Chapter Eighteen: The Butterfly’s Wing—Zhu Biao’s Heartache

“Master, something terrible has happened outside!” Liu Yuan rushed into the small courtyard, his face filled with anxiety.

“What happened? Did the Crown Prince pass away?” Zhu Yang put down his book and looked at Liu Yuan, asking. If the Crown Prince really died, then it was time for him to flee; the title of top scholar was no longer worth pursuing. After all, his oath was only about there being no descendants for the Zhu family if he failed to become the top scholar.

Although his adoptive father shared the same surname, Zhu, there were countless Zhu families in the Ming dynasty, and this Zhu family didn’t necessarily refer to theirs.

“The Crown Prince hasn’t passed away. It’s you… you…” Liu Yuan was out of breath from running, pausing to catch himself as he spoke.

“Me? I died?” Zhu Yang’s expression changed. He grabbed the stick nearby. “You rascal, I’ve been too lenient lately, now you’re making jokes at my expense?”

“No… not at all…” Liu Yuan quickly dodged to the side, finally catching his breath. “It’s being rumored everywhere that you’re the Crown Prince’s illegitimate son, and your scholar’s title was given by the Crown Prince.”

“The Crown Prince’s illegitimate son? Don’t joke with me. How could I possibly be his illegitimate son? If anything, I’m more likely Zhu Di’s illegitimate son!” Zhu Yang laughed. He had once thought about using the identity of Zhu Di’s illegitimate son to stir things up once the Rebellion of Jingnan began, but considering Zhu Di’s prowess, he quickly lost his nerve.

“Really, I’m not joking. There’s already unrest outside; several shops have been burned, and it’s said a noble lady was assaulted during the chaos. The authorities are searching everywhere, but the riot hasn’t subsided—instead, it’s escalating!” Liu Yuan reported.

“Tsk, I didn’t expect that even in ancient times there’d be people specializing in harming others for no gain. The secret police really have failed, can’t even handle this kind of sabotage…” Zhu Yang sighed. In later generations, there were troublemakers who used similar tactics to stir up trouble in other families, but he never thought that Ming Dynasty had such people as well.

“It seems there’s a hidden hand stirring things up behind the scenes,” Zhu Yang mused; he knew without thinking that some foul force was orchestrating the unrest.

“Go, activate all our covert agents in the capital. Focus on the main instigators. Also, investigate the princes in the city and see what they’ve been up to lately,” Zhu Yang instructed.

On the surface, the attack was directed at Zhu Yang, but in reality, it was meant to undermine the Crown Prince’s position.

But was the Crown Prince’s position so easily shaken? Consider the generals Zhu Yuanzhang left for Zhu Biao—every one of them was formidable. If Zhu Biao hadn’t died early, just Lan Yu alone could have dealt with Zhu Di, not to mention the presence of Feng Sheng and others in Zhu Biao’s camp.

Feng Sheng was Zhu Yuanzhang’s counterbalance to Lan Yu. When Zhu Yunwen was established as Crown Prince, Lan Yu was executed, and Feng Sheng was left to Zhu Yunwen.

Yet Feng Sheng brought about his own downfall—first meeting secretly with Prince Zhou, Zhu Su, then repeatedly defying Zhu Yuanzhang’s wishes, until finally Zhu Yuanzhang found him unreliable and bestowed death upon him without charge.

“Master, aren’t you going to run?” Liu Yuan was about to go carry out the orders but paused, noticing that Zhu Yang hadn’t packed his things.

“Run? Where to?” Zhu Yang forced a smile. He had intended to flee, knowing well that the infamous ‘Southern and Northern List Incident’ during the thirtieth year of the Hongwu reign broke out simply because southern scholars outperformed their northern counterparts. After the imperial examination, the honor roll was filled with southerners.

The northern scholars were displeased, causing a stir, and the top scholar Chen Xian was killed. Chen Xian was genuinely talented, and Zhu Yuanzhang sent several teams to review the results multiple times, always finding Chen Xian on the list.

Now that things had escalated, Zhu Yuanzhang’s blade was surely raised. The capital would be sealed off, and as the center of public opinion, Zhu Yang would be watched by countless eyes. If he tried to escape, those stirring up trouble would be convinced he was the Crown Prince’s illegitimate son, and the number of people hunting him would multiply. That identity was perfect for causing chaos.

“What else are the authorities doing besides arresting people?” Zhu Yang asked.

“They posted a notice stating you’re not the Crown Prince’s illegitimate son and also published your examination papers to prove the listed scholars are truly talented,” Liu Yuan replied.

Zhu Yang laughed. “Heh… Those who failed the exam will surely claim the papers posted aren’t real, and that the authorities deliberately chose poorly answered papers for comparison!”

“Exactly, Master, you’re brilliant!” Liu Yuan gave a thumbs up.

“Sigh, it’s just human nature. Who can admit they’re inferior to others? If it were me, I’d say the same,” Zhu Yang sighed, realizing that this matter wouldn’t blow over anytime soon.

“By the way, I heard a rumor that His Majesty plans to bring the garrison into the city!” Liu Yuan added.

“What?” Zhu Yang was astonished. He remembered a story his father had told him as a child.

One Mid-Autumn night, Empress Ma and Zhu Yuanzhang went out incognito to enjoy the lanterns. A woman saw Empress Ma’s large feet and remarked, “Sister, your big feet are beautiful, just like the Empress’s. You’ll surely be as rich and noble as her someday!”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s face changed upon hearing this, thinking the woman was mocking the Empress. Since the Song dynasty, women’s feet were considered beautiful only if tiny—three-inch golden lilies.

That very night, before the lantern festival ended, Zhu Yuanzhang called in the garrison and wiped out everyone on the street.

Zhu Yang didn’t know if the story was true, but now that Zhu Yuanzhang was bringing troops into the city, the fate of the rioters was clear.

“I recall you can contact Old Huang, right? Go find him, quickly. If we’re late, there might be bloodshed before dawn!” Zhu Yang urged.

Though the mob was hateful, there were surely innocents caught up in the turmoil. If everyone was slain indiscriminately, innocent lives would be lost.

Of course, these people couldn’t remain in the capital. Once the matter was resolved, Zhu Yang planned to recommend relocating everyone involved elsewhere.

As for where they’d be sent, Zhu Yang secretly rubbed his hands together. Though these people were foolish, fools had strength, and the future “Central America” would need their labor to build its foundation.

In the Imperial Study, Zhu Yuanzhang continued to review memorials, as if unaware of the turmoil outside.

Zhu Biao, equally indifferent to external affairs, was reading in the Eastern Palace.

Yet the bulging veins on his fingers betrayed his emotions.

The Imperial Guards had determined that this incident was instigated by Li Jinglong, but the person who secretly guided and escalated it into a riot was Prince Qin, Zhu Quan.

Zhu Quan, notorious for his misdeeds in Xi’an, had been summoned to the capital at the start of the year for reflection.

He had not reflected; instead, he attacked the Eastern Palace.

“It must be the work of traitors!” Zhu Biao repeated in his heart, yet his heart bled anew each time. He had never imagined his own brother would stab him—twice—from behind.