Zhu Yijun did not return to the Eastern Palace until he had finished his midday meal at Wenhua Hall.
Such had always been the arrangement after the daily lectures.
Still, it worked out well enough. Taking a leisurely stroll after eating before lying down for an afternoon nap was far healthier than sleeping right away.
Yet the moment he stepped back into Ciqing Palace, he noticed something amiss in the palace attendants' expressions.
Sensing trouble, Zhu Yijun summoned a maid. "What happened?"
The maid answered honestly, "Your Highness, Senior Eunuch Zhang was waiting for Your Highness earlier when he was taken away."
Zhu Yijun paused. "Zhang Hong was taken away? By whose people?"
The maid thought for a moment before replying, "People from the Directorate of Ceremonial. They were led by Cao Xianyu, a brush-wielding eunuch."
A brush-wielding eunuch stood second only to the seal-holding eunuch, making him the second-ranking figure in the Directorate of Ceremonial. This had to have been carried out on Feng Bao's orders.
Zhu Yijun nodded and asked nothing further. A lowly maid would know nothing beyond that anyway.
In truth, there was no need to ask; it was nothing more than the usual underhanded tactics.
From the look of it, Zhang Juzheng had already conferred with Feng Bao.
Swift and decisive indeed.
He had long known of the covert alliance between the two men.
Having the benefit of foresight with knowledge spanning five hundred years into the future, he knew that no matter how clandestine their dealings were now, they could not escape being recorded in the annals of history.
He simply had not expected them to react with such speed.
He had only slipped up before Zhang Juzheng that very morning, yet by noon they were already making their move. Feng Bao's grip over the inner court was truly not to be underestimated.
"When Zhang Hong returns, have him come see me directly," Zhu Yijun said, tossing out the instruction before heading inside.
Zhang Hong had been assigned to serve him by Noble Consort Li herself. Even if Feng Bao wanted to suppress Zhang Hong's influence, he would not dare lay a finger on the man himself, so Zhu Yijun was not overly concerned.
He had made a mistake, and now that he had aroused their vigilance, he could only take it in stride.
Sooner or later, he would turn the tables.
At worst, he would simply counter every move as it came, meeting soldiers with generals and water with earth. A minor skirmish like this was not enough to rattle his composure.
***
When Zhu Yijun woke, he saw Zhang Hong kneeling outside the doorway.
He propped himself up lazily and beckoned to the eunuch outside.
Zhang Hong hurried inside on his hands and knees. "Master."
Rubbing his eyes, Zhu Yijun asked offhandedly, "You're back? Didn't suffer too much, did you?"
Zhang Hong immediately prostrated himself to confess. "This servant is guilty! When I was on duty at the Needlework Bureau, I left behind some loose ends that Feng Bao seized upon. I have brought shame upon Master!"
Zhu Yijun let out a nonchalant hum. "Rise."
The root of the problem did not lie with Zhang Hong; whatever pretext they used was inconsequential.
Zhu Yijun could not be bothered to press for details, nor did he reprimand the eunuch. He was not in the habit of taking out his own missteps on his subordinates.
A ruler who showed no human warmth was never destined to rule long.
Zhang Hong continued his report: "Several of this servant's godchildren were hauled off to the Eastern Depot for interrogation. Cao Xianyu told me to remain on call whenever summoned, but he didn't give me a hard time."
Zhu Yijun was barely listening.
A thought suddenly struck him, and he cut Zhang Hong short. "Do you have any dealings with the residence of the Duke of Chengguo?"
Zhang Hong blinked, thrown by the sudden leap in topic. Unsure of what the Crown Prince meant, he answered instinctively, "I've crossed paths with them a few times on official business, but we have no personal acquaintance."
Zhu Yijun nodded and pressed further, "How much do you know about Zhu Xizhong, the Duke of Chengguo?"
