Chapter 28

June 10.

Today was a grand day, for the Great Ming would welcome a new emperor today—Zhu Yijun—crowned and ascended the throne.

Before the sun had risen, the entire Forbidden City seemed to come alive, brimming with vitality.

Countless palace attendants, soldiers, and ceremonial guards moved through the imperial city.

Sacrificial offerings and incense had been prepared in advance at all the palace altars.

At this moment, Zhu Yijun, clad in mourning attire, knelt before the spirit tablet of the late emperor.

“My late imperial father, above, I have received your final edict and been entrusted with the sacred mandate.”

“The civil and military ministers, elders, and common people have jointly urged me to ascend, again and again, and I could not refuse.”

“Thus, I humbly obey your final decree and yield to the people’s will, and today, I shall ascend the imperial throne.”

Having spoken, he bowed once, then again, thrice, and finally a fourth time.

After the fourth bow.

Zhu Yijun threw the scroll in his hand into the fire, where pale blue smoke curled upward, winding around the spirit tablet of the late emperor.

He then turned to the two imperial dowagers: “My mother Empress Dowager Chen, above; my mother Empress Dowager Li, above—your son, today ascends the throne.”

Saying this, he bowed four times again.

Empress Dowager Li was already weeping, speechless.

Empress Dowager Chen gently helped her up: “The ancestral temples and the state are now entrusted to the emperor.”

Zhu Yijun clasped her hand and said solemnly: “I shall remember.”

Then, within the hall, a palace lady stepped forward and removed his mourning attire, replacing it with the imperial ceremonial robes.

The black upper robe and yellow lower garment, adorned with the Twelve Symbols, fitted him for the first time.

The outer robe was woven with the sun, moon, stars, mountains, dragons, and pheasants.

The inner skirt was embroidered with ancestral vessels, algae, fire, rice, axes, and subduing patterns.

Empress Dowager Chen herself placed the crown upon his head.

Round in front, square behind, black outer surface, reddish-brown inner lining, twelve jade pendants obscured Zhu Yijun’s face.

Empress Dowager Li fastened the jade belt around him: “After you complete the sacrifices at Fengxian, Hongxiao, and Shenxiao Palaces, hurry to the Meridian Gate—the civil and military officials and the people are still waiting outside.”

Having spoken, she could no longer control her emotions and stepped back, covering her face.

Zhu Yijun nodded.

He glanced at Empress Dowager Chen and Empress Dowager Li, then turned and left the hall.

The eunuchs and ceremonial attendants followed him out.

Only the two dowagers and their chief eunuchs remained inside.

Feng Bao supported Empress Dowager Li as they recited Buddhist sutras together.

Suddenly, Empress Dowager Chen spoke: “At last, our wish is fulfilled—it is time to repay the Buddha.”

Saying this, Empress Dowager Chen took three incense sticks from Chen Suan, bowed before the late emperor’s spirit tablet.

Empress Dowager Li opened her eyes and looked at Empress Dowager Chen.

When Chen Hong was Chief of the Directorate of Ceremonial, perhaps this sister had harbored jealousy, repeatedly making things difficult for her.

Their relationship had long been strained—that was why she had shown anger before her son yesterday.

Now she spoke again with a barb, and Empress Dowager Li felt even more unsettled.

But today, with her son ascending the throne, she could not truly quarrel with Empress Dowager Chen—otherwise, any discord would tarnish her son’s reputation.

Thinking of this, she suppressed her emotions—it was all in the past; now she had won utterly, and she should display the grace of a victor.

Moreover, this sister of hers could not bear children, and seeing this scene had unsettled her—Empress Dowager Li truly understood.

So Empress Dowager Li smiled slightly.

She spoke magnanimously: “Sister need not worry—Yun’er is a filial child; we shall both rely on him in the days to come.”

Mother and son were bound by blood; granting a little favor to this legal mother, who had long resided in a separate palace, Empress Dowager Li could accept.

Yet Empress Dowager Chen, hearing this, turned to look at Empress Dowager Li—her gaze strangely complex: truly, fools are blessed.

But Empress Dowager Li continued soothingly: “A few days ago, Yun’er told me—he said that after his coronation, you would no longer reside in the separate palace.”

“In a few days, after the court deliberation, we shall have the Ministry of Rites discuss it—I shall reside in Cining Palace; you shall move to Ciqing Palace.”

Though Ciqing Palace was the Crown Prince’s residence, the new emperor is unmarried and childless, so there is no urgency to reserve it.

It is perfect for housing Empress Dowager Chen—it is close to Wenhua Hall, convenient for the emperor to visit after daily lectures and court deliberations.

