Chapter Six: The New Emperor
Chapter Six: The New Emperor
In ancient times, child prodigies were held in the highest regard. Now, Empress Dowager Zhang looked upon Zhu Qizhen’s recent actions with newfound respect.
To be sure, Zhu Qizhen’s little maneuvers had only truly achieved one significant thing: he had managed to let slip the news of her intention to grant Prince Xiang a golden seal and official title.
Yesterday, Yang Rong had already submitted a memorial to the throne. Although he did not state it outright, the implication was clear—the ancestral laws dictated that the son should succeed the father, and that was the rightful way. He was subtly suggesting resistance to the idea of a brother succeeding another brother.
Empress Dowager Zhang knew this was just the beginning. If she did not act quickly, allowing the matter to escalate further, it would become irreparable. It was not herself she was worried about, but Prince Xiang. If this matter became widely known and caused a public outcry, once the new emperor ascended and ruled in his own right, who knew how many shameless men would seize the opportunity to exact revenge on Prince Xiang? The future for Prince Xiang would likely be bleak.
This was certainly not what Empress Dowager Zhang desired.
Zhu Qizhen’s actions had caught her somewhat off guard, but she could also see in him the makings of a good emperor. This realization caused her heart to shift. She thought to herself, “I had not imagined the Crown Prince possessed such talent. If I were to keep him by my side and instruct him personally, perhaps in my lifetime I could leave the Ming dynasty with a wise and virtuous ruler.”
However, judging by Zhu Qizhen’s demeanor, there was a deep estrangement between them. She feared that if she handled things poorly, she might plant the seeds of future calamity.
In her heart, the Empress Dowager resolved, “Now is the time for decisive action.” She said aloud, “Someone, bring fresh attire for the Crown Prince.”
Zhu Qizhen did not understand what was happening, but he could not resist. The attendants at the Empress Dowager’s side dressed him in the formal robes of the Crown Prince, over which they draped mourning garments.
Then, Empress Dowager Zhang led Zhu Qizhen, one behind the other, onto a sedan chair.
Observing the direction in which the sedan chair traveled, Zhu Qizhen gradually felt his heart settle, for he saw they were heading south.
In ancient Chinese palaces, the main halls were always in front, with the residential quarters at the back. They were now going to the front halls, likely to meet the ministers.
Indeed, Empress Dowager Zhang led Zhu Qizhen out past the long palace walls and into a vast, empty square, which had been swept clean. Only three high platforms remained, the ruins of the three great halls.
During the Yongle era, when Beijing was constructed, the three main halls were the first buildings to be erected. Ironically, they were also the first to suffer misfortune. During the Yongle years, the three great halls were struck by lightning, which sparked a fire that consumed them entirely.
Rebuilding them was nearly impossible—not merely due to financial constraints, but also the scarcity of necessary materials. The palace beams and pillars required golden nanmu, an extremely precious wood. Transporting it from the mountains of Yunnan and Guizhou would be a monumental task.
Furthermore, after Yongle’s reign, the state treasury could no longer sustain such expenditures. The government implemented a policy of strategic contraction, even abandoning Jiaozhi.
Such massive projects had to be set aside for the time being.
Surrounded by eunuchs and palace maids, Empress Dowager Zhang and Zhu Qizhen passed through the square of the three great halls, then walked eastward through several palace walls. Before long, a distinctive building came into view.
The other structures in the Forbidden City all boasted golden tiles and red walls, but the Wen Yuan Pavilion alone stood out with its blue walls and black tiles—a classic architectural style of the south, modeled on the Fan family’s library in Ningbo, the Tianyi Pavilion. The design followed the principle of “Heaven creates water, earth completes it with six,” using cool colors to symbolize water and prevent fire.
This was the imperial library of the Forbidden City, and also the seat of the Inner Cabinet.
By this time, many ministers had already come out to greet them.
From a distance, Zhu Qizhen saw five elderly men with hair as white as frost: four wore the robes of civil officials, one was dressed in the ceremonial attire of a duke. All wore mourning garments over their robes. Behind them stood several dozen minor officials of the seventh or eighth rank, all secretaries of the Inner Cabinet.
“Kneel and welcome the Empress Dowager! Kneel and welcome the Crown Prince!” the group intoned in unison, bowing deeply.
“Rise,” said the Empress Dowager, leading Zhu Qizhen by the hand into the Wen Yuan Pavilion.
