Chapter Thirty-Three: Words of an Innocent Child

(1/3)

“Old Zhu couldn’t possibly slaughter every scholar in the empire, could he?” Kneeling on the cold floor, Zhu Yang lowered his head, pondering in silence.

After all, Zhu Yuanzhang was no saint. He was fully capable of such brutality—if not him, then the only other man in the realm who could would be his son, Zhu Di. Father and son: both ruthless, both merciless.

“Why are all of you kneeling on the ground? I still need you to govern the realm!” Zhu Yuanzhang’s voice rang out, and every official shuddered thrice.

At this moment, faction and region no longer mattered; everyone cursed Liu Sanwu in their hearts: Why did you have to provoke him? That lunatic—how could you say such things here? Hell, you shouldn’t say them anywhere! They could only scream inwardly, for now the final fig leaf had been ripped away; all stood exposed, naked, awaiting their doom.

“We deserve a thousand deaths!” The officials bowed their heads, chanting their guilt aloud, while secretly praying to the bodhisattva, for Confucius himself could not save them now.

Yet Zhu Yuanzhang seemed not quite satisfied. Seated upon the dragon throne, he fixed his gaze on Zhu Yang. “Zhu Yang, go on!”

Go on?

The ministers stared at Zhu Yang, knees trembling. Zhu Yang, bewildered, looked back at Zhu Yuanzhang: Go on with what? Continue digging up the ancestors of the civil officials? Since it’s come to this, shall I give them another cut?

“In truth, Your Majesty, you too bear some blame. The former Yuan dynasty at least posthumously honored Confucius as ‘Great Sage, Exemplary Teacher, King of Culture,’ yet you’ve made no such gesture. The tablet worshipped at Qufu is likely still the one bestowed by the Yuan,” Zhu Yang remarked.

“Oh, is that so? That truly is an oversight on my part,” Zhu Yuanzhang replied coldly.

Truth be told, Zhu Yuanzhang was never fond of Confucius and Mencius. Otherwise, he would not have reformed the civil service exams, nor cut down the Confucian classics.

“Then tell me—analyze for me why the Jurchens might one day destroy great Ming!” Zhu Yuanzhang commanded.

(2/3)

“Oh, that matter—of course, it’s because I traveled—” Zhu Yang halted abruptly, catching himself. “Ahem, ahem… I once journeyed through forests and reached the north, saw the Jurchens' living conditions, and drew my conclusions from that… Most importantly, the Jurchens once founded the Jin dynasty and have always been obsessed with invading the Central Plains. If not for the Mongol rise, it might have been the Jin who destroyed the Song. Now the Mongols have been crippled, and the Jurchens are hiding away, slowly gathering strength—just like the Yue state in the Spring and Autumn era. Generation after generation, they bide their time. When Ming grows weak, they’ll join with the Mongols and invade.”

“Oh? Is that truly so?” Zhu Yuanzhang eyed Zhu Yang with skepticism. At present, the Jurchens were still but a scattered tribe, small in number.

“Just think how Aguda founded the Jin dynasty—history repeats itself in curious ways,” Zhu Yang reminded him.

“Haha… So it’s all a matter of historical speculation! Just the naive musings of a youth,” Zhu Yuanzhang laughed heartily, as if he had not taken Zhu Yang’s words to heart at all.

“You all see now—these are but the conclusions of a child reading history. From ancient times to today, loyal officials and brave generals have served country and people like fish crossing a river—countless. Take the former Song, for example: when it fell, hundreds of thousands died for their country. They were all true men. Even those who served the Yuan, I believe did so out of necessity. Had all officials been Mongols, our people would have become mere fish on the chopping block. Zhu Yang speaks of only a handful. I trust you all, and I trust that you will serve as true fathers and mothers to the people of Ming!” Zhu Yuanzhang spoke with warmth and benevolence.

“Rise, all of you!” Zhu Yuanzhang raised his hands in a gesture of support.

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” The ministers stood, heads bowed, secretly wiping cold sweat from their sleeves—their lives, for today, were spared.

Yet Zhu Biao could not feel relief, for he had seen it—after his father’s laughter faded, a shadow of darkness flashed across the emperor’s face.

There were too many enemies! Zhu Biao gazed up, sighing inwardly.

He had always believed the Mongols of the north to be Ming’s greatest foe. Defeat them, make them submit, and the empire could rest easy. But now, after Zhu Yang’s reminder, he understood: Ming’s road ahead would be long and perilous.

…

“This matter ends here. Since Liu Sanwu is dead, then this…” Zhu Yuanzhang paused, his gaze sweeping a certain spot.

“I have a memorial to present!” A censor stepped forward, kneeling. “I impeach the Minister of Revenue, Zhao Mian, for corruption and collusion with merchants, for arbitrarily lowering commercial taxes, thus plunging the state treasury into emptiness…”

“Do you have evidence?” Zhu Yuanzhang’s face darkened, his voice cold.

“I do!” The censor lifted his memorial above his head. “These are findings I have gathered through secret investigation—every word is true!”

“Bring it here!” Zhu Yuanzhang ordered an attendant.

(3/3)

The eunuch presented the memorial before Zhu Yuanzhang. Glancing through it, the emperor’s anger flared. “Good… very good indeed. The Embroidered Guards and the Ministry of Justice have three days to investigate thoroughly. I want to know exactly how much silver he embezzled. I’ll have his skin flayed, his sinews torn out, and slice his flesh piece by piece. However many taels he stole, that’s how many cuts I’ll give him!”

A thud echoed.

“Mercy, Your Majesty! Spare me, Crown Prince! No… Young Master Zhu, spare me… It was Liu Sanwu who wanted to harm you, not me! I am his son-in-law, I had no choice…” Zhao Mian collapsed, scrambling to Zhu Yang’s side, clutching his leg in desperation.

To him, Zhu Yuanzhang’s fury could only mean vengeance for his illegitimate grandson.

Zhu Yang: “…”

“You’re begging the wrong person!” Zhu Yang looked at Zhao Mian in disgust as the man smeared his snot all over Zhu Yang’s robe.

“No, no… please, have mercy, plead with His Majesty for me! If you spare my life, I’ll do anything… Oh! I remember, I have several beauties at home, one of whom looks exactly like the third daughter of Duke Wei—you fancy her, don’t you? You can try her first…”

“Zhao Mian, I’ll kill you myself!” From the ranks of the generals, Xu Huizu—who had been quietly kneeling and rising with the others all along—suddenly erupted, launching a savage beating at Zhao Mian.

Screams echoed across the square before the Hall of Heavenly Purity.

“Enough!” Zhu Yuanzhang roared. “Duke Wei, Xu Huizu, for your misconduct before the throne, you are docked three years’ salary and confined to your residence for six months. Zhu Yang will sweep the Hall of Heavenly Purity for a month.”

“As for the palace examination, I will order the scholars of the Hanlin Academy to review the papers anew. This time, I want men of true worth. I do not wish to see such matters repeat… Court dismissed!” With a wave of his sleeve, Zhu Yuanzhang strode toward the inner palace.

Zhu Yang: “…Wait, I didn’t commit any misconduct before the throne—why must I sweep?”

“Young Master Zhu, His Majesty commands you to arrive before dawn each day to sweep the hall, and you may not leave until after morning court,” a eunuch said, handing him a broom. “From now on, use this one for your cleaning.”

“I… you…” Zhu Yang glared at Zhu Biao, who was making faces at him, and growled, “Just you wait…”