Chapter 1617: Retired

On the eighth day of the twelfth month in the fifty-second year of Hongxing of the Great Ming.

After days of continuous snowfall, the area north of the Yangtze in Yingtian Prefecture finally welcomed clear, fine weather. And this day was also the auspicious day when the coffin of the Retired Emperor of the Great Ming, Emperor Fuzong, who had served as Retired Emperor for more than fifty years, departed Laoshangong for the imperial tomb at Wolong Mountain, northwest of Laoshangong.

On the imperial avenue outside Laoshangong, the entire street was already packed with nobles and commoners in white mourning clothes, all subjects under the Son of Heaven. Most of them were descendants of the hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians who had migrated south from the north more than fifty years ago, following the Chongzhen Retired Emperor and the current Ming Emperor Zhu Cilang. A small portion of them were white-haired elders who had personally participated in and witnessed those magnificent, earth-shaking events. When they had fled the capital in panic all those years ago, they had been in the prime of youth, but now they were all rare ancients of advanced age. To bid farewell to the foolish ruler who had fled south with them back then, and also to witness the closing of a great era that had left the most splendid chapter in the long river of history, these aged members of the hardship generation, supported by their children and grandchildren, braved the bitter winter cold of Pukou and Laoshan and arrived early in the morning on both sides of the imperial avenue, waiting for the Chongzhen Retired Emperor, who lay comfortably inside his coffin, waiting to be hauled by carriage to the imperial tomb at Wolong Mountain for burial.

The coffin of the Chongzhen Retired Emperor was an oversized casket, now placed on an oversized four-wheeled carriage, drawn by twenty-four Percheron horses, waiting to be pulled out through the Gate of Bearing Heaven.

The Hongxing Emperor of the Great Ming, Zhu Cilang, stood at this moment beside the enormous coffin, surrounded by a crowd of imperial brothers, princes, imperial grandsons, and a foreign princess, simply staring blankly. A large crowd of people nearby also watched him, waiting for this great emperor to give the order to depart.

Time passed slowly, yet Zhu Cilang stood there motionless. Could it be that he could not bear to part with his foolish father?

No one knew how long had passed before they heard Emperor Zhu sigh softly: "Duke of Yansheng?"

"This old subject is here!" The Duke of Yansheng, Kong Yinzheng, was still quite spirited, and his ears were still sharp. Hearing Emperor Zhu call him, he squeezed through the crowd to stand behind the emperor, hands lowered and shoulders relaxed, the very picture of a loyal old minister.

"Has the hour arrived?" Zhu Cilang asked.

"It has, it has. This very moment is the auspicious time for the funeral procession." Kong Yinzheng had now learned to read auspicious days and hours.

Zhu Cilang nodded and said: "Then let us depart. Do not keep the late Retired Emperor waiting too long — he was an impatient man."

Kong Yinzheng said: "Your Majesty may rest assured. In this matter, the Retired Emperor is in no hurry."

Zhu Cilang turned to glance at this white-bearded "Fierce Sage" who spoke with such sound reasoning, and said with a bitter smile: "He was actually still quite impatient. It is We who were filial and did not let him leave early!"

This was the truth. Had it not been for Zhu Cilang's filial piety, Chongzhen would have hung himself on the crooked-necked tree on Coal Hill more than fifty years earlier. It was Zhu Cilang's filial heart that moved Heaven itself, forcibly keeping Chongzhen alive for more than fifty additional years.

The foremost filial son of all time, past and present — none other than Zhu Cilang!

"Your Majesty speaks the absolute truth," Kong Yinzheng naturally could not contradict Zhu Cilang's meaning — he still wanted to keep his title of Duke of Yansheng, after all — so he chimed in at once: "One imagines the late Retired Emperor is in heaven at this very moment, praising your goodness to the Great Ancestor, the Exalted Emperor!"

Zhu Cilang smiled: "That is only natural. In truth, there is no need for the Retired Emperor to praise Us — the old ancestor already knows We are the filial son and worthy descendant of the Great Ming! The Great Ming is fortunate to have Us; otherwise, the consequences would be unthinkable!"

"Your Majesty's words are most reasonable!" Kong Yinzheng nodded repeatedly, clearly agreeing with Emperor Zhu's words from the bottom of his heart.

After this round of self-praise, Zhu Cilang nodded to his four brothers, Zhu Cijiong, Zhu Cizhao, Zhu Cihuan, and Zhu Cixuan, and said: "Come, let us together see off Imperial Father!"