Upon entering, Zhu Qizhen was immediately struck by a unique scent. The Wen Yuan Pavilion was the largest library within the Forbidden City. To preserve the books, many medicinal herbs were stored inside to ward off insects and mold. The mingling of these scents gave the air a distinctive aroma—the fragrance of books. Perhaps few people today would recognize it, for with the advance of printing technology, such a scent had long since faded from memory.
Inside the Wen Yuan Pavilion, there was a single empty seat of honor, flanked on either side by long tables with benches beneath them. The golden chair in the place of honor was, in fact, the imperial throne.
In all government offices, the chief seat belonged to the head of that department, but in the palace, there could be only one master—the emperor.
The Empress Dowager’s gaze swept the room, noting that the five ministers had entered, while the secretaries waited outside.
She declared, “This is the new Son of Heaven.”
As soon as she finished speaking, one of the old men immediately knelt and said, “Your servant Yang Rong bows before His Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years.”
Following his lead, the other four knelt as well and cried out in turn:
“Your servant Yang Shiqi bows before His Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years.”
“Your servant Yang Pu bows before His Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years.”
“Your servant Hu Ying bows before His Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years.”
“Your servant Zhang Fu bows before His Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years.”
Zhu Qizhen glanced at the Empress Dowager, whose expression remained unreadable. He could only steady his voice and said, “My father has, to my sorrow, departed this life, and the weight of the realm now rests on my shoulders. I beg you all, for the sake of Emperor Taizong, Emperor Renzong, and my late father, to lend me your aid.”
Yang Shiqi responded, “Your Majesty, rest assured. This old servant will devote himself to your service, until my dying breath.”
As Zhu Qizhen looked upon the five ministers kneeling before him, he quietly tried to guess their identities.
The first to kneel was Yang Rong, who was slightly younger than Yang Shiqi.
Yet the first to speak had been Yang Shiqi. While the late emperor had trusted Yang Rong most, the chief minister of the Inner Cabinet—the Senior Grand Secretary—was actually Yang Shiqi, the oldest and most senior among them.
Only a few days prior, Zhu Qizhen had heard Wang Zhen discuss the situation. He knew there was some friction between Yang Rong and Yang Shiqi; Yang Rong was not entirely reconciled to Yang Shiqi’s superior status.
Among the five, the one wearing the ceremonial robes of a duke was, of course, the Duke of England, Zhang Fu. He appeared the youngest of the group, with the blackest hair and the most robust physique—a true man of martial origins.
Turning his gaze to the remaining two, Zhu Qizhen was momentarily uncertain which was Hu Ying and which was Yang Pu. In a moment, he deduced that the one with the healthiest complexion must be Hu Ying.
He knew that Hu Ying had been a disciple of Wudang, greatly trusted by Emperor Taizong, who had sent him across the land under the pretext of searching for Zhang Sanfeng, though in reality he had been seeking news of the deposed Emperor Jianwen.
Zhu Qizhen did not know whether Wudang martial arts were truly as legendary as described in the novels, but one thing was certain—Hu Ying excelled at cultivating health and longevity. He was not the youngest among the group, yet his appearance was the most youthful—“white hair and childlike features” seemed to have been coined for him.
Having identified Hu Ying, the remaining one must be Yang Pu.
These were the ministers appointed by the late Emperor Xuanzong to assist the young ruler.
Zhu Qizhen said, “My mentors, please rise.” Turning, he said, “Eunuch Wang, bring stools for my mentors.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Wang Zhen, who had been close at hand.
He immediately fetched embroidered stools for the five ministers, who then took their seats.
Empress Dowager Zhang and Zhu Qizhen also sat down. The throne at the head of the table was moved aside, and two chairs were placed side by side—the Empress Dowager at the western end, Zhu Qizhen at the eastern.
Once seated, not only the Empress Dowager, but also the five senior ministers looked upon Zhu Qizhen with newfound appraisal.
It was not every nine-year-old child who could remain so composed and dignified at such a crucial moment, without a trace of panic. Still, the Empress Dowager did not set her expectations too high, for Zhu Qizhen was only a child, after all.
From here on, the matter would be left in his hands.
Empress Dowager Zhang spoke: “I have suffered misfortune, a mother burying her own child. Now, the burden of the realm rests upon my shoulders. As a mere woman, what can I accomplish, if not rely upon my wise mentors? I have been preoccupied with the late emperor’s affairs; now, let us turn to those matters that must be discussed.”
Hearing these words, Zhu Qizhen understood that he was but an observer, or rather, the emperor in name for the sake of ceremony.