Chapter Thirty: A Plea for Zhu Yang’s Execution

“Ah~~” Before dawn, Zhu Yang yawned and stood at the palace gate with the eunuch, shivering in the cold wind.

Looking around at the darkness, Zhu Yang grumbled in frustration, “All these ministers have to attend court, but why am I here?”

Last night, Zhu Yang had suddenly received an imperial decree instructing him to wait at the palace gate at the hour of the Rabbit. That meant four or five in the morning—were it in modern times, he’d only just be putting down his phone and preparing to sleep at that hour. Even in this era with little entertainment, four or five in the morning was still dreamtime for him.

“Thank goodness I never planned to become an official at court—just the early morning sessions alone would be unbearable!” Zhu Yang quietly congratulated himself on his wise and heroic decision.

“I wonder why Old Zhu called for me? Could it be that my ‘Gluttonous Plan’ caught their eye? Might they want me to implement it?” Zhu Yang thought optimistically, but quickly dismissed the idea.

Lifting the ban on maritime trade wasn’t so simple. Throughout the Ming and Qing dynasties, the sea ban was never truly lifted. The ban was like an iron gate welded shut, leading later foreign powers to break it open with cannon fire—a humiliation and disaster that haunted the Chinese people for a century.

“So what business do they have with me? Surely not because I’m handsome?” Zhu Yang mused, feeling smug. Has my good looks finally been recognized? Ah, the ancients truly had taste!

…

While Zhu Yang allowed his mind to wander, murderous intent was brewing in front of the Palace of Heavenly Peace.

According to Ming law, all officials in the capital—regardless of rank—were obliged to attend court. Officials from other provinces who came to report to the capital were also required to attend. Thus, Ming court sessions were grand spectacles, sometimes with thousands in attendance. Records show that in the twenty-third year of Chenghua, 1118 officials missed a single session.

Today, if not a thousand, there were at least hundreds at the palace gate.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat upon the dragon throne, gazing coldly at the dense ranks of officials below. He sneered inwardly: Are they hoping to use numbers to pressure me? Do they think I won’t punish them all? Ridiculous! If they want my grandson’s life, I’ll show no mercy.

“Is there any other business?” Zhu Yuanzhang asked, having finished dispensing state affairs, looking at the gathered ministers.

“Your Majesty, I have a matter to report!” An imperial censor stepped forward and knelt in the midst of the ranks.

Zhu Yuanzhang regarded him impassively. “What is it? Speak.”

“I have heard rumors in the city that the Crown Prince has an illegitimate son named Zhu Yang. This Zhu Yang, being a tribute scholar, has failed to come forward to clarify the rumors, causing harm to the Crown Prince’s reputation—this is disloyalty; furthermore, public gossip has brought shame to his parents—this is filial failure. How can such a disloyal and unfilial person be a tribute scholar of our dynasty? I beseech Your Majesty to strip Zhu Yang of his scholar status and condemn him to death!” the censor declared.

“Oh? So our Ming dynasty allows disloyal and unfilial men to sit the imperial examinations? Ministry of Rites, how did you let this happen?” Zhu Yuanzhang addressed Ren Hengtai, the acting Minister of Rites.

“Your Majesty, I am innocent!” Ren Hengtai immediately stepped forward, kneeling and crying out for justice.

“Innocent? Then tell me how you are wronged,” Zhu Yuanzhang demanded.

“Prior to the examination, Your Majesty, I thoroughly investigated the character of each candidate and found no such circumstances as described by Censor Hong. Moreover, the matter of Zhu Yang being the Crown Prince’s illegitimate son concerns the royal family, and Your Majesty has already dealt with it. Yesterday, as I passed through the city on my way home, I heard no one speaking ill of Zhu Yang’s parents! I am truly wronged…” Ren Hengtai knelt and shouted, while cursing Liu Sanwu in his heart: Damn it, if you want to get rid of Zhu Yang, do it yourself—don’t drag me into this! What nonsense about loyalty and filial piety! Blind fools, the Crown Prince adores him, and the Emperor is so protective—using this excuse is like searching for death!

