Chapter 702: When the Tree Falls, the Monkeys Scatter? Settling the Accounts When the Tree Falls
The King of Han has passed away!
The Han region has been pacified!
These two consecutive news items caught everyone in the capital by surprise. Since ascending the throne, Zhu Zhanji had maintained a composed appearance, even when learning of Zhu Gaoxu’s rebellion, yet deep down he valued this uncle—after all, the Han region was a symbol for many disloyal elements and an enemy he must conquer. In the eyes of the civil and military officials, only after this battle could the young emperor truly establish his authority and demonstrate his benevolence to the world.
Yet Zhu Gaoxu, the King of Han who had caused so much trouble and was so domineering as to look down on everything, actually died just like that! Moreover, with his death, the people of Le’an lost all fighting spirit and even submitted petitions asking for forgiveness and surrender.
Although as emperor he couldn’t leave the palace as freely as when he was the crown prince or grandson, thanks to the meticulous arrangements of the eunuchs and the fact that they were at the residence of a prince, Empress Dowager Zhang did not stop him. At that moment, he was sitting across from Zhu Ning in the dense bamboo forest behind Jinxiu Residence, about to win the game with his last move, but suddenly felt disinterested.
Zhu Ning, who had known Zhu Zhanji for more than a day or two and understood the young emperor’s temperament, casually threw his black pieces into the purple-golden bowl and chuckled, “Is it because the pacification of the Han region turned out differently than expected that Your Majesty is upset? In my opinion, the King of Han was always tough on the outside but weak on the inside, so this outcome isn’t so bad. There’s no need for excessive force—your personal campaign was meant to intimidate those who are unscrupulous. Now, with just a few people going to Shandong, the King of Han surrendered on his own, showing how wise you are.”
Since childhood, Zhu Zhanji had witnessed Zhu Gaoxu’s arrogance, as he always tried to outshine his father, Zhu Gaochi. His resentment and anger had been there for years. Moreover, when he returned to Beijing from Nanjing after attending his father’s funeral, Zhu Gaoxu had stationed troops along the way to block him and even sent people who knew him, clearly aiming to kill him. If he weren’t the emperor and didn’t have to constantly show benevolence, he would have sent a personal letter right away when Zhu Gaoxu first rebelled and ordered an immediate campaign.
“Although Aunt Ning is right, I have after all spent so many years under the shadow of the Han princes. Now that I have so casually resolved this persistent problem, I still feel uneasy!” When the initial news arrived, Zhu Zhanji showed relief and joy in front of his civil and military officials, saying that Shandong’s peace without the need for force was exactly what he desired. But now, he didn’t want to hide his true thoughts. “He owes this to my father as well as to me. Letting him die like this is far too easy for him!”
Compared to his predecessors, Zhu Di and Zhu Gaochi, everyone said Zhu Zhanji was well-versed in both civil and military affairs, gentle and refined, the perfect model of a monarch. But at this moment, seeing this irritable and angry young emperor, Zhu Ning couldn’t help but sigh. Aside from the emperor, most members of the Zhu family didn’t hide their violent sides—even her own father had killed in fits of rage. Yet Zhu Zhanji had been known since childhood as a pious grandson and later as a benevolent crown prince, rarely showing his true nature. If the tutors in the Eastern Palace or ministers like Yang Shiqi saw this scene now, they would surely offer advice, so she could only pretend not to notice.
“He’s dead—why should the emperor bother with a dead man? Besides, the sons of the Han King have already been sent to the capital. By then, they will kneel at the palace gates and plead for forgiveness. No matter how honorable or arrogant they were before, they will just be prisoners. If the Han King were alive, knowing that his death has caused discord throughout Le’an and that his sons are such scoundrels, he would surely be more unwilling to accept it than the emperor. As for the Prince of Zhao… the emperor should be focusing on the Prince of Zhao, not a dead man.”
Although the 27-day state mourning period had ended, both Zhu Zhanji and Zhu Ning were members of the Zhu family, so they wore plain clothes. There were no snacks or fruits on the table—only a cup of water for each of them. After taking just a sip, Zhu Zhanji remembered the chaos caused by the Prince of Zhao and frowned, setting down his cup.
“Back then, the Meng Xian brothers tried to poison Emperor Taizong. They each bore responsibility for their crimes, but later, the Prince of Zhao and the Prince of Anyang managed to escape easily—how could that be fair? A son plotting against his father is unforgivable! Moreover, Yuan Jie has already sent word that the Han King’s mansion contained many letters exchanged between the Han and Zhao princes, many of which openly discussed treasonous plans. I don’t want to let him off, but my grandfather granted titles to many members of the family. He only appointed the Han and Zhao princes. If we were to revoke their titles and punish them all at once, it would be excessive and only invite ridicule…”
Seeing Zhu Zhanji stand up as he spoke, pacing back and forth while muttering to himself, Zhu Ning knew full well this was different from before. Back then, she could offer advice, but now he merely wanted someone to listen, not suggestions. So she sat quietly on the stone bench, holding her water cup, her gaze piercing through the layers of bamboo to look at the sky dotted with stars.
