Chapter Sixty-Three: Self-Reflection
Chapter Sixty-Three: Self-Reflection
Zhu Qizhen had his evening meal at the Palace of Benevolent Serenity and, lantern in hand, returned to the Palace of Heavenly Purity. All along the way, he walked in silent contemplation, his mind occupied with the events of the day. Wang Zhen, too, was aware of the upheaval that had occurred in the palace and behaved as meekly as a quail, not daring to utter a single word.
This silence, however, was shattered the moment Zhu Qizhen stepped into the Palace of Heavenly Purity.
“My son!” As soon as he entered, he heard the voice of the Empress Dowager Sun.
The imperial palace, vast and yet small, was a place where news traveled quickly. Sun, as the Empress Dowager, had her own network of informants. The conflict between the Grand Empress Dowager and Zhu Qizhen had reached her ears almost instantly. She had wanted to rush to the Palace of Benevolent Serenity, but fear held her back. The Grand Empress Dowager’s accumulated authority was such that Sun would not dare appear before her unless required by ritual, or for formal greetings and visits. The two palaces, Benevolent Serenity and Earthly Tranquility, seemed to coexist as if they were worlds apart. Benevolent Serenity treated Earthly Tranquility with indifference, while Earthly Tranquility regarded Benevolent Serenity with dread.
As soon as she saw Zhu Qizhen, Sun rushed forward, as if she wished to pluck out her eyes and roll them over her son’s body, inspecting him for harm. Zhu Qizhen hurriedly smiled, “Mother, what could possibly be wrong? Her Majesty treats me exceedingly well.”
Sun took his hand and led him inside, scrutinizing him carefully before her anxiety eased. Yet, as soon as relief washed over her, tears began to stream down her face. Zhu Qizhen was flustered and asked, “Mother, what’s the matter?”
Sun replied, “It’s because I am incapable, unable to accomplish anything, and so you are bullied by her.” As she spoke, her crying became even more intense.
Zhu Qizhen could only sigh in resignation. Sun’s love for her son was genuine, and at times, her maternal affection overwhelmed him.
He spent a long while comforting her until she finally calmed down and departed. Once Sun left, Zhu Qizhen collapsed heavily onto his bed. His mind churned with myriad thoughts; the fear, anxiety, apprehension, and unease of the day began to settle. Now, he could finally analyze in detail where he had erred.
“A lonely sovereign,” he mused, “I forgot that none are more heartless than a royal house.”
The Grand Empress Dowager possessed genuine affection for him, but that emotion, intertwined with power, inevitably became tainted.
Zhu Qizhen realized that seeking intimacy with the Grand Empress Dowager, believing he could speak freely to her, was his greatest mistake today. Even if he now reconsidered the strategic proposals he had presented to her, perhaps there were many assumptions and errors, but the overall direction was sound. Yang Rong’s methods appeared clever, but were merely expedient. To truly defeat the Oirat, one must resort to arms.
His gravest error was placing trust in the Grand Empress Dowager herself. He treated her as he would his grandmother, forgetting that she now occupied another role: his superior.
Every person’s ideology is the sum of their experience and wisdom, and changing someone’s beliefs is never easy. The Grand Empress Dowager had assisted Emperor Renzong in governing from Nanjing for nearly twenty years, serving as a virtuous partner and helping him in countless matters. She herself was deeply influenced by Emperor Renzong’s philosophy of rule—favoring rest and recuperation for the people, which was not wrong in itself. Convincing her to change course was never likely.
It was Zhu Qizhen who overestimated his rapport with her. For political creatures, political ideals often outweigh familial ties. The Grand Empress Dowager’s words today were spoken in anger, but if Zhu Qizhen persisted in such tendencies, those angry words might well become reality.
“From now on,” he resolved, “I must not utter a single careless word, nor take a single reckless action. Whatever I wish to accomplish, I must do through others.”
“How to wage war, what to do about the Oirat—best not to mention such things.”
“From now on, I will shut my ears to the world and devote myself to the classics.”
At this moment, Zhu Qizhen finally appreciated the wisdom of Master Jian: indeed, doing nothing was safest.
His age was well known; even if the court believed him a prodigy, the people still doubted the ability of a nine-year-old to govern the realm. All he needed was to grow up quietly, and the throne would naturally remain his. To act boldly offered little reward, for success would be expected, but failure could endanger his reign.
Upon realizing this, Zhu Qizhen couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Now it’s too late to play the fool,” he thought.
He wished he could slap himself. Why had he been so impatient?
He had already displayed his abilities before the Grand Empress Dowager. If he now feigned ignorance, she would surely sense he was keeping her at a distance.
Therefore, Zhu Qizhen resolved to play the role of the obedient grandson at her side.
He decided to halt all reforms in the palace, to proceed only with minor adjustments, avoiding sweeping changes. When expressing opinions on state affairs, he would adhere strictly to the Grand Empress Dowager’s principle of rest and recuperation, abstaining from any urgent business, and never overstepping the bounds.
“To focus on essentials, to focus on essentials,” he reminded himself. “And what is essential now? Agriculture. I might as well devote myself to the experiment of rice cultivation in the capital.”
“This is one matter the Grand Empress Dowager will surely support.”
Of course, Zhu Qizhen had no intention of personally tilling the fields; as emperor, many would be eager to serve at his command.
The climate of Beijing differed from that of Liaodong, but in his memory, rice could be grown in the capital. If so, it would be natural to promote it in Liaodong as well. Otherwise, with only a single crop season in the northeast, without high-yield varieties, when could it ever become the granary of Beijing? Other matters might be expedited, but agriculture consumed the most time.
With only one harvest per year, Zhu Qizhen worried that by the time he assumed real power, northern rice cultivation might still not be perfected.
“Yu Qian will soon arrive in the capital,” he mused. “This is a good thing for me; now I have some connections both in civil and military circles.”
He treated the guards around him well, and through them, had contact with many nobles. Of course, it was uncertain whether those nobles, simply because their sons served as his guards, would pledge unwavering loyalty, but as long as there was no conflict between emperor and Grand Empress Dowager, they were willing to serve him.
On the civil side, Zhu Qizhen had frequent contact with the Three Yangs, but mostly during morning court—a formality. His real connection was only with a few lecturers. Even if these lecturers were close to him, what could they achieve? A mere Hanlin scholar was of little practical use.
Yu Qian was different—not because he surpassed others, but because he held the post of Prefect of Shuntian. With Yu Qian’s ability, the prefecture would surely be under his control. If Zhu Qizhen treated him with respect as a teacher, then Yu Qian’s office would become part of his own base of support.
Though the Prefect’s office carried little weight in the capital, it was still progress.
As for the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot, Zhu Qizhen had certainly considered them. He understood that these organizations were effective against those outside the palace, but within, their influence waned—especially with the Grand Empress Dowager, who had controlled the inner palace for over a decade.
Jin Ying needed no further mention. Though he was a confidant of Emperor Xuanzong, he was perhaps also loyal to the Grand Empress Dowager. Wang Zhen was truly Zhu Qizhen’s own man, with neither reason nor possibility of betrayal.
Yet, some matters could not be resolved merely by loyalty. If he relied on Wang Zhen against the Grand Empress Dowager, Zhu Qizhen suspected that Wang Zhen’s head would reach the Palace of Heavenly Purity before any action could be taken.
The deeper Zhu Qizhen pondered, the more his thoughts blurred, until only one resolve remained: “From tomorrow, I shall become a consummate actor.”