Chapter 8: This sorry lot of a starting crew…

Qianqing Palace.

"Slurp…"

The sound of noodles being noisily sucked echoed through this supreme palace of the Great Ming, jarringly out of place.

Below the throne stood a vast, dark mass of eunuchs.

Every seal-holder from the twelve directorates, four offices, and eight bureaus was present, along with the managing eunuchs of institutions nominally under the outer court, such as the Pacifying the People Arsenal (Wang Gong Arsenal) and the Armor Arsenal.

For critical departments like the Directorate of Ceremonial and the Eastern Depot, even the mid-ranking eunuchs had all assembled.

Every man hung his head and held his breath, not daring to let out so much as a heavy sigh.

Those who could not restrain their curiosity only dared to steal a sidelong glance at the figure standing at the very front — Wei Zhongxian.

This Nine Thousand Years, whose power overshadowed both court and realm, now stood as motionless as a stone statue; only the faint twitch at the corner of his eye betrayed his inner turmoil.

Upon the imperial throne, the newly enthroned Emperor, Zhu Youjian, was devouring a bowl of noodles as if no one else were present.

Zhou Yu sat on a soft couch beside the throne, her chin propped in both hands as she watched Zhu Youjian, her eyes curved into smiling crescents.

The noodles were made by Zhou Yu herself; her skill was hardly exquisite — the strands were uneven in thickness, and she had even added too much salt.

Yet for Zhu Youjian, who had subsisted on Zhou's wheat cakes for days, this steaming bowl of noodles was a supreme delicacy.

He ate with relish and deep satisfaction.

The enthronement ceremony had been tedious and interminable, leaving him utterly exhausted.

The moment the rites concluded, he immediately ordered his personal eunuch Xu Yingyuan to assemble all the heads of the inner court here, while he himself first filled his belly.

At last, the final sip of broth went down, and Zhu Youjian let out a soft, contented sigh. He picked up a silk cloth and unhurriedly wiped his mouth.

Throughout this entire process, the hall remained so silent one could hear a pin drop.

"All here?"

Zhu Youjian spoke flatly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd below the steps.

"We have newly ascended to the great treasure and are not yet well acquainted with the people and affairs of the palace. We summoned you today simply to put faces to names."

He paused, then continued: "Report your names one by one. Name and office — state them clearly."

As his words fell, a faint ripple of disturbance stirred through the crowd below.

Most had already realized this was the customary house-cleaning that followed a new monarch's accession.

They only wondered which men would lose their lucrative posts, and which might seize this opportunity to soar upward.

Some hearts were stricken with anxiety, dreading that the new sovereign's fire might scorch them.

Others' eyes glinted with light, seeing this as a chance to ascend to heaven in a single bound.

Wei Zhongxian's heart tightened; he was just calculating whether he should be the first to step forward as a show of deference.

Yet before he could move, a man beside him had already strode out ahead of him.

"This slave is Wang Tiqian, seal-holder of the Directorate of Ceremonial, concurrently seal-holder of the Directorate of Imperial Accoutrements and the Directorate of Imperial Meals."

Wang Tiqian was slightly plump, with a fair, clean-shaven face, looking rather like a wealthy burgher.

His voice was steady and clear. His movement was like toppling the first domino.

One after another, the eunuchs stepped forward to report their names, and Wei Zhongxian found himself momentarily left stranded where he stood.

"This slave is Tu Wenfu, seal-holder of the Directorate of the Imperial Horses."

"This slave is Li Yongzhen, seal-holder of the Caps and Robes Bureau."

"This slave is Shi Yuanya, seal-holder of the Needlework Bureau."

Zhu Youjian listened expressionlessly, doing his best to match the names to the living men.

One by one, the names from the history books were now transformed into flesh-and-blood people standing before him.

"This slave is Wang Shou'an, superintendent of the Imperial Pharmacy."

"This slave is Tian Yu, superintendent of the Zhengyang and other gates."

"This slave is Wang Cheng'en, superintendent of the Armor Arsenal."

