Chapter 5: Summoning All Civil and Military Officials

Outside the Hall of Veneration.

On the stone steps.

“Second Son, what’s happening inside?” Zhu Di shouted at the top of his lungs. After waiting a moment without a reply, his face darkened, and he said coldly, “Monk Jue Yuan, let me warn you: even monks have nine generations of kin!”

Earlier, he’d been confident that, even if there was a trap, no one would bother to harm Zhu Gaochi, the unimportant second son, since Zhu Di’s death wouldn’t change the overall situation. That’s why he’d sent his second son in to test the waters.

Never did he imagine that Jianwen would be so utterly deranged!

Now, with no word from his second son, Zhu Di’s resolve to retreat began to form, but at the same time a murderous intent surged within him.

“Amitabha.” Monk Jue Yuan pressed his palms together, silently reciting the Buddha’s name to suppress the smile threatening to break out, offering no reply.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t dare to send my army into the Hall of Veneration? If I do, every monster and demon within will be annihilated! I won’t hesitate even if blood stains the hall, and I will answer for it to Father myself.”

Fuming, Zhu Di’s eyes blazed with killing intent. He flung his sleeve, about to leave.

Just then—

A deep, thunderous voice rang out from within the hall:

“Get in here!”

Boom!

Zhu Di felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. His body wavered, nearly collapsing, his eyes wide with disbelief as he muttered, “Impossible… I must be hearing things…”

That all-too-familiar voice sounded again: “I told you to get in here!”

Tap, tap.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness—it truly is the Grand Ancestor calling you,” Monk Jue Yuan said gently, coming down to support Prince Yan, Zhu Di, guiding him step by step into the hall.

In a daze, Zhu Di entered the hall and immediately saw his second son, cowering like a quail, kneeling and trembling beside the wall.

His gaze shifted. A man in imperial yellow dragon robes was chatting idly with Zhu Biao, and Zhu Yunwen—the Jianwen Emperor, his sworn enemy—was squatting obediently at Zhu Biao’s feet, hugging his leg with all the docility in the world.

Wait—Zhu Biao?!

“Elder Brother?! You’re alive?!” Zhu Di’s eyes nearly popped out. Terror flooded him.

If even his elder brother, dead for nearly ten years, was alive, then what was so unimaginable about his own father, who’d died four years ago, being resurrected?

Stiffly, Zhu Di turned around. There, in a fiery red dragon robe he could never mistake, sat his father.

Thud!

“Father!” Zhu Di’s soul nearly fled his body. In an instant, he was kneeling in a row with Zhu Gaochi, feeling as if his very bones had turned to mush.

He’d always assumed this scene would play out a hundred years after his death. Never did he expect to face his worst nightmare so soon. Had he known, he’d have rather died at his nephew’s hands.

“Fourth son, you’ve grown bold, haven’t you?”

Zhu Yuanzhang sat stone-faced in the grand master’s chair, his deep voice brimming with unassailable majesty, thundering in Zhu Di’s ears.

Then came a massive foot, swiftly kicking him flat to the ground.

“You unfilial wretch! Have you lost your mind? In this world, only what I give you is yours. What I don’t give—you damn well can’t take!”

With that, Zhu Yuanzhang ripped off his shoe and began beating Zhu Di with it, his rage erupting in curses.

“Father, let me explain… I didn’t rebel! My nephew misunderstood—your Majesty, the Jingnan campaign was your own commandment. Evil ministers seduced my nephew into fratricide; I was only following ancestral instructions to help him purge the traitors…” Zhu Di stammered, clutching his head, trembling so fiercely his very soul seemed to scatter, desperately trying to defend himself.

Misunderstood?

Zhu Yunwen, quiet as a mouse, clung to Zhu Biao’s hand and snorted: That’s not what you said yesterday, Uncle Fourth. Sweating yet?

“Enough! You walk all the way to the West without paying homage to Buddha—spare me the nonsense!” Zhu Yuanzhang, hands on hips and breathing hard, impatiently flung his shoe at Zhu Di’s head.

Zhu Di hastily picked up the shoe, shuffled over on his knees, and dutifully put it back on his father’s foot.

“Grand Ancestor, may I say a few words?” Zhu Youjian stepped forward.

“My great-grandson, speak your mind,” Zhu Yuanzhang replied testily.

Zhu Youjian, facing the ancestor eleven generations removed, a figure even higher than any of his forebears, considered his words carefully. “What does the Grand Ancestor think of the Jianwen reforms?”

Though Zhu Di had no idea who this dragon-robed man was, the fact that even Zhu Yuanzhang listened to him left him no room for objection to the title of ‘Ancestor.’

He pondered, then tried to be as objective as possible: “His Majesty has actively reformed policies and sought renewal, which was indeed greatly beneficial for easing tensions and improving the people’s livelihood.”

“But the Jianwen reforms—constantly changing official titles, palace and hall names in imitation of Zhou ritual—only caused confusion, became empty formalities, and were impractical, overly obsessed with reviving the past. Moreover, the excessive curbing of princely power, the cruel treatment of kinsmen, and disregard for the Emperor-Father’s words allowed sycophants to seize power at court, causing endless harm.”

“Nonsense!”

Zhu Yunwen, face flushed with anger, had been pleased with the praise, but the sudden criticism stung. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded, but with the Grand Ancestor present, every word carried enormous weight—how could he let such slander pass?

