Shadows of the Imperial Palace: The Eunuchs (5)
The next morning, at the Directorate of Ceremonial.
Yun Bong, the Junior Attendant in charge of the novice eunuchs' day-to-day management, had the register open and was going over their assignments.
"That one really is a useful piece of work, isn't he? Heh-heh!"
Jang Jinmyeong · Year of Xinsi · Yingtianfu · Directorate of Ceremonial
His eye caught Jin Myeong's name as he scanned the roster, and Yun Bong set down his fine brush with a look of genuine satisfaction.
Not even twenty, and already so exceptionally sharp. Yun Bong had taken a liking to the boy.
Eunuchs were human beings; each had his own nature. History was crowded with eunuchs of striking, even outrageous personality. But people who shared the same physical defect, living pressed against one another for decades, tended to settle into certain common patterns of character as well.
One of those patterns was pettiness. A narrowness of the heart.
Unless a grudge happened to form along the way, once a eunuch had taken a liking to someone, he never let that person go over some trivial slight.
Make an enemy of a eunuch, and it was over.
Grace or grievance—put the two together as debts of kindness and vengeance—and eunuchs were creatures who repaid them no matter the cost. When it came to grudges in particular, they displayed a madness and an obsession without equal in the world.
Small wonder the old sayings had been handed down:
"A eunuch's debts of grace and vengeance run deeper than any feud in the Jianghu."
"Better to make an enemy of the Sichuan Tang Clan than to cross a eunuch."
Everyone knew the Sichuan Tang Clan's reputation: a house famed throughout the realm for its savage temper and its mastery of poison. That a comparison to them should favor the eunuchs said everything.
And so Yun Bong, too, found his affection continually drawn toward Jin Myeong, who had—if one could call it a kindness—done him a good turn.
Just then—
"Ah… Gonggong."
Zhao Gou, returning from delivering documents, called to Yun Bong in a careful voice. Yang Gwang was with him.
"Mm? What is it?"
Yun Bong answered out of habit and closed the register.
Zhao Gou exchanged a look with Yang Gwang that meant nothing to anyone else, then opened his mouth again.
"These humble servants have something to report."
"Well?"
Wang Zhen had deliberately made himself scarce. The three of them had a plan.
The night before, the little clique had been thrashed like a leather drum pounded for a festival, and rage and pain had kept them from sleep. The novice eunuch's method had been so cunning that their skins were unmarked—only the meat beneath felt as if it had been crushed to pulp.
After a night of groaning through clenched teeth, Wang Zhen and his hangers-on had, in the end, been unable to swallow their fury, and they had conceived a scheme.
The scheme was this: to report to their superiors that Jin Myeong's purpose in entering the palace was impure.
Impure purpose? To any official, that phrase implied one thing and one thing only.
The assassination of the Son of Heaven.
As if anyone who infiltrated the Imperial Palace would have done so to steal roof tiles off the throne hall. No official alive would think otherwise.
That bastard who ought to have his cock seared over a charcoal fire. Did he take us all for suckers?
Zhao Gou smiled the smile of a man who believed he had already won.
Not knowing how terrifying the palace is—that's why you're going to die.
Even if assassinating the emperor was not the boy's purpose at all, they would compete to dress him up as a man who had infiltrated the palace for exactly that reason. Doing so would make them the first meritorious subjects to have unmasked a traitor.
That was the kind of place the Imperial Palace was. A place where plots that defied all common sense ran rampant.
And besides: there was no history of a martial master voluntarily making himself a eunuch. Yun Bong, and every superior above him, would take the charge with deadly seriousness. Of that, they were certain.
"There is a novice eunuch who concealed his martial arts when he entered the palace. His accomplishment, taken at the lowest estimate, is said to be First-Rate or higher."
"What? Who?"
Just as they had expected, Yun Bong started in shock.
A martial artist had cut off his manhood and come into the palace? A eunuch was not supposed to be capable of martial accomplishment at all—and First-Rate, no less.
