Chapter 186: Zhu Yuanzhang Was Shocked—He Looks Exactly Like Xiongying!

"But... but Mama, you don't have to keep pressing down on me all the time," Zhu Xi grumbled, his little face full of grievance: "I'm a good boy."

Shen Yuer ignored him, her pale, slender hand still firmly pressed on Zhu Xi’s head—perhaps this was the influence of paternal love, transformed now into maternal love as towering as a mountain.

At this moment.

Shen Yuer had no solution; her eyes were filled with worry.

Shen Yuer was utterly exhausted by Zhu Xi’s mischievous antics around the mansion.

Recalling since Zhu Xi learned to walk, he had been like a little demon, leaping and climbing, turning the mansion upside down.

She feared that if this unruly nature carried into the palace, he wouldn’t rein himself in before the current Emperor—and if he committed a grave breach of protocol, disaster would be inevitable.

Though her husband had earned merit, Shen Yuer remained extremely cautious.

She didn’t want to drag her husband down.

Seeing this scene.

“Hah.”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s hearty laughter echoed through the empty hall, greatly easing the oppressive atmosphere.

“This isn’t the imperial court, nor any formal occasion—no need to be so stiff.”

“Little one, lift your head up, let me take a good look at you.”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s eyes narrowed slightly, the wrinkles on his aged face radiating warmth—he was clearly delighted by Zhu Xi’s childish, endearing tone.

Hearing Zhu Yuanzhang’s words, Shen Yuer’s tense heart eased slightly; she sighed helplessly, slowly lifting her hand from Zhu Xi’s head, but whispered a warning: “You better behave yourself, or you’ll regret it when we get home.”

The next instant.

Zhu Xi sprang up like a bird freed from confinement, unafraid and curious, instantly raising his head to stare fixedly at Zhu Yuanzhang before him.

His eyes brimmed with innocence and inquiry—as if this solemn Emperor were merely an ordinary old man.

Of course.

Children simply didn’t have such complex thoughts.

He was fine not looking up—but the moment he did, Zhu Yuanzhang froze in shock.

“This… this…”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s lips trembled slightly, his voice growing hoarse, as if something had lodged in his throat.

His aged eyes widened wide, fixed unblinkingly on Zhu Xi, filled with astonishment and disbelief.

Though months ago, Zhu Biao had mentioned Zhu Xi’s appearance, saying he bore some resemblance to his late grandson, only now, seeing him with his own eyes, did Zhu Yuanzhang truly realize—it wasn’t resemblance at all; it was as if carved from the same mold!

Not identical, but at least seven or eight parts alike.

Zhu Biao stood quietly beside him, gazing at Zhu Xi, now over a year old, his heart a tangle of emotions.

Deep in his eyes lay a faint sorrow; he lowered his head slightly, as if trying to conceal his complex feelings.

Zhu Xi’s face was a sharp blade, slicing open the long-sealed wound in his heart, bringing back memories of the past.

But!

Seeing Zhu Yuanzhang’s reaction, Zhu Biao naturally understood the reason—he said nothing.

He knew he himself had not yet fully escaped the pain of the past, and his father was a man of deep emotion—how could he easily let go?

Back then, that child had been their cherished heir, the one they had placed all their hopes upon!

“What’s wrong with Xi’er?”

Shen Yuer, sharp-witted, felt a cloud of suspicion rise in her mind.

Her gaze flickered between Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao, keenly sensing something amiss.

“No, when the Crown Prince first saw Xi’er, he looked exactly like this—staring at him without blinking.”

“Could it be that Xi’er resembles someone familiar to His Majesty and the Crown Prince?”

A flash of insight struck Shen Yuer—she immediately thought of the word “deceased friend.”

Only this could explain why both the Emperor and the Crown Prince reacted with such shock upon seeing Zhu Xi.

“Father.”

Seeing Zhu Yuanzhang staring at Zhu Xi for a long time, his eyes filled with obsession and nostalgia, Zhu Biao couldn’t help but softly remind him.