When the name "Wang Cheng'en" reached his ears, Zhu Youjian, who had been lowering his head to sip tea, could not help but tremble slightly.

He raised his eyes and looked toward the voice.

The man who had stepped forward was an old eunuch with graying hair, his frame somewhat stooped, his face deeply etched with the weathering of age.

Huh? This? That can't be right?

An indescribable disappointment welled up in Zhu Youjian's heart.

Before he looked up, he had assumed his loyal companion Wang Cheng'en was about to make his entrance.

But this old eunuch before him, by the look of him — never mind seventeen years from now, in a few more years he probably wouldn't even be able to walk.

If it really were him, I'm afraid I'd have to hold him up just to get him successfully hanged from that tree…

It seemed this Wang Cheng'en was not that Wang Cheng'en.

The old histories are but dust; how much truth lies buried beneath those fragmentary words in the historical record?

In that instant, a myriad of thoughts surged unbidden through Zhu Youjian's mind.

Behind the terse phrases of the history books lie real worlds and real lives.

The Donglin Faction is a label, but it contained hundreds of men — could every one of them truly have held identical views?

And those recorded as loyal ministers in history — what were their actual abilities?

Those branded as treacherous ministers — if placed in a different position, might they have become loyal instead?

Frankly, right now, as he looked at this group below him, they were the eunuch faction, the treacherous sycophants, the men who, in the history books, brought ruin to the state and the people.

But if he truly succeeded in his reforms and saved this sinking land of China from its fate,

in that story, who among them would be judged loyal, and who treacherous?

His momentary distraction was instantly caught by that crowd of shrewd operators below the throne.

The voices calling out names faltered for a moment. Everyone keenly sensed the Emperor's strangeness, and the atmosphere in the hall instantly grew heavier.

Wang Cheng'en, who had just announced his name, stood rooted in place trembling, not knowing where he had offended the new sovereign.

Zhu Youjian sighed inwardly. Those who could climb to seal-holder in the brutal environment of the inner palace were, every one of them, shrewd to the bone.

He gathered his thoughts and waved a hand. "Continue."

The crowd finally breathed easier, and the roll call went on.

Once everyone had finished announcing their names, Wei Zhongxian could hold back no longer. He stepped out from the ranks and made a deep bow.

"This slave Wei Zhongxian, Director of the Eastern Depot."

A trace of a smile, barely perceptible, tugged at the corner of Zhu Youjian's mouth. "The name of the Depot Intendant is naturally known to Us."

With that, he said nothing more. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the dragon throne, his long fingers beginning to tap rhythmically and lightly on the imperial desk.

Tap, tap, tap...

Each tap seemed to strike the hearts of everyone in the hall.

Zhu Youjian was not hesitating. Regarding the personnel changes in the inner court, he had long since made up his mind.

At this moment, he was merely running through a final assessment in his head to ensure nothing went wrong.

Inner servants, to put it bluntly, were the Emperor's household slaves.

Their promotions and demotions rested entirely on a single thought of the Emperor, requiring no consultation with the outer court, much less any consideration of seniority.

A new reign brings a new set of ministers — that had been the established practice since ancient times.

Having just ascended the throne, it was perfectly normal for him to promote men from his former princely establishment and install his trusted aides.

But he could not replace them all.

On one hand, it was unnecessary. For many posts, old hands and new men made no difference.

Take the Needlework Bureau or the Firewood Office, for example. Whoever went there would be equally corrupt; the posts themselves were simply lucrative sinecures.

On the other hand, there was an even grimmer reality.

He, Zhu Youjian, Prince Xin —

had been an unfavored prince of the blood. At the age of five, his birth mother had been beaten to death on his father's orders.

He had been shuffled between the care of Consort Dowager Li Zhuang and Consort Dowager Li Kang.

Once he had grown a little older, he had long been guarded against and treated with hostility by Wei Zhongxian and Madam Ke.

What quality of eunuch could possibly have been assigned to him?