She had taken on the task of temporarily overseeing the harem, and now Empress Dowager Zhang had kept her promise. The Jinyiwei had obtained numerous pieces of evidence of the Ruyang Prince’s crimes, and he had been stripped of his title and imprisoned. Her own brother, the Xin’an Prince, had also been reprimanded, bringing much peace to the Zhou Prince’s estate. With this, her father, Zhu Tu, should be able to live out his days in peace. Now that the Han princes had been subdued and the country was at peace, her future would likely be uneventful.
“The Zhao Prince indeed committed grave crimes, but then again, Emperor Taizong’s punishment for the Meng family was too lenient. Even for meritorious officials, plotting against their sovereign is a grave crime… Aunt Ning, do you think I should punish the Zhao Prince’s uncle or let it go? Should I punish the Meng family to serve as a warning or drop the matter entirely to win over the nobles’ loyalty?”
When Zhu Zhanji suddenly mentioned the Meng family, Zhu Ning had already snapped back to reality. Hearing the last question, her brows furrowed deeply, and she quickly shook her head, saying, “Your Majesty, you’re asking the wrong person. This is a major political matter that should be discussed with the ministers of various departments. There’s no reason to ask a princess from a princely household.”
“But I heard that Aunt Ning is on good terms with the daughter left by Meng Xian. Seeing me angry, won’t you intercede?”
“Personal relationships are one thing, and state affairs are another. Even the Empress Dowager refused to take charge of governance—how much more so a princess from a princely household? Your Majesty is here to relax at the Zhou Prince’s residence. I didn’t hear anything just now.”
Seeing that Zhu Ning had perfectly deflected all his attempts to get a response, Zhu Zhanji helplessly shook his head, though he was extremely satisfied inwardly. As the emperor, even the concubines in the harem either tried to extract words from him or sought special favors for themselves. He had indeed not misjudged Zhu Ning—she was truly different. After staying for a while longer, he got up to leave, and Zhu Ning naturally accompanied him to the gate.
However, as he watched the entourage at the gate preparing horses and maintaining vigilance, Zhu Zhanji suddenly said to Zhu Ning behind him without turning around, “My safe return to the capital is indeed thanks to Yuan Jie and Yuan Qing’s assistance, but those Meng family servants also deserve credit. That’s why I’ve ordered the Meng family to free them from slavery and reward them and their families handsomely. Yuan Jie’s elder sister married the son of the Marquis of Baoding—it’s only natural to have some personal considerations. Given their contributions, since I want to protect the Meng family, I certainly won’t cause them any more trouble. Aunt Ning is clear-cut in distinguishing between public and private matters, which brings me great comfort. If you were a man, you might be a great help to me.”
Watching everyone mount their horses and leave, Zhu Ning, still standing at the gate, couldn’t help but smile bitterly. As for being clear-cut between public and private matters, how many people in the world could truly do that? She naturally cared about her close friend, but since Zhang Yue had already helped the Meng family openly, interfering further would only backfire. Moreover, if she were a talented male member of the imperial family, how would Zhu Zhanji feel comfortable talking to her?
After returning to the palace, Zhu Zhanji first went to Renshou Palace to see Empress Dowager Zhang and had lunch there before leaving. Once back in Qianqing Palace, he ordered Wang Jin, who came forward, to select some capable and reliable people from Liu Yongcheng and go to Qingzhou Prefecture together. He also instructed Liu Yongcheng to bring the Han King’s sons back to the capital first, while Wang Jin would stay there to handle the subsequent matters with Zhang Yue, emphasizing the importance of the Three Guards of Tianjin.
Upon hearing Zhu Zhanji specifically mention Tianjin, Wang Jin immediately understood that it was the incident on the canal route that had angered him. It wasn’t surprising the emperor was upset— the Three Guards of Tianjin had always been one of the southern gates of the capital. When Zhu Di first passed away, strict vigilance had also been ordered there. If indeed some officers had colluded with the Han King, it was fortunate no rebellion broke out at the time of the new emperor’s ascension. If it had, what chaos would have ensued if Tianjin had turned against them?
