Chapter 722: The End of an Era

Inside the Hall of Exalted Virtue, several imperial physicians stood pale-faced, watching the Wanli Emperor on the sickbed with a mixture of fear and detachment. They knew there was nothing more they could do, and they had long since hinted as much to those anxiously awaiting the outcome.

If one looked closely, there was even a trace of relief in the physicians' eyes — after all, now that it had come to this, at least they no longer had to worry about being forced to accompany the emperor in death.

Life entails death, and these physicians had long grown accustomed to both. They put on a show of grief, yet felt no genuine sorrow whatsoever.

Below the Son of Heaven's dragon bed stood many people. The grand eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial and the Directorate of the Imperial Horses were all present — every eunuch of rank within the inner court had come. The Grand Secretariat, naturally, had to send someone as well. However, for many years now the Grand Secretariat had consisted of only a single man, so he cut a solitary figure. The empire's most important auxiliary minister, Fang Congzhe, stood there with lowered eyes and a deferential air, quietly awaiting his final farewell with the sovereign. And on the periphery of the palace hall, several figures dressed as palace women surreptitiously craned their necks to look — clearly, they were there to gather news for the emperor's consorts.

Surrounded by all these great personages within the hall, the central figure standing in the room was a middle-aged man who looked far from vigorous, barely able to keep his footing. Though the weather was not hot, his face was pallid and covered in cold sweat; his body was clearly extremely frail. Flanking him were two eunuchs in red robes, standing in respectful attendance at his side.

Though his appearance was not particularly impressive, no one would dare slight these three. That middle-aged man was Zhu Changluo, the current crown prince of the Great Ming. He was about to become the Son of Heaven of the Great Ming, and according to circulating rumors, his reign title had already been more or less decided — it would likely be Taichang, a choice personally crafted by that very Minister Fang.

As for those two eunuchs, though each held the titles of Junior Director and Director, they had always been inconspicuous within the inner court. Yet after today, barring any missteps, they too would become grand eunuchs of the inner court. The reason was simple: they were the crown prince's trusted eunuchs, and naturally they would rise with the crown prince as chickens and dogs ascend to heaven when a man attains immortality. Though everyone present currently far outranked those close to Crown Prince Zhu Changluo in status and position, a new sovereign brings a new set of ministers — in a few more days, those positions might well be reversed.

Thinking of the power and influence soon to slip away, every eunuch present felt sorrow welling up from within. In their daze, it almost seemed to transform into genuine grief for the emperor who was about to depart.

Now at his father's final moments, Crown Prince Changluo's expression was very calm — one might even say detached. Ordinarily, every crown prince harbors a secret sense of relief at his father's passing, but this crown prince displayed it even more plainly. Clearly, he felt no sorrow whatsoever at his father's impending death.

Everyone noticed, and everyone pretended not to. This was, after all, quite understandable. The Wanli Emperor had never liked the crown prince's mother, Lady Wang. Pressured by his own mother and compelled by ritual propriety, he had granted her the title of Noble Consort, yet for years he paid her no attention whatsoever. As a result, though Lady Wang held the rank of Noble Consort, she lived a bitter life within the palace, and in the end even went blind.

And it was not only toward the mother — the Wanli Emperor likewise disliked this eldest son. He had always wanted to hand the position of crown prince to Zhu Changxun, the son of his favored consort, Noble Consort Zheng, which led to the absurd affair known as the Struggle for the Foundation of the State. Though under the opposition of the assembled ministers, and after decades of wrangling, the Wanli Emperor finally abandoned the idea of changing the heir, the years of conflict had long since exhausted any goodwill Wanli held toward his ministers — he would rather seclude himself deep within the palace, unwilling to meet with his lords; and it had also long since exhausted whatever filial affection the son held for his father. The crown prince no longer harbored the slightest trace of attachment or reverence for his father.

A sovereign who held the world in his grasp, yet at his departure not a single person grieves for him — even the son at his bedside merely going through the motions. Was being such an emperor, in the end, truly satisfying or gratifying? This question could not help but flicker through someone's mind.

That question, of course, could never be answered.

The one thing that allowed those in the hall to breathe a sigh of relief was this: though he had endured hardships from a young age, Crown Prince Zhu Changluo possessed an exceedingly generous and magnanimous nature. He was on good terms with his half-brothers by different mothers, and even his relationship with Zhu Changxun, the Prince of Fu — the son of Noble Consort Zheng who had tried to usurp his position as crown prince — was fairly decent. Such a benevolent disposition was truly unmatched by any ruler through the ages, perhaps comparable only to the late Xiaozong Emperor.

