Owing to the passing of the late Emperor, there was a great press of miscellaneous business today. By the time court deliberations drew to a close, it was already near noon.
He was only a young boy, after all; though Zhu Yijun forced himself to stay alert, a feeling of listlessness inevitably weighed upon him.
Fortunately, having attended court today, he was spared the daily lectures.
"Your Highness, this servant shall now deliver the draft-rescripted memorials to the Two Palaces."
With a glance, Feng Bao gestured toward the memorials carried by two young eunuchs behind him.
According to the established statutes from the founding of the dynasty, officials' memorials were generally delivered before the Emperor through the eunuchs of Huiji Gate or the Office of Transmission, with a portion of them referred to the Grand Secretariat for deliberation.
Once a decision was reached, copies would be forwarded to the respective ministries and offices.
Yet throughout Chinese history, the customary pattern had always been that human affairs eroded systems until they formed new systems, which in turn were eroded by new human affairs in an endless cycle.
So it had been with prime ministers, the Three Departments, regional inspectors, viceroys, and even the petty clerks of county seats; none could escape this trajectory.
The Grand Secretariat, naturally, was no exception.
Having evolved over two hundred years to this day, the Grand Secretariat's actual power had expanded several times over.
This was especially true after Emperor Shizong, the Jiajing Emperor, refrained from holding court for more than twenty years, and the late Emperor indulged in the inner palace, fully entrusting governance to his ministers.
Whether in the submission of memorials, court deliberations, or even vermilion endorsements, new precedents had long since taken shape.
To say nothing else, the practice of memorials being delivered before the Emperor first and then copied to the Grand Secretariat had already transformed: now they were sent to the Grand Secretariat for draft rescripts first, and only then presented for imperial review.
Even more, if an emperor issued an edict today without it being drafted by the Grand Secretariat, it was procedurally illegitimate.
Such were the so-called palace edicts—unlawful orders.
Just like today, for memorials debated during court deliberations, the Grand Secretariat would formulate preliminary recommendations on the spot—known as draft rescripts—which were then transferred to the Directorate of Ceremonial to be submitted to the Two Palaces for instructions.
If the Two Palaces approved, the Directorate of Ceremonial would apply the vermilion endorsement, and the decision would be carried out. If they disapproved, they would instruct the Directorate of Ceremonial to return the memorial to the Grand Secretariat for further deliberation.
Naturally, there were exceptions. If the Two Palaces did not wish to address a matter, they would retain it within the palace—the so-called withholding within the palace without issue—and the matter would simply be shelved without further debate.
The authority to dispose of memorials rightfully belonged to the emperor, but with the Two Palaces now overseeing the state, it was temporarily exercised by them.
"You may go, Companion," Zhu Yijun said with a nod.
Feng Bao bowed and withdrew.
Zhu Yijun watched the old eunuch's retreating figure, his gaze turning slightly cold.
He knew the Two Palaces did not understand the twists and subtleties within the memorials, nor did they possess the political prestige required to reject the Grand Secretariat's draft rescripts.
Faced with opinions from all sides, the Two Palaces could essentially only follow advice meekly or remain noncommittal, leaving the actual discretion over vermilion endorsements to fall into the hands of the Directorate of Ceremonial.
In the end, the Grand Secretariat held the power of proposal, while the Directorate of Ceremonial held the power of veto.
And this Companion of his would naturally rise to the pinnacle of power, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Senior Grand Secretary.
It would be best if such an outcome never came to pass.
With these thoughts in mind, he turned and gave a faint order: "Let us go back to Ciqing Palace."
***
Upon returning to Ciqing Palace, it was precisely time for the midday meal.
Because the mourning period for the late Emperor was still observed, today's lunch was rather austere.
Fortunately, the dishes were diverse and exceptionally flavorful, and Zhu Yijun ate with earnest focus.
He was at an age where his body was growing, so he had to nourish himself properly. Otherwise, dying in his thirties like the late Emperor would be disastrous.
As soon as he tasted one of the dishes, Zhu Yijun frowned and pointed toward it, signaling a eunuch.
"Inform the Directorate of Imperial Delicacies that this dish is too sweet. Do not serve it again."
It was not that he disliked sweets, but in modern times, when the Wanli Emperor's tomb was excavated and his remains examined, his mouth was found to be full of cavities.
He had even been forced to rely on opium for pain relief, his later years undoubtedly spent in agonizing misery.
Since he had assumed this identity, he naturally had to take precautions and care for his teeth.
After finishing his meal, Zhu Yijun thoroughly cleaned his teeth before lying down on his bed to rest, attended by palace maidservants.
Returning to the Eastern Palace did not mean his duties for the day were finished.
