Chapter 76: Yu Qian Speaks of the Grand Empress Dowager

Chapter Seventy-Six: Yu Qian Speaks with the Grand Empress Dowager

The Grand Empress Dowager did not summon Yu Qian within the Cining Palace itself, but rather in a small pavilion in the gardens of Cining Palace. There were two gardens within the Forbidden City: one was the imperial garden of the inner palace, and the other was the Cining Palace garden.

When the Grand Empress Dowager summoned ministers, unless they were particularly close confidants like Yang Shiqi, she generally would not see them inside the palace proper. After all, she too was keen to avoid any appearance of impropriety.

“Your servant Yu Qian greets the Grand Empress Dowager,” Yu Qian said, bowing respectfully as he saw her seated in the pavilion, surrounded by a retinue of palace women.

The Grand Empress Dowager spoke, “Sit. I have heard of you from Yang Shiqi—our Ming Dynasty’s rising star. The Emperor said you wished to see me. What is it?”

Yu Qian replied, “I come on behalf of His Majesty.”

She asked, “If the Emperor has something to say, why does he not come himself and instead sends you?”

Yu Qian answered, “His Majesty is still of tender years. Though he understands much in his heart, he does not know how to express it. Thus he has entrusted me to speak for him.”

“Very well, then speak,” the Grand Empress Dowager permitted.

Yu Qian hesitated for a moment before saying, “Grand Empress Dowager, may I be so bold as to ask—what kind of Emperor do you wish His Majesty to become?”

“I have no grand ambitions,” she replied. “All I wish is that the legacy of our ancestors may be handed down safely and faithfully. When my time comes, I may face our ancestors with a clear conscience.”

“Then, allow me to congratulate Your Majesty,” Yu Qian said. “In my humble opinion, His Majesty is wise and will surely not disappoint your expectations.”

She let out a gentle sigh. “If only that were so.”

Hearing the sigh, Yu Qian also sighed lightly. “Your Majesty’s concerns remind me of my own son.”

The Grand Empress Dowager asked, “How old is your child, Yu Qian? How many years has he?”

“I have but one son, not yet ten years old,” Yu Qian replied. “He remains in our home in Hangzhou, raised by my wife. My wife often writes to admonish me, saying the boy is mischievous and does not enjoy his studies. Late at night, I too cannot help but worry—worry that my son will not be able to stand on his own, that when I am gone, he may not uphold our family’s name.”

“I often write to my father, asking him to discipline the boy more strictly. Yet my father replies that when I was young, I was far more unruly—climbing onto roofs and pulling off tiles—yet here I am, an official of the court.”

The Grand Empress Dowager could not help but smile gently. In truth, she cared little for the matters of state and court; instead, it was these tales of domestic life that interested her. “So, Yu Qian, you too were so naughty as a child?”

Though Yu Qian was a man in his thirties, in the Grand Empress Dowager’s eyes he was still just a grown child. Had the late Emperor Xuanzong been alive, he would have been little older than Yu Qian.

“I was often anxious at the time,” Yu Qian said, “but upon reflection, I have learned not to be.”

She looked at him curiously, “Oh? What changed your mind?”

“I was singled out by the Yongle Emperor and have served in office for over a decade, earning a modest reputation. Even if my son is not brilliant, I trust he will manage to live his life. The boy is still young; he does not know the hardships of the civil service examinations. Forcing him to study may yield little. Better to let him encounter a few setbacks and learn the ways of the world. If he repents and strives, I will set aside my pride and seek a renowned teacher for him in Jiangnan. Even if he cannot pass the highest exams, a modest reputation will suffice to sustain our family.”

“In this way, I will have no regrets. Each generation has its own fortune. Even if I live to a ripe old age, what more can I do?”

