At the same time,
Emperor Jiajing Zhu Houcong was meditating as usual in the Yuxi Palace, his expression particularly melancholic and sorrowful. Lü Fang, the Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, served him attentively.
While others were unaware of the inner workings, Lü Fang knew better: His Majesty had been in a bad mood recently, not because of his Daoist poetry, nor because of the fire at the Wanshou Palace, but because of Prince Yu… Prince Yu was nearing forty, yet his understanding of imperial governance had not improved one bit, and he could not grasp His Majesty’s thoughts at all.
His Majesty was old, over sixty. Could he entrust the realm to this son with peace of mind? But if not Prince Yu, then who else was there…
Others might not know, but Lü Fang certainly did. The fourth son, Prince Jing Zhu Zaizhen, had gone mad more than ten years ago… This was a royal hidden pain, known to fewer than ten people in the entire realm. Thus, His Majesty, who had already lost the will to live, and now burdened with such a solitary son, how could he not be despairing?
Moreover, those pure officials were simply too incompetent! How could they possibly think of undermining the Yan family? They couldn’t even write decent Daoist poetry; how could the Emperor trust them with the nation’s affairs? If they had even a sliver of understanding of the Emperor’s mind, they wouldn’t have incurred such a furious outburst…
Lost in thought, Lü Fang couldn’t help but sigh softly. This slight sigh, however, was heard by Jiajing.
“Lü Fang, what are you sighing about again…?”
Lü Fang immediately tensed, “Your Majesty, this servant feels that the scholars in the Hanlin Academy cannot compose good verses. Your Majesty should not be too angry, and take care not to harm your immortal body…”
Hmph!
Jiajing opened his deep and wise eyes, gazing at Lü Fang like a cold lightning bolt for a moment, then closed them slightly.
“Send someone to the Hanlin Academy to take a look… Don’t push them to their deaths…”
“As you command.”
…
After Lü Fang and Huang Jin withdrew, and the Yuxi Palace returned to its deathly silence, Jiajing opened his eyes again, a profound sense of bitterness and suffering overwhelming him.
Being an emperor was too exhausting, too lonely. Everyone in the world had a confidant to talk to, but an emperor could not.
Everyone in the world had a family to share their joy, but an emperor could only hide his unspeakable burdens deep within his heart, bearing them alone in silence…
The reason he had flown into a rage was not due to court affairs, but because the recent fire at the Wanshou Palace had caused him recurring nightmares. Every night, as soon as he closed his eyes, his mind was filled with scenes of a city ablaze, of tragic cries, of chaos and war. The descendants of Zhu, no better than pigs and dogs, were oppressed by powerful officials, struggling to live and unable to die in times of turmoil…
And each time he awoke in a fright, he would immediately think of one person—
Zhu Zaimo!
This person, and this name, were the most closely guarded secrets of the current dynasty. Even Lü Fang, who had served him for forty years, knew nothing about it.
Zhu Zaimo was his fifth son.
In his lifetime, he had actually had nine sons. The first two died in infancy. The third son was Prince Yu. The fourth son, Prince Jing Zhu Zaizhen, had gone mad ten years ago and was currently confined in the imperial estate in Anlu Prefecture, Hubei. The other four youngest, all died before reaching their first birthday, without even being granted names.
As for Zhu Zaimo, he was his fifth son hidden among the common people. No one in the imperial genealogy, among the officials, or among the populace, knew of his existence. But this even more ill-fated child had also died fifteen years ago…
What a clever and wise child, not only as intelligent as himself but also possessing a steadfast character much like the founding emperor. If he were still alive, the realm could have been entrusted to him with peace of mind. But heaven was blind; such a good child had met such a tragic and painful end…
During the fire at Wanshou Palace that day, he seemed to have seen a child desperately shouting in the flames in a daze. The child’s appearance was vaguely that of his youngest son, Zhu Zaimo! He shook his head vigorously to sober up, but thereafter, he could never let go. From that day on, he felt as if a knife was constantly gouging his heart, twisting his flesh…
Sitting alone for a long time, unconsciously, his hazy tears suddenly became as heavy as lead, flowing down incessantly. Endless sorrow and grief welled up from the depths of his heart. He soon heard himself groaning like a trapped beast…
…
Twenty years ago.
He had been on the throne for ten years when he returned to his ancestral lands to pay homage to the imperial mausoleum. On that warm spring day, what was destined to happen, happened. The following year, he had his second son, whom he named Zhu Zaimo.
The political situation was complex at the time. For his second son’s safety, he raised him at an imperial estate by the Han River, assigning thirty imperial guards and sixty servants to attend him. Five years later, he intended to issue a public decree to enfeoff his second son, Zhu Zaimo, as the Prince of Wu, but an accident occurred.
An inexplicable fire turned the imperial estate to ashes, and Zhu Zaimo’s whereabouts became unknown. Despite severe interrogations and countless investigations, the cause of the disaster could not be determined. It was not until three years later that the Embroidered Uniform Guard found a fisherman by the Yangtze River, who said that three years prior, he had seen a Daoist priest ferrying a child across the river. The child was dressed in silk and satin, clearly not from an ordinary family.
He still remembered the ecstasy he felt then, immediately rewarding the fisherman with a thousand taels of gold. However, in the following five years, for a full five years, his despair grew with each passing year. The Embroidered Uniform Guard, who scoured the realm, could not find a single clue. After exiling and executing several informants, he also became disheartened, no longer believing such tales, and resigned himself to reality, firmly believing that the child must have perished in the fire…
He subsequently had four more sons, but without exception, all died before reaching their first birthday. It was as if a curse had befallen him, leaving him with no joy in the latter half of his life…
In recent years, the political situation had become extremely perilous. Every night when he counted the usable persons and feasible strategies, he would feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness and helplessness. For the Yan faction was not something that could be destroyed by a mere imperial decree.
For over twenty years, they had formed an unprecedentedly vast network, spanning the two capitals and thirteen provinces. A single misstep could lead to usurpation. Yes, as long as he, Jiajing, remained alive, the Yan father and son would absolutely not dare to act rashly, but what about the future?
Currently, the southeastern coast was resisting Japanese pirates, and the north was fighting against the Tatars, while the national treasury was empty. What did he have left to dismantle the Yan faction? If he were to punish Yan Shifan now, would the Yan faction immediately attempt to usurp the throne? These were questions that the pure officials had never even considered.
The reason he had severely reprimanded Yu Fu was precisely to awaken these upright officials: now was not the time to eradicate the Yan faction; any rash action would only strengthen them further. And the thought of Prince Yu, that gentle and weak son, filled him with even greater despair…
For he was confident in his ability to defeat the Yan family, but what about after that? The realm would then belong to Xu Jie, and that unfathomable Zhang Juzheng. How would Prince Yu contend with them? Would Xu and Zhang become a second Yan Song, or even more terrifying than Yan Song? Or perhaps, they lacked Yan Song’s command capabilities altogether, and the realm would descend into chaos?
Therefore, the Ming Dynasty absolutely did not need a mediocre talent at this time, but rather a strong-handed emperor similar to the founding emperor, Emperor Chengzu, or himself.
Because this dynasty was rotten to the core; it not only needed to be tidied up from scratch but also required a completely new situation to be created. Otherwise, it would ultimately perish…