"Master, Jiang Keqian has arrived. This servant had him wait outside the hall," Zhang Hong murmured quietly at Zhu Yijun's side.
Zhu Yijun gave an acknowledging grunt. "Send him in."
He kept his head down, transcribing a Daoist scripture with an air of casual indifference.
Only just now had he come to understand that the Count of Yutian's lineage was even more isolated than he had imagined. Even within the circles of the hereditary nobility, they were hardly welcomed.
The reason was none other than the seeds sown by Emperor Shizong.
Back then, after Emperor Wuzong fell into the water, his death came with shocking suddenness. Having left no son to succeed him, the ancestral rule of succession by a younger brother upon the elder brother's demise dictated that Zhu Houcong, the fourteen-year-old heir apparent to the Prince of Xing—who later became Emperor Shizong, the Jiajing Emperor—inherited the imperial line.
Such a succession by a prince from a cadet branch brought forth a sensitive dilemma:
Through which orthodox lineage should the throne be passed down?
Was Zhu Houcong to be adopted into the main imperial branch, or was the cadet branch to supplant the main line and carry on the transmission?
To put it more plainly: whom was the incoming Zhu Houcong supposed to acknowledge as his father?
Some argued that to demonstrate orthodox succession, he naturally had to acknowledge Emperor Xiaozong as his father, while addressing his biological father, Prince Xian of Xing, merely as his Imperial Uncle.
This amounted to adopting Prince Xian of Xing's only son, Zhu Houcong, to Emperor Xiaozong of the Ming, thereby formally making him the younger brother of Emperor Wuzong so that he could succeed to the imperial throne through succession by a younger brother upon the elder brother's demise.
Among those who championed this view was Yang Tinghe, then Senior Grand Secretary, and even the Empress Dowager in the inner palace.
Naturally, Zhu Houcong did not agree. Not only did he firmly refuse the Grand Secretariat's proposal for him to enter through Dong'an Gate and take up residence in Wenhua Hall under the ceremonial rites of an imperial prince—arguing that "the late emperor's testamentary edict summoned me to succeed to the imperial throne, not to be an imperial son"—he even preferred to receive the entreaties to ascend the throne outside the city suburbs. Forcing the Grand Secretariat to bow its head, he entered straight through Daming Gate and took the throne directly in Fengtian Hall.
Furthermore, after ascending the throne, defying the opposition of court officials, he posthumously honored his biological father, Prince Xian of Xing, as Emperor Xian of Xing, and his biological mother as Empress Cixiaoxian.
He even elevated Emperor Xian of Xing's spirit tablet into the Imperial Ancestral Temple, ranking it above Emperor Wuzong—and because the number of ancestral spirit tablets worshipped in the Imperial Ancestral Temple was capped, Emperor Shizong went so far as to move Emperor Renzong's spirit tablet out of the temple just to make room for his biological father.
The Empress Cixiaoxian ennobled in the midst of this storm was the elder sister of Jiang Keqian's grandfather—which made her Jiang Keqian's grandaunt.
The twists and turns of the Great Rites Controversy, of course, were hardly limited to ancestral lineage and succession.
Entangled within were the overt maneuvers and covert strife of every faction. Just in the incident of prostrating at Zuoshun Gate alone, more than a dozen court officials, high and low, were beaten to death with the court staff.
The ferocity of the struggle was beyond counting.
In any case, though Emperor Shizong ultimately still honored Xiaozong as his father and Wuzong as his brother, the reality of the turmoil was that the cadet branch had usurped the main line.
The status of almost all hereditary nobles tied to the main lineage suffered a catastrophic collapse.
One could say that the maternal kin of Emperor Shizong, represented by the Count of Yutian, had gained their ennoblement by stepping over the bodies of the nobles of the main line.
Conflicting interests, paired with ascending to the heavens in a single bound, inevitably led to unrestrained conduct.
Thereafter followed many typical aristocratic displays of swaggering arrogance and gloating.
Because of this litany of historical baggage, quite a few nobles had added fuel to the fire when the Count of Yutian's lineage was later demoted in hereditary rank.
Once they fell from grace, everyone hastened to beat the broken drum.
No wonder the Duke of Chengguo had pushed Jiang Keqian forward.
Already shunned by the civil officials and kicked while down by his fellow nobles, one could easily imagine his plight.
