Those Who Guard, Those Who Seize (4)

Did Jin Myeong have any right to speak of archery?

That had been the entire point of the wager. And that right overflowed. They had all seen it with their own two eyes only moments ago—three arrows striking the target as one.

"I lost."

Zhu Zhanhe conceded defeat. This was no place for cheap tricks—not with his grandfather watching.

Damn it! Goddamn it all!

If his own skill had been even a hair better, the wager's victory would have been his. He could have stood on principle then—insisted that a lesser man had no business lecturing a greater one on the proper way of things. And he was a princely heir, while Jin Myeong was nothing but a eunuch. For a princely heir to lose to a lowborn castrate would have damaged the dignity and face of the imperial house. The Yongle Emperor would, in all likelihood, have ruled in his grandson's favor.

A lowly castrate, a master of archery… does that even make sense? Damn it!

But he had witnessed a feat he himself could not possibly match. He had no choice but to admit it.

I need a way out. A move. Anything.

To refuse the result now would only bring a fiercer backlash down on his head. Even so, he could not let it end like this. He would not. He had staked far too much.

In his desperation, Zhu Zhanhe sent a sound transmission to Jin Myeong. Outwardly he arranged his face into a look of composure, masking everything beneath.

"Director Jang, this heir failed to perceive your true nature. There is no need for us to turn against each other at our first meeting, is there?"

"What does Your Highness mean?"

"I'll skip the preamble. This heir will yield a step, just as His Majesty did."

"Yield a step, Your Highness?"

"Petition His Majesty to treat this wager as if it never happened. If you have ears to hear, you know perfectly well what the Prince of Han's household is."

"I do, Your Highness."

"What good can come of the Directorate of Ceremonial making an enemy of the Prince of Han's household? Think on it. If this heir's status is stripped, my father the Prince and the entire Han household will have no choice but to treat you as an enemy. So consider carefully."

The reason Zhu Zhanhe was straining so hard—the stake he had laid on the table—was this:

The Yongle Emperor himself had set that price, just as he had set Jin Myeong's. If the heir's status was revoked, Zhu Zhanhe would fall back to an ordinary commandery prince—and with that, lose any claim to inherit the Prince of Han's title. Far from advancing on Zhu Zhanji, he now stood on the brink of being stripped of the heir apparent's rank altogether.

He was ready to go mad.

In the present situation, there was only one way through: for Jin Myeong, a party to the wager, to petition his grandfather.

"Heir of Han."

"Yes! Your Majesty."

The Yongle Emperor rose from his chair. The shattered armrest on one side still bore the full force of the shock its owner had taken only moments before.

"Do not forget what I said."

Zhu Zhanhe locked eyes with Jin Myeong one last time, then approached the Yongle Emperor. Jin Myeong went with him.

"Have you anything more to show?"

"I have not, Your Majesty. The inner attendant's archery stood above mine. However—regarding today's wager, the inner attendant says he has something to report to the Throne."

Whatever churned inside him, Zhu Zhanhe disguised it beneath a manner of utmost gravity and struck first. Cunning ill-suited to a frame like a bear's. Even as he admitted the loss, he laid the board for Jin Myeong to withdraw the wager.

"Speak. Quickly!"

Having set the stage, he sent another transmission. The Yongle Emperor turned to Jin Myeong, and the eyes of the Prince of Han Zhu Gaoxu, of Zhu Zhanhe, and of everyone assembled fixed on Jin Myeong's mouth.

Those present had a dim sense of what was coming. Jin Myeong would petition to have the wager withdrawn. The Prince of Han Zhu Gaoxu was the highest-ranking commandery prince after Zhu Gaochi, and Zhu Gaochi's health was so precarious that a sudden calamity would surprise no one. To make an enemy of the Prince of Han's household would be no small burden for Jin Myeong and the Directorate of Ceremonial. Keeping his life was fortune enough; to be content with that would have been the reasonable course.

"What is it you would report to Us?"

"This humble servant is merely overwhelmed by Your Majesty's impartial virtue. Your Imperial Grace is boundless, Your Majesty."

The assembled court's expectations missed the mark entirely. Was that all? Could that truly be all? They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wondered, and they doubted—but Jin Myeong folded his hands in a respectful salute and stepped back. He had said everything he meant to say.

A bear, playing at a fox's tricks? Pathetic.

Standing aside, Jin Myeong snorted inwardly at the stunned faces around him. Zhu Zhanhe's sound transmission? Garbage not worth a moment's thought.

Your father and I have been enemies for a long time already.

He had already heaped that kind of humiliation on them at Crown Princess ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Zhang's Yeongan Palace. If he withdrew today's wager, would Zhu Gaoxu sheathe the blade he had pointed this way? The idea was absurd. Jin Myeong knew Zhu Gaoxu's vicious temper better than anyone. The thing to do was not to yield—it was to drive harder, and shove them into the abyss.