The call carried his concern for his father—and tried to pull him back from memory into reality.

That single word snapped Zhu Yuanzhang back to the present.

“No wonder Biao said earlier that perhaps there was reincarnation—it meant this.”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s heart swelled with emotion, his aged face etched with indescribable sorrow.

“Had I not seen it with my own eyes, how could I believe two people could be so alike?”

“He looks exactly like Xiongying when he was a child.”

“Ah… pity Xiongying is gone—if he were still alive, I’d swear this little one was Xiongying’s own son. So alike.”

Zhu Yuanzhang thought silently to himself, a deep sense of loss spreading through his heart.

But!

When Zhu Yuanzhang raised his head and met Zhu Biao’s gaze, father and son understood each other without words.

That silent understanding was forged by years of deep kinship and shared experience.

“Little one, what’s your name?”

Zhu Yuanzhang smiled gently, the wrinkles on his face softening, his tone warm and kind.

This was a gentleness no court minister had ever seen.

Perhaps Zhu Xi’s presence had unconsciously reminded him of his beloved eldest grandson.

At this moment.

Zhu Yuanzhang felt as if he were caught in a beautiful dream—all seemed unreal, yet profoundly beautiful.

As if his grandson had returned!

“My name is Zhu Xi.”

Zhu Xi answered clearly, his voice childish but earnest: “Zhu from Zhu family, Xi from Zhu Xi.”

As he spoke, he stretched out his small hand, tracing each character in the air with careful strokes—his expression serious and adorable.

As if he actually knew how to write his own name.

“Hah.”

Hearing the child’s reply, Zhu Yuanzhang laughed again, his laughter brimming with affection.

His eyes twinkled as if struck by a clever idea; he asked: “Do you know what the character ‘Xi’ means?”

As he asked this.

Zhu Yuanzhang leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Zhu Xi, eyes filled with anticipation.

“Mama taught me.”

Zhu Xi tilted his head, his eyes darting thoughtfully, then replied seriously: “Xi means brightness, prosperity, warmth, and flourishing.”

As he answered.

Zhu Xi strained to recall his mother’s lessons, his little face utterly focused, his solemn expression as if completing a matter of utmost importance—adorable beyond words.

Hearing this.

Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao both brightened, exchanging a glance—each saw surprise in the other’s eyes.

They had never expected such a young child could answer this question correctly.

This moment made the father and son feel as if they had returned to the past.

Just like then, in this Wenyuan Pavilion, when Empress Ma was still alive, the whole family was joyful.

Zhu Xiongying was already four years old, a lively little monkey, leaping and bouncing around the hall.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat before his desk, as always, poring over mountains of memorials, his brush dancing across the paper.

“Grandpa, don’t you get tired of reading these memorials every day?”

Zhu Xiongying walked over, hands on his hips, pouting: “Can’t you spend more time with me?”

As he spoke, his eyes sparkled with longing—full of hope for his grandfather’s company.

“What do you know, you brat?”

Zhu Yuanzhang didn’t look up, his brush still moving: “What I’m doing now affects the whole empire—each memorial can shape the fate of our Great Ming.”

“If I went to play with you, who’d handle these memorials?”

“You? You’d do it?”

Though his tone carried a hint of scolding, his eyes were filled with affection.

From this exchange, one could see Zhu Yuanzhang’s relationship with his grandson was as natural and intimate as any ordinary grandfather and child.

“Just give them all to Dad.”

Zhu Xiongying answered without hesitation, grinning mischievously: “He’s got nothing better to do.”

Indeed, Zhu Xiongying was a “filial son”!

He immediately thought of his father when there was a good opportunity.

Hearing this.

“Who says your father’s idle?” Zhu Yuanzhang laughed, setting down his brush and gazing at his mischievous grandson with exasperated affection.

“He comes to me every day, finds fault, and beats me—how could you say he’s idle?”