Precisely because of this, with the revival of his family's wealth and prestige dangling ahead and the Duke of Chengguo driving him from behind, Jiang Keqian was virtually helpless, left with no way out other than dedicating his loyalty to the imperial house.
There was naturally no need for Zhu Yijun to spend any thought on bringing him to heel, and his attitude was understandably casual.
Before long, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, dressed in a flying fish robe, followed closely behind Zhang Hong into the hall.
The moment he stepped inside, he dropped to his knees in homage. "Your subject Jiang Keqian pays respects to Your Highness the Crown Prince!"
Zhu Yijun did not even lift his head, continuing to transcribe the Daoist scripture.
Dividing his attention, he asked, "For what matter has Minister Jiang come?"
For Jiang Keqian to author and publish books, even if they were treatises on musical theory, he was certainly no fool.
Hearing this question, he instantly knew that his answer would define their relationship as sovereign and subject.
Lowering his head exceptionally low, Jiang Keqian answered, "Your subject has heard that the Embroidered Uniform Guard serves as the ears and eyes of the Son of Heaven.
"Now that the late emperor has departed and the successor sovereign presides over the court, as your subject serves in the Embroidered Uniform Guard and stands guard at the Eastern Palace, it is only proper that I come to pay homage to Your Highness."
The Crown Prince was asking why he had come—whether he came on the orders of the Duke of Chengguo, or on his own behalf.
His answer held nothing back: he had received the opportunity from the Duke of Chengguo and was coming willingly to offer his unreserved service.
For Jiang Keqian, there was never any need to hesitate.
Setting aside that this was originally the Duke of Chengguo's intention, even if the Duke of Chengguo harbored second thoughts, Jiang Keqian would have cast the Duke aside without hesitation to latch firmly onto the new sovereign's coattails!
Whether the lineage of the Count of Yutian could rise again hung entirely on this; he had no other choice.
Earlier, when Zhu Xixiao saw his hesitation, he had urged him repeatedly, saying that this Crown Prince possessed deep shrewdness and that offering sincere loyalty would surely yield rich rewards.
Though he had put on a reluctant face back then, he had already resolved in his heart that even if a pig were seated upon the throne, he would still crawl over to flatter it to perfection.
As long as there was a single lifesaving straw, he would clutch it tightly!
Sure enough, hearing his words, Zhu Yijun broke into a smile. "Quickly rise, dear minister! Between us, we are sovereign and subject, but also cousins. In private, there is no need for such grand kneeling ceremonies."
He said this as though he had not been the very person who just kept the man kneeling while answering.
As for the kneeling etiquette, throughout the Ming dynasty it had essentially been instituted and abolished, abolished and instituted time and again.
In private, whether one knelt or stood depended entirely on the reigning emperor's preference, each backed by its own doctrinal justifications, while court officials were largely indifferent either way.
Jiang Keqian breathed a sigh of relief, rose, and demurred with modest deference, "Fulfilling the duty of a subject is my proper place; I dare not claim kinship with Your Highness."
By generation, the late emperor was of his generation, meaning the Crown Prince would have to address him as cousin-uncle.
He would have had to lose his mind to claim kinship here and set himself up as the sovereign's elder.
Zhu Yijun offered gentle reassurance: "Among the imperial in-laws bestowed favor in previous reigns, none was favored more richly than your Count of Yutian's estate.
"Even if later generations occasionally fell short, it would not diminish the dignity of your Count of Yutian's residence.
"Going forward, it will still depend on you to rouse your spirits and strive."
Jiang Keqian was overjoyed.
He hastened to kneel and express his gratitude: "Your subject shall etch Your Highness's teachings into his heart, never daring to tarnish the prestige of the imperial kin!"
Like dry tinder meeting an open flame, with just a single question and answer, a political pledge and a declaration of loyalty had been forged.
Jiang Keqian now held his inheritance under a reduced hereditary rank; after another generation, this branch would be no different from commoners.
Currently, the only person who could drag him out of the quagmire was Zhu Yijun.
And Zhu Yijun was naturally generous with his promises: your kinship is close, your foundation is solid, and even if you erred slightly in the past, it is no great matter; so long as you perform well, I will remember the Count of Yutian's lineage.
Jiang Keqian had bowed his head in submission almost without a second thought upon hearing this.
With his own eyebrows already singed by fire, he could not care less about the Grand Secretariat monopolizing power, the Directorate of Ceremonial harboring divided loyalties, or any of those tangled messes.
Jiang Keqian had never lacked a gambling spirit.