And what difference would one more half-grown bear cub make on top of that?

If Jin Myeong withdrew the wager now, he would be announcing to every eunuch in the Directorate of Ceremonial, I am a coward. I am a fool. The sheer gall of trying such a shallow trick in front of him left him almost speechless.

"Your Majesty!"

The one who broke in, ashen at the command, was Zhu Gaoxu. Fury boiled in him beyond anything rage or wrath could name—but before whose face would he dare let it show? The Yongle Emperor was a man whose moods and methods were as unpredictable as any eunuch's. For now, setting all else aside and pleading was the only realistic course.

"Gaoxu."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Shall We tell you the heir's faults?"

"Your Majesty?"

"First: his eyes are dim, and his mind is narrow. He looked down on an inner attendant without even knowing who he was dealing with. He has no eye for judging his subordinates, and he is reckless."

"…"

"Second: a commandery prince challenged a mere inner attendant to a wager? Reckless again. Had he won, it might have been otherwise—but he lost this wretchedly, and the imperial house and the Prince of Han's household have become a laughingstock. Shall We behead every eunuch and palace attendant here just to stop their mouths?"

The Yongle Emperor had not cheerfully granted Jin Myeong and Zhu Zhanhe's wager. He had watched the situation unfold in silence, observing how his grandsons would answer it. And why would he not? A man like Zhu Di did not make even the smallest decision carelessly.

An emperor. The Son of Heaven. The one who looked down upon all under heaven. In a single word, a single gesture, he packed intentions and calculations no ordinary man could imagine.

"…No, Your Majesty."

Even the savage Zhu Gaoxu lowered his tail before his own father, as if there were nothing else to be done. When the Son of Heaven had spoken, what more was there to add? The wish to add more was itself a traitor's heart.

Then another voice rose.

"Your Majesty. An imperial command is truly heavy. Truly heavy."

It was Zhu Gaochi, who had been watching the turn of events with a look of concern. The rift between his own camp and the Prince of Han's household was deepening by the moment. This was not the result he wanted.

"Heavy, and heavy again? There ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seems to be another meaning in that."

"Zhanhe is barely twenty, Your Majesty. As Your Majesty has said, a commandery prince must carry weight and caution in his words and deeds—but a commandery prince is still a man, is he not?"

"Is the Crown Prince taking Zhanhe's part?"

"Your Majesty has already laid out Zhanhe's faults, point by point, and Your Majesty's dignity is vast. The lesson has already been more than sufficient."

"And what would you have Us do?"

"Forgive Zhanhe, Your Majesty, and grant him another chance."

The Yongle Emperor had known the moment his eldest son stepped in. He had known the boy would plead for mercy.

A sovereign must be ruthless. And yet he can never bring himself to be cruel.

His eldest was always like this. He knew perfectly well that his younger brother watched for every chance to bring him down, and still he covered for him, time after time. When that brother had conspired with the ministers to slander him. When the raising of private troops in defiance of an imperial command had been exposed, and the Emperor had been ready to strip the princely title and reduce him to a commoner. Every time, Zhu Gaochi had saved him.

Virtuous rule was never Our portion—but it may well be yours.

He did not like it. But he had to admit it. His eldest son possessed a strength he himself did not. The timber of a ruler who governed by virtue.

"Denied."

To accept the plea would be to pare away his own dignity. And today he had already been asked to yield a step by a young eunuch.

"However. Having heard the Crown Prince's petition, We shall put a question to the Prince of Han and the Han Heir."

It was the Crown Prince who had petitioned—no one else. To dismiss it outright would wound the Crown Prince's authority, so he found the middle path.

Those who heard the extraordinary declaration exchanged stunned looks.

"What say you?"

"Your Majesty!"

"Crown Prince. Step no further."

Zhu Gaochi, who had been about to plead again, withdrew at once before his father's angry voice. To revoke a princely title meant stripping even the rank of commandery prince. It meant Zhu Zhanhe would lose his status as a member of the imperial clan and become an ordinary commoner.

"What say you, Zhanhe?"

"This grandson… withdraws."

With Zhu Zhanhe's answer, Zhu Gaoxu and his son bowed their heads. This had left the realm of a wager far behind. It was, for lack of a better word, gambling. Eunuchs like Jin Myeong would have charged in gladly, all or nothing—but the imperial clan was another matter. Castrates had nothing but the thread of their lives. The imperial clan did not. Lose a princely title, and you left the princely household as well. To give up a title that let you live in luxury merely by breathing? That was not a thing ordinary nerve could do.

"Very well. Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Jang Jinmyeong."

The Yongle Emperor glanced once at the stunned father and son, then turned to Jin Myeong.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Your achievement in the martial arts is truly substantial. Continue to assist the Imperial Grandson hereafter, and do not stint in your counsel as you did today."

