Chapter 29: The Sun Rises, the Moon Endures, Centered in Balance

Military and civilian representatives, civil and military officials, knelt prostrate outside the Wumen, suddenly hearing a drumbeat—the timing drum arranged by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.

As the drum sounded, the morning sun rose, shining upon the Wumen.

All raised their heads to look toward the city tower.

There appeared the Tongzan, Zanli, Suwei officials, and various guards, filing out in orderly procession to clear the way and await.

Cloud canopies and cloud trays followed closely behind.

A figure clad in the Gunmian robe emerged slowly, surrounded by attendants.

“An edict!” someone cried out.

The military, civilians, and officials immediately bowed their heads: “We humbly receive Your Majesty’s decree!”

Zhu Yijun gazed down at the sea of kneeling figures below, stretching endlessly, his chest rising and falling several times.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally calmed himself.

Then, facing downward, he spoke slowly and clearly: “Our state has opened a grand legacy, passing it on for ten thousand generations; our ancestral emperors, with one heart, created and guarded it for over two hundred years.”

Simultaneously, the eunuchs on either side repeated the words, transmitting them downward; every few paces, another eunuch echoed them, passing the words back.

Layer upon layer, like a wave of sound.

“My late imperial father, the Great Emperor, was wise and exemplary, diligent in governance… suddenly ascended to heaven, entrusting me with the sacred mandate.”

“Thus, in obedience to his final edict and in accord with the people’s will, on the tenth day of the sixth month, I solemnly proclaimed it to Heaven, Earth, the Ancestral Temple, and the Altars of Soil and Grain.”

Zhu Yijun paused, closed his eyes, and with full voice uttered those words: “I ascend the imperial throne.”

At that moment, the Court Music Bureau’s Zhonghe Shaoyue began to play; bells and drums sounded together, music and drums united.

The guards stationed on either side shook their armor, rustling loudly.

Below, military, civilians, and officials—regardless of their inner thoughts—all raised their hands to their foreheads, bowing once, twice, thrice, four times.

Their voices rose in unison: “Ten thousand years!”

“Ten thousand years!”

“Ten thousand years!”

The collective cry of hundreds of thousands of “Ten thousand years!” surged toward the heavens.

Shouts, cries, music, clanking armor, bell and drum tones—surging like ocean waves, echoing as if Heaven and Earth resonated together, filling the entire Forbidden City!

…

The sounds gradually faded.

“Henceforth, next year shall be the first year of Wanli; we renew ourselves with the people…”

The reading of the edict continued; the military and civilian representatives still knelt, listening.

The officials, however, had already risen and entered one by one through the Wumen.

Zhu Yijun also turned and descended the tower.

Later, he would proceed to the Zhongji Hall to receive the officials’ congratulatory memorials, but at this moment, his enthronement ceremony was complete.

The core of the ceremony lay in its proclamation: when the crowd cried “Ten thousand years!”, the ceremony had already ended.

From this moment on, he was the emperor, revered by millions of Great Ming.

But… this was far from over—or rather, it was only the beginning of his ten-thousand-li journey.

He was not the only one waiting for this moment.

Gao Gong was waiting too—he waited for the throne to be occupied by a ten-year-old child, so he could pretend to serve a child emperor, abolish the Directorate of Ceremonial, and make the emperor a mere nodding puppet.

Feng Bao and Zhang Juzheng were waiting too—they needed Lady Li to become Empress Dowager and regent, so they could expel Gao Gong and seize sole power.

Zhu Yijun, Feng Bao, Gao Gong, Zhang Juzheng—their confrontation would now officially begin.

…

Unlike the regular court audience, the enthronement audience was a ritual of officials paying homage to the throne.

The number of attendees was dozens of times greater than that of a council meeting; the Wenhua Hall could not possibly accommodate it.

To display the majesty of the imperial house, the Hongwu Emperor decreed that enthronement audiences must always be held in the Fengtian Hall, located on the central axis of the Forbidden City.

