Chapter 266: The Emperor's Eighth Son

"What?! That damned traitor actually wants to defect to the Tartars? He deserves death!!"

Yang Yufan flew into a rage at these words. With a 'clang,' he drew his steel blade — yet the next moment, he didn't know what to do with it. The villain wasn't before his eyes, or else he would have made his blood splatter on the spot.

His father Yang Zhaoji had spent more than thirty years fighting on the battlefield, dying in the army at the age of fifty-one — suppressing bandits in the south and resisting the Jianzhou slaves in the north for the court, so much so that even the current Emperor grieved for him.

But now, Chen Hongfan had done so many wicked deeds, and His Majesty had only dismissed him from office — already an act of boundless heavenly grace. Yet now he wanted to rebel and surrender to the Jianzhou slaves, repaying kindness with enmity. If this could be endured, what could not?!

"Transmit this general's order: break camp and enter the city. First wipe out the remaining rebels within the walls, then this general will ride posthaste to report to the court and await His Majesty's decree!"

Yang Yufan had the urge to charge straight to Penglai and confront Chen Hongfan, but recalling his father's years of instruction, he held himself back and issued the most advantageous order for the moment.

Yang Kele and the various officers relayed the order with lightning speed. The officers and men of Yang's force moved with practiced skill, as if from frequent drilling — in less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, the two thousand troops had packed up the camp completely and marched directly into Jiaozhou city.

Exactly as the scout riders had reported, the city of Jiaozhou at this moment could truly be said to be devoid of human traces.

Jiaozhou city had originally been remote in location — not only was its economy inferior to those places blessed by the canal's passage, its population also ranked among the lowest of all the prefectural cities in Shandong.

In the first month of the fifth year of Chongzhen, Kong Youde had launched the first Denglai mutiny.

After that mutiny, the court's military strength in the two prefectures of Denglai suffered a devastating blow. Cities and towns everywhere were ravaged and plundered, the people displaced and destitute beyond words — and to this day, they had still not recovered.

Thirteen years later, the small Denglai region erupted in mutiny once again. This time the protagonists were not Kong Youde and Geng Zhongming, but Chen Hongfan, the Denglai Regional Commander who had long been stationed there.

Jiaozhou city, plundered once more by mutinous soldiers and salt smugglers, showed no sign of life when Yang Yufan and his troops arrived — nothing but corpses strewn everywhere and a handful of surviving widows and orphans.

The city of Jiaozhou was shrouded in deathly gloom. Even the officers and men of Yang's force temporarily stationed there felt deeply unsettled. Corpses blocked every intersection throughout the city, and it took a full three days of clearing before the work was done — a testament to the carnage that had occurred here.

Having witnessed every manner of horror, Yang Yufan could not sleep at night. No matter how his subordinates urged him, he insisted this was his fault for arriving too late — otherwise the city's people would never have suffered such a calamity.

On the fourth night after entering the city, a cavalryman rode out at full speed through the north gate, carrying Yang Yufan's self-incriminating petition of guilt and a memorial reporting the situation, heading straight for the capital.

The fighting in the Central Plains was fierce, and the pacification of Shandong had brought new troubles — yet within the city of Beijing at this moment, all was joy and celebration. Why? Because the Chongzhen Emperor's eighth son was about to make his hasty arrival into the world.

This was the Chongzhen Emperor's eighth son in name, but in truth his first son in every meaningful sense. From the moment Empress Zhou became pregnant, the Chongzhen Emperor had been overjoyed, resolving in his heart to raise this eighth son as his eldest legitimate heir.

Historically, of the Chongzhen Emperor's eight sons, only three had survived to this point.

Prince Huaiyin, Zhu Cixuan, was originally the Emperor's second legitimate son, born of Empress Zhou at the end of the second year of Chongzhen. He died in infancy shortly after birth and was posthumously conferred the title Prince Huaiyin the following year, buried at Cuivei Mountain.

Prince Daoling, Zhu Cihuan, was the Chongzhen Emperor's son by a concubine, born of Noble Consort Tian. He died young at only five years of age and was posthumously titled Prince Daoling. This son had quite a story attached to him.

Mention the name Zhu Cihuan and many people would look utterly bewildered — but say the words "Third Prince Zhu," and that was a name known far and wide.

Countless martial arts novels of later generations made reference to this so-called Third Prince Zhu, and no small number of folk legends surrounded him as well, growing more outlandish with each telling. Among them, the story of anti-Qing, Ming-restoration partisans using "Third Prince Zhu" as their banner was actually the more credible one.

Of course, the later Chongzhen Emperor also read novels and quite enjoyed martial arts fiction, so he had made a point of looking into these matters. According to the accounts, when Zhu Cihuan was alive, he had told the historical Chongzhen that the Bodhisattva Nine Lotuses had appeared to him in a dream.