“So, the accusations against Zhu Yang’s loyalty and filial piety are fabricated?” Zhu Yuanzhang said.

“Censor Hong, do you have evidence?” Zhu Yuanzhang strode to the censor, towering over him.

In ancient times, disloyalty and filial failure were grave crimes—if proven, not only was the official’s future ruined, even the Crown Prince, should he bear such a stain, would be immediately deposed.

Zhu Yuanzhang still hoped to groom Zhu Yang as the third generation emperor of Ming. If Zhu Yang were burdened with such a crime, how could he ever ascend the throne?

“This…” Censor Hong panicked; he had no evidence. Last night, it was Zhao Mian, Minister of Revenue, who had coached him.

“I only heard rumors, rumors…” Censor Hong stammered.

“Rumors? So you have no evidence?” Zhu Yuanzhang thundered. “Guards—take this man who listens only to rumors and execute him!”

“Spare me, Your Majesty!” Censor Hong was stubborn; even to death, he never implicated Zhao Mian. Understandably so—Zhao Mian had given him plenty of money and promised to care for his family for generations.

“Your Majesty, I have a petition to present!” Seeing the underhanded ploy fail, Liu Sanwu decided to act himself.

He had not sent Zhao Mian—his own son-in-law—since Zhao Mian, as Minister of Revenue, had a brighter future than himself, a Hanlin Academy scholar.

Furthermore, as a former Yuan dynasty official and respected scholar, Liu Sanwu had always enjoyed Zhu Yuanzhang’s favor. He believed his chances were greater than Zhao Mian’s.

“What is your business, Master Liu?” Zhu Yuanzhang asked.

“Your Majesty, the rumor that Zhu Yang is the Crown Prince’s illegitimate son has severely damaged the Crown Prince’s prestige. Though none dare speak of it now, future generations will surely seize upon it to malign the Crown Prince. As he is destined to be a wise ruler, no blemish can be tolerated. I urge Your Majesty to act decisively!” Liu Sanwu spoke as if advising for Zhu Biao’s benefit, never explicitly calling for Zhu Yang’s death. Yet all knew that only by Zhu Yang’s death would the rumors die, allowing Zhu Biao to become a ruler praised by history. Otherwise, no matter what Zhu Biao achieved, he would always bear a stain and never be considered a wise king.

“I thank you, Master Liu, but I do not wish to trade a man’s life for the title of wise ruler. That is not what a gentleman does, nor does it honor the teachings of my mentors!” Zhu Biao replied with honest sincerity. “My only wish is for the Ming dynasty to be strong and the people to be well. As for being a wise ruler, I do not care!”

“Your Highness is truly benevolent!” Liu Sanwu gazed upon Zhu Biao’s earnest face and felt utterly disappointed. He had hoped to plant a seed of doubt in Zhu Yuanzhang’s heart, but now it seemed the effect would be much diminished.

It was well known that Zhu Yuanzhang desired Zhu Biao to be a wise ruler. Now that Liu Sanwu had pointed out Zhu Yang as the obstacle to Zhu Biao’s reputation, Zhu Yuanzhang, being who he was, would surely not let this impediment survive for long.

But to Liu Sanwu’s surprise, the Crown Prince Zhu Biao had stepped forward to plead for Zhu Yang.

Liu Sanwu looked to Zhu Yuanzhang, hoping the emperor would remain stubborn and not heed Zhu Biao’s words.

“Master Liu is right—my son is truly benevolent!” Zhu Yuanzhang smiled. “I also believe my son will be a wise ruler!”

“Thank you, Father Emperor! I shall not fail your trust!” Zhu Biao knelt.

Liu Sanwu watched the affectionate exchange between Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao, feeling his hopes sink completely.

He had failed!

Yet Liu Sanwu was not anxious—for he still had his trump card.