A First-Rate expert, unless he had taken leave of his senses, would never become a eunuch. Would he?
"The novice eunuch Jang Jinmyeong."
"What? Jang Jinmyeong…?"
The name coming out of nowhere left Yun Bong visibly rattled; the end of his sentence frayed.
Jang Jinmyeong was the novice he had marked to present to the Grand Director and the Brush-Holding Grand Eunuchs. Of all people, it had to be him.
"Yes, Gonggong. After morning duties I returned to the quarters, then remembered I had not posted the day's work, and went to the novice eunuchs' lodgings. Novice Jang was in the middle of practicing martial arts."
Zhao Gou, who knew nothing of what was going on behind Yun Bong's eyes, answered with force.
There was no shortage of witnesses who could testify that this side had been beaten. But that was not a good method. Dress it up however you liked, and it still came down to this: they had tried to haze the novice eunuchs, and had been smashed to pieces by a novice who knew martial arts.
They could try to push it as a mad novice's insubordination against his betters—but this side was in the wrong as well, and a portion of the boy's crime would be offset. And if, by some chance, that lunatic who knew neither up nor down managed to keep his life, everyone on this side might well take their leave of the living world.
That novice eunuch was genuinely insane.
"Mm… Jang Jinmyeong… You're certain? You saw it with your own eyes?"
"Yes, Gonggong. As this humble servant understands it, there is no history of a martial master voluntarily joining the eunuch clan. And so this servant wondered whether Jang Jinmyeong might perhaps…"
"Perhaps…?"
"It is embarrassing to speak of, but the old stories of Yu Rang and Nie Zheng came to mind. Gonggong."
Yu Rang—who was he? One of the Five Great Assassins of the Warring States, named alongside Jing Ke, who had tried to kill the First Emperor of Qin and thrown his own life away in the attempt. Nie Zheng was another.
A famous passage from Sima Qian's Records of the Grand Historian:
"A gentleman dies for the one who understands him;
a woman adorns herself for the one who delights her."
The man who left those words behind was Yu Rang himself. For his lord's revenge he shaved off his eyebrows, lacquered his face, and swallowed charcoal to change his voice.
Nie Zheng, after a successful assassination, feared that if his identity were discovered his family would be destroyed under the law of collective punishment. He flayed the skin from his own face, gouged out his eyes, split open his belly, drew out his own entrails, and died.
Was that not monstrous in its devotion?
Yun Bong, who had been waiting for Zhao Gou's answer with a look of puzzled inquiry, immediately unleashed a rebuke like a thunderclap.
How dare he! To imply the assassination of the Son of Heaven!
Wang Zhen yesterday, Zhao Gou today. The young eunuchs of late seemed to have taken leave of their senses.
Suppose Jang Jinmyeong had entered the palace to assassinate the emperor. Once that fact came to light, what of the Ministry of Rites officials who had selected him as a eunuch? What of Yun Bong himself, who had assigned him to the Directorate of Ceremonial?
They would be bound to the rack in a line, heads and limbs made to play separately from their trunks.
For an instant, a chill ran through him.
"Gonggong! This humble servant spoke only from loyalty to the altars of the Great Ming and to His Majesty…!"
Seeing Yun Bong tremble, Zhao Gou let his sentence trail off as if frightened. Inwardly, he was cheering.
Everything was proceeding according to Wang Zhen's plan.
The reason Zhao Gou had invoked the names of Yu Rang and Nie Zheng was this: compared to what those two had done to themselves, castration was nothing at all. Was there not, then, some purpose for which the boy had entered the palace? He had meant to say it slantwise.
The Yongle Emperor had shed oceans of blood even before his accession; his enemies were scattered across the realm, and from time to time someone actually made an attempt. It was not a story that could be dismissed as complete nonsense.
But was that not an excessively seasoned move to come from the mind of a fifteen-year-old boy?
