Chapter Twenty-Four: The Fate of the Puppet Master (Supplement for New Year's Eve)

Huang Da (Zhu Biao) had left, but his mood was distinctly off. He looked somewhat disappointed, yet also thoughtful, as if something weighed on his mind.

"You’re a scion of the official class, a future member of the civil bureaucracy—what business do you have being so pensive?" Zhu Yang muttered under his breath, watching Huang Da’s retreating figure.

The date for the imperial examination had been set.

According to custom, after the palace examination, the top-ranked scholars would be assigned to the Hanlin Academy for observation. If they performed well, they would remain in the capital and rise swiftly through the ranks; if not, or if they displeased a powerful patron, they might be dispatched to distant posts or languish in the Hanlin Academy until their death.

But Zhu Yang cared little for any of that. All he wanted was the title of “jinshi.” He sought only the official recognition as a scholar, so that resigning from office in the future might be easier. For this, he had to disguise himself as an arrogant, unbridled jinshi—just as Jie Jin had once done.

After Jie Jin passed the imperial examination, he quickly won the favor of Zhu Yuanzhang. Then Jie Jin began to let himself go: first he memorialized the Ministry of War for negligence, then submitted a petition on behalf of Li Shanchang, and later impeached the Right Chief Censor Yuan Tai. Jie Jin attacked anyone he pleased, like a relentless terrier.

In the end, Zhu Yuanzhang, wishing to protect him, ordered Jie Jin’s father to take him home and keep him behind closed doors to temper his character.

With such precedent, Zhu Yang decided to imitate it. Now was the perfect time to test the Crown Prince.

He had already learned indirectly that Huang Da was the Crown Prince’s companion and enjoyed a close relationship with him. If Huang Da relayed today’s conversation to the prince, the prince would surely remember Zhu Yang, develop a dislike for him, and thus Zhu Yang could happily pack his things and leave.

As for Huang Da’s suggestion that he meet Prince Qin Zhu Xian and Duke of Cao Li Jinglong—that was impossible.

But to kill them was inevitable.

Zhu Yang would never tolerate anyone harboring malice toward him.

So, upon learning that these two were the masterminds behind the rumors, Zhu Yang had already written their ending: “On such-and-such a date, Prince Qin Zhu Xian and Duke of Cao Li Jinglong, overcome by guilt for spreading falsehoods, chose to commit suicide, offering their lives in apology to those they had harmed.”

To meet them now would only give others ammunition against him.

The only thing troubling Zhu Yang was: what would happen to the Campaign of Jingnan after Li Jinglong’s death?

Li Jinglong was a crucial figure in that conflict—a consummate traitor who repeatedly squandered opportunities, allowing Zhu Di to grow stronger, and, through a series of defeats, handed over much equipment to Zhu Di. In the later stages, he even opened the city gates and welcomed Zhu Di to the throne.

Zhu Di’s victory in the Campaign of Jingnan owed at least thirty percent to Li Jinglong.

The clearest example was in the first year of the Jianwen era, when Li Jinglong led five hundred thousand troops to attack Beiping. At that time, Zhu Di had already taken his elite forces to Yongping and then to attack Daning, leaving only his heir Zhu Gaochi and Princess Xu Miaoyun to defend Beiping.

Even then, Li Jinglong attacked several times but failed to take the city, until one day, Quneng, commander of Sichuan, led his son and personal guards in a bloody surprise assault, breaching the gate and opening it.

Such an opportunity would never be missed by an ordinary general—but Li Jinglong was anything but ordinary. He thought, “If Quneng can breach the gate, so can I,” and ordered Quneng to withdraw.

In the aftermath, Zhu Gaochi not only strengthened the defense at Zhangye Gate but, taking advantage of the cold, built an impenetrable ice wall there.

Li Jinglong’s massive army failed to capture Beiping, and was instead utterly defeated by Zhu Di’s returning forces.

Had he seized Beiping and Zhu Di’s family, the course of the Campaign of Jingnan might have been very different.

But there were no hypotheticals then.

Now, though, the future was uncertain.

