Chapter 81: The Emperor Who Turned a Losing Hand into a Royal Flush!
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Xiao Zhu Jianshen took a deep breath, turned around, and tears welled up in his eyes despite himself. He looked up at the man before him—someone he considered to have always treated him kindly—and pleaded, “Sir, may I bring Aunt Wan with me?”
His childish voice was thick with emotion.
Xing'an was startled. What's gotten into this little master? He hurriedly replied, “Your Highness may bring whomever you wish. This Miss Wan can simply follow behind me; His Majesty will not pay her any mind.”
A man as shrewd as Xing'an could hardly fail to notice the prince's reliance on this young woman, and his tone became all the more respectful.
Xiao Zhu Jianshen's eyes shone brightly. The small child spoke earnestly, “Thank you, sir! If ever there is a chance, I shall do my utmost to repay you!”
In Xiao Zhu Jianshen's mind, such words felt rather presumptuous. After all, he could scarcely guarantee his own safety, let alone offer such empty promises—it was almost an insult. Yet he had no choice; this was all he could do.
To Xing'an, however, every word struck him with the weight of gold.
“No, no, I dare not!” Xing'an was overjoyed at this unexpected delight and hastened to assure him, “As long as Miss Wan follows behind me, nothing will happen to her!”
“Alright!” Xiao Zhu Jianshen looked intently at Xing'an, committing his face to memory.
“Thank you, sir. This way, please!”
Xing'an beamed, bowing deeply. “This way, Your Highness. Miss Wan, please!”
...
At the Gate of Heavenly Accord.
Inside, the scene was thus:
Old Zhu sat upon the Dragon Throne, smiling as he chatted with Zhu Youjian and Zhu Qiyu.
Old Zhu Di and Zhu the Fourth occasionally exchanged sighs.
Zhu the Fourth asked the Prince of Zhao, “Third Brother, what became of Daoyan?”
After all, that monk wanted nothing for himself, which left him uneasy.
“Just a moment, Father,” Zhu Gaosui quickly replied, turning to ask, “Father, what happened to Daoyan?”
Old Zhu Di gave his third son a bland look and answered evenly, “On the twenty-eighth day of the third month, in the sixteenth year of Yongle, he died at Qingxiao Temple.”
Zhu Gaosui turned back and relayed to Zhu the Fourth, “Father, Monk Daoyan died at Qingxiao Temple on the twenty-eighth day of the third month, sixteenth year of Yongle.”
“I see,” replied Zhu the Fourth.
Old Zhu Di and Zhu the Fourth exchanged glances, then quietly averted their eyes. When together, they both felt awkward, needing Zhu Gaosui to pass along their words, otherwise they simply could not speak directly—it was most peculiar.
Elsewhere, Zhu Gaoxu insisted on dragging young Zhu Di of the Hongwu era into a discussion about life, but the latter clung to a pillar for dear life and refused—he would not fall for the same trick twice.
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The two stout princes of Yongle and Hongxi wore bitter expressions as they tucked their hands into their sleeves, whispering, “Second Brother, you really ought to be more reasonable with our childhood father—don’t always resort to roughhousing, can you be a bit calmer?”
“Calm?!” Zhu Gaoxu flared up, glaring and waving his beard, then turned to the nearby Prince of Zhao, who was busily translating, and asked excitedly, “Third Brother, am I not calm enough?!”
Zhu Gaosui found time to offer support: “You’re calm enough.”
He even added, “Eldest Brother, as the firstborn, you don’t know the woes of a second son. Best stay out of it.”
The two burly princes only muttered, “Second and third brothers, just carry on as you are.”
“What do you mean, carry on? If I’m doomed in the Hongwu era, can’t I at least try to save myself?” Zhu Gaoxu retorted, before turning back to bother young Zhu Di once more.
The pair continued mumbling, but truly, this was a matter of life and death—hardly a trifle in which they could meddle.
