed forth as though a dike had burst.

There was no wailing, no affectation — yet every inner attendant and civil official present felt a profound, bone-deep grief, as raw as a small child who had just lost its mother.

Zhu Youjian walked forward step by step, each step agonizingly slow and heavy, as if a thousand-jun weight pressed down upon his feet.

He came before the coffin, bowed deeply from the waist, then knelt upon the ground and performed the full grand rite of kowtow.

Through the entire process, he never uttered a single word; only his tears fell silently onto the cold stone floor tiles, splashing up tiny blossoms of grief.

The silence in the hall was terrifying. The civil officials could hardly bear to watch, and most of the inner attendants sighed inwardly — only Wei Zhongxian, too, had tears streaming down his face.

When the rites concluded, he slowly rose. After standing dazed for a moment, he finally lifted his sleeve to wipe away the tears.

To his surprise, the more he wiped, the more they flowed, unstoppable.

Left with no choice, Zhu Youjian simply let them be. He turned directly to the assembled ministers and said, his voice hoarse:

"My imperial brother has ascended to heaven. The affairs of state weigh heavy. Let each of you attend to your duties and ensure the court remains stable."

"Your subjects shall reverently obey Your Highness's verbal decree," the Grand Secretaries and eunuchs all answered, bowing.

At that very moment, Wei Zhongxian, who had remained silent all along, suddenly stepped forward from the crowd.

His face was streaked with hastily wiped-away tears, his form and spirit utterly haggard. Barely a few days had passed since Zhu Youjian's last visit to the palace, yet he seemed to have aged ten years.

Bending low, he said with the utmost caution, "Your Highness, the rites are now complete. May I request that Your Highness withdraw to rest?"

Zhu Youjian nodded and said gently, "I am obliged to you, my Companion."

When Wei Zhongxian heard the word "Companion," though he guessed it was merely a placating term, his heart steadied a little, and he hurriedly led the way.

The walk to the side hall took no more than half an incense stick's time, yet the atmosphere was so awkward it seemed to have frozen solid.

Wei Zhongxian had by now pulled himself out of his earlier grief. Several times he opened his mouth to say something, to break this suffocating silence, but each time the words reached his lips, he swallowed them back down.

He wanted to pledge his loyalty, but feared it would seem too deliberate; he wanted to sound out the new master's intentions, but feared offending this unfathomably deep new sovereign.

This Prince Xin, from the moment he entered the palace until now, beyond the necessary courtesies and a few words of reassurance, had not uttered a single superfluous sentence. And the more this was so, the more utterly unsettled Wei Zhongxian felt.

He felt like a mouse fixed in a cat's stare: the other's silence was the sharpest of claws and fangs, leaving him unable to sit still, as if needles pricked his back.

At last, the side hall was before them.

"Your Highness, please." Wei Zhongxian halted and stepped aside deferentially to make way.

Zhu Youjian nodded and walked straight in.

Only when the hall doors slowly closed behind him, cutting off everything outside, did Zhu Youjian let out a long, deep breath.

The night was deep now; only a few candles burned inside the hall, their light dim.

He walked to the table, then drew from his sleeve several wheat cakes wrapped in oiled paper and wolfed down a few ravenous bites.

The cakes were made by Zhou Yu's own hands. To be honest, her skill was truly not very good — they were so dry they made his eyes roll back.

He picked up the teapot on the table and was about to gulp down a mouthful when his movement abruptly froze.

After hesitating for a long moment, he poured only a tiny sip, held it in his mouth first, and resolved to wait a while and confirm it was safe before swallowing.

He carefully counted the remaining wheat cakes: one for tomorrow morning, two for the afternoon, and one more before the enthronement ceremony the day after — five wheat cakes, neither more nor less, exactly right.

Heh, Zhu Yuanzhang started with a broken bowl; I start with five wheat cakes — not bad, not bad at all.