Empress Dowager Chen accepted this kindness, bowing slightly in thanks.

She sighed softly: “Sister truly has good fortune.”

Had her sister not been so simple-minded, her own mood might have been even worse.

Empress Dowager Li smiled warmly—her son was indeed her good fortune.

“Enough, sister should return to your palace and rest—today’s crowds will be noisy; do not let them disturb you.”

Her sister had always been frail, long residing in a separate palace, damp and cold, her health extremely poor—she fell ill easily.

Empress Dowager Chen nodded slightly, bowed, and departed with Chen Suan to her separate palace.

After Empress Dowager Chen left, Empress Dowager Li looked at Feng Bao and sighed: “Where does my sister get all this bitterness?”

She came from a scholar-official family, yet her bearing was worse than my own peasant girl’s?

Feng Bao’s eyes flickered, and he comforted: “It is a day of great joy—Empress Dowager Chen is moved by emotion, a natural reaction.”

Empress Dowager Li slowly nodded, then put it out of her mind.

For years as master and servant, she had always trusted Feng Bao’s words implicitly.

Then she turned to another matter: “You say Gao Gong will truly oppose us these days?”

Feng Bao hurriedly replied: “Yesterday, Gao Gong spoke in the Grand Secretariat, saying he would remove me from my position as Chief of the Directorate of Ceremonial, so that Your Majesty could not issue a single edict from within the Forbidden City, to prevent the inner court from interfering in state affairs, like a hen crowing at dawn.”

Empress Dowager Li snorted in anger.

Feng Bao saw this and felt relieved.

Gao Gong had never said such a thing—but as long as Empress Dowager Li believed he had, that was enough.

He had always been deceitful toward his superiors.

When he first entered the Prince of Yu’s mansion, the eunuch positions were full, so he bribed his adoptive father to serve as a servant before Li’s household.

He had targeted Li’s soft ears and lack of cunning—she was easiest to deceive.

Now that Li had become Empress Dowager, as long as Feng Bao maintained this influence, he could walk with impunity within the inner court.

What else could be called fulfillment?

Not to mention Zhang Juzheng in the outer court was his ally.

Backed by the Empress Dowager, allied with the Grand Secretariat, controlling the Directorate of Ceremonial—this power structure, even if the emperor were of age, would require at least one death—either Zhang Juzheng’s or Feng Bao’s—before he could assume personal rule!

As for the emperor’s future reckoning? Ha—a eunuch who has worn feathers won’t waste his final years seeking a good name in history—he’ll enjoy himself while he can.

Eunuchs are good: dead, they are done; no corpse, no descendants, no concern for reputation—what can be reckoned? At least they lived well.

Now, only the expulsion of Gao Gong remains—then Feng Bao shall stand atop the pinnacle of power in the Great Ming!

Now, all he needed was to expel Gao Gong, and Feng Bao would stand atop the pinnacle of power in the Great Ming!

Meanwhile, outside the Meridian Gate, civil and military officials and representatives of the people had long been waiting.

Crowded yet orderly, they stood in line—from the foremost court ministers at the Meridian Gate, stretching all the way to the last commoner, nearly reaching the edge of the imperial city.

Zhang Siwei knelt outside the Meridian Gate, secretly watching the back of Gao Gong at the very front of the ranks.

Though switching sides mid-journey was ungracious.

But as Grand Secretary, Gao Gong was truly worth a high price.

No wonder Zhang Juzheng was a prodigy—he bypassed Yang Bo and came straight to me—pure genius.

Yang Bo would never sell Gao Gong for the position of Grand Secretary—but Zhang Siwei would!

He was a jinshi of Jiajing 32, having endured nineteen years of service; he was originally a Hanlin Academy candidate, with the seniority of a former tutor to the late emperor.

Now serving as Vice Minister of Personnel, a full third-rank official, he stood just one step away from the Grand Secretariat.

With the Grand Secretariat within reach, he would not hesitate—even if he had to shave his head in January.

As Zhang Siwei pondered, he suddenly heard movement within the Meridian Gate.

He looked up to see Cao Xian, a eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, sprinting out, holding four scrolls high, calling out:

He looked up and saw the Senior Eunuch of the Office of Attending to Imperial Edicts, Cao Xian, sprinting out from Wumen, chanting loudly as he held high four scrolls of documents.

“Imperial decree!”

“Imperial decree!”

As the officials bowed to listen, Cao Xian shouted: “The Son of Heaven has ascended the throne—here is his edict!”

“Commission Prince Zhu Xizhong to carry the imperial scrolls to the southern altar and announce the ascension to Heaven!”