Eunuchs with ability, skill, and connections all went to the inner court to compete. Failing that, they were dispatched to the provinces as mine supervisors or army inspectors — still a treatment akin to that of a local emperor.

So he did not even have a single eunuch who had watched over him since childhood.

At this thought, Zhu Youjian could not help but curse inwardly.

Forget it. As originally planned, among all the offices, he would first seize the most critical few.

For the rest, he would use personnel arrangements and personal obligations to check and balance one another, barely papering things over for now.

Later, he would slowly promote trusted confidants from among the younger eunuchs.

At last, the tapping stopped.

Zhu Youjian opened his eyes.

Throughout the hall, a clearly audible collective exhalation arose.

It was because too many people exhaled at the same time, their breaths merging into a sound that was especially distinct.

Zhu Youjian's gaze slowly swept over the assembly, and he spoke.

"Xu Yingyuan."

"This slave is here!" Xu Yingyuan, who had been standing in attendance all along, hurriedly stepped forward.

"Take up the seal of the Directorate of the Imperial Horses."

The Directorate of the Imperial Horses controlled the palace eunuch corps and the Four Guards Camp — the armed force closest to him. It had to be held tightly in his grasp.

Moreover, Xu Yingyuan had in the past been the senior uncle of Tu Wenfu; this connection would smooth the handover of this post considerably.

"Wang Wenzheng, appointed steward of Qianqing Palace."

The most critical place was none other than one's own bedchamber, and Qianqing Palace was where he now lived.

Appointing the Vice Steward from his princely mansion carried a hint of demotion, but proximity to the imperial presence was itself the greatest opportunity, so it was not treating him shabbily.

"Wang Guotai, take the seal of the Directorate of Imperial Meals."

For the immediate future, he intended to eat only the private meals prepared by Zhou Yu, but that was not a long-term solution.

For now, he would let a close servant take the post, then carry out several rounds of purges.

Later, he would have to design a stricter system for procurement, preparation, poison-testing, and personnel management before he dared entrust his life to those cooks.

He even had a plan already: to set aside a piece of imperial estate specifically as a residence for the families of his inner servants and close aides, to prevent outsiders from colluding with them.

After all, what he intended to do in the future would almost certainly offend interests on every side. One could not be too careful.

"Wang Yongzuo, Superintendent of the Capital Camps."

The Capital Camps — the largest armed force in the capital, and also the one where rumors spread fastest and whose fighting strength was weakest.

The noble houses had entrenched themselves there, siphoning off its lifeblood.

He would let Wang Yongzuo go and meet them first, get a feel for the current state of the Capital Camps, and then consider how to rebuild it.

"Si Zhili, take the seal of the Inner Supply Depot."

As this string of appointments was announced, the faces of those original officeholders whose names had been called turned ashen as death.

And those who had luckily escaped being affected did not dare to feel the slightest relief. They merely cast envious, probing glances at Xu Yingyuan, whose face had flushed bright red.

Watching Xu Yingyuan's appearance, so agitated he was nearly losing his composure, Zhu Youjian shook his head inwardly.

"Ahem." Zhu Youjian rapped lightly on the table.

Only then did Xu Yingyuan snap out of it as if waking from a dream. He immediately straightened his face and barked, "Silence!"

The hall fell quiet in an instant.

Only then did Zhu Youjian speak again: "Where is Gao Shiming?"

An unremarkable-looking middle-aged eunuch stepped out from the crowd and slowly bowed. "This slave is here."

Zhu Youjian nodded. "You shall receive the seal of the Directorate of Ceremonial."

At these words, the entire great hall sank into a deathly silence.

Everyone pressed their lips tightly shut, even their breath stopping.

Why him?

No — could His Majesty truly be so decisive?

Those slow to react were still watching Wang Tiqian; those quick to react had already noticed Wei Zhongxian trembling faintly.

Terror, suspicion — waves of tangled emotion passed among the assembled eunuchs.

Gao Shiming jerked his head up, his face filled with utter disbelief, and then two streams of hot tears rolled down.