With the future emperor possessing such a kind and generous nature, life would surely be easier for everyone going forward — more than one person thought so.

If one had to name a flaw in this crown prince, there was only one: he devoted far too much effort to women, which was precisely why his constitution had grown so weak. But this was hardly unusual — among the sons of the imperial clan, who knew how many had died upon a woman's belly.

Just as everyone was lost in their various thoughts, a rasping sound came from the dragon bed.

The already quiet room instantly became even more silent — at that moment, had a needle actually dropped to the floor, everyone would likely have heard it. They could not help but look toward the sickbed, wanting to see if the Son of Heaven had regained consciousness once more.

Judging from the imperial physicians' diagnoses, it was highly unlikely the Son of Heaven would survive the night. Earlier, while still lucid, the emperor had issued his final edict, then slipped into a state of mental confusion. If he were to regain consciousness now, who knew whether he might have some new thought, some addition or subtraction to make to that final edict.

Everyone remembered very clearly: aside from a great heap of conventional boilerplate, the final edict also contained several of His Majesty's true last wishes — "... elevate Imperial Noble Consort Zheng to Empress, abolish the mining tax, recall the tax eunuchs..."

Yet everyone also knew that these items held no real meaning. Though they had all murmured their assent at the time, everyone understood they counted for nothing. The moment the Wanli Emperor died and the new sovereign ascended the throne, Noble Consort Zheng would be nothing at all. The court officials would only vie with one another to denounce her, thereby burnishing their own reputations and incidentally currying favor with the new emperor. As for the mining tax and the tax eunuchs — recall them this time, and next time, when the need arose, simply dispatch them again...

At that moment, the head of the Imperial Medical Academy leaned forward to look, then shook his head at the assembled dignitaries, indicating that His Majesty had not awakened. Some were disappointed, some indifferent, and all resumed their waiting.

The Wanli Emperor, lying on the sickbed, still had his eyes tightly shut. Having been in a coma for two days, his face naturally showed no expression; his complexion was as pale as paper, and his once-corpulent frame had been considerably wasted away by the grave illness.

Suddenly, the corners of the emperor's mouth inexplicably curled slightly upward, as if he were smiling. Then the corners tugged outward to both sides, as if he were gripped by great terror. The physicians had long since grown accustomed to such things — it was perfectly normal for a person on the verge of death to display strange expressions. Even one exalted as the Son of Heaven was, in plain terms, still a mortal body.

No one paid attention to whether the emperor still possessed any consciousness at this moment, nor did many care what he might be thinking. Everyone simply waited in silence for the final moment to arrive.

Yet Zhu Yijun, the Wanli Emperor of the Great Ming lying upon the dragon bed, seemed at this moment in no hurry to leave his realm behind. Though his eyes were tightly shut as if in deep slumber, he had unexpectedly retained a last vestige of consciousness.

The myriad experiences of his entire life flickered before his eyes scene by scene, seeming blurred yet impossibly vivid.

In a trance, he seemed to return to his childhood. He saw his Grand Companion Feng Bao, and then, following Feng Bao, he was attending lessons.

Before him stood Mister Zhang — the man who had influenced his entire life.

His teacher Zhang Juzheng's expression during lessons was utterly solemn, brooking not the slightest disturbance. Both Grand Companion and teacher were exceedingly strict; a single wrongly written character would earn a reprimand, and sometimes even punishment by kneeling. Others always said the crown prince was exalted, the emperor exalted, yet before these two he had never once felt such exaltation. Even his own mother would not shield him, but instead allowed them to punish the emperor of this realm.

What had he thought at the time? The emperor sank into contemplation.

He remembered.

You want the Great Ming realm to prosper, you want me to toil heart and soul tending to this country and its altars — well, I simply won't bother. Let them do as they please, let them mess about however they like... I am the Son of Heaven, yet whatever I wish to do they forbid me — then why should I even care...

That was the earliest, most primal thought of that ten-year-old child.

After who knows how many years, that child grew up and gradually came to understand why they had been so strict back then, understood how many hopes they had once placed in him, understood why his mother had refused to shield him... and yet he still hated them, could not forgive them.

After leaving them, he too had once exerted himself in governance, wanting to prove that without them the empire could run perfectly well. But very quickly he grew weary of it all. If being an emperor meant he could not even change the crown prince as he pleased, then what was the point of being emperor at all?

Gradually, he no longer wished to see those ministers at all, nor could he be bothered to read memorials. Even when the Grand Secretariat and the Six Ministries needed officials to fill vacancies, he could not be troubled to manage it.

