The next morning, Su Yan first had Su Xiaojing request sick leave at the Ministry of Personnel—two days for now, longer if recovery required.
Su Xiaobei was then sent to the Northern Surveillance Bureau to inquire: last night Shen Qi had led a team to pursue the escaped Mister He—what was the situation now, had they returned?
As for himself, he stole half a day of leisure. Beneath the old peach tree in the courtyard, he set up a reclining “drunken-weng” chair, sprawled out in comfort, a pot of Songluo tea infused with olives at hand. Sipping tea and reading a casual book, it could hardly be more pleasant.
An hour passed with no word yet from the Northern Surveillance Bureau—but the Crown Prince arrived first.
Zhu Helin wore plain clothes, bringing only a few guards and an imperial physician on horseback. Having hurried along the road, sweat beaded at his temples, glinting faintly in the dappled sunlight beneath the peach tree’s canopy.
“I heard you suffered internal injuries? Let me see how bad they are!” Before he even drew close, his anxious voice came rushing ahead.
“It’s nothing, nothing—watch the steps! Ah, my little lord—” That knock to the knee looked painful just to see. Su Yan covered his face with his hand. “I truly am fine, at most just split my lip a little. I’m just lying low, finding an excuse to rest a couple of days.”
Enduring the ache, Zhu Helin rushed to his side, examining him up and down before finally relaxing. “So long as you’re fine. But why couldn’t you tell me beforehand?”
“It was my oversight, causing my little lord to worry.” Su Yan passed the teapot to him, then suddenly realized he’d been drinking straight from the spout, which seemed improper, and drew it back again.
But Zhu Helin seized it without hesitation, tilting it back and gulping straight from the spout. Then he dropped onto the nearby stone bench, catching his breath. “Royal Father kept me detained in the palace, wouldn’t let me out. I worried all night! This morning at court when you weren’t there, after dismissal I personally went to the Ministry of Personnel to ask around—only then did I learn you’d taken sick leave.”
Su Yan was moved and smiled. “Rest assured, little lord—so many Embroidered Uniform Guard and Tengxiang Guards, with Yu Wang himself holding the line, nothing could happen to me.”
Of course Zhu Helin knew that. But when the critical moment came and he himself wasn’t on the field, while his fourth royal uncle scored points as the protector, it left him somewhat dissatisfied. He felt Royal Father was raising Fourth Royal Uncle in the capital into nothing but a troublemaker; better to send him to his fief to govern, and if truly uneasy, at least strip him of military command.
Still, since he styled himself now as a “mature man,” it wouldn’t do to harp on such details in front of Su Yan and appear small-minded. So he nodded. “Worried though I was, I believe you can accomplish the task.”
Su Yan sighed. “A pity there was one flaw—the only one who slipped away was Mister He. Everyone had been loaded into the prison cart, and still he was snatched back.”
Zhu Helin said, “The Void Sect has been operating secretly in the capital for years; their influence is hidden and entangled, impossible to eradicate in one sweep. A few remnants stirring up waves is unavoidable. No need for regret. As long as the nationwide warrant continues, he will have no foothold in Great Ming. Sooner or later, he’ll be caught.”
But doubts pricked at Su Yan’s heart: Shi Yanshuang, as a Qianhu of Penal Enforcement, was Shen Qi’s capable right-hand, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard escorting the prison cart were all well-trained elite riders. How could they have so easily fallen into the Void Sect remnants’ ploy? And when the prisoners were seized, why did the enemy leave the unconscious Embroidered Uniform Guard unharmed—were they not worried they might wake too soon?
Doubts aside, he did not voice them before the Crown Prince, thinking instead to wait for Qilang’s return and ask directly.
Seeing him silent, Zhu Helin thought he was still brooding over Mister He’s escape, and so brought up court matters to shift his mind. “Lucky you weren’t at court today. Royal Father ordered the detention of Marquis Xianan and Marquis Fengan—like dropping a boulder into a pond, the uproar in court was tremendous. Some banded together for group attacks, some fought one-on-one, some fanned the flames from afar. It was utter chaos.”
That was more or less as Su Yan had expected. After all, on the very first day of the palace examination, he had witnessed the Grand Chancellor and the imperial in-laws literally roll up their sleeves and brawl in open court—proof enough of this dynasty’s officials’ ferocity.
He recalled a note in the histories: civil officials once joined forces in the throne room to beat to death an Embroidered Uniform Guard commander who had roused their collective fury. Clearly, the saying “a hail of random fists can fell even a master” was no empty talk.
“Since childhood I’ve seen civil officials’ gift of words,” Zhu Helin went on. “I knew they loved to scold and knew how to scold. But never did I expect they could scold like this—without a single foul word, yet managing to greet the opponent’s ancestors back eighteen generations.”
Su Yan: …Er, wasn’t he himself also one of those silver-tongued civil officials?