Who this Bodhisattva Nine Lotuses was, the Chongzhen Emperor had not known at the time — it was only after transmigrating that he understood: that was the posthumous title of Li Shi, mother of the Wanli Emperor, Shenzong of the Divine Dynasty. Far from being some immortal deity as later legends claimed.

The martial arts novels said that Li Shi, mother of the Wanli Emperor, had appeared to Zhu Cihuan in a dream, saying that his father Chongzhen treated meritorious officials and imperial relatives too harshly, and that the Wanli Emperor was furious and wanted all his sons to die.

There were also rumors that Chongzhen, upon hearing this, was so terrified he wet himself in abject fear, and so honored his son Zhu Cihuan with the title "Mystic Mechanism Compassionate True Lord," hoping to move heaven and avert disaster.

These stories had spread quite sensationally at the time, and the Chongzhen Emperor had nearly believed them — but once he transmigrated and looked into it, it was all complete nonsense.

First, the Bodhisattva Nine Lotuses was not a deity at all, but the honorific title of a mortal woman. Second, the historical Chongzhen Emperor's memory contained no trace whatsoever of being scared into wetting himself by some dream-talk from his own son.

From this it was clear that those poorly researched novels truly did great harm.

Prince Daohuai, Zhu Cican, was Chongzhen's son by a concubine, also born of Noble Consort Tian, born in the tenth year of Chongzhen. He died young at only two years of age and was posthumously titled Prince Daohuai. There was also Prince Daoliang Zhu So-and-so, another son of Noble Consort Tian, who died at three.

No matter how hard the Chongzhen Emperor racked his brain, he could not recall the name of this dead son of his. Could it be that the historical Chongzhen had forgotten his own son's name?

Besides these four who died young, there were three sons still living: the sixteen-year-old Crown Prince Xianmin Zhu Cilang, the thirteen-year-old Prince Ding Zhu Cijiong, and the twelve-year-old Prince Yong Zhu Cizhao.

Historically, Zhu Cizhao was the only verifiable Ming imperial descendant to have lived to the age of seventy-five.

In both his past life and this one, the Chongzhen Emperor was experiencing the process of becoming a father for the first time. His heart was a jumble of mixed emotions, and he paced about anxiously like an ant on a hot pan.

Noble Consort Yuan and Noble Consort Rou beside him also wore looks of great urgency, yet they did not know how to comfort him, and could only watch helplessly as the Chongzhen Emperor paced back and forth without stopping.

Why is Empress Zhou crying out so miserably — is it a son or a daughter? I've heard that in ancient times the survival rate for mother and child wasn't high. Please, let nothing go wrong.

The Chongzhen Emperor's thoughts wandered in every direction, and he wished he could kick the door down and stare at the scene directly.

Before long, the crisp cry of a newborn infant came from within the room. The Chongzhen Emperor reacted with unprecedented speed — before the eunuch could even open the door, he had dashed in with a single stride and in the blink of an eye was at Empress Zhou's bedside.

"How is it?"

"Congratulations, Your Majesty, congratulations! Mother and child are safe, and you have been blessed with a dragon son. Our Great Ming has another imperial prince!" The imperial midwife immediately placed the newborn, still wailing at the top of his lungs, into the Chongzhen Emperor's hands, her face beaming with a gratified smile.

Strangely enough, the child had been crying his heart out moments before, but once in the Chongzhen Emperor's arms, his cries gradually subsided, and he simply stared blankly at him.

"Let me see him quickly." Empress Zhou, overcome with maternal feeling, took the child from the Chongzhen Emperor's hands, rubbed her flushed red face against his little cheek, and said with a smile:

"Your Majesty, give him a name."

Originally, according to palace custom, everything from an imperial prince's birth to his naming was supposed to follow an elaborate set of procedures. The Chongzhen Emperor, wishing to avoid the trouble, naturally simplified wherever he could.

Hearing Empress Zhou's question, the Chongzhen Emperor recalled how the boy had gazed at him with those bright, burning eyes moments before, and said:

"The peach tree is young and elegant, brilliant are its flowers. This son shall be called Zhu Cizhuo. What does the Empress think?"

"Zhu Cizhuo." Empress Zhou murmured the name a few times, then nodded with a smile.

"By the grace of Heaven, the Emperor decrees:

I, as sovereign, receive the mandate of Heaven and uphold the ancestral temple, holding foremost the succession of the heir. I honor the line of the legitimate eldest. I, of humble person, have succeeded to the great foundation, ever mindful that my imperial grandfather and father accumulated blessings and prosperity, with sources deep and posterity far-reaching.

I await the continuation of my line, looking up to console the plans of governance. Now Heaven above has looked with favor, and the ancestral temple has bestowed its protection. On this sixth day of the eleventh month of this year, my eighth son was born, issued from Empress Zhou. The inner palace opens the continuation of the legitimate line, and all the realm rejoices in the blessing of a worthy heir. Respect this."