He prostrated himself heavily on the ground, his voice shaking yet resolute: "This slave... kowtows in gratitude for Heaven's grace! This slave respectfully obeys His Majesty's verbal decree!"

That acting! Truly worthy of a veteran performer.

Zhu Youjian glanced again at Xu Yingyuan. His face was now a mix of ashen and flushed, his eyes fixed rigidly on Gao Shiming.

The gap between one man and another — it is just that vast.

Gao Shiming — who was he, exactly?

Tianqi's study companion eunuch. When Sun Chengzong tutored Tianqi, he was the one attending at their side.

A top talent who fought his way out of the Inner Palace School examinations.

Formerly a brush-holding eunuch; after falling out with Wei Zhongxian, he was ordered into idle retirement.

Could such a man truly have had no expectation of why he was summoned here today?

Life is a play; it all depends on the acting.

As the saying goes, better to seek favor from above than to bestow favor below.

When a leader promotes you, ability aside, you must first satisfy the leader's need for emotional affirmation.

Otherwise, how can the leader promote you? How can he entrust you with heavy responsibility?

If the leader is unhappy, can you still hope to be happy?

Standing to the side at this moment, Wang Tiqian's face was slightly pale, yet his heart was utterly calm — there was even a trace of relief.

Its rise is sudden; its fall is swift.

This truth he had long understood, back when he studied at the Inner Palace School.

For the late emperors' eunuchs through the dynasties, to meet a good end was already a blessing.

All the more so since he had entangled himself with this Wei Zhongxian.

All of this had been sealed from the very moment he stood at Wei Zhongxian's side.

A new sovereign ascends the throne, the old faction is purged — this is Heaven's own justice.

To be granted a dignified exit was already a tremendous mercy.

He drew a deep breath and was about to step forward to express his gratitude.

But Zhu Youjian waved his hand. "We are not finished."

He looked at Wang Tiqian and said slowly, "Wang Tiqian, you shall succeed as the seal-holding eunuch of the Imperial Commissioner."

"Boom—"

The crowd could no longer maintain its composure. Every gaze turned in unison toward Wei Zhongxian.

Imperial Commissioner seal-holding eunuch — only the seal-holder of the Eastern Depot is entitled to be called an 'Imperial Commissioner' seal-holding eunuch!

Wei Zhongxian's face lost every trace of color in an instant, turning ashen-white as paper.

His whole body crumpled to the floor like a puddle of mud. The once-insufferably-arrogant Nine Thousand Years could not even lift his head now.

Struggling, he prostrated himself on the ground, tears and snot streaming, his entire body trembling as he said, "This old slave... this old slave... is guilty..."

With that, he began kowtowing on the spot without cease. Huge, resounding thuds of impact echoed through the great hall.

In the great hall, no one dared to speak. The atmosphere had frozen to its extreme.

At the side of the imperial throne, Zhou Yu had been watching in silence the entire time.

Now, her hand unconsciously clutched Zhu Youjian's sleeve tightly. Her face was all feigned composure, but inside, her heart was flustered.

What did the Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government say about this, again?

Inside her little head, she frantically searched through stories of new emperors ascending the throne and purging powerful eunuchs across the dynasties.

But from sheer nervousness, her mind went completely blank. She did not even realize her mouth had fallen slightly open.

Zhu Youjian was inwardly amused by her silly expression.

Without even looking at Wei Zhongxian's wretched state, he simply waved his hand and said:

"The posts assigned today shall be assumed immediately. The handover must be completed before sunset."

"This slave obeys the decree."

As if granted a great reprieve, the crowd bowed and withdrew, fleeing the suffocating palace with steps that seemed slow but were in fact swift.

In the blink of an eye, the vast Qianqing Palace held only three people: Zhu Youjian, Zhou Yu, and Wei Zhongxian.

Zhu Youjian first stealthily adjusted the position of the sword he had brought into the palace beneath the table, so he could draw it at a moment's notice.

Then he said coolly, "Wei Si, drop the act."