Chapter Eight: On the Importance of Names

In the twenty-fourth year of the Hongwu reign, on the nineteenth day of the second month, the season of Rain Water had arrived. Although Spring had come to the capital, Ying Tian, the chill of early spring still lingered, and gusts of cold wind swept through from time to time.

In the examination hall, Zhu Yang had already finished the first round of the imperial exam and was now bent over his desk, writing furiously for the second round.

Inside the Imperial Library, Zhu Yuanzhang’s expression grew increasingly grim as he read the confession handed to him by Jiang Huan. The events from nine years ago were laid out before him, every detail exposed.

Nine years earlier, just before and after the burial of the Crown Prince Zhu Xiongying, a wealthy family named Chen Hongtu in Zhejiang was struck by calamity: his children died one after another from illness.

The pain of losing both son and daughter in middle age left Chen Hongtu devastated, his heart broken, and so desperate that he contemplated ending his own life by drowning.

At this moment, a wandering monk arrived at his home. Chen Hongtu, thinking the monk was there to solicit alms, handed him ten taels of silver. Unexpectedly, the monk, after accepting the silver, did not leave; instead, he paced around the courtyard, deep in thought.

Chen Hongtu, a devout Buddhist, saw the monk wandering and looking contemplative, so he quickly approached and asked, "Master, have you discovered something?"

The wandering monk intoned a Buddhist greeting and asked, "Have you recently lost family members?"

The monk’s question pierced Chen Hongtu’s wounded heart. Overcome with sorrow, he recounted everything that had happened in his family to the monk.

Instead of offering comfort, the monk laughed heartily, saying, "It seems you are about to ascend to greatness!"

Chen Hongtu had expected only solace for his misfortune; instead, the monk laughed and uttered something incomprehensible. His pain had become the monk’s amusement. Even with his usually good temperament, Chen Hongtu was furious. Grabbing for a stick in the courtyard, he mocked, "Heaven? Which heaven? Am I to become emperor?"

"You’re absolutely right!" The monk clapped his hands and nodded, laughing. "That is exactly the heaven I mean!"

Startled, Chen Hongtu dropped the stick he had found.

"Master, such words should not be spoken carelessly. The current emperor has unified the realm, and the people live in peace..." Chen Hongtu spoke as he quickly went to the door and bolted it tightly.

The fearsome reputation of the Embroidered Guards preceded them. Although Chen Hongtu was suicidal, he had no wish to die in their prison.

"Rest assured, the Embroidered Guards keep watch only on high officials and nobles. We commoners are beneath their notice; they have neither the time nor interest to eavesdrop on our conversation," the monk said with a smile.

"Then why do you say such things?" Chen Hongtu asked. "As you said, I am but a commoner. To be emperor? Master, please stop jesting, or I might drag you to the magistrate—for a reward!"

"What does it matter, commoner or noble? The current emperor was once a nobody, and rose to the throne, did he not?" the monk replied. "I speak to you because your departed son has attained enlightenment; as the saying goes, when one achieves immortality, his whole family ascends to heaven. As the father of a celestial being, you are destined for fortune—already, dragon’s energy is gathering about you!"

"Dragon’s energy?" Chen Hongtu looked himself over. He hadn’t bathed yesterday, so he smelled a bit, but otherwise seemed ordinary: his hands were red, his face pale.

"Exactly, dragon’s energy. You don’t feel it much now, but when it gathers fully, you’ll stand out from the crowd!" To convince him, the monk dug up a piece of gold in the corner of Chen Hongtu’s courtyard; hidden in a crack in the gold was a slip of paper: "Chaos in Hongwu, Hongtu becomes king."

Chen Hongtu stared, stunned, at the slip of paper in the monk’s hand. His wealth had long since been exchanged for silver, and he planned to drown himself with it at dawn. Gold was rare in ordinary homes; for a middling wealthy man like him, even more so.

Holding the gold and reading the message, Chen Hongtu felt his desires slowly eroding his reason.

The monk watched Chen Hongtu, smiling knowingly—another hapless soul had taken the bait.

This "wandering monk" was no true monk, nor any spiritual master; he was a remnant of the White Lotus sect.

After Zhu Yuanzhang became emperor, he not only purged the court officials, but also fiercely suppressed the White Lotus sect. Once boasting hundreds of thousands of followers, the sect dwindled, its leaders replaced and killed year after year, faster than game NPCs.