“At first they could still debate the matter at hand, the main point being whether the evidence was solid that the Wei clan had plotted against the Crown Prince, and whether you, as head of the special case, were serving the country by eliminating traitors or simply settling a private vendetta. But then things veered off-course. Many smuggled in their own grievances, trying to drag dissenters down. Officials seized the chance to impeach one another: this one accused that one of being the Wei clan’s pawn who must also be purged; that one accused this one of currying favor with the Eastern Palace and harboring disloyalty. So they dredged up old scandals, waved banners of righteousness—and the whirlpool only grew larger, until it seemed everyone had skeletons in the closet, no one with clean motives…”
Su Yan rubbed his forehead in silence. From the Crown Prince’s description alone, he could picture the scene.
In this dynasty, civil officials held high status and great voice, along with pride and backbone—naturally, they also wielded strong sway over state affairs. With an emperor disinclined to govern, he could play hands-off ruler all his life, so long as he promoted a capable cabinet to lead the officials, and the country would run stably for decades.
Unlike that later dynasty in history, where officials addressed themselves as “slaves.” Offend the emperor and—swish—the blade fell, someone else taking the office in your place. With officials’ knees grown soft, they obeyed absolutely: with a wise ruler things proceeded smoothly, but with a foolish one, all perished together.
The trouble here was, their emperor did govern—outwardly lenient, inwardly strict, with a strong desire for control. Day in and day out facing this unruly pack, it must have been vexing indeed.
No wonder he resorted to imperial stratagems and balance-of-power maneuvers—even enduring the civil officials’ years of remonstrance to keep the Embroidered Uniform Guard intact, even granting eunuchs a measure of political power—all just to preserve chips for imperial authority.
“They quarreled like that, and His Majesty didn’t intervene?” Su Yan asked.
“No,” Zhu Helin replied. “Which is strange. Normally when the ministers go too far, Royal Father suppresses it—punishes a few ringleaders, and then things settle down for a while. Even Grand Chancellor Li has spent days in prison, let alone the others. But today Royal Father didn’t restrain them at all—only told me to watch closely, and listen.”
“And what did my little lord see, and what did you hear?” Su Yan asked.
Zhu Helin was taken aback, raised his brows, pursed his lips and pondered for a moment, then said: “Factional cliques among the court officials are a serious problem?”
“Be more confident—drop the questioning tone,” Su Yan patiently guided him. “What else?”
“Court officials vie for power, often forming factions to strengthen themselves. The sages said, ‘A gentleman associates but does not form cliques,’ yet in my view, many courtiers gang up, attack outsiders, and strike at one another not truly for the country or the people, but for the struggle over power.”
Factional strife and partisan conflict—he’d grasped the key terms. See? Didn’t I say this child had prospects? Born with insight! Su Yan restrained himself from showing an old Mother’s gratified smile, and pressed on: “And what else?”
So—when you become emperor in the future, how do you plan to clean up this foul, murky atmosphere at court? Will you, like your father, counterbalance power with power, or will you take another course? Speak—say whatever comes to mind.
“And also…” Zhu Helin racked his brains, then suddenly his eyes lit up. “Right! I noticed, officials from the same region love to band together, and they like to give mocking nicknames to outsiders. Those from Shu are called ‘Sichuan Rats’; those from Chu are called ‘Dried Fish’; and Jiangxi men are mocked as ‘Cured Chickens,’ because they always send cured chicken as gifts at New Year, and even once presented it to Royal Father. Which makes me worry—will anyone treat you the same? Call you ‘Spring Pancake’ or ‘Buddha Jumps Over the Wall’ or something…”
Su Yan: …
Your focus has gone astray, little lord! I too don’t want to be called Spring Pancake or Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, but that’s not the point here!
So you’re still just a kid! Su Yan rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply.
Zhu Helin, however, burst out laughing. “Just teasing you, little lord was. But truly—” he leaned close to Su Yan’s ear and lowered his voice—“even if the Wei clan falls, the court will not be peaceful. To have clean governance, what must be rectified has never been just one or two corrupt officials or arrogant kin, but the bureaucracy’s long-festering ills.”
Su Yan was unexpectedly startled, then nodded slightly. “My little lord has seen clearly and heard clearly. But reforming officialdom cannot be accomplished overnight. Even His Majesty is constrained by considerations. As heir apparent, you must all the more avoid rash moves. Step by step—first topple the Wei clan entirely, then speak of the rest.”
Zhu Helin also nodded. “Before I left the palace, I heard that Noble Consort Wei went to kneel at the palace gate, pleading pardon for her father.”
“Kneeling at the palace gate?”
“Yes—outside the Yangxin Hall, at the Zunyi Gate. She washed off her rouge, let down her hair, dressed only in plain white underclothes, and knelt there at the gate.” Zhu Helin glanced up at the sun. “By now, she’s been kneeling more than an hour.”
“…And His Majesty?”
Zhu Helin showed a trace of pleased smile. “Royal Father did not summon her. He had the eunuchs send her back to Yongning Palace, but she refused. So Royal Father put out word: if she wants to kneel, let her kneel.”