At first, the Great Ming seemed able to keep running slowly along its proper track by sheer inertia, but now troubles were mounting. In Liaodong, the Jurchens were pressing forward step by step, drawing ever closer to Shanhai Pass, and ever closer to the capital. Yet at this critical juncture, within the passes natural disasters struck with increasing frequency. No matter how much taxes were raised, little silver could be collected, and judging by the harvests of recent years, things would only grow worse from here on...

I've done so poorly — will Mister and Grand Companion scold me? Mother will be displeased too... This thought suddenly flashed through the mind of the old man nearing his end.

But Grandfather spent his decades just the same — I've followed Grandfather's example these decades too, so what's wrong with that! As if defending himself, another such roar flashed through the emperor's mind.

My realm is the Great Ming's realm. Once I am gone, who cares whether it lives or dies! Hah, from now on this mess is handed over to Changluo — good or bad, it's all on him. Didn't you all say he was the fated crown prince? Then let's see what he can do with the country. At this thought, the Wanli Emperor relaxed completely.

The final moment had arrived.

One by one, figures surfaced in the emperor's mind — his imperial grandfather, his mother Lady Li, Grand Companion Feng Bao, Teacher Zhang Juzheng, Noble Consort Zheng... Only his father's face remained very blurry...

The emperor slowly opened his eyes.

He could make out nothing clearly; before him there was only layer upon layer of mist.

There must be quite a few people standing outside the bed, and Changluo must be there too — but as if they would feel any grief... The emperor sneered inwardly.

The emperor's gaze shifted unconsciously, and then, within the mist, he seemed to glimpse a human figure.

Mister Zhang?

Mister Zhang!

That Mister Zhang who had once dominated this empire for a decade, who had been more emperor than the emperor himself, stood there amidst the mist, quietly watching him. His expression was utterly stern, as if he had once again become that severe teacher in the study hall of long ago.

Countless complex thoughts surged through the emperor's heart.

Just as it had been decades ago, the first thing the emperor felt was an irrepressible rage.

Who... who did he think he was? I am the emperor — every person should be utterly deferential, prostrating themselves in kowtow. No one may treat me like this!

It was precisely because of this rage that, just after he had died, the emperor had immediately struck, stripping away everything he had once possessed, branding him a treacherous minister, and even starving his sons to death.

Only such vengeance could allow the emperor to feel at peace.

As the tide of rage receded, an inexplicable sense of apology suddenly surged through the emperor's heart.

Yes, he had utterly failed to live up to his expectations. Though there were all sorts of reasons, he had indeed not become a good emperor who governed diligently and loved the people, and he knew full well he had not earned the love and esteem of the realm's subjects.

Even more — at the hour of his death, there was not a single person who truly grieved for him.

Was I wrong?

Maybe I was wrong.

Should I admit it?

No... no, how could the Son of Heaven be wrong?! I am the Son of Heaven — how could I ever be wrong?

"I let you down, and you let me down too," he forced his mouth open with difficulty, as if speaking to the teacher standing in that dense fog, and yet also as if speaking to himself. This was already the limit of what he could manage, both physically and emotionally.

To those standing nearby, the emperor merely parted his lips slightly, made a rasping sound, and what he said was completely unintelligible.

The emperor could no longer see the people gathered around the dragon bed. His field of vision shrank smaller and smaller, growing dimmer and dimmer. He only sensed the figure of Teacher Zhang before him drifting farther and farther away... Was he satisfied with this answer? Or was he not?

The Wanli Emperor's breathing on the bed suddenly grew rapid, then stopped. Several physicians from the Imperial Medical Academy hurried forward, crowding around to examine him, exchanging glances and nodding to one another in silent confirmation.

"Your Majesty!"

"His Majesty the Long-Lived Lord!"

"Father Emperor!"

All manner of genuine and feigned wails of grief erupted from the Hall of Spreading Virtue. Wanli's forty-eight years came to their end at this moment.

Wanli passed away, Taichang ascended the throne — this was the most critical news affecting all under Heaven. A new sovereign meant new officials, all the more so after the Wanli Son of Heaven's forty-eight-year reign.

Rules that had held for decades were about to change. Those currently in power and holding authority were about to be replaced. Everything would shift in turn: the twenty-four offices of the Inner Court, the Grand Secretariat and Six Ministries of the Outer Court, every level of local governance from governor-general down to county magistrate — all would face major upheaval or the threat of upheaval. In such circumstances, everything else had to be set aside in favor of this.

Thank you, everyone.