But no matter who led, their rebellious ambitions never faded. The mid-level cadres began seeking opportunities for revolt, and many others, even if rebellion failed, aimed to simply vex Zhu Yuanzhang.

Chen Hongtu was just another pawn, chosen by the monk to disgust the emperor.

He had already investigated Chen Hongtu’s family, and secretly buried a lifelike brass ingot in the courtyard the night before.

...

"What should I do?" Chen Hongtu steadied himself, imagining himself as emperor, with the monk as his advisor.

"First, you must arrange a ghost marriage for your daughter," said the monk. "Though dragon’s energy is gathering, you are alone. To conquer the world, you need strategists, civil and military officials. Look at the emperor—he had Xu Da, Liu Ji, and later Chang Yuchun, Lan Yu, Li Shanchang. You too must have such aides!"

"But what does a ghost marriage for my daughter have to do with acquiring civil and military officials?" Chen Hongtu asked.

"It’s closely related. If you find a deceased noble with ‘Ying’ or ‘Xiong’ in his name to pair with your daughter’s spirit, your dragon’s energy will grow stronger, and heroes like Xu Da and Liu Ji will appear at your side!" the monk persuaded.

"But where am I to find a dead noble with ‘Ying’ and ‘Xiong’ in his name?" Chen Hongtu was troubled; try as he might, he could think of none, let alone a noble.

"I have the perfect candidate, if you dare," the monk said.

"Who?" Chen Hongtu’s eyes flashed with a ruthless determination—if he was to be emperor, what could he not do?

"The emperor’s crown prince, Zhu Xiongying!" the monk replied.

Chen Hongtu collapsed onto the ground, his grand ambitions instantly extinguished.

To rob the imperial tomb was a capital crime; stealing the crown prince’s corpse even more so—a crime that doomed one’s entire clan.

The monk sighed as he watched Chen Hongtu crumple—this hapless soul was too timid.

Should he try to persuade him again? The monk hesitated.

No, hopeless after all. The monk shook his head but, unwilling to concede, taunted, "Your name bears the characters for Great Ambition; you possess dragon’s energy, your son is immortal, yet you falter at the critical moment. Truly pitiful!"

With that, the monk strode toward the door, ready to seek another, braver pawn. He resolved that this year, he would retrieve Zhu Xiongying’s corpse, then desecrate it and hang it on the gates of Luzhou beside the capital, to thoroughly humiliate Zhu Yuanzhang.

Chen Hongtu, stung by the monk’s words, suddenly thought: Yes, I have dragon’s energy, my son is immortal—what do I have to fear?

He felt power surge through him and sprang to his feet: "Who says I’m pitiful? For the sake of my ambition, I’ll do it!"

"Really?" The monk was surprised that his casual words had reignited Chen Hongtu’s determination.

"Really, I’ll make arrangements now!" Chen Hongtu rushed to the side courtyard and dug up nearly ten thousand taels of silver from the pigsty.

"Arrangements?" The monk was astonished; he had only intended for Chen Hongtu to fund the operation while he provided the manpower—and if exposed, Chen Hongtu would take the blame.

He hadn’t expected Chen Hongtu to say "arrangements," which meant Chen Hongtu knew grave robbers.

Indeed, Chen Hongtu did know a band of tomb robbers; his ancestors had been tomb raiders themselves. After Zhu Yuanzhang unified the realm and began cracking down hard on tomb raiding, Chen Hongtu abandoned the family trade for legitimate business.

Yet he never lost touch with his old contacts, as tomb robbing was highly lucrative, and new faces entered the trade constantly.

Tempted by the promise of silver and the riches buried with Zhu Xiongying, Chen Hongtu quickly found the boldest group of grave robbers.

...

It was a night when a typhoon made landfall, the sky pouring as if split open. The tomb guards, wishing to avoid the rain, abandoned their posts. The grave robbers slipped quietly into Mount Zhong and soon found the burial place of Zhu Xiongying—unearthing Zhu Yang, who had just crossed over into this world.

Due to the darkness and torrential rain, the robbers did not notice that the youth they carried on their shoulder, presumed dead, was staring wide-eyed at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Zhu Yang had been dreaming of a romantic escapade with his senior when he abruptly woke up to find himself slung over someone’s shoulder, drenched by the rain.

Shivering, Zhu Yang felt he was losing body heat. He had no idea what era he had landed in, but he certainly didn’t want to die again.