Not long after Liu Yongcheng and Wang Jin set off to Shandong with over a hundred people from the Imperial Horse Supervision Bureau, several ministers in the court jointly submitted a petition, claiming that Prince Zhao, Zhu Gao Sui, and the commoner Zhu Gao Xu had long conspired in rebellion. Now that the Han fiefdoms had been pacified, troops should be sent to Zhangde Prefecture to capture Prince Zhao immediately, otherwise another campaign would be necessary in the future. This proposal caused a stir in the court—some, like Jian Yi and Xia Yuanji, supported it, while others, like Yang Rong and Du Zhen, were hesitant. There were also those who firmly opposed it, such as Yang Shiqi… Amidst the discussions among the ministers, Zhu Zhanji postponed making a decision on this matter for now and did something else instead.
Liu Guan, the Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, was corrupt and lawless, so he ordered the Jinyiwei to investigate him!
After meeting Liu Yongcheng in Le’an, Zhang Yue and Wang Jin immediately handed over those troublesome princes to Liu Yongcheng and then searched the study of the Han Wang’s mansion for the correspondence. Upon learning that it was temporarily impossible to take action against Prince Zhao Zhu Gao Sui, and feeling frustrated by Zhu Gao Xu’s sudden death, Zhu Zhanji sent the Jinyiwei to imprison Liu Guan, who had just been sent to inspect the Yellow River’s waterways from the capital. Relieved that a cancerous element had been removed, he still felt overwhelmed by his new task.
They say he’s a county magistrate who destroys families and a governor who wipes out entire clans—he’s even worse; wherever he goes, he kills. Aside from the relatively peaceful trip to Nanjing, heads rolled everywhere else—sometimes even on the battlefield. The same was true this time. Zhu Zhanji wanted him, as the Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief, to establish his authority thoroughly, so the task of dealing with those officers who colluded with Zhu Gao Xu to rise up in rebellion was entirely left to him.
“Lord Zhang, none of these nobles’ titles were earned without shedding blood—even the Duke of Yingguo built his reputation in Jiaozhi through killing and constructing memorial towers. For others, a murderous streak is a bad thing, but for you, it’s an advantage. Take this mission for example: you went on a killing spree in Weihaiwei, and no one in the court criticized you; not even one impeachment. Would that have been possible in the past? Times have changed now. You have no constraints left. Though I’m here, you can handle the details as you see fit. Even if the emperor or the empress dowager gives orders, I will not interfere!”
Zhang Yue naturally trusted Wang Jin’s character, but for such a so-called “authority-establishing” mission, he wanted to calculate exactly how many heads would need to be cut. After packing those boxes and moving them from the Han Wang’s mansion to the Le’an yamen, he didn’t need anyone else—just Peng Shisan—to help him sort through the letters with full focus. When they saw the long list of names that had been copied, not only was Zhang Yue deeply troubled, but even Peng Shisan, who was rubbing his wrist, turned pale.
“Tianjin, Qingzhou, Cangzhou, Shanxi, Jinan… So many people are involved! I just did a rough count—ranging from governors to battalion commanders, there are about five or six hundred people…” Peng Shisan had beheaded countless enemies on the battlefield, but now he felt a chill run down his spine. “If all of them are sentenced to death, plus those mentioned in the letters, and those subject to collective punishment, the clansmen who must serve in the border regions… By the time this case is resolved, you’ll end up acting like a butcher, even if you didn’t kill them or even oversee their execution. It can be said they all died at your hands.”
Zhang Yue knew well that the letters in the Han Prince’s study couldn’t be forged—nor could they be. Those who wrote openly expressing loyalty, even declaring their intention to surrender the city and join the rebellion, were clearly guilty of treason and deserved death. As for the names mentioned in the letters, those could be considered with care, and he would do his best to handle them properly. After all, they were all former military officers who had fought in battles; now that they were killed, those positions would be filled by inexperienced newcomers. It might not seem serious now, but once battle broke out the next day, it would become a major concern! No matter when the Han Prince fell, the court would inevitably carry out a purge—those who sided with the wrong faction would pay a price. Death might be avoided, but lesser punishments were hard to escape, as political struggles always were.
Seeing Zhang Yue remain silent, Peng Shisan asked, “If it’s really difficult, should the young master write a letter back to discuss it with the Duke of Ying?”
Zhang Yue shook his head. He thought that since Zhu Zhanji had ascended the throne at a young age, he would likely use this incident to intimidate the nobles. And since the Han princely state had been easily suppressed, none of the nobles would step in to protect those who attempted rebellion, not even the Duke of Ying, Zhang Fu.
“Don’t alert the grand uncle. Marshal Liu left after finishing his task and returned to the capital easily, leaving me to deal with this mess. Work hard tonight and act as my scribe. If I had known this would happen, I should have brought Li Guoxiu and Rui Yixiang back to the capital—they’d be useful now, but it’s too late to get help from afar.”
Although Peng Shisan’s handwriting was passable, he still looked grim. He would rather kill with a knife than write with a pen—especially since every stroke he made could lead to real deaths!