Zhu Helin charged through the Meridian Gate on horseback, galloping recklessly all the way. Even at the Forbidden Gate, he did not dismount, forcing his way in with the authority of the Crown Prince.
Kunning Palace, situated north of Qianqing Palace, was now ablaze, flames roaring and red clouds lighting up half the night sky. On the plaza in front of the hall, guards shouted for water and fought the fire, while eunuchs and palace maids ran about in panic.
Zhu Helin jumped off his horse and rushed toward the fire.
Nearby eunuchs clung to him, crying out, “Your Highness! You mustn’t go in—everything inside has already collapsed!”
“Let go! All of you, get your hands off me!” Zhu Helin’s eyes were bloodshot, his expression twisted with rage and grief. “My mother’s belongings are all in that hall! The clothes she wore, the jewelry she used, even the tiger-head shoes she sewed for me, the lanterns she made by hand… I have to save at least one thing—just one!”
A palace maid choked back tears, pleading, “The main hall has burned down so badly… everything’s turned to ash. Even if Your Highness goes in, nothing can be saved… Your life is more important!”
Zhu Helin struggled desperately, only to be tightly restrained by a growing number of palace servants, all sobbing and begging him not to go.
In his grief, he let out a beast-like roar, broke free, and grabbed an empty bucket from a guard, charging toward the massive gilded iron vat in front of the hall.
The vat was over four feet tall and five feet wide, filled with water to suppress fires and disasters. Known as the “gate sea,” it was protected in winter with covers and a cotton wrap. Beneath its marble base, charcoal fires were kept burning around the clock to prevent the water from freezing.
Fire prevention in the palace was no small matter. The gate sea’s warming setup was supposed to stay active until the Waking of Insects.
Zhu Helin plunged his bucket into the vat—only to hit solid ice. Stunned, he turned and shouted, “Where’s the water?!” He touched the base—cold as ice. The charcoal fires had gone out long ago.
A palace maid timidly explained, “We heard… the eunuchs in charge of tending the fire somehow fell into a deep sleep. They didn’t wake until the fire had already started and ran off to fetch water from the vats in front of Qianqing Palace.”
Zhu Helin’s face turned deathly pale. He demanded, “Who was on night duty? How did the fire start?!”
The palace staff looked at each other, pointing fingers, shifting blame, mumbling vague excuses. Finally, several of them, unable to deflect anymore, knelt and begged for forgiveness, saying they’d been careless. A wall lamp had fallen in the wind, igniting the doors and windows.
Zhu Helin exploded, “Still lying! If it was just carelessness, the fire would’ve been discovered as soon as it started. You’d still have time to put it out. How did it burn the whole palace down before anyone reacted?!”
Panic spread among the servants as they scrambled to make more excuses—some claimed illness, some said they’d fainted from the smoke. All of them insisted they were helpless, begging for the Crown Prince’s mercy.
Zhu Helin gritted his teeth, waiting for the East Palace guards he sent to investigate. A short while later, the guards returned and reported: they had questioned the staff. Because the imperial procession was outside the Meridian Gate for the Lantern Festival, the palace gates were not locked, and only the imperial guards were patrolling. Many palace staff took advantage of this, falsely claiming to have been summoned by nobles, and sneaked out to enjoy the lanterns.
Even the ones assigned to night duty at Kunning Palace had slipped out.
Caught red-handed, the servants had no choice but to confess through sobs. They admitted there was no noble lady to serve anymore—Kunning Palace was empty. Spending the Lantern Festival guarding an empty hall was too boring, so they had gone out to have fun. They didn’t even know how the fire started, much less were able to put it out in time.
Boom! A massive support beam collapsed, sparks shooting into the sky. The wave of heat washed over them.
The firelight lit up Zhu Helin’s face. In that instant, he seemed possessed by a storm of rage and hatred. A cold, vicious light gleamed in his eyes.
Because they abandoned their posts, his royal mother’s relics were gone. The only palace left for his remembrance was reduced to ashes. These d*mn servants—disloyal to the late empress, neglectful of their duties, and still lying to the Crown Prince—each of them pushing blame, trying to escape punishment… They deserved to die. All of them.