The Grand Empress Dowager echoed with meaning, “Indeed, each generation has its own fortune.” She was astute enough to hear that, though Yu Qian spoke of his own son, his true subject was the Emperor. Nonetheless, she feigned ignorance, and Yu Qian, forced to continue along this line, maintained his composure without a hint of awkwardness. He went on, “His Majesty is far wiser than my son could ever be. With an heir to the throne, the Ming Dynasty is secure. Grand Empress Dowager, there is no need for worry.”

“Yu Qian, I know you well,” she said. “You are a disciple of Grand Secretary Yang, have long served in provincial posts, acted as inspector and prefect—you know the state of the realm better than I. Are you truly unaware of the court’s current situation? Deceit flows up and down the ranks, commoners flee, the census registers are mere scraps of paper, and every report of the population is unreliable.”

“Do you think I am too old to see the truth? Is this a time for war?”

Yu Qian was delighted. He feared not the Grand Empress Dowager’s words, but her silence. If she remained silent, he would be left to persuade her alone, with little hope of success. As long as she spoke, he could reason with her.

“Your Majesty’s wisdom shines,” Yu Qian said. “His Majesty too has changed his mind.”

She smiled faintly, “The Emperor is merely humoring an old woman.”

Yu Qian found himself at a loss for words. Clearly, Zhu Qizhen’s intentions were too obvious—there was no deceiving the Grand Empress Dowager. He hurried to say, “Grand Empress Dowager, His Majesty is still young; it is only natural that he cannot see everything clearly. I have a thought—though I do not know if I should speak.”

She replied, “I will grant the Emperor this courtesy.”

Yu Qian continued, “As long as you remain, Your Majesty can ensure His Majesty listens to you. But when you are gone, what will become of the realm?”

These words were bold, for all humans fear death. In the palace, death was a taboo subject; even words such as “passing away” or “demise” were forbidden. Should a eunuch or maidservant misspeak, at best they would be beaten, at worst lose their lives. But the Grand Empress Dowager did not take offense, for Yu Qian’s words touched her deepest concerns.

This was precisely what worried her most. She had confidence that as long as she lived, the Emperor would remain under control, but once she was gone, what then? Though Zhu Qizhen was clever, in her eyes he had many faults. In history, the Grand Empress Dowager had often rebuked Wang Zhen. After all, even to beat a dog one must consider its master—and who was Wang Zhen’s master?

Furthermore, though the Emperor often proclaimed, “If there is blame, it is mine alone,” this was a privilege reserved for the monarch. In practice, the principle of “The Emperor does no wrong” prevailed. Even if the Emperor erred, punishment fell not on him, but on those around him. Even the Crown Prince received this protection, let alone the Emperor himself. When the Yongle Emperor was displeased with the Hongxi Emperor, he merely imprisoned his son’s tutors.

The Grand Empress Dowager was well aware of her own frailty. Already past sixty, how many years could she expect to live? How could she not worry?

She asked, “What do you propose, Yu Qian?”

Yu Qian replied, “His Majesty is wise, as you well know. Your only fear is that he will become arrogant, refuse to heed counsel, and thus sow seeds of disaster for the future. But if you restrain him at every turn, can you truly change his nature? The more Your Majesty suppresses him, the stronger his eventual rebellion will be. There is a precedent for this—the story of Emperor Zhezong of the previous dynasty. You must not ignore the lesson.”

The Grand Empress Dowager was taken aback. Emperor Zhezong was the son of Emperor Shenzong of Song, under whose reign Wang Anshi’s reforms became famous. After Emperor Shenzong’s death, the nine-year-old Zhezong ascended the throne, with his grandmother, Grand Empress Dowager Gao, serving as regent. She appointed Sima Guang and overturned Shenzong’s new policies. But after her death, Emperor Zhezong reversed her reforms, reinstated the new party, and launched the campaign against Western Xia. The factional strife between old and new parties under Zhezong intensified, laying the groundwork for the fall of the Northern Song.

Hearing these words, the Grand Empress Dowager’s expression darkened, for Yu Qian had named her very fear—leaving her troubled and anxious.