Now, the Ministry of Rites petitioned the Two Palaces and changed the venue to the Zhongji Hall.

The Shangbao Qing’s attendants had already set up the imperial throne within the hall; Zhu Yijun sat down calmly.

He no longer paid attention to the ceremonial ascent; he merely waited quietly for the officials to present their congratulatory memorials.

After a round of whip-cracks and music, the officials filed in one by one.

Four noble envoys, commissioned to announce the enthronement to Heaven and the Ancestral Temple, stepped forward first: “We, your servants, have not disgraced our mission—we have proclaimed it to Heaven, Earth, and the Ancestral Temple.”

“Heaven and Earth, upon hearing of Your Majesty’s enthronement, have showered auspicious radiance—surely from overwhelming joy.”

“We, bold as we are, humbly present our congratulatory memorial to Your Majesty.”

Having spoken, Zhu Xizhong cast a subtle glance at the emperor upon the throne, his mind swirling with thoughts.

Zhu Yijun’s view was obscured by the beaded curtain; he merely nodded: “Your loyal devotion, I know well.”

He turned to Feng Bao: “Feng Qing, Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, present the congratulatory memorials.”

Feng Bao bowed: “Your servant obeys.”

He descended the imperial steps and collected the memorials from the four nobles.

The four nobles returned to their ranks.

Then, the Grand Secretaries stepped forward: “We, your servants, offer our congratulations on Your Majesty’s enthronement, and present our memorial as well.”

Zhu Yijun nodded.

Thereafter, officials from the Grand Secretariat, the Six Ministries and Nine Courts, down to the seventh-rank petty clerks, presented their memorials in orderly succession.

Everything proceeded with perfect order.

Until…

“Your Majesty has ordered the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial to collect the memorials—who are you, fellow?!” Zhang Xiao, Censor of Guangxi Circuit, frowned at Feng Bao.

The hall fell instantly silent.

Zhu Xizhong appeared unwell, closing his eyes tightly.

Gao Gong stared straight ahead, as if he had heard nothing.

Zhang Juzheng’s lips parted slightly, expressing just the right degree of surprise.

Gao Yi held his tablet with both hands, as if he had expected this.

Only the uninformed officials glanced around, exchanged glances with their colleagues, their eyes filled with confusion and panic.

Feng Bao, despite this provocation, displayed perfect composure—not a flicker in his eyelids.

He merely bowed toward the imperial desk and spoke slowly: “I am the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial.”

Zhang Xiao swept his sleeve aside, raised his finger toward Feng Bao, and scanned the officials: “This is the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial!?”

The officials were all shrewd—they knew immediately that trouble was brewing.

Whether you recognized him or not, even if you harbored doubts, was this the time to shout in the Zhongji Hall?

Whether high or low, all officials who met Zhang Xiao’s gaze turned away, unwilling to be drawn into this vortex.

The ceremonial officer below the imperial steps immediately shouted: “Zhang Xiao! The Son of Heaven has ascended the throne—observe propriety!”

Zhang Xiao Shunshi knelt, bowing to the emperor: “Your Majesty, I have just returned from my inspection tour in Guangxi and was unaware that the late Emperor issued an edict replacing the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial. I am guilty!”

If Feng Bao was Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, then surely it was by the late Emperor’s final edict?

Retreat to advance!

Zhang Xiao’s words, though an admission of guilt, actually placed the issue of Feng Bao’s irregular appointment as Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial squarely on the table.

Feng Bao knew full well what play this was—even with preparation, he could not help but glare angrily at Gao Gong.

Zhu Yijun understood perfectly well what was happening—he was merely a pawn.

Seeing this, he chose to feign ignorance: “Zhang Qing, rise. Ignorance is no crime.”

“You are unaware—Feng Dang was appointed by my mother, not by the late Emperor’s edict.”

Zhang Xiao, of course, knew full well—he was not merely ignorant; he had been waiting precisely for this moment.