If Zhu Biao died of illness next year, as history recorded, Zhu Yunwen would succeed the throne, and, guided by the “enlightened” civil officials, the reduction of the princely powers would become inevitable.

By then, Li Jinglong would be but a handful of dust, never to become commander-in-chief.

Who then would lead the campaign? That variable could determine the success or failure of the Campaign of Jingnan.

Truthfully, in Zhu Yang’s heart, a hundred Zhu Yunwens could not equal one Zhu Di.

From the Hu Weiyong case to the Lan Yu affair, Zhu Yuanzhang had eliminated nearly all capable generals.

Yet the Ming borders still needed strong commanders.

The remnants of the Yuan dynasty in the north remained powerful, Annam in the south was always restless, and pirates roamed the coasts.

In such circumstances, Zhu Di could lead troops north, but could Zhu Yunwen do the same?

The answer was obvious—he could not.

If Zhu Di failed in the Campaign of Jingnan and the princely generals were all removed, what future could Zhu Yunwen bring to Ming, sitting peacefully on the throne? Zhu Yang dared not imagine.

After all, Zhu Yunwen was the sort who, in battle, could command his soldiers, “Do not let me acquire a reputation for killing my uncles,” such nonsense. If he brought forward the disaster of Tumu Fortress, Zhu Yang would not be surprised.

But that was not what Zhu Yang wanted.

Though he had always planned to seek his fortune in the Americas, Ming was still his homeland, and he wished for its strength and prosperity, or at least, before its fall, to thoroughly sinicize the Jurchens—or, better yet, eliminate them altogether.

“Forget it. I’ll take things as they come. If Zhu Yunwen, by some stroke of luck, defeats the Yongle Emperor, I’ll lead my overseas army and bring his Ming to an early end!” Zhu Yang lay back in his chair, squinting at the harsh sunlight, making his secret resolve.

Since he had already altered history, he would see it through to the end.

A man must not forget those left behind when he pulls up his trousers.

...

In the Imperial Library, Zhu Biao returned from the small courtyard and immediately plunged inside.

“How was it? What was the boy’s mood?” Zhu Yuanzhang put aside his memorials and asked.

“He seemed fine, his eyes darting about—probably plotting some scheme. But it seems Zhu Yang harbors a great deal of resentment toward the civil officials!” Zhu Biao poured himself a cup of water as he spoke, showing none of the disappointment or contemplation he’d displayed in the courtyard.

Having been the heir for so many years, Zhu Biao had his own depths.

“How so?” Zhu Yuanzhang asked with interest.

Zhu Biao recounted in detail his conversation with Zhu Yang in the courtyard.

“Haha... That boy! He really has the makings of an emperor—he sees the issues clearly. Looks like our prior deliberations were correct. Let him linger in the bureaucracy a few more years; eventually, he’ll subdue both civil and military officials, and we won’t have to worry about him!” Zhu Yuanzhang laughed heartily.

“Yes, our Ming will surely surpass the Han and Tang dynasties!” Zhu Biao nodded.

“Go and make arrangements. Before the palace examination, let there be no further disputes. This time, let’s see if our eldest grandson can surprise us!” Zhu Yuanzhang instructed.

“And furthermore...” Zhu Yuanzhang paused.

“Father...” Zhu Biao’s expression changed, wanting to step forward and support Zhu Yuanzhang.

“I am fine!” Zhu Yuanzhang waved his hand. “Though one is my son and the other my nephew’s son, both carry my blood. Yet for such actions, I must be resolute, lest other rebellious sons take the wrong lesson.”

He sighed: “It is my failing. I always emphasized brotherly love, but forgot my identity. In the imperial family, brothers are also subjects; the roles of ruler and subject are distinct...”

Zhu Biao was silent. He had always wished to preserve the harmony between brothers, but no matter his efforts, the second son had crossed the line.

“Send my decree!” Zhu Yuanzhang clenched his fist and spoke loudly, “Order Duke of Cao Li Jinglong to commit suicide; confine Prince Qin Zhu Xian in Fengyang; Prince Qin’s title shall pass to his eldest son, Zhu Shangbing...”