The lineage of the Duke of Chengguo was founded by nobles ennobled after joining Emperor Chengzu, Zhu Di, in raising troops during the Jingnan Campaign. Their title was hereditary in perpetuity, sharing fortune and fate with the realm itself.
The current Sixth Duke of Chengguo was Zhu Xizhong.
The man enjoyed immense trust from the imperial family. During the reign of Emperor Shizong, he had already been granted the rank of Grand Preceptor in his lifetime; well-versed in military affairs, he had commanded various military units through successive reigns.
When the late emperor ascended the throne, his trust had not diminished in the slightest, going so far as to entrust the Embroidered Uniform Guard into his hands.
It was fair to say that whether in official nobility or raw authority, Duke of Chengguo Zhu Xizhong was currently the most illustrious martial noble in the empire.
Zhu Yijun's inquiry was naturally not without purpose.
At present, the civil court was flanked by Gao Gong and Zhang Juzheng, while the inner court's Directorate of Ceremonial was monopolized by Feng Bao.
Each of them harbored their own schemes and agendas, making for a tangled web of factions.
He could not allow himself to be led by the nose according to another's rhythm.
Now that Zhang Hong was being targeted, regardless of who was behind it, Zhu Yijun had no reason to intervene directly; doing so would only risk falling into the traps laid by schemers.
He needed calculations of his own!
As the saying went, you fight your battle, and I'll fight mine. For now, everyone would build up their strength independently.
He refused to believe that as the legitimate heir to the throne, he could possibly lose so long as he kept his footing.
This was precisely the approach Zhu Yijun had taken since transmigrating.
Whether winning over inner court eunuchs with the gracious propriety of a sovereign—as he had done with Zhang Hong—or soothing civil officials with Confucian rites and decorum—as he had done with Gao Yi—every single move he made stayed firmly within this framework.
And now, his gaze turned toward a faction whose allegiance naturally belonged to the Son of Heaven: the hereditary nobility.
Zhang Hong stole a glance at the Crown Prince's expression and answered cautiously, "Master, this servant has only exchanged pleasantries with the Duke of Chengguo a few times. I dare not speak out of turn."
Zhu Yijun waved his hand. "Speak plainly."
Zhang Hong kowtowed at once. After weighing his words, he replied, "Master, the late emperor once remarked in private that the Duke of Chengguo was shrewd and astute, adept at forging connections. This servant believes the late emperor's sacred judgment could never be wrong."
Zhu Yijun gave a thoughtful nod.
"Shrewd and astute" meant deep and calculating, possessed of great shrewdness.
"Adept at forging connections" meant he maintained smooth relations across every political circle.
It seemed the man was an old fox indeed.
Sitting up straighter, Zhu Yijun looked squarely at Zhang Hong. "Is Zhu Xizhong close to dying?"
Though Zhu Xizhong was only in his fifties, Zhu Yijun recalled from history that he would succumb to illness before long.
Zhang Hong's heart gave a violent jolt. He dropped into a bow to mask his shock. "Master, this servant dares not speak wildly."
"However..."
"The Duke of Chengguo commanded troops in his earlier years and fell prey to lingering ailments. Over the past two years, the late emperor dispatched imperial physicians to attend to him on numerous occasions, particularly so this year."
Zhu Yijun did not press the matter further.
He summoned palace maids to help him change into fresh robes, though his mind continued to turn.
Though Zhu Xizhong ranked among the Three Excellencies and held command over the Embroidered Uniform Guard—wielding immense authority—his position was akin to cooking oil splashed on a roaring fire, or the full moon poised to wane.
In dynasties past, the hereditary nobility, civil officials, and eunuchs formed a tripartite balance of power, trading dominance as one rose and another fell.
Yet the Ming Dynasty was different. A great portion had been purged at the founding of the dynasty, and another wave had been lost alongside Emperor Yingzong at the Tumu Crisis. That pillar of power had been severed long ago.