He drew a guard’s saber without a word and slashed down at the most slippery night-duty eunuch.
Blood sprayed. The eunuch clutched his ruined throat, gurgled, and fell.
The others screamed in terror. Faced with death, they forgot all palace rules and fled in all directions.
If they had stayed and begged for mercy, perhaps the Crown Prince’s wrath might have softened. But now, fleeing in guilt only enraged him further.
Zhu Helin quickly caught up and cut down another. A dazed eunuch turned back and stumbled into him—also struck down with a single blow. The rest were seized by guards and pinned to the ground, wailing.
When Emperor Jinglong arrived at Kunning Palace surrounded by his procession, court eunuchs, and personal guards, this was the scene he saw.
All the palace staff and guards fell to their knees to greet him—except for Zhu Helin, who stood tall in the firelight, a bloodied saber in hand, eyes fierce like a wolf, exuding a terrifying air of command.
The Emperor slammed the armrest of his dragon carriage and shouted sternly, “—Crown Prince!”
Zhu Helin jolted, as if waking from a dream. The saber dropped from his hand.
Before him was a sea of fire. At his feet, a pool of blood. Emperor Jinglong closed his eyes in pain and commanded:
“Focus all efforts on putting out the fire. Do not let it spread to other palaces. All those involved—arrest them. Let the Directorate of Ceremonial handle the interrogation and issue punishments as prescribed by law.”
He paused for a moment and then said, “Crown Prince, come with me to Yangxin Hall.”
The Kunning Palace was ablaze, burning fiercely throughout the night as efforts to extinguish the fire continued nonstop. The adjacent Qianqing Palace was disturbed by the chaos, so the Emperor moved to temporarily reside in Yangxin Hall.
Zhu Helin stood outside the hall, head lowered. His entire body reeked of smoke and ash. The hem of his pomegranate-red ceremonial robe was stained with blotches of blood.
The Emperor took a deep breath and said, “Go bathe and change. Clean yourself up before coming in to speak.”
An attendant led the Crown Prince to a side chamber.
A quarter of an hour later, Zhu Helin returned, dressed in plain clothes.
Emperor Jinglong sat on a luohan couch, his elbow resting on a heated table, fingers pressing firmly against his temples. Zhu Helin knelt before him, eyes red, and choked out, “Royal Father…”
The Emperor kept his eyes closed and did not respond.
Zhu Helin called again, voice full of sorrow, “Royal Father.” He shuffled forward on his knees, gripping the hem of the Emperor’s dragon robe tightly, then burst into tears. “Royal Father, Royal Mother is gone… Everything is gone…”
The Emperor sighed heavily, his voice tired. “Get up.”
But Zhu Helin remained kneeling, grief-stricken. “Not even a piece of paper, not a single hairpin remains. When I miss Royalb Mother in the future… what will I have left?”
The Emperor said coldly, “You should be thinking about how, after what happened tonight, your reputation as a violent Crown Prince will spread throughout the court and beyond. How will you handle that?”
It was the first time Zhu Helin had taken a life, yet he felt no fear. Tears in his eyes, he looked at the Emperor and asked, “They disrespected Mother and neglected their duties—didn’t they deserve to die?”
“Even if they deserved it, it should’ve been done by the law. True, inner attendants are not like court officials—you could call them household slaves—but throughout history, aside from tyrants, when has a sovereign or heir ever personally killed palace staff? And you killed three. Do you not care about the dignity of a future ruler? Even if you’d had the guards beat them to death on the spot, it would’ve been better than doing it yourself.”
Emperor Jinglong shook his head. “Killing a few servants who made mistakes is a small matter. What’s worse is the mood it has stirred. The real problem is if someone uses this to make a fuss—saying ‘Heaven cherishes life, but the Crown Prince is cruel and lacks virtue.’ If one accusation doesn’t stick, what about ten? Twenty? If hundreds or thousands join in, their voices can shake the world. What then?”