Once I'm enthroned, things will be better. I'll summon Changqiu into the palace to cook some hot meals herself; anything will be better than these brick-like cakes.

After amusing himself for a moment, Zhu Youjian began to sort through the intelligence he had just gathered.

Though he had spent barely an incense stick's time in Qianqing Palace earlier, he had taken in the entire situation at a single glance.

It seemed that the so-called eunuch faction was already on the verge of collapse in morale.

The only reason it had not instantly disintegrated was nothing more than the residual inertia of the past three years.

He did not regard rooting out the eunuch faction as any great challenge.

After all, if one sought a speedrun, the task could be done both swiftly and cleanly.

Day one: replace the inner court eunuchs and the Nine Gates guards, distribute rewards throughout the palace, bring in the Prince of Xin's household guard to secure the palace precincts, and guarantee personal safety.

Day two: replace the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, seize control of Beijing's two largest instruments of violence, then summon the nobility and pull the Capital Camps over to his side — thus securing Beijing.

Day three, which happened to be the twenty-sixth, falling on a regular court day of the third, sixth, and ninth cycle: launch a great purge directly in the court assembly.

But he was no moral purist obsessed with cleanliness, and he truly had little aspiration for that so-called "court filled with righteous men."

Coming from a later age, he was a naked realist through and through.

If it helped the state, he would grit his teeth and use not only Wei Zhongxian but even a dog of a man like Sun Zhixie — provided they were useful.

Simply confiscating the eunuch faction's estates and scraping together a few million taels would be a terrible waste.

Here within the inner palace, and up on that throne hall that commands ten thousand li, there are times when other things are far more precious than silver.

At this thought, Zhu Youjian could not help shaking his head with a wry smile. He simply sat cross-legged on the bed and began to consider the matter in earnest.

The eunuch faction must be swept away — on that there was no doubt.

For a new sovereign taking the throne, having such a perfect target to establish authority and consolidate power — not using it would be a waste.

But the sweep must be slow, steady, and of high quality.

It must be carried out under His Majesty the Emperor's wise leadership.

It must be conducted with the goal of establishing and implementing a new atmosphere at court.

The Chongzhen of history made several mistakes in this process, some of which even extended into the Jisi Incident and on into the Southern Ming era.

First, he imitated Han Feizi's doctrine: "The way of the ruler is to make himself unfathomable."

In practice, this meant one moment striking at Wei Zhongxian, the next moment bestowing rewards, leaving the entire body of officials utterly bewildered.

Only after a month of probing did the officials finally figure it out.

Bro, you could have just said so. And so they all swarmed forward together and beat Wei Zhongxian to the ground.

For a ruler who merely preserves an established realm, there is nothing wrong with this approach.

Sitting high upon the throne, manipulating the levers of power, using the role of referee to control and distribute authority — this is the most shopworn cliché of Chinese imperial statecraft.

But for a founding sovereign or a dynasty-toppling sovereign to play these games — that is truly an old man tying a noose: he's lived long enough.

All that guessing back and forth, and the state's resources are utterly consumed in internal strife and balancing acts.

Second, the problem lay precisely in that "swarming forward" against the eunuchs.

The unified authority that the Tianqi Emperor had painstakingly gathered through Wei Zhongxian — in the process of everyone pushing down the falling wall, it was toppled as well, as part of that wall.

The remnants of the eunuch faction recovered from the suppression by the inner-court servants, and the Donglin Faction used its prestige at court and in the provinces to return to power.

Both sides rolled up their sleeves, each hoping for the utter annihilation of the other.

And so factional strife erupted anew, continuing all the way to the Great Ming's destruction.

By the time of the Southern Ming, with the state on the verge of extinction, that dog-fart of a court was still debating whether the "Three Dynasties Canon" should be reissued.

Third…

Zhu Youjian shook his head. Forget it — the faults of Chongzhen, once you start listing them, truly could not be exhausted in three days and three nights.