Zhu Xizhong could be said to be a nobleman framed and put on display by Emperor Shizong and the late emperor purely for show.
Such a front-row showcase was in the most precarious position of all.
Historically, upon Zhu Xizhong's death, he was posthumously granted the title of prince, an honor extraordinarily rare in the dynasty.
Yet what followed?
The following year, when the seventh-generation dukedom passed to his son, the son died within that same year.
Afterward, when the eighth-generation title passed to his grandson, censors such as Yu Maoxue submitted memorials demanding the revocation of the princely title posthumously granted to Zhu Xizhong.
The court clamored with fierce opposition. The emperor held out for a year, but ultimately stripped Zhu Xizhong of his princely rank.
Before long, that eighth Duke of Chengguo committed suicide, and the lineage faded into complete obscurity.
What was cooking oil over fire? That was cooking oil over fire!
Could Zhu Xizhong fail to anticipate this? Not necessarily!
Perhaps it was precisely because he foresaw his family's fate that he treaded on thin ice, earning the late emperor's appraisal of being shrewd, astute, and adept at forging connections.
Regrettably, as a figurehead propped up for show, he was never master of his own destiny.
The closer such a man came to death, the less he dared to die.
In that case, would Zhu Xizhong be longing for the new sovereign to look after the Chengguo lineage following his demise?
Or rather, how much support could a political pledge from the new monarch purchase from Zhu Xizhong?
Once properly dressed, Zhu Yijun dismissed the palace maids and paced the room in contemplation.
Not daring to disturb his thoughts, Zhang Hong waited in silence.
Only after a long while did Zhu Yijun turn to Zhang Hong and ask, "Companion Zhang, if I recall correctly, the man commanding the Eastern Palace guards is the Duke of Chengguo's younger brother, isn't he? What was his name again?"
Zhang Hong bowed respectfully. "Master, loyalty to the elder brother, filial piety to the younger. That younger brother of the Duke of Chengguo is named Zhu Xixiao. He holds the rank of Commissioner-in-Chief Managing the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and in the eighth month of last year, the late emperor appointed him to oversee the Eastern Palace guards."
Zhu Yijun clicked his tongue. "A fine pair of names. How close are the two brothers?"
Zhang Hong pondered for a moment before replying, "Zhu Xixiao secured this appointment entirely through his brother's hereditary privilege. Even the Duke of Chengguo's own sons didn't get in line for it."
Zhu Yijun understood. Only the primary heir could inherit the ducal title; if the other sons received no hereditary appointments, they could hardly enjoy prosperous lives, and such opportunities were exceedingly rare.
Evidently, the Duke of Chengguo treated this younger brother exceptionally well.
After a moment's thought, he held up two fingers. "Two matters."
Zhang Hong bowed low at once to listen.
Zhu Yijun spoke measuredly. "First, regarding the Needlework Bureau, do not get bogged down in it. Sever your tail to survive."
"Write a memorial to me confessing your offenses, and I will submit it to my imperial mother on your behalf."
"Wait one day, then find someone trustworthy to impeach you over the affairs of the Needlework Bureau."
Understanding dawned upon Zhang Hong.
Overwhelmed with admiration, he prostrated himself. "Master's sacred wisdom is profound. This servant is utterly awed."
His godchildren had been taken by the Eastern Depot; their offenses were minor, but there was no telling how much torment they might suffer behind closed doors. That was precisely what had left him frantic with worry.
Yet once an impeachment was launched through proper official channels, the matter would no longer be left to the Eastern Depot's arbitrary whim. With more eyes watching, everything would have to follow official procedure.
Furthermore, with him voluntarily confessing and accepting punishment, the case could be settled without even an interrogation.
His godchildren would inevitably lose their posts, but at least their lives would be spared.
Once the storm blew over, restoring them to office would simply follow as a matter of course.
Zhu Yijun added a few words of reassurance: "Rest easy. My imperial mother has a soft nature. When someone offers their cheek willingly, she has never had the heart to strike too hard."