Zhu Xizhong knelt to receive the scrolls and departed for the southern altar.

“Commission Duke Zhang Fu to carry the imperial scrolls to the northern altar and announce the ascension to Earth!”

Zhang Fu received the edict and departed.

“Commission Imperial Son-in-Law Xu Congcheng to carry the imperial scrolls to the ancestral temple and announce the ascension to the ancestral spirits!”

Xu Congcheng received the edict and departed.

“Commission Marquis Jiang Keqian to carry the imperial scrolls to the Altar of Soil and Grain and announce the ascension to the state deities!”

Jiang Keqian received the edict and departed.

Jiang You departed by imperial decree.

Four noble lords, each leading their ceremonial processions, marched out in grand array to offer sacrifices on behalf of the Son of Heaven.

Among them, the Prince of Cheng was the most illustrious, entrusted with the sacrifice to Heaven, envied by countless military nobles.

Unfortunately, no one knew that Zhu Xizhong, heading toward the southern suburbs, wished desperately to toss this duty away like a hot potato—let anyone else take it.

These favors must be repaid!

He had not fully grasped this until yesterday, when he received that personal letter…

Having received the imperial family’s grace, it was time to give his life in return.

The imperial house, the Grand Secretariat, and the Directorate of Ceremonial—the three most powerful factions—were now engaged in open and covert struggles.

Regardless of who won, even the aftershocks would claim countless lives and strip many of their offices and titles.

Of the Six Ministries and Nine Ministers, most would likely be replaced.

The civil officials would mostly be dismissed; those who died would surely be the unlucky eunuchs and noble lords.

Zhu Xizhong’s gloomy expression was no act.

In the fourteenth year of Zhengtong, the struggle was equally fierce—was the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard not mighty then? Yet he was beaten to death on the palace floor before the Regent by civil officials!

He truly did not wish to wade into this mire; a small bet to gain the new emperor’s faint favor, enough for a little future protection, would suffice.

But yesterday, Jiang Keqian came to his door, delivered the emperor’s personal letter, leaving him no choice but to be drawn in.

The new emperor not only ordered him to fully mobilize the Embroidered Uniform Guard to monitor the Grand Secretariat and the Eastern Depot.

He also summoned Zhu Xixiao into the Qianqing Palace to serve as his personal guard.

And commanded him to “cooperate at all times.”

Though merely a private letter, phrased with utmost sincerity and courtesy, its tone was firm—Zhu Xizhong had no room to refuse; he could only accept fully.

He knew perfectly well what had happened these past days.

Jiang Keqian’s mouth was tight, but the Embroidered Uniform Guard officers under him had originally been assigned by Zhu Xizhong himself.

He knew of Gao Gong’s dealings with court officials, Zhang Juzheng’s secret meetings with the Jin Party, and the new emperor’s covert maneuvers.

Precisely because he knew, he felt the peril of the times.

Zhu Xizhong cursed himself for commanding the Embroidered Uniform Guard, for reading too much, for being too well-informed and too familiar with the dynasty’s history.

It filled him with dread, so much so that he wished he would drop dead in office.

What else could he do?

Whether he ignored the new emperor or leaned toward the Directorate of Ceremonial or Gao Gong, he would earn the new emperor’s hatred—and in a few years, he might face execution and the annihilation of his entire family when the emperor came of age.

As for siding with the emperor and serving as his vanguard? He would inevitably incur the civil officials’ hatred!

Lu Bing, former Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, had been the Jiajing Emperor’s childhood companion and had saved his life in a fire—what was his fate? Zhu Xizhong remembered clearly.

After Lu Bing’s death, the Jiajing Emperor specially ordered that his household be protected—yet what happened? The moment the Jiajing Emperor died, civil officials launched a counterattack.

Voices demanding the condemnation of Lu Bing echoed through the court; the most vehement censor, Zhang Shouyue, even petitioned to confiscate his property, desecrate his corpse, and arrest his relatives.

Even more absurdly, the late emperor had failed to resist, breaking his father’s final wish, and actually confiscated Lu Bing’s estate.

No matter which path he chose, Zhu Xizhong saw no way out; now trapped in the vortex, he could only watch helplessly as the Prince of Cheng’s household faced its inevitable decline.

Unless… the new emperor on the throne could emerge victorious while still valuing loyalty, refusing to kill the hound after the rabbit is dead.

Moreover, he must be stronger than the late emperor, capable of suppressing the civil officials and preventing their revenge.

Oh yes, he must also live long enough to outlive all the civil officials who had grievances against the Prince of Cheng’s household.

