Chapter Twenty-Eight: Rumors!

Ling-er was struck with terror, never having imagined that the method Zhu Yuntong chose to punish her would not be a mere caning, but a direct execution.

In her view, she was an agent sent by Lady Lu, and Lady Lu was, in name at least, Zhu Yuntong’s mother. Even if she had committed an offense, Zhu Yuntong, as the "son," would at most scold her, not daring to inflict a severe punishment on his own. The worst outcome would be for him to send her back to Lady Lu to face judgment. She had no fear of that whatsoever, which was the source of her unbridled confidence. Lady Lu had even promised that if anything happened, she would protect her.

She had not expected that Zhu Yuntong would disregard all convention and order her immediate execution. Only then did she scramble to her knees, begging for mercy: "Your Highness, please spare me! Your Highness, spare my life! This servant will never dare do it again."

Zhu Yuntong turned away, unmoved. If he could not manage the servants in his own residence, how could he hope to govern the empire? In his previous life, he had never even killed a chicken. Although he had begun to integrate into this world rapidly following the bloody baptism of that one fateful night—hardening his heart significantly—ordering a person to be beaten to death with his own hands still caused a stir in his emotions. He simply did not want to watch.

Seeing the two guards hesitating, Zhao Rui hurriedly shouted in his shrill, duck-like voice: "What are you standing there for? Did you not hear His Highness’s command? Why don’t you drag this lowly maid away and beat her to death?"

Ling-er looked up at Zhao Rui, finding it hard to believe he would say such a thing. Was he not, like her, sent by Lady Lu to monitor the Prince of Wu? Why was he not pleading for her, but instead kicking her while she was down?

Alas, no one would ever answer her again.

The guards held Ling-er down and dragged her away. Soon, the rhythmic sound of a heavy wooden rod striking flesh echoed from outside, followed by blood-curdling screams. The sounds were deafening at first, then gradually grew weaker, until finally, there was silence.

...

Zhu Yuntong summoned all the servants of the estate.

"I care not whose people you are, nor who may have instructed you. Once you have entered my residence, you belong to me. You have surely heard of the things I have said and done at court. If I am truly named the Crown Prince and one day inherit the throne, you will all be the servants of the former residence. The benefits of this, I need not state; you are well aware of them yourselves. But if anyone colludes with those outside or secretly acts against me, the fate of that woman Ling-er shall be yours."

"Do not think you can rely on outsiders to save you. If you were not serving in my residence, that would be one thing. But as long as you are under my roof, if I wish to maim or kill you, no one can stop me. Do you all understand?"

"We understand!" the palace maids, eunuchs, and guards replied in unison.

Zhu Yuntong said no more. With Ling-er as an example, he trusted that, at the very least, no one would dare openly oppose him in the future.

He did not go to the palace for his studies today; killing Ling-er served as a report to Old Zhu. It was killing two birds with one stone.

"Your Highness, this servant has something to report!" A young eunuch stepped out from the crowd.

"Early this morning, the Duke of Kaiguo’s residence sent word. They said that the scholar you were looking for, named Yang Shiqi, has been found."

"At that time, Your Highness was sleeping, and Sister Ling-er... no, that lowly maid, would not allow us to wake you. She said that since Your Highness has to go to the palace every day to study with His Majesty and listen to the great scholars, you are too exhausted from your return to manage outside affairs. She told this servant not to tell you and that she would handle it herself."

Zhu Yuntong furrowed his brow. That Ling-er was truly bold and reckless! If he hadn't dealt with her early, he truly wouldn't know how much trouble she might have caused him later. Still, it was all over now.

Had Chang Sheng found Yang Shiqi so quickly? But shouldn't Yang Shiqi be in Ji'an, Jiangxi, at this moment? That was over a thousand miles away from Jinling. In this era, there were no high-speed trains or airplanes; even with a fast horse and a relentless pace, a round trip would take days, if not weeks. How could they have found him so quickly?

He felt curious and looked up at the sun. By his calculations, half the afternoon had passed. There was no point in going to the palace for lessons now. Having nothing else to do, he decided to go and see for himself, and while he was at it, visit Chang Sheng, who had been on the receiving end of his punishment.