Zhu Cilang nodded. "Then let us go!" He pointed at the dozens of identical white carriages parked in the plaza outside the Gate of Imperial Supremacy, and said to his four brothers and the Crown Prince Zhu Hexing: "Third Brother, Fourth Brother, Fifth Brother, Sixth Brother, and Lucky Boy — each of you pick a carriage, and we shall set off at once!"

The carriages were all identical, and no flags would be hung. So once the carriages passed through the Gate of Bearing Heaven, those outside would have no way of knowing which carriage Zhu Cilang was in, or which one Zhu Hexing was in. Anyone wanting to assassinate the great Emperor Zhu would find it far from easy!

The road from Laoshangong to Wolong Mountain was by no means short; by carriage it would likely take the better part of a day to arrive. So departing now, they would not reach their destination until around dusk.

Upon arrival, Chongzhen would not be buried immediately. The coffin would rest overnight at Huangjue Temple. Early the next morning, Chongzhen would be sent into the underground palace in grand and glorious fashion.

"Maria," Zhu Cilang called to his "Snow White" granddaughter, "ride with Us. We have some things to discuss with you."

"Your granddaughter obeys the imperial decree." Maria Theresa responded, then followed Emperor Zhu toward a white four-wheeled carriage.

Several dozen riders in white clothes, white armor, and on white horses emerged at a walking pace from the Gate of Bearing Heaven, entered the imperial avenue, and as they rode along, shouted loudly: "The coffin of the late Retired Emperor is departing! Officials and commoners alike, all pay your respects!"

No sooner had the white-clad, white-armored, white-horsed riders passed than the drummers and musicians attached to the Guard Army and the Office of Music began to march out, playing as they went. The music they played was not particularly sorrowful, for Chongzhen had lived to the age of ninety, and had moreover served as Retired Emperor for more than fifty years, enjoying to the fullest the wealth and glory of the mortal world. His death had also been quite peaceful — one moment he was watching foreign dancing girls sing and dance gracefully, and the next, he kicked his legs and passed away.

The temple name Fuzong was truly well deserved!

So no one felt much sorrow at his departure. The nobles and commoners watching the spectacle on both sides of the imperial avenue shed no tears and wept not, except for a few who shouted: "Farewell, late Retired Emperor!"

The shouts of the crowd carried into the carriage shared by Zhu Cilang, Maria Theresa, Empress Wu, and Imperial Noble Consort Wu. The mother of the local tycoon king, Imperial Noble Consort Zheng, had died of illness two years earlier, so Wu Ake had been promoted one rank to Imperial Noble Consort, ranking below Wu Sanmei. She was now in her forties, but had maintained herself extremely well, looking at most thirty-five or thirty-six, and was very charming. Compared with Maria Theresa, however, she was somewhat lacking in beauty.

"Maria," Zhu Cilang slowly began, "your father's letter has arrived. He has taken the greater part of Hungary, and is preparing to have Karl marry a princess of the Báthory family, in order to win the support of the Transylvanian knights. Your brother Karl will become the heir to the Kingdom of Hungary."

Maria Theresa asked: "Then who will inherit the Archduchy of Austria?"

"Your younger brother Friedrich." Zhu Cilang said, "Austria and Hungary shall never be merged. And you—" he paused, looking at this doll-like granddaughter, "your father hopes you will marry the Duke of Anjou, Philippe, and become Queen of Serbia."

"The Duke of Anjou?" Maria Theresa was taken aback. "He is third in line to the imperial throne of the Roman Empire. How could he become King of Serbia?"

Zhu Cilang laughed: "It seems the Ottomans have truly been beaten badly — not only have they lost Hungary, Bohemia, and Croatia, but even Serbia is on the verge of collapse. Wallachia and Moravia will likely be lost as well!"

He looked at Maria Theresa. "Maria, are you willing to marry the Duke of Anjou? If not, We will block it for you."

"I..." Maria Theresa's face flushed red. It seemed she was fairly satisfied with this match. Moreover, the Duke of Anjou still had a certain chance of becoming Roman Emperor!

The Duke of Anjou was reasonably handsome, and Maria Theresa had known him since childhood. One could not quite call it childhood sweethearts, but the feeling was still quite good.

Zhu Cilang laughed. "Very well! Since you are satisfied, then We have nothing more to say. But there is one more matter We must warn you about: should the Dauphin Louis and the Duke of Burgundy both prove short-lived, the Duke of Anjou may well become Roman Emperor! And even if he does not become Emperor of the Western Romans, he must still seek to become Emperor of the Eastern Romans!"