“Silence!” Zhu Yuanzhang barked. Zhu Youjian had already recounted many details earlier, so though Zhu Di’s assessment was somewhat subjective, it was also fairly objective. Zhu Yunwen’s public rebuke of his elder dropped him even lower in Zhu Yuanzhang’s estimation.

Zhu Youjian nodded. “Indeed, many aspects of the Jianwen reforms are worth learning from. I hope the Ancestor will remember this: relocating the capital has both pros and cons, but eunuchs bring endless disaster.”

Zhu Di was somewhat baffled but took note of the words. He had no intention of moving the capital yet—all he wanted was to keep his head attached to his shoulders.

As for eunuchs, he understood even less.

Zhu Yuanzhang watched thoughtfully, his gaze growing deep and inscrutable.

He began to study this suddenly twenty years older fourth son, narrowing his eyes as he asked, “Fourth son, tell me—do you believe you can bear the weight of the empire on your shoulders?”

“Grandfather, you mustn’t…” Zhu Yunwen blurted out, panic-stricken.

“Hm?”

Zhu Yuanzhang shot him a sidelong glance, and the Jianwen Emperor immediately fell silent.

“Your son wouldn’t dare!” Zhu Di pressed his head even lower, cold sweat pouring down his face. A test—this was definitely a test.

He knew all too well how cunning his father was. In the past, Zhu Yuanzhang had deliberately cultivated Hu Weiyong’s dictatorship as a pretext to abolish the millennia-old chancellorship and seize supreme power. His methods were unfathomable and terrifying.

“Wouldn’t dare? Then do you know the punishment for rebellion? How would the Emperor deal with you?” Zhu Yuanzhang asked, his tone measured.

“Grandfather!” Zhu Gaochi cried out, “If I may speak plainly: during the Jianwen Emperor’s reign, he wielded the executioner’s blade against the princes and forced them to slaughter one another. My father, a prince of Ming and your son, was driven to feign madness and parade naked through the marketplace just to allay imperial suspicion!”

“Yet even so, the Jianwen Emperor would not relent, itching to kill my father. At this rate, grandfather, your descendants will be wiped out! How many children and grandchildren will you allow this emperor to slaughter? With the Zhu line on the brink of extinction, how could we not rise up?”

“Insolence!”

“How dare you, Zhu Gaochi!”

Zhu Di barked furiously, his face ashen. With his father alive, everything the Jianwen Emperor had done must have been sanctioned by Zhu Yuanzhang. Criticizing Zhu Yunwen now served no purpose but to voice grievances.

But his second son’s tirade was tantamount to admitting rebellion outright. Zhu Di’s heart pounded with terror.

“Utter nonsense! The princes amassed private armies…” Zhu Yunwen protested, red-faced.

“Enough—all of you, be silent!” Zhu Yuanzhang’s brow furrowed, his thunderous voice quelling the clamor in the hall. He stared at Zhu Di, expressionless, his gaze stormy and unreadable.

Everyone in the hall was on edge. Zhu Di and his son knelt, their lives hanging by a thread; Zhu Biao could only sigh, while Zhu Yunwen gripped his robe nervously, awaiting the final pronouncement.

Only Zhu Youjian was lost in thought, calculating silently: Though Zhu Yunwen was already, in Zhu Yuanzhang’s eyes, an utter failure, given the old emperor’s character, he might not depose him—after all, Zhu Yuanzhang was the least likely to admit a mistake, even if this emperor was crowned years after his death.

Yet, if the Jianwen Emperor remained on the throne and history diverged, who knows how the dynasty’s fate would change—and, more importantly, his own ‘foresight’ would vanish, losing control over Jianwen’s timeline.

So then—how could he forge a peak Ming dynasty in Jianwen’s time?

It was possible, but difficult.

And perhaps unnecessary—after all, by the course of history, Zhu Di’s abilities far outstripped the Jianwen Emperor’s.

“Excuse me.”

With that, Zhu Youjian smiled, pulled out the kneeling cushion from under the Jianwen Emperor, and offered it to Zhu Di, his tone cordial:

“Ancestor, the floor is hard and cold—bad for your knees. Here, use this.”

“Eh…” Zhu Di was momentarily confused, but seeing his father’s expression soften, he carefully knelt onto the cushion.

Zhu Gaochi made exaggerated faces, but dared not utter a sound: The floor is cold—I’d like one too.

But Zhu Youjian ignored him: You needn’t fear the cold; you’ll have your hands full in the future.

Silence fell.

“Fourth son’s family—summon all the civil and military officials,” Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly ordered.

“Yes!” Zhu Gaochi responded at once.

Outside the Hall of Veneration.

Zhu Gaochi raised his voice: “Transmit the emperor’s command: All civil and military officials are to appear at once outside the Hall of Veneration!”

“At once!”

The Yan prince’s soldiers departed, soon returning with a bustling crowd.

All the officials were deeply anxious. As far as they knew, the emperor had perished in a palace fire—how could there be new commands? The Prince of Yan had not yet ascended the throne, and so could not be called emperor.

Only a few ministers privy to the truth sighed quietly—they knew the escaped Jianwen Emperor must have been captured.

The officials all harbored anxious thoughts, for they could well imagine the fate that awaited them under Zhu Di’s rule.

Yet there were exceptions—such as the lean, sharp-eyed figure in the crowd, standing straight as a ramrod, ignoring the whispers of his colleagues and meeting the world with an unflinching gaze.

…