As he thought of this, Zhu Xizhong laughed helplessly.

Indeed, it was nine deaths, one life.

…

The Fuxian, Hongxiao, and Shenxiao Palaces were where emperors and empresses not enshrined in the Nine Ancestral Temples were honored.

For instance, his two mothers, after death, could only have their spirit tablets placed in these three palaces.

The ritual itself was simple, with no extra spectators—all watched from afar outside the halls.

Zhu Yijun followed the ritual text and ceremonial protocol, burned the petition to his ancestors, completed the rites, and bowed three times before exiting.

Thus, the ancestral sacrifice was fully completed.

As Zhu Yijun stepped out of the Shenxiao Palace, Jiang Keqian stepped forward to meet him.

“Your Majesty, of the censors recommended by Grand Secretary Gao, I have tested them—only two are usable.”

Zhu Yijun was surprised, but after a moment’s thought, nodded: “Very well. Two will suffice.”

These censors were not meant to charge forward.

Yesterday, he learned of Zhang Suiwei’s collusion with Zhang Juzheng, and immediately devised his plan.

He was now playing the role of balancer—he hoped Gao Gong and Feng Bao would both be ruined.

Since history showed Gao Gong’s utter defeat, he naturally intended to lend a hand.

The Jin Party, this traitorous faction, was perfect to be tied up—distracting them so their betrayal would not be too damaging, nor alert Feng Bao.

After the censors’ accusations, Yang Bo and Zhang Suiwei would inevitably submit self-accusatory memorials requesting dismissal.

This would bind their hands for now.

As for how he persuaded Gao Yi… there was no need to tell Gao Yi that the accusations targeted Gao Gong’s Jin Party.

He merely said he had heard of corrupt officials, and asked Gao Yi to recommend several loyal, patriotic censors to investigate secretly.

He had scoured their records exhaustively—even digging up which year they had wet their pants—to select a few pure-stream officials steeped in the Three Bonds and Five Constants.

Even so, after the Embroidered Uniform Guard sent men to eavesdrop for a full day, only two remained usable.

And as for the evidence against Zhang Suiwei and Yang Bo, these two’s conduct was utterly unclean.

Yesterday, Zhu Xixiao had exhausted himself showing Zhu Yijun the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s depths.

In the end, he selected two charges of moderate severity, to be delivered to the censors at the right moment.

Only through such balance could the struggle proceed back and forth.

It troubled him a little to bully the honest men.

After all, when Gao Yi later learned he was being used to accuse Gao Gong’s Jin Party, he would surely feel wronged again—yet how could he blame the emperor? The emperor had read the Four Books and Five Classics, hated corrupt officials without distinction; how could his teacher teach him to cover up?

At this moment, Jiang Keqian spoke again: “Your Majesty, Grand Secretary Gao says he has been overworked and is unwell; after your coronation, he wishes to take several days of leave.”

Zhu Yijun blinked: “Leave?”

The Grand Secretariat had only three members, and one was already away inspecting the imperial tombs—now another would take leave?

His mind turned, and he realized: this was surely Gao Gong’s doing.

How arrogant and obstinate Gao Gong was—he was Gao Yi’s patron, their private friendship was close, and now, at the moment of great action, he was pushing Gao Yi aside?

If not for Gao Gong’s temperament, he probably would not have lost so catastrophically in history.

But it suited him perfectly—all their schemes were kept from Gao Yi.

He alone was the innocent, upright man—better he remain untainted, so he could emerge after the dust settled to clean up the mess.

As for the pure-stream officials behind him, let them serve the emperor for now!

Thinking this, Zhu Yijun nodded and instructed: “Send men to watch over him—ensure I can always reach Grand Secretary Gao.”

Jiang Keqian withdrew.

Zhu Yijun summoned the ritual official: “I have completed the ancestral sacrifice.”

The ritual official understood—the timing drum set by the Directorate of Astronomy sounded its first beat.

Outside the hall, the Guard Corps had already arranged the ceremonial procession; behind them stood armored soldiers, each holding banners and regalia; a five-horse chariot stood outside the hall, with two ceremonial attendants holding the memorial table on either side.

Zhang Hong hurriedly helped Zhu Yijun step firmly onto the five-horse chariot, then shouted at the top of his voice: “Clear the way!”

Instantly, bells rang and drums beat, armor clattered, and the procession moved forward in grand array.

Ahead, a hundred men sprinkled water, cleared the path, and unfurled banners; on either side, ceremonial music played, stretching out a long line.

Zhang Hong shouted again: “Proceed to the Wumen Gate!”