Chapter Ten: Running an Errand
A gentle breeze stirred the air.
Old Zhu’s face was alight with smiles.
His advanced years had deepened the wrinkles that blossomed with each smile.
Yet this only made him seem more kindly and approachable.
At this moment, he no longer resembled a resolute emperor surveying the world from on high.
Instead, he felt more like an ordinary grandfather.
Yet, for reasons unknown, facing this kinder grandfather only stirred greater unease within Zhu Yunxu’s heart.
It is said that some cunning souls cloak profound meaning in every word.
Every seemingly mundane gesture is, in truth, anything but ordinary.
What, then, did Old Zhu’s actions mean?
Zhu Yunxu’s thoughts raced.
While searching his memory for matching couplets, he smiled and said, “Poetry and prose are ultimately humble arts, seldom gracing the halls of true refinement.”
“They serve only to cultivate temperament and amuse oneself in leisure.”
“Though young, I know well the importance of studying the sages’ wisdom and attending to proper duties—I dare not waste too much time with poetry.”
“Hence, my skill in verse is modest; I must apologize to Your Majesty for the poor offering.”
Hearing this, Old Zhu cast him a deep, lingering glance.
“No matter. Consider it merely a jest to amuse Your Majesty.”
“While the sages’ works must be read, recreation is no less essential.”
“Come then, Yunxu, compose a couplet, and Your Majesty shall personally wield the brush.”
As he spoke, a young eunuch promptly delivered the scholar’s four treasures.
Zhu Yuanzhang approached the table within the pavilion, dipped his brush in ink, and looked at Zhu Yunxu with a beaming smile.
“In that case, Your Majesty shall bear the shame!”
Zhu Yunxu’s voice carried a hint of timidity, as if truly worried he might fail to compose.
Old Zhu nodded slightly.
Zhu Yunxu began to recite slowly:
“One bowl of porridge, one meal, must remind us how hard its coming was;
Half a thread, half a stitch, we should always recall the toil behind each resource.”
Old Zhu struck the brush across the paper.
His smile faded.
He stared at the couplet he had just written, his expression growing somewhat dazed.
“Well written!”
After a long pause, he exclaimed loudly, “This couplet is excellent!”
“It perfectly suits this courtyard, so fitting, so fitting!”
Turning to Zhu Yunxu, he smiled, “You truly have not wasted your study of the sages—you have learned something.”
“Even the most learned grand scholars might fail to compose such lines!”
“Talent and knowledge! Ha ha ha!”
Zhu Yunxu chuckled softly.
“Art flows from nature; a master’s hand seizes it by chance.”
“I have never been fond of poetry, nor skilled at it.”
“Today’s poem in court was written reluctantly, inspired by Your Majesty’s tireless efforts and compassion for the common people.”
“Given different times and places, I doubt I could have written so well—perhaps not at all.”
“Please, Your Majesty, do not praise me excessively!”
He felt genuinely uneasy.
Relying solely on memorized verses to pass impresses him little—he feared that next time he might fail. Thus, he prepared his humble disclaimers early.
Should he ever claim the title of “Poetry Immortal,” collapse would surely follow.
Old Zhu praised him once more.
“Modest and steady—good character as well.”
“Having a child like you, Biao’er, I could depart this life with a smile.”
Zhu Yunxu lowered his head silently; tears welled in his eyes as he murmured, “Father...”
“Ah!” Old Zhu sighed deeply, then laughed.
“Why cry so? It’s my fault for bringing up your father!”
Zhu Yunxu still bowed his head, wiping at his eyes, feigning grief in silence.
Zhu Yuanzhang called out, “Send someone to copy this couplet three thousand times. Deliver one to every member of the imperial clan and every official of rank in the capital.”
“I want them to engrave these words in their hearts forever.”
He paused, then laughed heartily.
“And those scholars who look down on the Zhu family, thinking us mere peasants—they shall see that even the Zhu line nurtures readers. My grandson can compose couplets as well as, if not better than, those who fuss endlessly over ink and brush.”
Zhu Yuanzhang had risen to power amid much jeering by learned enemies who mocked his illiteracy and peasant origins.
Yet he cared deeply about such taunts, and now allowed himself a measure of pride.
The eunuchs hurried forward to receive the couplets and began copying them.
Old Zhu smiled and asked, “Yunxu, you’ve written such fine couplets—what reward do you desire?”
Zhu Yunxu quickly replied, “Then please, Your Majesty, name me Crown Prince and pass the throne to me!”
“You...” Zhu Yuanzhang raised his hand, pointing fiercely.
“How dare you!”
“The realm of the Great Ming is not something you can claim just by speaking!”
“Do you understand the storm your words in court today could unleash?”
“I still value my face, so I’ll let this first offense pass.”
“But if you speak nonsense again, you shall not be spared.”
Zhu Yunxu curled his lips disdainfully.
Clearly, Your Majesty asked first—I answered, and now I am scolded...
“Regardless, Your Majesty must never appoint my second brother as heir. He is truly unfit.”
“Appoint whomever you will, but never him.”
Zhu Yuanzhang’s eyes flashed with anger, yet before it erupted, he reined himself in.
“Wen’er is your second brother; you two grew up together and are close in age.”
“I have heard you share a strong brotherly bond.”
“Why must you oppose his succession so vehemently?”
Zhu Yunxu replied, “Your Majesty, public matters are public, private matters are private.”
“My close bond with my brother is a private matter.”
“His unfitness to rule is public business, concerning the realm and its people.”
“How could I forsake the public for the private and jeopardize the empire?”
Old Zhu scoffed coldly.
“Such a principled stance—you argue well indeed.”
“Enough. I do not wish to discuss this further.”
“You are no longer young—you must begin to undertake responsibilities and gain experience.”
Zhu Yunxu’s eyes darted about before he hurriedly asked, “Does Your Majesty have some task for me?”
“Since the late Yuan, the realm has been chaotic, bandits rampant.”
“Along the coast, Japanese pirates ravage villages—killing, burning, plundering without mercy.”
“Some corrupt salt merchants, thieves, and remnants of Zhang Shicheng’s forces have joined with them, acting as pirates when out, yet posing as civilians when in. This has prevented their complete eradication.”
“To eliminate the pirate scourge, I’ve decreed a maritime ban—no one is to set sail.”
“But this policy has never been fully enforced.”
“Within government offices, some have recklessly colluded with profit-driven merchants and even pirates.”
“They secretly take to the sea to commit crimes.”
As he spoke, Old Zhu drew a scroll of documents from his sleeve.
“These are the investigations.”
“In Jinling City, wealthy merchants collude with pirates in sordid dealings.”
“Tonight, you shall lead the Embroidered Uniform Guard to raid the Pu family.”
Zhu Yunxu was taken aback.
A raid?
Why not simply let the Embroidered Uniform Guard handle it?
Why must the emperor’s grandson lead the charge?
Moreover, what training could a raid provide?
Yet before these thoughts fully formed, Old Zhu added,
“Remember, if the Pu family resists, shoot to kill without hesitation!”
“Complete this mission well, and I shall grant you a princely title.”
Zhu Yunxu hesitated once more, his gaze fixed on Old Zhu.
The emperor’s sons receive the title of prince at ten years old, but as the Crown Prince’s son, he was only granted the rank of duke.
“Do you find being made prince too little?” Old Zhu snorted coldly.
Zhu Yunxu lowered his eyes in silence.
“I have not entirely disregarded your opinion. The matter of succession is temporarily put aside.”
“Focus on your mission—I am watching. If you prove capable, I may well make you heir.”
Old Zhu waved his hand.
“Go now, and do your duty well!”