This was something not only the Yongle Emperor—a master of the Peak Realm, Late Stage—but everyone present could acknowledge. The excellence of his martial skill, the unbending integrity of his character: neither was anything they had seen before. Who else could stand so composed before the Yongle Emperor? Even a man with his guts spilling from his belly would not have dared attempt it.

"How could I do otherwise? This humble servant shall devote his life and his name to it."

"We command!"

The sudden cry brought Zhu Gaochi and all those assembled to fold their hands and answer as one. As ever, a dignity like frost and steel stood out upon the Yongle Emperor's solemn face.

"Your Imperial Grace is boundless, Your Majesty!"

Those present were greatly astonished, but none dared object. They had just watched the iron flail come down on the Prince of Han's household. This was not a command issued in a generous mood toward son and grandson; anyone who acted rashly now was all too likely to pay for it.

"Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand times ten thousand years!"

Jin Myeong, as the one receiving the honor, led the ritual cheer. Though the measure was limited to the martial arts, and limited to the capital's jurisdiction, cases of a eunuch serving as teacher to a member of the imperial clan were vanishingly rare. In the Ming dynasty, the first such instance would not come until later, when Zhu Zhanji made the Eunuch Emperor Wang Zhen tutor to his own son, Zhu Qizhen.

I wasn't even aiming for this… but I'll take it, gladly.

It was an unexpected windfall. He had only meant to save face for Zhu Zhanji and Princess Ju Jeong-won, and to grind the Prince of Han's household down a little on the side. Protect his own, and beat the other side bloody. From that simple thought, he had walked away with the cap of Martial ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Master to the Imperial Grandson.

One by one, the constraints of eunuch status were falling away.

If I can protect the Yongle Emperor and Zhu Gaochi at the New Year's Hunt… then there will be something worth looking forward to.

There was not much left. Until he obtained the extreme-yin elixir, the Gong-eun Snow Lotus Thread—it already felt close at hand.

At that same hour, in Yuntianyuan in Hefei.

Grand Preceptor Song Jeon, Strategist Yi Yugyeong, and Nam Woo-jeong sat facing one another. The purpose of the gathering was to discuss the assault on New Year's Day.

"Contact with the Fang girl has been cut off?"

Song Jeon asked. News of Fang Huiyeon—that is, Yong Hui-yeon—had now been silent for a full half-month. And why would it not be? Suchengye had grasped neither Yong Hui-yeon's change of heart nor her whereabouts.

"It has. They say she has vanished without a trace."

Yi Yugyeong answered. In truth, Jin Myeong and Yong Hui-yeon had considered continuing her reports in order to throw Suchengye into confusion. That Yong Hui-yeon would have to leave the imperial palace was a given; for her to maintain contact once she was outside, the reports would have had to be fabricated. Jin Myeong could have composed them himself to keep the contents from falling apart—but it was cumbersome, and there was every chance a spy was already watching her, so they had abandoned the idea. If she were exposed, Yong Hui-yeon would be in danger.

"Since when?"

"It is not certain, but the report is that no one has seen her since the day Noble Consort Wang collapsed."

"Her credentials? The register?"

"Both her credentials and her name on the register remain intact. Only the person has disappeared. There is no sign her identity was exposed, and no sign she was punished."

"A curious business."

"Is it not likely she went to ground for fear her identity would come to light?"

Nam Woo-jeong put in. There was reason in it. The Imperial Physician and the eunuch who had saved Noble Consort Wang had clearly known of the Heart-Penetrating Incense Poison; anyone who was not a complete fool would have opened an internal investigation. No one survived the Brocade Guards' torture. Not being caught was the only sound policy.

"…Find her, and deal with her."

After a moment's thought, Song Jeon nodded.

"When you say deal with her…?"

Yi Yugyeong let the rest trail off, seeking his true meaning.

"If the Fang girl is taken by the imperial house, this covenant may be exposed. Kill her."

In the instant Song Jeon sentenced Yong Hui-yeon to death, it happened.

"Grand Preceptor, how is killing so easy for you? Amitabha!"

At the appearance of a new figure stepping into the garden, the three of them started up in shock. Gray monastic robes, a bamboo hat pulled low. Beneath the hat, nudged up a fraction by the staff in his hand, was the face of a man in his forties. The eyes were clear and bright; a quiet smile sat across his features.

"Have you all been keeping well? This rice-gobbling monk has come to join you."

The Covenant Lord of Suchengye. The middle-aged monk's surname was Zhu; his given name, Yunwen. Eldest grandson of Ming Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang. Eldest nephew of Zhu Di.

"I hear there's to be a celebration on New Year's Day. This humble monk would like to hear about it as well."

It was Zhu Yunwen, the Jianwen Emperor—the man the world believed had burned to death in the imperial palace during the Jingnan Campaign.