"Relinquish your godchildren's posts for now. We will let the matter rest in the open, but behind the scenes, I will grant them rewards. As for your hard work and loyalty, I will remember it in due time."
When subordinates took a beating, a leader could not turn a blind eye; otherwise, hearts would scatter. Proper comfort and promises were indispensable. Zhu Yijun cherished every ounce of power he could bring under his control.
Yet even so, he was merely dealing with people according to the habits of his previous life.
Having transmigrated only recently, he still possessed only a rudimentary sense of his sovereign identity.
How could he know that while Zhang Hong certainly harbored an ambition to latch onto a patron, thousands of years of imperial reverence made the throne an unfathomably exalted height in the eunuch's eyes?
A simple promise of comfort was something Zhang Hong would never have dared to dream of.
Emotion surged within Zhang Hong's chest, his nose stinging as he nearly lost his composure.
Managing to rein it in, Zhang Hong lowered his head. "This wretched person's worthless body—how could I dare trouble Master to expend such care on my behalf?"
Zhu Yijun did not perceive the emotional shift in his trusted eunuch, taking it merely as routine polite deference.
He continued, "Now, the second matter."
Zhang Hong listened with rapt attention, only to see the Crown Prince suddenly pause.
Just as he wondered why, Zhu Yijun shifted his tone: "Companion Zhang, in the mouths of the palace attendants in the past, this prince was likely considered an unruly, unremarkable young master, was he not?"
Zhang Hong hurriedly begged for forgiveness. "Master..."
Zhu Yijun cut him off, pressing, "Is it true or not?"
Zhang Hong knew that this Crown Prince had been biding his time, harboring vast schemes beneath the surface, yet being questioned about what was already obvious left him momentarily afraid to answer.
Silence was the best answer.
Zhu Yijun, however, nodded with satisfaction. "Your judgment was not wrong."
"In the past, this prince truly knew nothing of the world and was willful by nature. Devoted solely to idle pleasures, I possessed not the slightest interest in the classics or state affairs; I even regarded the daily lectures as venomous serpents and feared the court officials like ferocious beasts."
Zhang Hong looked up in astonishment. "Ah...?"
Zhu Yijun continued, "Yet recently, this prince saw the departed emperor in a dream. He counseled me earnestly and entrusted the realm to my care, bringing about my sudden awakening."
"As the saying goes, a prodigal son's return is worth more than gold. Only then did this prince resolve to strive with vigor, seeking to reform the past and cultivate the future so as not to fail the departed emperor's expectations."
Zhang Hong grew all the more bewildered, unable to fathom why the Crown Prince was saying all this.
Zhu Yijun slowly composed his expression, his tone turning indifferent. "Take what I have just said as the general direction, and concoct a few stories."
"Weave in spirits and deities—such as the late emperor manifesting his spirit, or this prince awakening to his destined celestial star."
"The contrast between this prince's past and present behavior must be stark. The more wretched I was in the past, the better. Fabricate as you see fit; I grant you immunity from blame."
"Furthermore, it must be down-to-earth—appealing and easy to understand even for the illiterate."
"It must also be catchy. It would be best to attach a nursery rhyme or catchy phrases, such as 'Have you ever seen the Four Books and Five Classics at the third watch of the night?' or something of the sort."
Glancing at the deep-in-thought Zhang Hong, Zhu Yijun asked, "Have you committed it to memory?"
Zhang Hong hastily replied, "I have, Master."
Zhu Yijun leaned close to Zhang Hong's ear and whispered, "Go in person to find the Duke of Chengguo's younger brother. Have him relay the stories you concoct to the Duke of Chengguo himself."
Zhang Hong was startled. "Master, please enlighten me."
Zhu Yijun unfastened a jade pendant from his waist. It was a gift bestowed by the late emperor upon his capping ceremony, personally fastened onto him by the Duke of Chengguo during the rites.