After his midday nap, he still needed to pay his respects to Empress Chen and Noble Consort Li.
Since antiquity, within the imperial household, only the filial son remained invincible; such courtesies were indispensable.
Beyond paying respects, he also needed to try swaying state affairs through Noble Consort Li.
For the post of Superintendent Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, which he had pried from Feng Bao's grasp, he had to select someone after his own heart.
Otherwise, he would not have a single usable person at his disposal.
Today, even punishing a minor eunuch had required Feng Bao's nod of approval, a reality that stuck like a fishbone in his throat.
Under such circumstances, to say nothing of wielding absolute sovereign authority, if someone grew desperate enough to take drastic measures, he would not even know how he died.
Lying in bed, Zhu Yijun slowly closed his eyes.
Yet the thoughts in his mind did not cease as he turned over what he had seen and heard in the hall today.
This Great Ming dynasty was truly riddled with holes.
Xuan-Da showed signs of warlord separatism, and the central army had clearly lost its deterrent force.
Huguang dared to humiliate an imperial commissioner, meaning that local magnates and prominent clans colluding and annexing land had surely reached an appalling extent.
Not to mention the other matters debated in court—Japanese pirates raiding the southeastern coast, spring tax revenues remaining uncollected—a tangled mess of affairs.
Now, with the late Emperor's passing, stability was paramount above all else, forcing the central court to practice forbearance for the sake of the realm and yield time and again.
Yet anyone with discerning eyes could see that the time for reform had become unavoidable.
No wonder the men of the Grand Secretariat had no faith in him as the new emperor, stopping at nothing to frantically gather power. Most likely, they sought to suppress all opposing factions and lead the reforms themselves.
Amid these swirling thoughts, Zhu Yijun drifted into a deep sleep.
***
When he awoke from his midday nap, the weariness in his head had completely vanished, leaving him refreshed and clear-headed.
Zhu Yijun stretched languidly.
He instructed the maidservants, "Prepare me to pay respects to the Two Palaces."
He now had two mothers: his birth mother, Noble Consort Li, and his mother in the ritual lineage, Empress Chen.
In truth, his predecessor had rarely taken the initiative to pay respects to Empress Chen; after all, she was not his birth mother, and their bond was limited.
Furthermore, Empress Chen had borne no sons throughout her life, had never enjoyed the late Emperor's favor, and had lived in a separate palace for years.
Lacking both influence and affection, his predecessor naturally visited seldom.
Yet now that he needed to cultivate the persona of a filial son, he naturally had to serve both palaces with filial devotion, neglecting neither.
Thus, he set out first for Empress Chen's quarters.
Yet when Zhu Yijun arrived outside the hall, he was actually stopped by a female palace official.
"Your Highness, Her Majesty the Empress is overcome with grief and had not rested for two or three days. The imperial physicians administered medicine, and she only just fell asleep," the woman reported respectfully.
Zhu Yijun felt helpless.
He could hardly have someone shake her awake just so he could pay his respects.
In the end, he could only face Empress Chen's palace from outside, perform every ceremonial courtesy to the fullest, and turn to leave.
He then proceeded straight to Noble Consort Li's residence.
He visited Noble Consort Li frequently, and the maids and eunuchs, knowing he would arrive around this hour, ushered him straight inside.
When Zhu Yijun arrived, Noble Consort Li was perusing a memorial.
Dressed in informal robes within her bedchamber, Noble Consort Li could not conceal her beauty.
That she had caught the late Emperor's eye as a palace maid and entered the harem owed everything to her appearance; now merely twenty-eight or nine, she was at an age where her elegance had not dimmed in the least.
Zhu Yijun greeted softly, "Your child inquires after Mother's well-being."
Seeing her son arrive, Noble Consort Li closed the memorial.
Rolling her shoulders and neck, she said with a smile, "If only you showed as much promise every day as you did today, your mother might just live to be a hundred."
Noble Consort Li currently held de facto sway over the inner palace, enjoying everyone's allegiance. Everything that had transpired inside and outside Wenhua Hall had been reported to her immediately by eunuchs and maidservants.
Her son, normally impetuous and mischievous, had behaved with surprising propriety today.
She had heard that when the court adjourned, many ministers had openly praised her son for bearing the demeanor of a true sovereign, leaving her savoring the thought for quite some time.
Zhu Yijun naturally knew what to say to please a woman: "It was all thanks to Mother's constant guidance that I did not bring shame to you today."
Noble Consort Li gently helped him up, the smile on her face widening.
After instructing the maidservants to bring some pastries, she turned back to her son. "I heard you also stirred up some trouble before the hall?"
Chapter 7