Zhu Xiongying widened his eyes, his face full of grievance.

Hearing this.

Zhu Yuanzhang burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the hall.

He reached out and patted Zhu Xiongying’s head. “You little rascal! I knew you had ulterior motives—you came here to hide from your father.”

“Let me tell you, your father isn’t idle. The Great Ming has countless matters weighing on him. You’re just too young—if you weren’t, you’d be handling affairs too.”

At this, Zhu Xiongying waved his hands frantically, shaking his head like a rattle. “Enough, Grandpa—I’m still a child. This is the age for playing.”

Saying this.

Zhu Xiongying immediately moved away from Zhu Yuanzhang, as if afraid he’d be made to handle memorials.

“Fine.”

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at his grandson’s lively demeanor and sighed with a smile. “Since you’re here today, Grandpa will test you.”

“If you one day rule the realm, how will you treat the people?”

Zhu Yuanzhang picked up the memorial again, reading it as he asked with a smile.

Hearing this question!

Zhu Xiongying fell silent at once. He stopped moving, his small face growing serious as he thought deeply.

After a moment of silence.

Zhu Xiongying lifted his head, his eyes firm. “Grandpa earned the people’s trust, rising from obscurity to the throne.”

“But! If my Zhu descendants grow arrogant, indulgent, and tyrannical, a new emperor will surely rise to replace our Zhu dynasty.”

“To secure peace and ensure the Great Ming endures forever, we must lighten taxes and corvée, govern by law, punish corrupt officials, and bestow grace upon the people.”

“Water can carry a boat, and water can capsize it—that is the fundamental truth.”

Zhu Xiongying’s childish voice echoed through the hall, each word ringing clear and resolute.

Hearing Zhu Xiongying’s words, Zhu Yuanzhang’s smiling face instantly turned solemn.

He set down the memorial and looked intently at his grandson, his eyes filled with admiration and pride.

Outside the hall!

Zhu Biao had been about to stride into the hall, but upon hearing his son’s words, he froze mid-step, his eyes filled with contemplation, sinking into deep thought.

It’s easy to imagine why Zhu Xiongying earned such boundless favor from Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao, why his status was so exalted—it was not merely his noble birth, but his extraordinary intelligence.

Historically, had Zhu Biao lived longer and Zhu Xiongying survived, the Great Ming would surely have avoided internal strife and drained strength, instead ascending to even greater glory.

Thoughts returned to the present.

“This little one really does resemble Xiongying.”

“Just as wise. Just as sharp.”

Zhu Yuanzhang silently sighed within: “And to be so intelligent at such a young age—truly rare.”

At this moment.

He looked at Zhu Xi, his eyes brimming with affection and admiration, as if seeing the shadow of the old Zhu Xiongying.

“Little one, can you read?”

Zhu Yuanzhang asked with a smile, though the question carried more teasing than sincerity—he was curious, probing.

“I know some characters,” Zhu Xi nodded, his little head bobbing cutely.

But then he tilted his head and added, “Mother says she’ll find me a tutor to teach me to read.”

Zhu Xi’s face lit up with anticipation—he clearly found reading interesting.

“Really can read?”

Zhu Yuanzhang asked in surprise. His eyes widened slightly, his face full of astonishment.

His eldest grandson had been a prodigy, hailed as a child genius—but even he hadn’t begun reading until he was two.

Yet this little one was barely over a year old, already knew characters, and now wanted a tutor—how could he not be stunned?

“I don’t believe you, little rascal.”

Zhu Yuanzhang chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes brimming with fondness. “Come here—see if you can read these characters.”

Saying this.

Zhu Yuanzhang beckoned Zhu Xi with a finger, smiling encouragingly.

Beside him, Shen Yuer’s face was filled with worry. Her hands clenched involuntarily, her eyes locked on Zhu Xi, her heart heavy with anxiety.