In truth, it was a masterstroke Wang Zhen had coached into Zhao Gou's mouth. How would a pair of ignoramuses like Zhao Gou and Yang Gwang have known Nie Zheng and Yu Rang?
If Wang Zhen reported it himself, it would be taken as spite over what Jin Myeong had done to him, and the whole thing would backfire. So he had borrowed Zhao Gou's and Yang Gwang's mouths.
"I do not doubt the heart behind it. But those are not names to be spoken lightly in the palace!"
"This servant is abashed, Gonggong!"
"Mm…!"
Yun Bong, now thoroughly cornered, let out a small sound of distress.
Why did it have to be Jang Jinmyeong, of all people? And what had he learned martial arts for in the first place?
He had entered the Directorate of Ceremonial. He would be taught the Sunflower Manual, unmatched under heaven. It was a half-complete version, true—but a divine art that would let a man smash through Peak Realm in a few years of practice, as if it were nothing.
A precious treasure, that one… I should meet him first… No. No, wait. Hold on… Yes. That would work.
Yun Bong, who had been turning it over precisely because he thought well of Jin Myeong, struck his knee as a thought flashed through him.
Looked at that way, this was actually a stroke of luck.
"This official will look into the matter in due course. Withdraw, and attend to your duties."
"I beg your pardon?"
Zhao Gou, caught off guard, shot back a look of genuine bewilderment.
Yun Bong had seemed on the verge of summoning the boy at once. Suddenly he had gone calm, and now he was saying he would look into it in due course?
This was not a development in Wang Zhen's plan.
"The matter of Jang Jinmyeong is not to be spoken of until this official issues further instruction. And I make this an order: you will not take those two names into your mouths again. Is that understood?"
"I—ah, yes, Gonggong! I—I will bear it in mind!"
"Good. Withdraw."
"Yes, Gonggong!"
Unexpected though it was, Zhao Gou could not defy an order from a superior so far above him. In the end, he withdrew.
What? What went wrong? I did exactly as Wang Zhen said.
He had carried it out without a slip, just as Wang Zhen had instructed. So what had this side missed?
Zhao Gou and Yang Gwang were still turning it over as they turned to leave.
That was when it happened.
Creeeak.
The hall door opened, and a man stepped through.
"Ah—! Cheongsa Zhao Gou greets the Senior Superintendent."
"Cheongsa Yang Gwang greets the Senior Superintendent."
Zhao Gou and Yang Gwang, who had been on the point of leaving the hall, hurriedly bent at the waist.
The Senior Superintendent—the power that came after the Grand Director and the Brush-Holding Grand Eunuchs. The man who had stepped into the hall without warning was a principled stickler who held the eunuch's proper duty above all else. Unusually desireless for a eunuch, and stubborn as iron in a way the others were not: loyalty to the emperor always came first.
Yi Gwak, Senior Superintendent of the Directorate of Ceremonial.
"Gonggong! What brings Gonggong all the way here…?"
Yun Bong, for whom a visit from this exacting superior was entirely unexpected, rose from his seat in a rush.
"I ran into Cheongsa Wang on my way. But what was this about keeping silent? What were you discussing?"
Behind Yi Gwak stood the head of the Directorate's Cheongsa eunuchs.
Wang Zhen.
"Brother, will you be all right?"
"All right about what? Wang Zhen?"
Jeong Go and I had grown markedly closer over a single night. Perhaps because I already carried memories of the boy, there was no awkwardness at all.
"Yes."
"If I thought I wouldn't be all right, would I be standing here like this? Drop it. Don't worry about it."
"Yes, Brother."
Jeong Go's answer was short. He was a fine one, this boy. Not stupid, not naive—he simply believed the people who were worth believing. His people, he trusted. That was his way.
A piece of true gold.
"Less chatter. Hurry up."
"Yes, sir!"
Jeong Go and I answered the escorting eunuch's call and closed the distance.
We were on our way to the Imperial Stables Directorate. The place where they kept the horses and the elephants—an imperial ranch, after a fashion.