What was more, this successor sovereign had begun reaching out to the hereditary nobles before even ascending the throne, distinctly showing the manner of Emperor Wuzong, which only strengthened his conviction.
Zhu Yijun nodded in satisfaction. "The matter I need done—the Duke of Chengguo told you of it, did he not?"
He did not mind that Zhu Xizhong was only entering the arena tentatively.
After the Ancient Prose Movement and the Qingli Educational Reform, Dong Zhongshu's doctrines had been discarded like worn-out shoes.
The emperor was no longer that Son of Heaven who possessed the interaction between Heaven and mankind and the divine right of kings, naturally entitled to the absolute loyalty of court officials.
Loyalty nowadays required tangible interests and personal favor as its premise.
Of course, looking at it another way, now that Zhu Xizhong had placed his bet, how could Zhu Yijun possibly let him slip away?
Jiang Keqian bowed and replied, "Your humble servant understands. Early this morning, I dispatched my men; all the major taverns and teahouses have been stirred into motion. Before sunset tomorrow, the word will have spread through city streets and countryside alike."
Such was the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the secret agency court officials feared most.
Zhu Yijun cautioned, "You can slow it down. There is no harm."
This was far too fast. Anyone using their toes to think would know something was amiss; nobody had such capability except the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot.
Widening the timeframe was necessary to make it seem natural, as though the news were spreading on its own.
Even if someone grew suspicious, any court official with a bit of family wealth could pull off a slower spread; with more suspects, the waters would be muddied.
Jiang Keqian was a young man after all; failing to foresee this, his eagerness for quick success lacked seasoned prudence.
Though Jiang Keqian lacked seasoned experience, he was by no means devoid of talent. Given this pointer, he came to his senses at once and hurried to apologize: "Your Highness's guidance is spot on; your subject was reckless."
As he spoke, he could not resist stealing a glance at this successor sovereign from the corner of his eye.
Previously, he had scoffed at Zhu Xixiao's words of praise, assuming the Duke of Chengguo merely intended to cozy up to the Crown Prince and was deliberately inflating his image.
Only after this exchange did he realize with a shock that this Crown Prince's depth and skill almost made him forget the boy was merely ten years old!
His sharp banter and seasoned composure clearly surpassed Jiang Keqian's own, carrying the weight of an elder.
Zhu Yijun paid no heed to what he was thinking, and continued, "There is one more matter."
Jiang Keqian bowed his head, listening.
Zhu Yijun said, "Can the Embroidered Uniform Guard still infiltrate the residences of court officials?"
Secret intelligence was not forbidden, but it required proper methods and finesse.
Jiang Keqian started, then said with an awkward look, "Your Highness, the Embroidered Uniform Guard is no longer what it was in the dynasty's founding era..."
Back then, the Embroidered Uniform Guard could pour in like spilled mercury, finding every crack and crevice, only because Emperor Taizu backed them.
Afterward, the situation deteriorated rapidly—without Taizu suppressing them, why would civil officials continue to endure secret-police governance?
Today, the Embroidered Uniform Guard was more akin to an imperial guard office with the judicial functions of the Ministry of Justice.
Zhu Yijun pondered for a moment, then said, "In that case... just keep an eye on the public movements of the Grand Secretaries.
"And Zhang Siwei—watch that man closely."
He did not explain why; Jiang Keqian only needed to carry out the task.
Jiang Keqian kept his head lowered, his gaze complicated.
Setting up a steamed-bun stall outside a gate to watch carriage arrivals was certainly manageable, but... spying on Grand Secretaries? This Crown Prince was far more astonishing than he had anticipated.
Suppressing the thoughts in his heart, he answered with an appearance full of confidence, "Rest assured, Your Highness. Your subject will attend to it the moment I return."
Having concluded the official business, Jiang Keqian thought it was time to take his leave.
Unexpectedly, the Crown Prince brought up something entirely outside his expectations: "Minister Jiang, I have heard that you are compiling a qin score?"
Jiang Keqian froze.
His compilation of a qin manual was hardly a secret; starting from his grandfather, three generations of his family had dedicated themselves to completing this work. He simply could not fathom why the Crown Prince would mention it.
Unsure of the Crown Prince's intent, and fearing that too many words might invite error, he answered cautiously, "Your humble servant neglects his proper duties; I have made a laughingstock of myself before Your Highness."