Handing it to Zhang Hong, he said, "Carry a message to the Duke of Chengguo. Say: 'The Duke of Chengguo is the imperial family's courage and backbone, while the Embroidered Uniform Guard is the Son of Heaven's ears and eyes.'"
"'Could the Duke truly bear to see this prince broken in spirit, deafened, and blinded?'"
No further words were needed; this alone was enough.
Since Zhu Xizhong was an old fox, he would understand his meaning.
What was the quickest path to seizing authority?
Political accomplishments, of course!
Above, it would secure Consort Li's trust; below, it would win the hearts and minds of the people.
Yet with his hands currently empty and not a single achievement to his name, how could he produce political accomplishments?
By conjuring cards out of thin air!
As the saying went, public opinion could melt metal; whether accomplishments truly existed was unimportant—what mattered was whether others believed they existed.
And that was precisely what he intended to do now.
What was the foundation for personal rule? It was preeminent intelligence and the capability to govern.
If it could not yet be demonstrated, then concoct stories to boast of it!
So long as voices within and outside the imperial city sang praises of the new sovereign's sudden awakening and cultivation of virtue;
So long as Consort Li constantly heard court ladies gossiping in admiration of the new sovereign;
So long as scholar-officials grew curious about whether the new monarch was truly as disciplined and dignified as the legends claimed, eager to see for themselves;
If this was not an accomplishment, what was?
And all of this naturally required the Embroidered Uniform Guard, spread across the court and the realm, to spread his parables by word of mouth through marketplace taverns and wine shops.
Thus, Zhu Xizhong, Duke of Chengguo and Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, was an indispensable figure he could not bypass.
This was his test for Zhu Xizhong, compelling him to submit a pledge of allegiance. The Chengguo lineage had enjoyed extraordinary imperial favors; when the time came to display loyalty and devotion, they could not hope to flee.
The price of imperial favor had long been marked in secret.
Doing only this was merely beating the drums at the periphery; it did not touch specific administrative powers, so there was no fear of overly fierce backlash from any quarter. At the same time, it allowed Zhu Xizhong to start with what was easy before moving to what was hard—investments could be increased gradually, eliminating any hesitation in his heart.
Zhu Yijun was not worried that Zhu Xizhong would betray him. No matter how foolish the Duke of Chengguo might be, he would never do such a thing.
The hereditary nobility differed from civil officials; they had always been able to survive only by leaning upon the imperial family.
Even if a civil official was dismissed from office, he remained a renowned scholar in his native region; returning home to lecture, he could still muster something like the Donglin faction to influence court politics.
Not to mention titans of the literati like Wang Shizhen, who remained regional powerhouses even after retirement.
Martial nobles, however, were entirely different. Barred from the imperial examinations and lacking scholarly credentials, substantive posts such as the Six Ministries, Nine Chief Ministers, and regional governors were entirely closed to them.
Only through the Son of Heaven's favor and bestowals could they maintain a shred of dignity.
Stripped of the imperial throne's backing, they were nothing more than stray dogs that anyone could kick.
While fools were plentiful among their ranks, their loyalty was beyond reproach.
The Ming Dynasty had never seen a hereditary noble stab the imperial family in the back.
Even if Zhu Xizhong was timid as a mouse and terrified of being dragged into the current vortex, the most he could do was stand by with folded arms.
As for whether he would choose to support Zhu Yijun, that would depend on whether the old man had the foresight to see where the future lay.
***
Note 1: In the eighth month of the fifth year of Longqing, Commissioner-in-Chief Zhu Xixiao, Managing the Embroidered Uniform Guard, was ordered to oversee the Eastern Palace guards. Yu Yin, Assistant Commissioner-in-Chief of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and Yang Junqing, Acting Assistant Regional Military Commissioner, shared management of the guards. — *Veritable Records of Ming Muzong*
Chapter 14