Chapter 62: Don’t Stop Me—If I Stay Here, I’ll Starve to Death!

The imperial edict was delivered.

Commander Mao Xiang of the Embroidered Uniform Guard hesitated for a moment, uncertain and wavering in place.

“What are you standing there for? Get out!” Zhu Yuanzhang shouted angrily.

“Yes!” Mao Xiang immediately accepted the order and withdrew.

“Father, are you truly so heartless?” Zhu Zhuang’s tiger eyes brimmed with tears, his fists clenched and trembling uncontrollably. As the second son of the founding emperor of Ming, he could never have imagined his own father would strip him of his title!

His heart was cold, unbearably cold!

“Grandson,” Zhu Yuanzhang called with a blank expression. Zhu Youjian understood at once, and a large sack of grain dropped at the feet of the Prince of Qin.

Old Zhu said coldly, “Throw the Princes of Qin, Jin, and Lu outside the city, grant them seeds and grain, and forbid officials from approaching. Let them live or die as they will. Any who violate this shall have their families exterminated.”

The meaning was clear: no courtier was allowed to approach the place where the two banished princes resided, nor to offer charity or relief.

In other words, they truly had nothing but a sack of grain to start with; hoping for ministers to curry favor in secret was futile.

No one in the Hongwu court would dare challenge the emperor!

“Take your grain and get out!” Zhu Yuanzhang barked.

To Old Zhu, this beginning was at least better than his own, when he had only a bowl.

A tiger father breeds no weak sons. If I managed, so can you.

“Fine. Don’t regret this…” Zhu Zhuang wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, filled with indignation.

“Second Brother, don’t provoke Father. You won’t escape a beating!” Zhu Gang, calmer by nature, hurried forward to persuade him.

Indeed, Zhu Yuanzhang’s face was growing darker, his eyes fierce, on the verge of exploding.

“My lord, please don’t make things hard for us,” two guards of the Embroidered Uniform Guard pleaded quietly.

Zhu Zhuang shuddered, realizing he had been too bold today, and his anger slowly dissipated. He grumbled, “No need for you to drive me out. Third Brother, come with me.”

“Father, your son will now live as a commoner,” Zhu Gang chuckled awkwardly, nodding and bowing as he hoisted the sack of grain, scampering away.

Outside the imperial city.

In a farmer’s home.

He opened the door, dust swirling in the air.

“Are we supposed to live here?” Zhu Zhuang was stunned, staring at the dilapidated mud house and the pitch-black wooden bed. He could hold back no longer and cursed loudly, “I’d rather die than live here! I don’t care who says otherwise—even if the Heavenly King himself came, I wouldn’t listen!”

“My lord, there’s an imperial edict. Every word you say to us must be reported to His Majesty,” the captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guard reminded him.

Zhu Zhuang’s face stiffened, and he muttered, “Just pretend I never said that.”

“My lord, I’ve done all I can. This household has only an old man, missing for days now. The officials haven’t repossessed it yet. I pulled some strings for you,” the captain said earnestly.

In truth, it wasn’t his connections. Empress Ma had personally added before their departure, “At least find them a place to stay and a few acres of land.”

They heard the emperor grunt, but he said nothing, so they dared to act.

“Well, it’s good to have a roof over our heads. Thank you, brothers. Come to the Prince of Jin’s manor for your reward,” Zhu Gang, clearly much smarter than his elder brother, didn’t fuss over it. His father’s words were not to be argued with.

“Yes!” The guards withdrew one by one.

Left behind were the resentful Prince of Qin Zhu Zhuang, the dejected Prince of Jin Zhu Gang, and the bewildered Prince of Lu Zhu Tan.

What’s happening?

Twelve-year-old Zhu Tan was still at the manor, busy flirting with a maid, when he was suddenly dragged over by the Office of Ancestral Affairs, clueless about the situation.

He was still full of questions.

“Little Ten, what are you standing there for? Hurry and tidy up, or you won’t have a place to sleep tonight!” Zhu Gang resigned himself and rolled up his sleeves to start working.

He lifted the bedding, who knew how many generations old, and sniffed it cautiously.

Luckily, it had been washed clean; apart from a faint mustiness, there was no odd smell. The wooden bed, though small, was connected to an earthen kang, easily fitting five or six people if squeezed.

Clearly, several people once lived here.

“Second Brother, you sleep here. At least it’s a wooden bed. If we behave well, Father will let us return sooner. Stop complaining—it’s pointless,” Zhu Gang comforted his brother, then urged, “Little Ten, stop staring. You sleep on the inner kang, I’ll sleep in the middle.”

“Oh, thank you, Brother.” Zhu Tan nodded rapidly, not daring to disobey, for his brother was the one who had bested Zhu Di.

Zhu Gang arranged them like troops, satisfied with the “formation.”

“Old Three, stop fussing. Do you really plan to stay here?” Zhu Zhuang, frowning, wiped the bed with Zhu Tan’s brocade robe before reluctantly sitting down.

After all, they’d spent half the day traveling in a carriage and were exhausted.

“What else can we do? Father wants us to farm, so we must farm. Not even the Heavenly King can change that,” Zhu Gang sighed, wiping his side with Zhu Tan’s robe, then sat cross-legged.

Zhu Tan curled up miserably on the earthen kang, his whole body a tight ball.

“You two can farm if you want. I’d rather starve than till the soil,” Zhu Zhuang said through gritted teeth.

“Now that you mention hunger, my stomach’s growling too. I’ll see if there’s anything to eat,” Zhu Gang glanced at his brother, shaking his head helplessly.

The kitchen was covered in a thin layer of dust, filthy everywhere. A black iron pot was the most valuable item.

All he found was half a piece of yellow bread, which Zhu Gang tossed back into the pot.

It wasn’t fit for dogs at his manor!

After half a day’s toil, Master Zhu decided to go hungry for the night.

“There’s nothing here, but there’s a set of clothes for Little Ten. They fit perfectly,” Zhu Gang shook out the patched garments.

“Brother, I’m already wearing clothes,” Zhu Tan whispered.

Zhu Gang glanced at him and said, “Your clothes are nice. Tomorrow, we’ll sell them for some grain so we don’t starve. It’s for your own good.”

“What, you don’t want to?”

“I do, I do!” Zhu Tan cried in terror.

Zhu Gang finally withdrew his fist, satisfied.

They had their royal robes stripped by Old Zhu when leaving the palace.

The three quarreled, and soon the sky darkened.

It was an overcast night, with no moon; pitch-black, so dark one couldn’t see their hand before their face.

“There’s not even a lamp. How are we supposed to sleep in this darkness?” Zhu Zhuang complained, still sitting, leaning against the wall, grumbling nonstop.

“Make do. You weren’t this picky when we were fighting wars,” Zhu Gang retorted impatiently, turning over and using Zhu Tan’s backside as a pillow, making the boy afraid to even pass gas.

“How is it the same? When the world wasn’t conquered, I lived here—after conquering it, I still live here? Then all my fighting was for nothing!” Zhu Zhuang grew more agitated, cursing for a while, but as no one responded, he quieted down.

“I’m not sleeping on this wretched bed…”

Before long.

Prince of Qin Zhu Zhuang was snoring loudly, sprawled out in deep sleep.

Creak!

The wooden door opened, and a wobbly figure groped their way inside, collapsed at the bedhead, and instantly fell asleep.

…