But Zhu Xi was like a fearless little warrior—he wasn’t afraid at all. He marched forward with unsteady steps, hurrying toward Zhu Yuanzhang.

His body wobbled like a duck just learning to walk, comical to behold—making Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao both smile.

When he reached Zhu Yuanzhang, Zhu Xi realized he was too short to see the desk.

He looked up at Zhu Yuanzhang, his eyes showing no fear—as if the man before him wasn’t the awe-inspiring Emperor, but a kindly elder.

Without hesitation, he scrambled up Zhu Yuanzhang’s thigh, gripping the dragon robe tightly with both hands, kicking his tiny feet, climbing three steps at a time like a nimble monkey, and plopping himself right onto Zhu Yuanzhang’s lap.

Seeing this, Shen Yuer froze in shock. Her eyes bulged, her hands flew to her mouth, her expression locked in disbelief.

“Xi’er!” Shen Yuer whispered urgently, her voice tight with tension and dread.

She cried out, instinctively stepping forward—then halted, unwilling to approach any closer, only standing by helplessly.

But now.

For Zhu Yuanzhang, gazing at the child in his arms, a warmth beyond words surged within him.

It was a feeling that touched his deepest core—as if a long-sealed door to his heart had burst open.

It had been so long.

He hadn’t felt this in years.

Right now, Zhu Xi felt like his beloved eldest grandson had returned to him.

When Zhu Xiongying was alive, he’d always climb onto his lap, begging to be carried, to be held—those precious memories flooded his heart like a tide.

Looking at Zhu Xi in his arms, the Emperor who normally inspired awe in every minister and official, after years of losing his grandson, felt something entirely new—a tender warmth. His gaze softened, his face glowed with joy.

“Look—do you recognize these characters?”

Zhu Yuanzhang came back to himself, gently picked up a memorial he was reviewing, and held it carefully before Zhu Xi, smiling encouragingly.

Zhu Xi’s eyes widened instantly, as if he’d discovered treasure. He scanned the characters rapidly—then his face lit up.

“Tian, Qi, Zou, Di… and Ren, Cheng—I know these characters!”

Zhu Xi pointed excitedly at the memorial, shouting out each character.

His voice was clear and bright. As he named each character, his tiny finger landed precisely on it—his earnestness made even the sternest heart smile.

“Little rascal, I underestimated you.”

Zhu Yuanzhang laughed in surprise, his wrinkles creasing with delight. “You really do know them.”

Clearly, his tone was full of praise. He patted Zhu Xi’s head again, his fondness for the child deepening.

“Yeah, I’m really good.”

Zhu Xi lifted his chin proudly, puffing out his little chest as if declaring his greatness to the whole world.

“When Mother finds me a tutor, I’ll know every character!” Zhu Xi said, waving his tiny fists with confidence.

Watching this adorable child, Zhu Yuanzhang glanced at Zhu Biao beside him. They exchanged a silent look, then both burst into laughter: “Hahaha.”

The bright laughter echoed long through the Wenyuange Hall, filled with joy and happiness—as if sweeping away years of gloom.

It was a laugh long missed, long absent.

Outside the hall!

Yun Qi, the attendant, and Guo Zhen, commander of the Imperial Guard, heard the laughter and exchanged glances of surprise.

They looked at each other, curiosity in their eyes.

“Say, Yun Eunuch, how long has it been since you heard His Majesty laugh like this?”

Guo Zhen asked Yun Qi with a smile, his brow furrowed—his memory couldn’t recall the Emperor laughing so freely in ages.

“A long time.”

Yun Qi sighed, his eyes distant with memory. “And this isn’t the kind of laugh he gives courtiers—it’s real.”

As he spoke, Yun Qi shook his head, as if lamenting the passage of time.

“That’s unusual.”

Guo Zhen exclaimed, his eyes widening in astonishment. “His Majesty never indulges in frivolity. Today, with Lady Shen and her young son visiting, he’s laughing like this?”