For now, he need not think so far ahead. First, a good night's sleep, build up his energy, and after the enthronement, carefully meet with the various factions before making any decisions — that would not be too late.

After all, if he were to rely on a few fragmentary lines from the history books and start directly summoning the troops like a Great Khan, what difference would there be between him and Old Jiang?

No investigation, no right to speak — the words of that worthy predecessor are true indeed.

Just then, from outside the door came the sound of the night guard changing shifts, armor clanking and footsteps marching in unison.

Zhu Youjian felt a stir in his heart. He pushed open the door and walked out.

The night was cool as water, the chill piercing to the bone. Feeling the cold wind on his skin, he estimated the temperature was probably only eleven or twelve degrees.

Looking at the night guards standing erect in the cold wind, he asked in a clear voice: "Officers and men, your night patrol is a labor of great merit. I wish to bestow wine and food upon you. Where, I wonder, should it be obtained?"

The eunuch attending at his side hurried forward and said: "In reply to Your Highness, an edict may be sent to the Court of Imperial Entertainments, and it can be prepared at once."

"Good! Convey my decree: let all night guards on duty throughout the palace be granted wine and food, to warm their bodies!"

"As decreed!"

The decree was passed down, and among the imperial guardsmen standing watch throughout the palace, a roar of cheers erupted like thunder.

Listening to these cheers, the corner of Zhu Youjian's mouth lifted slightly. He turned and went back inside the hall.

What those men were cheering was hardly the food from the Court of Imperial Entertainments — after all, as everyone knows, even dogs won't eat the Court of Imperial Entertainments' cooking.

They were simply cheering because they seemed to have encountered a benevolent emperor.

How easy it is for a Ming emperor — at the very peak of feudal autocracy — to bestow favor! Satisfying!

He picked up his teacup, drained the remaining tea in one gulp, then lay down on the bed, emptied his mind, and very soon sank into a deep sleep.

On the other side, after Wei Zhongxian withdrew to the Qianqing Palace, he summoned Li Yongzhen to meet him in a side hall.

He drew Li Yongzhen close and asked urgently: "Yongzhen, tell me in detail — what exactly was the affair of Zhang Yong?"

Li Yongzhen dared not be remiss and recounted the historical facts he knew in full detail.

"To answer the Superintendent, that Zhang Yong was originally one of the 'Eight Tigers,' equal in power and influence to Liu Jin.

Later, a rift developed between him and Liu Jin, so he secretly allied with Grand Secretaries Li Dongyang, Yang Yiqing, and others, and denounced Liu Jin before the Zhengde Emperor for plotting rebellion.

Once Liu Jin was eliminated, Zhang Yong, as a meritorious minister, naturally preserved himself. Although he was later dismissed by the Jiajing Emperor, in the end he still met a good death."

Wei Zhongxian listened, utterly absorbed — but at the very end, he suddenly froze.

Eh? This story… why does it sound so familiar?

A grand eunuch whose power overshadows the court, a colleague with whom he has developed a rift…

If he, Wei Zhongxian, was Liu Jin, then who was Zhang Yong? Wang Tiqian?

The moment he recalled Wang Tiqian's strictly business demeanor in Qianqing Palace today, a chill ran through Wei Zhongxian's heart.

Watching Wei Zhongxian's shifting expression, Li Yongzhen's own heart was pounding with anxiety.

He racked his brains, and suddenly a flash of inspiration struck.

"Superintendent! Why must the Superintendent play the role of Liu Jin himself?"

Wei Zhongxian abruptly raised his head to look at him.

Li Yongzhen lowered his voice, his eyes glittering with excitement: "I have a plan — substitution of the plum for the withered peach! With so many civil officials filling the court, you need only push them forward, make one of them play Liu Jin, and would you not then become Zhang Yong?"

Wei Zhongxian's eyes blazed at these words.

"Quick, quick, quick — go back to the residence and fetch the roster. Tonight we shall go over it and decide who gets to be this plum."