At this moment, Xing'an entered with respectful, mincing steps and announced, “Reporting to the Grand Ancestor and Grand Progenitor, to the Benevolent Emperor and the Enlightened Emperor, and to His Majesty: the Prince of Yi has arrived outside the hall.”
“Summon him in!” Zhu Yuanzhang nodded, frowning as he watched young Zhu Di and the squabbling, chided sternly, “Behave yourself!”
“Yes, Father!” young Zhu Di immediately fell silent, trembling.
Old Zhu Di’s expression remained cold, his tone even: “I wasn’t speaking to you, Prince of Han.”
“Yes, Father!” Only then did Zhu Gaoxu settle down, stuffing the torn garment he’d been tugging on back into young Zhu Di’s arms.
Tap, tap.
Soft footsteps approached. Xiao Zhu Jianshen entered the grand hall with his head bowed, his young voice filled with reverence as he knelt and declared, “Your son pays respects to Your Majesty! I pray for your health and peace.”
“I am well! Rise quickly,” Zhu Qiyu replied stiffly, inwardly grimacing. With so many ancestors gathered here, this pitiful look from the boy felt like a trap for his uncle.
He never shortchanged the child in food or drink—apart from forbidding him from running wild, he’d been more than fair, hadn’t he?
Look at the Song dynasty, at Zhao Guangyi’s nephew, then look at yourself—your uncle treats you well, does he not, you ungrateful child?
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Xiao Zhu Jianshen looked up, anxious and blinking.
Which one is Uncle?
“Come here!”
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“These are all our own family—no need for so many formalities, little one.” Old Zhu beckoned kindly; the boy looked clever and quick-witted.
“Yes!” At the invitation from the man on the Dragon Throne, Xiao Zhu Jianshen immediately hurried over and whispered, “Uncle.”
Hmm?
“Your uncle is over here,” Zhu Qiyu quickly clarified. “This is your Great Ancestor.”
A look of confusion flickered across Xiao Zhu Jianshen’s face, but he did not question further. Obediently, he called out, “Great Ancestor.”
“Aye, what a sensible child! Would you like to stay by your Great Ancestor’s side for a few days?” Zhu Yuanzhang chuckled, rubbing the boy’s head fondly, just as he once did with Hongwu’s own children, his manner brimming with warmth.
“Yes!” Xiao Zhu Jianshen forced a smile and agreed without hesitation. Though he did not know who this kindly old man was, he felt an instinctive closeness. And seeing how nervous his uncle was, it was clear this grandfather was someone to be pleased.
Where was there any weakness in Emperor Xianzong?
Was he not shrewd and clever?
Zhu Youjian glanced over and sighed from the heart:
Xianzong drove the Jurchens from the east, reclaimed Hami in the west, swept the Mongol court from the north, recovered Hetao, quelled the Yao rebellion in the south, resettled a million refugees, restored the old territories, and revived national prestige.
He turned a hopeless hand into a royal flush!
The exploits of the Chenghua campaigns need no elaboration; as for the Jianzhou Jurchens, there was but one policy: destroy their lairs and exterminate their kind!
It was only a pity that the sweep was incomplete—otherwise, even Li Zicheng’s Dashun might never have seen the rise of the Manchu invaders.
“Very good, very good! After a while, Great Ancestor will take you to command troops and see the field of battle,” Zhu Yuanzhang said, laughing and patting the boy’s hand.
Xiao Zhu Jianshen panicked, biting his lip and saying nothing—his eyes flickered with unease.
Old Zhu’s gaze softened. He recalled the child had a particularly close palace maid, and, smiling slyly, he asked, “Child, I permit you to bring someone along. Will you?”
Xiao Zhu Jianshen did not hesitate, shaking his head repeatedly and replying in a soft voice, “Great Ancestor, I have no one I wish to bring.”
Taking troops to war meant risking lives; he would have to be addled to drag Aunt Wan to the battlefield.
(One reader said if I keep talking about full extermination, I’ll be censored soon. It’s my first time writing—truly, I’m nervous. I’ll try to keep things vague.)
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