“You were far too reckless tonight!”
Only then did Zhu Helin realize he had acted rashly. But the grief still surged within him, as if he had lost his mother all over again. He remained silent, obediently listening to the rebuke.
The Emperor leaned forward and patted his head. “Your Royal mother was known for her kindness and how well she treated the palace staff. And now you’ve stained the white stone in front of her palace with blood. If her spirit is watching from heaven, would she be proud of you?”
That question finally made Zhu Helin feel deeply ashamed. He wept bitterly, “Mother, I’ve let you down…”
After letting the Crown Prince cry for a while, the Emperor said calmly, “Tomorrow, you will go to the Imperial Ancestral Temple. Kneel before your Royal mother’s spirit tablet. Take time to reflect on what it means to be a ruler.”
He waved his hand, signaling the crown prince to leave.
Sniffling, Zhu Helin bowed and withdrew from Yangxin Hall.
The Emperor remained alone. A while later, Lan Xi quietly entered, lightly knocking. “Your Majesty, the hot bath is ready. Would you like to bathe and change?”
The Emperor leaned back against a cushion, eyes closed, and murmured, “My head hurts…”
Lan Xi stiffened slightly.
The Emperor had long suffered from chronic headaches, which flared up several times a year. But this time, it had only been a month since the last severe episode—far more frequent than ever before. Though the Emperor appeared refined and composed, his will was strong. Even in excruciating pain, he seldom showed weakness. Clearly, what the Crown Prince had done tonight had deeply shaken him.
Lan Xi stepped forward and gently removed the imperial headpiece, massaging acupuncture points on the Emperor’s head while speaking softly, “The young master only acted out of filial piety, enraged by the destruction of Kunning Palace. Killing a few erring servants was just punishment. Your Majesty need not take it too seriously… Didn’t you once say the young master had the air of the late Emperor in his youth? The late Emperor killed a bandit at the age of ten. Even Yu Wang had led troops into battle at twelve. The young master is turning fifteen this year—brimming with youthful spirit. Killing without flinching is a sign of courage…”
“—Enough.” The Emperor cut him off.
Lan Xi quickly bowed. “Forgive me, I’ve said too much.”
After a moment of silence, the Emperor said, “I’ve indulged him too much over the years… I haven’t tempered his character properly.”
Lan Xi dared not respond.
The Emperor continued, “A fine sword is forged through grinding, and the fragrance of plum blossoms comes from the bitter cold.”
Lan Xi’s eyes gleamed. “Fragrance is fragrance—but it cannot be used as medicine. Su Shaoqing once offered a remedy—boiling white chrysanthemums and using the steam on your head. It’s said to greatly relieve headaches. Would Your Majesty like to try it?”
“Su…” The Emperor slowly repeated the name, savoring it on his lips as if there were still a lingering sweetness. “Let’s try it.”
—
Zhu Helin stopped in front of the Duanben Palace, paused, then suddenly turned and headed toward the Meridian Gate.
Fu Bao, panting heavily, caught up to him. “Young Master, where are you going?”
Zhu Helin’s eyes were swollen from crying. “Something’s not right… I need to find Su Yan.”
“But it’s already the fourth watch of the night. His Majesty has returned, and the palace gates are locked. How about waiting until morning?”
“By morning I’ll be kneeling at the Imperial Temple, and who knows how long Royal Father will make me kneel. No—I have to see him now!”
Fu Bao knew that once the Crown Prince made up his mind, no one could change it. He gave in. “The key to the palace gate is with the Chief Gatekeeper. Without a direct imperial order, it’s nearly impossible to open the gate. How about this—I’ll wait by the gate, and as soon as it opens at dawn, I’ll go find Lord Su and ask him to meet you at the temple?”
Zhu Helin thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”
—
At Yongning Palace, Imperial Consort Wei stood on the outer steps, gazing toward Kunning Palace. A vivid smile lit up her face under the still-glowing firelight.
“This truly is… the most beautiful fireworks display for the Lantern Festival,” she said with a flirtatious laugh.