He gazed toward the hall, his curiosity deepening.

“Yes.”

Yun Qi nodded with a smile.

But he said nothing more.

After all, he couldn’t say the boy resembled the late Crown Prince’s eldest son.

Perhaps that was one reason His Majesty was so joyful.

But this matter remained taboo within the palace—no one dared speak of it, not even he, a veteran of the court.

Inside the Wenyuange Hall!

Zhu Yuanzhang was deeply satisfied with Zhu Xi’s performance. His face remained lit with a smile, his eyes filled with pride.

It had been so long since he’d felt this truly happy.

“Shen Yuer.”

Zhu Yuanzhang looked up at Shen Yuer, his gaze approving. “You’ve raised your son well—he can read at barely over a year old.”

At this moment.

Perhaps it was loving the child and thus loving the mother—his tone toward Shen Yuer was unusually gentle and warm.

“Your Majesty,” Shen Yuer replied quickly, bowing slightly with humility. “It wasn’t my teaching. He learned by watching me handle household affairs.”

As she spoke, Shen Yuer stole a glance at Zhu Xi, her eyes brimming with pride.

Today truly brought her honor—and honor to her husband.

“Just by watching, you’ve learned it?”

When Zhu Yuanzhang heard this, a flicker of delight passed through his eyes.

He immediately lifted Zhu Xi in his arms, his face beaming with joy: “This little one truly has a gift for learning literature.”

“He might even become our Great Ming’s top imperial scholar one day!”

As he spoke, he gently rocked Zhu Xi, just as he once did with his own grandson.

Zhu Xi tilted his head, gazing curiously at Zhu Yuanzhang, his big eyes filled with confusion: “What’s a top imperial scholar?”

This question was utterly innocent.

“It’s the person selected as the most learned in the entire realm over a three-year period.”

Zhu Yuanzhang explained with a smile, his eyes brimming with patience—something rare.

If the court ministers saw this, they’d swear the Emperor had been replaced.

“Only over three years?” Zhu Xi said seriously, his small face set with determination: “Then I’ll become the most learned person forever.”

Seeing how adorable the child looked, Zhu Yuanzhang laughed: “Then we’ll be waiting.”

“Have you found a teacher for him yet?” Zhu Biao asked Shen Yuer, his tone warm and caring, as always gentle and kind, putting others at ease.

Shen Yuer clasped her hands before her abdomen, bowing slightly, respectfully replying: “I’ve already sent the steward to look.”

“In a little while, we should find one.”

Upon hearing this,

“Shall I help you look?”

Zhu Biao smiled at Shen Yuer: “There are many learned men in the court.”

This time, he meant it as an elder’s kindness toward a younger one.

Shen Yuer immediately bowed deeply, her voice soft yet measured: “Your humble servant thanks the Crown Prince for his kindness, but my son is not yet at the proper age for formal education, so we’ll first find a few tutors to guide him casually.”

Here, she lifted her gaze briefly between Zhu Biao and Zhu Yuanzhang, then bowed again respectfully: “When he truly grows into a capable man, I will surely ask the Crown Prince to recommend some teachers.”

With these words spoken,

Shen Yuer’s tension eased slightly.

“Learning to read and write at just over one year old.”

“Indeed, rare.”

“I look forward to him becoming accomplished,” Zhu Biao said, gazing at Zhu Xi with great anticipation.

He truly liked him very much.

Zhu Yuanzhang gently stroked Zhu Xi’s head, remarking with deep feeling: “After all, his father was so formidable—he achieved great success in military command at a young age.”

“Though this boy didn’t inherit his father’s military talent, he has a gift for literature—that’s no small thing.”

Before he finished speaking,

Shen Yuer seemed to recall something, and bowed respectfully: “Your Majesty, Crown Prince.”

“I came without a proper gift, only bringing some homemade wine from our household.”

“I humbly ask Your Majesty and the Crown Prince to accept it.”

……

(End of Chapter)