Zhu Yijun shook his head. "Qin, chess, calligraphy, painting—these are refined and elegant cultural pursuits. How can they be called neglecting proper duties?"
Jiang Keqian paused for a moment, looking hesitant. "Your humble servant can perform a piece for Your Highness."
Zhu Yijun chuckled despite himself.
What did this Jiang Keqian take him for?
He smiled. "No need. However, when your book is completed and published, could you present me with the original draft manuscript?"
The draft manuscript?
Jiang Keqian was even more at a loss, and could not help probing, "It will still be some time before your subject completes the book. I fear it may not be in time as a congratulatory gift for Your Highness's enthronement..."
This urge to overanalyze motives went too far; Zhu Yijun abruptly lost interest.
Feeling somewhat disheartened and finding it slightly tedious, he waved his hand dismissively. "Let it wait until the book is finished. You may step down for now."
The Crown Prince had brought things to a sudden halt, leaving Jiang Keqian utterly bewildered.
Seeing no further movement from above, he could only bow in salute and turn to withdraw, his mind weighed down with heavy thoughts.
Zhu Yijun spoke no more, quietly returning to transcribing the Daoist scripture.
Now that he had the Embroidered Uniform Guard, getting things done would be much more convenient; Jiang Keqian was already on duty in the Eastern Palace, making audiences easy to arrange.
Yet this very exchange had left Zhu Yijun feeling rather lonely...
He knew of the *Qinshu Daquan* compiled by Jiang Keqian, and he also knew that when it was transmitted to later generations, portions of it had been lost.
In the Ming dynasty, there were many such scattered and lost texts, including the highest achievement of the dynasty's writings—the *Yongle Dadian*, known as an encyclopedia.
Having transmigrated here, Zhu Yijun naturally harbored the original aspiration to preserve these classics, and he had long formed a rough idea in his mind regarding those scattered texts.
Though he did not yet wield supreme power and had no way to implement it, today's meeting was an opportune encounter.
It was precisely out of the desire to preserve these classic works that he had casually mentioned it just now.
Who would have guessed it would end in such an awkward, joyless manner?
Jiang Keqian's ceaseless attempts to second-guess his motives had left him somewhat dispirited.
Naturally, he could not blame the man for behaving this way; after all, they were sovereign and subject, meeting for the first time, so such a reaction was entirely normal.
Zhu Yijun simply felt a sudden surge of loneliness—the loneliness of being understood by no one.
He was not a man who lived solely to scramble for power and profit. On the contrary, he had his own pursuits and ideals; even though he had spent these days seizing authority and gathering influence, he had never forgotten who he was or what he was fighting for.
Zhu Yijun was unwilling to be assimilated by power, assimilated by the imperial throne.
Yet looking across the people around him...
Zhang Hong before had seen him as an Emperor Yingzong who acted through conspiracies, clawing for power.
Now Jiang Keqian saw him as an Emperor Wuzong who secretly aligned with hereditary nobles to cultivate his own faction.
For him, was this not its own kind of humiliation?
Were it not that great undertakings required great power, why would he need to spend his days scheming and maneuvering here?
Apart from himself, who else knew that his gaze was never fixed merely on petty power, nor his heart on a mere throne?
The three-hundred-year curse of dynasties under heaven—who else in this realm would dare to challenge it, if not him?
The precedents of the Mongol Yuan stood right before his eyes; if he did not sweep away accumulated abuses and press forward with radical reforms, would history simply run in reverse once again?
The Western Renaissance was drawing toward its close; how could three thousand years of Chinese civilization fail to advance, or even regress?
Billions of years of natural resources afforded civilization only a single chance to develop.
The wheels of history rolled inexorably forward, leaving no room for retreat.
Just like the world's arable land, if left untended for twenty years, it would be wiped away entirely by the movements of the earth.
From the day humanity first learned to clear land with slash-and-burn fire, there had been no way back except to continue marching forward.
He had descended by mandate of heaven, transmigrating to this world; who else could steer the helm of the Ming dynasty, if not him?
The collapse of the grand mansion loomed right before their eyes; to open a new path, to answer heaven and carry the mandate—if not him, then who?!
Yet sadly, not a single person in this world could understand him.
His trusted subordinates, Zhang Hong and Jiang Keqian, saw him as a crafty schemer; his fellow travelers, Gao Gong and Zhang Juzheng, saw him as a rival.
Zhu Yijun truly was a solitary sovereign, entirely alone.
Chapter 18