Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Prelude to the Storm

As the sun set in the west and the final rays of light faded, the palace examination was declared over. Zhu Yang set down his brush and blew gently on the ink of his paper. Thus, a nearly five-thousand-word “Gluttonous Plan” was completed.

If this plan could be put into action, the Great Ming would become a primeval beast, and the world would tremble before it. But could this plan ever be realized? Would Zhu Yuanzhang even lay eyes on this essay? And if he did, what would he think?

Zhu Yang felt that the passion he’d had when he first took up the brush had already dissipated.

According to the procedures of the palace examination, next came the collection and sealing of the exam papers by the supervising officials. The grading would begin the following day.

Dragging his exhausted body back to his small courtyard, Zhu Yang had barely entered when Liu Yuan approached him with a look of delight. “Young master, how did it go? Is the title of top scholar within easy reach?”

“Top scholar? Nonsense, it’s gone!” Zhu Yang replied irritably.

“What’s wrong? Did you not take the exam?” Liu Yuan asked in surprise. “You didn’t sneak off during the exam to meet Miss Xu from the Duke of Wei’s household, did you?”

“The old master was right—you’re a hopeless lecher. You can’t take your eyes off a pretty face!” Liu Yuan said, feigning grief. “Such a golden opportunity! If the old master knew, he’d rise from the grave to give you a thrashing!”

Growing up together, Liu Yuan was well aware of Zhu Yang’s abilities. Since Zhu Yang set foot on the path of imperial examinations, he had always ranked first—from the county exam to the provincial exam—never losing his lead. Taking first place in the palace examination would be an unprecedented feat, an immense honor. If the old master knew, he’d be overjoyed.

“You’re the lecher, your whole family is!” Zhu Yang retorted.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t disappointed, but more than anything, he felt let down. When he saw the exam question, adrenaline had spurred him to pour his “Gluttonous Plan” onto the page. But after leaving the Hall of Supreme Harmony, he realized he’d written it all for nothing.

By this time, Zhu Yuanzhang’s “Ancestral Precepts of the Ming” was already in print. The nations he’d forbidden to attack were stepping stones to the stars and the seas. Moreover, most of the Ming’s civil officials harbored an inexplicable wariness towards lifting maritime prohibitions. Anyone daring to suggest opening the seas would be as if they’d desecrated the ancestors’ graves of these officials—especially in the mid to late Ming period.

Some officials justified their stance by claiming it was to defend against the Japanese pirates. But were they truly that invincible? The Ming navy of this era was not like that of the late Qing. After all, it was in the Yongle era that they built massive ships capable of sailing as far as Africa.

Given such capabilities, why impose restrictions?

Moreover, while these officials loudly advocated maritime bans, they were secretly colluding with merchants to smuggle goods overseas and amass great wealth.

After submitting his paper, Zhu Yang knew that his advocacy for war had touched a raw nerve among those officials—let alone his suggestion to build ships, form a navy, and engage in what he euphemistically called “overseas trade” (read: plunder). The examiners needn’t look further: as soon as they saw “lift the maritime ban,” they’d think, “Is this kid digging up my ancestors’ graves?” Not only would they fail him, they’d want to stamp his paper with ten crosses. Someone like him, aspiring to officialdom? Out of the question!

Zhu Yang sighed. He even wondered, if this plan were read by Qin Shi Huang, Emperor Wu of Han, or Emperor Taizong of Tang, would they be delighted?

“Well, perhaps it’s for the best. The palace examination doesn’t eliminate candidates—just participating means I’m a presented scholar. At least I’ve fulfilled my adoptive father’s wishes,” Zhu Yang consoled himself.

As for becoming an official, that was now impossible. According to the rules, aside from the top three—Zhuangyuan, Bangyan, and Tanhua—who would be immediately appointed (the top scholar becoming a compiler at the Hanlin Academy, the next two as associate compilers), second and third tier presented scholars would have to take another exam at the Hall of Supreme Harmony to be considered for junior positions. As someone who’d likely rank at the bottom of the third tier, Zhu Yang had no chance.

“In a way, that’s good—saves me the trouble of resigning!” Zhu Yang shook his head and said to the crestfallen Liu Yuan, “Look at you—being top scholar isn’t the only way to live in this world.”

“But young master, you had every opportunity…” Liu Yuan muttered stubbornly.

“All right, cheer up. Pack our things—we’re heading back to Fujian!” Zhu Yang patted Liu Yuan’s shoulder. “We’re going to do something much more exciting than chasing after the top scholar’s title!”

“You’re not going to wait for the results?” Liu Yuan tried to protest. What if an examiner or even the emperor himself made a mistake and picked his master as the top scholar? After all, the emperor was getting on in years—perhaps poor eyesight would work in their favor!

The more Liu Yuan thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. He grabbed Zhu Yang’s sleeve. “Why don’t we wait for the imperial announcement before leaving?”

“Stop dreaming. The emperor isn’t blind!” Zhu Yang replied irritably. “Hurry up and pack. We’ll leave for Fujian in a few days. Hopefully, those fellows will have finished dealing with Luzon by the time we get back!”

…

While Zhu Yang and Liu Yuan were busy packing for their departure, the Jin Yi Wei who had been covertly protecting Zhu Yang noticed his preparations and rushed to Jiang Huan’s residence.

Jiang Huan had just returned from the palace and had not yet changed clothes when he saw his subordinate burst in.

“Sir, bad news! That Zhu kid is about to run. Gather the men quickly!”

“Oh? What Zhu kid? Explain yourself,” Jiang Huan demanded, fixing his gaze on the man.

“That kid in the small courtyard. I just saw him come back from the Hall of Supreme Harmony, packing up with his servant—he’s definitely about to run. Let’s grab him and show him what the Jin Yi Wei can do. With his soft-looking skin, he won’t last an hour under our methods—he’ll spill everything!” The subordinate grinned wickedly, clearly eager to mete out punishment.

“Run, my foot! Torture, your grandmother! Pack your bags and get yourself back up north tomorrow!” Jiang Huan shouted angrily.

To keep Zhu Yang’s identity secret yet ensure his safety, Jiang Huan had told his men that Zhu Yang was a key witness in a major case, and that not a hair on his head was to be harmed, or the emperor himself would hold them to account. Who would have thought this blockhead actually mistook Zhu Yang for a suspect and wanted to torture him?

If his men ever did lay a hand on Zhu Yang…

Jiang Huan shuddered at the thought.

“But why would Master Zhu want to run?” Jiang Huan wondered. The rumor scandal had been resolved—could there still be a threat to Zhu Yang in the capital?

This thought made him uneasy. He quickly dispatched several trusted men to strengthen Zhu Yang’s protection, and hurried toward the palace himself.

…

“So you’re saying the boy is packing to leave?” In the imperial study, Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao were reviewing memorials when Jiang Huan’s report took them by surprise.

“Has he gotten into more trouble lately?” Zhu Yuanzhang asked.

“No, Father. I’ve been keeping an eye on him—nothing unusual,” Zhu Biao replied.

“Then what’s going on?” Zhu Yuanzhang was puzzled. Why would he want to run for no reason?

Run? Suddenly, Zhu Yuanzhang laughed. “That boy must have gotten himself into trouble again—probably something big this time!”

“Crown Prince, go to the Hall of Supreme Harmony and announce that I will personally review the exam papers!” Zhu Yuanzhang ordered.

“Yes, Father,” Zhu Biao answered.