Zhu Yuntong immediately ordered a carriage prepared. He left the Prince of Wu’s residence and headed straight for the Duke of Kaiguo’s mansion. Upon arriving at the gates, he saw a large crowd gathered nearby—all dressed in rough hempen clothes, clearly ordinary commoners.

Having lived long in deep, walled courtyards, Zhu Yuntong rarely had the chance to go out. Wishing to experience the street culture of the Great Ming, he ordered his servants to stop the carriage. He stepped down and walked toward the crowd.

"Have you all heard?" A burly man in the middle of the group was speaking with great animation.

"A few days ago, a crazed monk appeared on the streets of the West Market. He wore a kasaya and walked with the agility of a bird. As he walked, he sang a song: 'The Prince of Wu shall rise, the world shall thrive, the cosmos shall be settled; eight hundred years of peace!'"

"Everyone thought he was just a mad monk, so no one looked into it further."

The burly man lowered his voice, putting on a mysterious, conspiratorial air. "Unexpectedly, after the man passed through the Yifeng Gate and reached the banks of the Yangtze River, he actually walked across the water and vanished into the horizon where the sky meets the waves!"

He slapped his thigh and raised his voice. "So, that mad monk was actually an immortal or a Buddha descended to the mortal realm!"

His narration was vivid, lively, and full of emotion. It seemed this man was a master of storytelling and tall tales.

In the crowd, someone questioned: "Where in the world are there gods or Buddhas? Even if there were, the eyes of mortals cannot see them; we only see the clay idols in the temples. Walking across the river? I don't believe a word of it."

"Hehehe!" the burly man laughed. "Many people were there and saw it with their own eyes. Otherwise, the news wouldn't have spread. Whether you believe it or not is up to you!"

"I believe it, I believe it!" someone in the crowd chimed in. "Of course there are gods in the world. I’ve heard of this too, but I don't know what that song the divine monk sang really meant."

The burly man shushed them, and the crowd pressed in closer, everyone pricking up their ears.

The burly man lowered his voice and said, "My next-door neighbor is a scholar, and he is very learned. He told me this concerns the major policies of the imperial court. I can tell you, but don't go spreading it around everywhere. If things go wrong, it could cost you your head!" As he spoke, he made a throat-slitting gesture.

Everyone nodded repeatedly, but their curiosity only grew, and not a single person left. From ancient times to the present, commoners have always had an intense interest in palace secrets and royal anecdotes. Whenever there is a chance to hear them, they are never willing to miss it. As for the talk of losing one's head, since he dared to speak so openly in public, no one took it to heart.

Although Zhu Yuntong stood at the back of the crowd, he could hear clearly.

The burly man looked around, and seeing that the crowd had grown significantly, he felt even bolder. After all, sharing a secret that no one else knew provided a great sense of mental satisfaction. His voice grew louder by three degrees as he said, "This song is related to the future emperor of our Great Ming."

Once these words were out, the breathing of the surrounding commoners suddenly became heavy. Who wouldn't want to hear secrets about the future emperor? The lower the status of the commoners, the greater their curiosity about such things.

"Tell us! Hurry up and tell us!" someone urged, unable to contain themselves.

"Some time ago, the Crown Prince passed away. Our Majesty, an old man sending off a young one, was filled with sorrow. The Majesty had always loved the Crown Prince most; after he passed, he prepared to pass the throne to the Crown Prince’s son—that is, His Majesty’s grandson."

"However, what a major event is the naming of an heir! The Majesty’s grandson is, in the end, too young. That is why His Majesty has hesitated and not yet made up his mind. He has only conferred titles on two of them: one as the Prince of Wu, and one as the Prince of Xian."

As he said this, someone immediately interjected: "Everyone knows these things! What is so strange about that? Tell us something we don't know!"

"That's right!" "Exactly!" People in the crowd echoed.

"I say, you uneducated people are truly stupid and shallow," the burly man sneered. "Isn't it obvious? The 'Prince of Wu shall rise' that the divine monk mentioned—isn't that the Prince of Wu whom His Majesty has already titled?"

The burly man continued: "The song 'The Prince of Wu shall rise, the world shall thrive, the cosmos shall be settled; eight hundred years of peace' means that as long as the Prince of Wu is named Crown Prince and inherits the throne, the world will flourish. The cosmos will be settled once and for all, there will be no more wars, and there will follow eight hundred years of a golden age of peace!"