So, in the rain, Zhu Yang shouted, "Hey, stop running! There’s no one chasing us. There’s a temple up ahead—let’s take shelter, I’m freezing to death!"

The grave robber, startled to hear the "dead" youth speak, lost his footing and skidded ten meters, tracing a graceful arc through the air.

Crash!

Both crashed heavily to the ground.

"Ouch, watch your step! It’s so slippery in this rain, and you’re still running—are you in a hurry to be reincarnated?" Zhu Yang wiped mud from his face as he complained.

"Please spare me, sir! I have only acted on someone’s orders. If you wish to drink my blood, it’s very foul!" The grave robber, shocked to see the youth speaking, forgot his pain and knelt in terror.

"Drink blood? Are you mad?" Zhu Yang cleaned the mud from his face and, considering this robber had inadvertently saved his life, said, "Get up, I’m just a human. Let’s go, or I’ll freeze to death!"

"Really human?" the robber asked tentatively.

"Really!" Zhu Yang rolled his eyes, rubbed his hands to warm them, and placed them on the robber’s face. "See, still some warmth!"

"You really are!" The robber, feeling the youth’s warmth, relaxed a little.

...

Soon, Zhu Yang and the robber found shelter in a dilapidated temple, where they kindled a fire with dry straw. The robber, still fearful, stared at Zhu Yang’s handsome face.

But he soon devised a plan to rid himself of this terror: he would sell Zhu Yang to a brothel. If Zhu Yang turned out to be a ghost, the brothel would have to deal with it, not him.

With this in mind, the robber took great care of Zhu Yang, while Zhu Yang, eager to discover the secrets of this world, cooperated amiably.

This arrangement continued until they arrived at a brothel in Zhejiang. The robber smiled and said to Zhu Yang, "You’ve been sold. From now on, you’re a servant here. One day, you’ll be promoted to chief steward—a promising future!"

"Chief steward?" Zhu Yang looked at the brothel and at the current chief steward—damn, just a pimp.

"I won’t go!" Zhu Yang struggled, but as an eight-year-old, he was no match for several grown men. Just as despair engulfed him—

His adoptive father, Zhu Yuan, happened to pass by. Having failed the imperial exams for the second time, Zhu Yuan was frustrated; he drank wherever he found wine and lodged wherever there was a brothel. Though not a saint, he had his principles and despised human trafficking.

After a bout of fisticuffs, Zhu Yuan chased away the brothel staff and grave robbers.

Seeing Zhu Yang’s pitiful state and having no children himself, Zhu Yuan took him in as his foster son.

...

"Who is this Zhu Yuan?" Zhu Yuanzhang asked after reading the confessions.

"Officially, he’s a scholar, but secretly he’s a smuggling ringleader in Fujian, trafficking tea and silk. At first, the scale was small, but after adopting Master Zhu, the smuggling increased dramatically, even involving pirates. Their forces dominate the entire southeastern sea. All merchant ships, except those belonging to Ming, are plundered by Master Zhu’s men," Jiang Huan replied. "So, it seems your grandson’s loyalty lies with the Ming, after all!"

Zhu Yuanzhang chuckled, "Tell your people to just keep watch over there, don’t alarm anyone. Let my grandson keep his power; I don’t need those men!"

"And furthermore..." Zhu Yuanzhang glanced at the names on the list. "Though my grandson’s safety depends on these people, their motives are impure. I was going to execute their entire clans—now let’s settle for three generations. As for the White Lotus sect, spread my decree: any official who discovers them is to execute them on the spot!"

"Go now, and remind those investigating this matter—do not speak recklessly! The time is not yet ripe," Zhu Yuanzhang instructed.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Jiang Huan replied and left the Imperial Library.

"Sister, my grandson has returned. Where are you now?" Zhu Yuanzhang rose and gazed at the portrait of Empress Ma behind him, his heart filled with emotion.

When Zhu Xiongying passed suddenly on the first day of May, Empress Ma, who had raised him, was overcome with grief and fell ill, passing away herself in August of that year.

Now, Zhu Xiongying had returned in the form of Zhu Yang. Zhu Yuanzhang hoped that one day, Empress Ma might return under another name.

But was that possible? Zhu Yuanzhang stroked her portrait and sighed deeply.

Perhaps, with his grandson’s return, he should be content.

Yet—

"Sister, I truly miss you," Zhu Yuanzhang said mournfully.