He caught Gu Shouli’s subtle nod and gained confidence, pressing further: “Ah… so it was Empress Chen’s edict at that time. Then I have indeed been reckless.”

Theoretically, the position of Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial could only be appointed by the emperor.

But when the emperor died, the empress dowager, as regent, could temporarily appoint one—it was plausible.

Though… Zhang Xiao knew perfectly well it was not Empress Chen’s edict.

At this point in the drama, someone naturally stepped in to support the script.

Han Ji, Right Secretary of the Tongzheng Office, rebuked: “Zhang Xiao, how dare you! Empress Chen possesses such discernment—how dare you slander her? Feng Dang’s appointment as Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial was made by the current Empress Li!”

No sooner had he spoken than Song Zhihan, Left Censor of the Ministry of Personnel, stepped forward to argue: “Secretary Han, please be cautious—I have never seen any imperial edict from Empress Li at that time.”

These two were Gao Gong’s disciples; all officials knew it.

At this moment, the uninformed officials finally realized: the Chief Grand Secretary and the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial were about to engage in open combat!

The Censors, the Six Boards, and the Tongzheng Office—all were Gao Gong’s men.

These men singing in unison—could it possibly be without Gao Gong’s instruction?

The court was Gao Gong’s domain; the hapless Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial was being mobbed, utterly powerless.

As for Feng Bao himself, watching himself suddenly set ablaze, his face showed no expression, but his inner hatred burned fiercely.

Even though he had anticipated Gao Gong’s recent move, he still felt overwhelming rage.

He had long known this weakness.

When the late Emperor died, Lady Li despised Meng Chong and expelled him, elevating me instead.

As for an imperial edict… the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial was never a position a mere imperial consort could decide by word alone.

Moreover, at that time Meng Chong was Director of the Office of Imperial Ceremonial, and Gao Gong was Chief Grand Secretary; the two were allies, so it was unthinkable anyone would obey such a mere Imperial Consort’s edict.

So he advised Li Imperial Consort at the time to bypass the outer court entirely and directly appoint him, making the deed irreversible.

The birth mother of the heir had rank, and he himself commanded men of the Eastern Depot—why bother with procedure or etiquette?

The methods of struggle within the inner court differed from those of the outer court.

Thus, cutting through the tangle with a swift blade was merely a temporary expedient; it was impossible to issue a formal edict to the Grand Secretariat at that time.

Otherwise, at best the Six Censorates would have rejected it; at worst, the Li family might have been dragged into it—Gao Gong was perfectly capable of uttering the words “a hen crowing at dawn.”

Thereafter, thanks to Li’s suppression, no one pursued it; even if someone had, the memorial could have been held back.

Moreover, with Meng Chong eliminated just days ago, and Li now elevated to Empress Dowager, Feng Bao’s position was now unshakable.

Yet he had not anticipated that Gao Gong would dare instruct a Censor to expose this matter face-to-face during the enthronement ceremony!

It was meant, even knowing it was useless, to disgust and humiliate him.

He truly cared nothing for the Two Palaces or the young Emperor’s dignity!

Feng Bao cast a subtle glance toward the hall’s entrance, but no expected commotion came.

Yet he could not remain passive; he decisively invoked Empress Dowager Li: “Gentlemen, please reconsider—did Empress Dowager Li not issue a verbal edict?”

Feng Bao stressed the word “Empress Dowager” with ironclad emphasis.

He was reminding them this was not merely a personal affront—he stood behind the Emperor’s birth mother, a Regent Empress Dowager!

Gao Gong is one thing, but you censors and remonstrators—do you truly intend to walk this path to the bitter end?

But Zhang Xiao, unaware of what promises were made to him, not only showed no restraint but escalated further.

Hearing Feng Bao’s words, Zhang Xao glared fiercely, kowtowed toward the imperial desk, and shouted: “How can an Imperial Consort’s verbal edict decide the post of Director of the Office of Imperial Ceremonial!?”

He then loudly questioned the assembled ministers: “Has our dynasty ever had such a precedent!?”