If you were going to supervise and oversee the eunuchs of the other offices, you had to know what work they actually did. And so the novice eunuchs assigned to the Directorate of Ceremonial spent their training period circulating through the other bureaus, observing the eunuchs there.
A short while later.
"You've arrived, Jeonbu!"
A familiar face came forward with a greeting. As we reached the pastures of the Imperial Stables Directorate, Man Deok, a Rank 6b Director, came hurrying up and made his bow.
A Jeonbu was full sixth rank. Eunuchs of the other offices often did not know one another by sight—but there was no eunuch alive who failed to recognize one from the Directorate of Ceremonial.
"These are the novice eunuchs who'll be observing the Imperial Stables this morning."
"Ah. The inner attendants newly named to the Directorate of Ceremonial."
Man Deok, Director of the Imperial Stables, looked us over once. He was in his forties. The Jeonbu escorting us was his superior, and yet the man was only in his late twenties.
That, right there, was the difference between the Directorate of Ceremonial and every other office. That was the reality.
"I'll be back in four hours. See that you show them everything properly. This official will be checking."
"Yes, sir!"
We bowed toward the Jeonbu, who turned on his heel without a backward glance, as if the whole business bored him.
That said—could we eunuchs not do something about this freakish way of talking? Damn it all.
Meanwhile, Man Deok, Director of the Imperial Stables, had been in a foul mood since the day before.
The novice eunuchs wearing the Directorate's hat had come swaggering in with their shoulders thrown back, and that was why.
He was pushing fifty, a Rank 6b Director—and the little brats who had shown up yesterday and today would be full sixth-rank Jeonbu by thirty at the latest.
Of course his guts were in a knot. The thought that in ten-odd years he would likely still be wearing the same Jeonbu's hat made it worse. A fire was burning in his belly.
But what was he supposed to do? The Directorate of Ceremonial was the Directorate of Ceremonial. The ones who decided a eunuch's rank were the eunuchs of the Directorate—so even if it stuck in his craw, he had no choice but to drop to the floor and press his forehead down.
That said—
Yesterday's lot were the fakes. Today's two are the real thing.
The novice eunuchs he had seen yesterday had been ordinary. About the usual standard for a Directorate intake? At best, the sort who would end up carrying a member of the imperial clan's palanquin or holding a parasol. The two who had come today were different.
The one who stood a full six feet was a bit large in the frame, perhaps, but his face and his bearing made him the handsomest man Man Deok had seen in his life. The shorter one had sharp, distinct features, and his slightly dusky skin made him look like one of those Hui Muslims who had been so in fashion of late.
The Grand Director will like these two. There'll be nothing to gain by getting on their bad side.
Zheng He, Grand Director and chieftain of ten thousand eunuchs, was himself of Muslim origin. Twenty years of reading men told Man Deok that both the tall one and the short one were destined to be employed in the deep palace. That much was obvious.
"Then I shall show you around, inner attendants. Follow me."
Having finished his first-impression reading of Jin Myeong and Jeong Go, Man Deok took more care with his speech than he had the day before. He turned toward the stables—
And from behind him came an answer he had not expected in the least. An answer that had mixed into it a word he had not expected at all, a word he could not even remember the last time he had received:
What? Thank you? Did I hear that right?
He turned in surprise. It had been the tall one's voice.
That couldn't be. Thank you, out of a Directorate eunuch's mouth?
"Please, speak to us as you would to your juniors. These humble servants hardly know where to put themselves, Lord Man."
"I—ah… huh?"
What? And now he's using humble speech on me? A Directorate eunuch?
Speak as I would to my juniors? Hardly know where to put themselves?
What is this one? He's a Directorate novice, isn't he? Is he even with the Directorate? He's nothing like those little brats—Wang-rat, Dick-gou, Bladder, whatever their names are. Nothing like them at all!
Confronted with Jin Myeong's manner, which was courteous beyond anything he had prepared for, Man Deok could only stand there with his mouth open.