—
Noble Consort Wei knelt before the gate, weeping and muttering. At times she recalled tender moments from her wedding days, at times she begged the Emperor, for the sake of past merits and affections, to pardon the Wei clan.
She cried like pear blossoms in the rain, as though life itself hung in the balance. Yet this time Emperor Jinglong seemed steeled in heart—her tricks of weeping, throwing fits, even threatening her own life, no longer availed her.
The palace maids urged her repeatedly to desist, but she devised another ploy—she had someone bring the Second Prince.
The Second Prince was nearing a year old. Because he spoke early but walked late, it was deemed a sign of great fortune. The Empress Dowager even invited masters to divine his fate, who declared that the “Purple Tenuity Star shone upon his destiny.” Thus she doted on him all the more.
Noble Consort Wei valued her only son above all, terrified someone might harm him. Five wet nurses were not enough to set her at ease; she simply kept him by her side day and night, to ward off the loneliness of the deep palace. Hence the child clung to his Mother, and if apart even briefly, he would pine for her.
Now, not having seen her for a while, the moment he did he grew pitifully aggrieved, clutching her tightly and babbling tearfully.
She stripped off his little dragon-embroidered jacket, then even pinched him secretly. His babbling tears turned instantly to wails.
Mother and son embraced, cheek to cheek, crying together—so forlorn, so pitiful, their cries enough to move even the stoniest heart.
This time, the Empress Dowager could not remain seated.
The night before, Yu Wang had entered the palace and spoken with her privately for more than an hour, persuading her, with the reasoning that “the Wei clan is too overbearing; if they are not taught a harsh lesson, in future they will defy imperial authority and even coerce the throne,” not to interfere, lest she estrange herself from the Emperor.
Though the Empress Dowager favored the Wei clan, she too had concerns:
First, of going too far. Should the Second Prince one day be made Crown Prince, the Wei clan would shine at their zenith; she feared they might harbor ambitions of manipulating the sovereign.
Second, of alienating Mother and son. The last time she had used illness to press the Emperor, though he yielded without outward displeasure, she knew her son well. His thoughts were concealed, his emotions reserved. He might not truly be as unruffled as he appeared. If resentment took root, it would not bode well for her.
Turning it over, the Empress Dowager felt she must strike a balance—apply measured checks, let the Wei clan take some pain but not crippling wounds, so they would remember their place.
Yu Wang’s points had touched her heart exactly, so she endured it, only having her chief maid Qiong Gu send the Wei clan’s petitioners away.
Thus, when Noble Consort Wei knelt weeping, the Empress Dowager was not overly distressed.
But learning that her beloved grandson was kneeling under the sun, weeping with his Mother, her heart ached unbearably. She could not sit still.
She ordered out the phoenix palanquin, went herself to Yangxin Hall to fetch the child back, and intended also to remind the Emperor to show moderation.
In her mind, this whole “plot to harm the Crown Prince” was the doing of the Void Sect and wandering martial sects. The Wei clan had only been deceived, unwittingly taking a traitor as guest—guilty of negligence, nothing more. Imprison the two marquises for a while, dock their pay, let that be the punishment. After all, that son of Empress Zhang—was he not alive and well in the Eastern Palace?
But upon meeting Emperor Jinglong, she discovered the situation was far more grave than she had imagined—
This time the Emperor truly meant to execute Wei Yan and Wei Jun. His past promises to her were gone like yesterday’s wind, no longer binding!
The Empress Dowager, deeply disappointed, felt her dignity affronted. And deep within, a shadow of suspicion rose: could it be that the Emperor’s intolerance of the Wei clan was meant as a warning, killing the chicken to scare the monkeys?
She, as the Empress Dowager, could not openly meddle in front-court affairs, so she had often let the Wei clan serve as her voice in politics. And with the Wei clan gathering many officials to their side, her own influence had imperceptibly expanded. Could it be the Emperor now wished to curb her by striking at them?
They were biological Mother and son! Filial piety was Heaven’s mandate—if he, as her own son, would not obey his Mother, how could she expect him to be filial for life?
The Empress Dowager was both disappointed and chilled to the core. She concluded that this was no longer just the problem of the Wei clan—it was defiance, it was unfilial conduct, it was treating her, his very Royal Mother, as a political enemy to be guarded against and suppressed.
She did not quarrel with the Emperor face to face. Instead, she turned and returned to her palace, taking the Second Prince with her.
As for Noble Consort Wei—seeing her aunt ignore her plight and even take away her lifeblood, she fainted on the spot from crying, and was carried back to Yongning Palace.
All of this, Zhu Helin at the Su residence knew nothing about. After visiting Su Yan, he still had to rush to wrap up the investigation of the disaster relief grain-switching case.
So that very afternoon, Su Yan received an edict: the Empress Dowager summoned him.
To call it a “summons” wasn’t quite right—for he was not allowed to leave on his own. The guards who came with the eunuch bearing the decree were already poised to act, and forcibly dragged him into a carriage.