This accusation struck directly at Empress Dowager Li; the ministers all froze in shock, wishing they could flee their seats.

What colossal battle was this, to openly denounce a Regent Empress Dowager?

Seeing him bark like a dog, Feng Bao’s tone grew fiercer: “Are you, Censor Zhang, accusing Empress Dowager Li of wrongdoing?”

If the post of Director of the Office of Imperial Ceremonial could be stripped away with a few words, Gao Gong would have done it long ago—why wait until now?

Precisely because his appointment was inextricably bound to Empress Dowager Li!

He dropped a heavy accusation—now see how bold a mere Censor dared to respond.

Alas, Zhang Xao charged forward, but behind him stood a host of others.

Naturally, someone stepped forward to control the situation.

Gao Gong spoke indifferently: “Both of you, speak with caution—do not casually drag the throne into your personal disputes.”

Zhang Xao knew when to stop, and how to measure his limits.

He ignored Feng Bao entirely and continued addressing Zhu Yijun: “At the very beginning of Your Majesty’s reign, how many eyes were watching! How can titles and emblems be entrusted to others?”

“Since the congratulatory memorial was received by the Director of the Office of Imperial Ceremonial, I dare not hand it to anyone else!”

His words implied Feng Bao was spying on imperial authority and committing the grave crime of usurpation.

Ge Shouli, as Left Censor-in-Chief, could not allow the enthronement ceremony to be ruined by the censors and remonstrators.

He stepped forward and rebuked: “Zhang Xao! Do you insist on disrupting His Majesty’s enthronement? Hand over the memorial and withdraw at once!”

He then added: “Your Majesty, even if Zhang Xao speaks reasonably, this is merely a matter of an inner eunuch overstepping imperial symbols—it cannot outweigh the significance of Your Majesty’s audience today. I humbly request this matter be addressed later.”

These censors, in mere words, branded Feng Bao as a thief who seized the Office of Imperial Ceremonial and usurped imperial authority.

They gave Feng Bao no chance to speak.

Zhu Yijun found it laughable—these men truly held no respect for the Emperor; even his enthronement ceremony had become a battlefield.

No wonder Emperor Xiaozong had been praised to the heavens by these literati as the true benevolent ruler since the Three Dynasties—during Xiaozong’s audiences, the ministers behaved exactly this way.

According to the Ming Veritable Records of Korea, when Emperor Xiaozong attended court, ministers held private meetings, bickering incessantly; Xiaozong could only sit on the dragon throne like a wooden statue.

Was this the kind of emperor they truly wanted?

Fortunately, Zhu Yijun had other plans; otherwise, seeing these men so utterly disrespectful, he might have publicly turned on them.

Thinking thus, he adopted a spectator’s attitude and took the easy way out: “Minister Ge speaks wisely. Minister Zhang, let this matter be deferred—do not dwell on it here.”

Today’s disruption in court was merely the first step in bringing this issue to light—it could not shake Feng Bao’s position.

Gao Gong must have further moves; storms and gales were surely coming.

This opening act should now come to an end.

Zhang Xao, as the vanguard, had fulfilled his task; hearing this, he immediately bowed reverently and said: “I feared an inner eunuch would usurp imperial symbols and blind Your Majesty’s ears and eyes—I acted in haste.”

“In my indiscretion, I disturbed Your Majesty’s enthronement audience. After this, I shall submit a memorial confessing my fault and await Your Majesty’s judgment.”

“As for Feng Bao’s case, I shall submit another memorial separately.”

With that, he handed the memorial to Feng Bao.

Yet as they passed, Zhang Xao let out a quiet sneer.

Feng Bao took a deep breath, suppressed his emotions, and endured the humiliation.

His face was expressionless, as if waiting for something.

Seeing Feng Bao swallow his anger, Zhang Xao felt satisfaction; he turned to return to his rank, but before he could take a step, a eunuch entered from the side hall.

“Empress Dowager’s Imperial Edict!”