Chapter 058: Someone Else

Though Empress Dowager Sun was a woman of the inner palace, she was nonetheless highly familiar with the workings of the court. Before Zhu Qizhen assumed personal rule, it was she who had long presided behind the curtain, holding sway over the affairs of the realm.

When issuing the edict to Prince Cheng, Zhu Qiyu, she did her utmost to downplay the emperor's capture, seeking to minimize the impact of such a scandal. Though the decree delegated authority to Zhu Qiyu, it conferred upon him only the nominal title of Regent, treating him as nothing more than a caretaker. The intent was obvious: he was to lead the officials in managing state affairs, preserve the Ming dynasty, and await her son's return to reclaim the throne.

This subtle calculation was clear to both Zhu Qiyu and the officials, yet with the crisis at hand, none found it worthwhile to object. Empowered to oversee the government, Zhu Qiyu immediately appointed Yu Qian as Minister of War, placing him in charge of the capital's defense.

At the same time, Zhu Qiyu sent word to the commanders at the frontier: should anyone in Emperor Zhu Qizhen’s name demand the gates be opened, they were to refuse without exception—no city gates were to be unsealed without proper authority. Naturally, this order was issued under the name of Empress Dowager Sun. In such a fraught moment, only the emperor’s own mother could countermand the sovereign’s orders; had it been issued in Zhu Qiyu's own name, it would have lacked legitimacy.

During the court session, Zhu Qiyu also accepted the advice of Jiaojing, the imperial son-in-law and Commandant of Cavalry, instructing the court to bolster morale and inspire the defenders and citizens of the capital. He ordered the Shuntian Prefecture, the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and the Five-City Military Command to intensify their patrols, lest spies from the Oirat infiltrate the city.

Other officials also stepped forward with suggestions, and Zhu Qiyu granted approval to all. With the noble Jiaojing taking the lead, the civil officials naturally refused to be outdone. Yu Qian spoke first, presenting five points on the defense of the capital; Minister of Personnel Wang Zhi, Grand Secretary Chen Xun, and Chief Censor Wang Wen all followed with their own counsel.

For a time, the court was filled with martial vigor, and the despondency brought by recent defeat was swept away. The meeting lasted until the third quarter of the Shen hour. Once dismissed, the officials departed swiftly, each returning to their respective offices to implement the court's resolutions.

On the way out of the palace, Yu Qian walked with furrowed brows, pondering the defense of the capital.

“Master Yu, wait a moment, spare a thought for an old man!” came a voice from behind just as he was about to leave through the East Hua Gate.

He turned to see an elderly man, hair and beard snowy white, hurrying after him—it was Hu Ying, Minister of Rites. When the old man caught up, Yu Qian hastened to bow in greeting. “High Priest, to what do I owe this summons?”

Hu Ying, winded from even a few quick steps, paused to catch his breath before addressing Yu Qian. “Tingyi, that title you used for yourself is no longer appropriate; you must change it in the future.”

Tingyi was Yu Qian’s courtesy name. Hu Ying, his senior by many years, used it to show cordiality. Yu Qian realized that, now that Prince Cheng had promoted him to Minister of War, he stood on equal footing with Hu Ying, making the term he’d used for himself indeed inappropriate.

Yet Yu Qian felt no pride in this promotion. He smiled wryly, “High Priest, you jest. Having assumed the post of Minister of War today, I feel as though a mountain now weighs upon my shoulders, leaving me nearly breathless. In days to come, I shall depend much on your support.”

Hu Ying chuckled, “I am too old to be of much use; the future of the state, I fear, will rest with vigorous young officials such as yourself.”

Yu Qian replied modestly, “You flatter me, High Priest.”

As they conversed, they exited the East Hua Gate.

“Tingyi, allow me to pay my respects,” Hu Ying suddenly stopped after a few steps past the palace gates, and bowed deeply to Yu Qian.

The gesture startled Yu Qian, who failed even to step aside in time. After a moment’s pause, he rushed forward to help Hu Ying up, exclaiming, “High Priest, what are you doing? Such a grand salute—I could never deserve it!”

When Hu Ying straightened, his expression was somber. “I have the shameful distinction of being a minister entrusted by the late emperor to care for his orphaned heir, yet failed to protect His Majesty. Had it not been for your resourcefulness today in quelling the timorous and self-serving, half the Ming realm might already have fallen to the invaders. Not only do you deserve this salute—you would not be unworthy of ten more!”

Yu Qian was momentarily stunned, then smiled bitterly, “High Priest, the idea was not my own, but came from another.”

“Oh?” Hu Ying looked surprised. “Not you? Then was it Minister Wang, or another of the war party?”

“This method was told to me by Lord Cheng himself. Reportedly, it was devised by a new hereditary student at the Imperial Observatory. Truly, it puts us all to shame,” Yu Qian replied with feeling.

The Imperial Observatory was a unique institution, technically subordinate to the Ministry of Rites, with its students’ assessments and promotions overseen by the ministry. As a high official of the Ministry of Rites, Hu Ying was well acquainted with its workings. On hearing that the strategy had come from a newly admitted hereditary student there, he was both comforted and eager to meet the young man. But with the capital in crisis, he could only set this thought aside, resolving to seek him out once peace was restored.

...

Within the Imperial Observatory, Xue Rui was diligently reviewing his books, wholly unaware that two senior officials of the court were discussing him.

The examination three days hence would be a stern challenge, but also a rare opportunity. Earlier that day, when Xu Dun had admonished him, he’d quietly let slip an important detail—that this year’s annual exam would be somewhat easier. After all, the hereditary students of this cohort had studied for only half a year; much material remained unlearned, and they had yet to encounter more advanced topics, so how could they be tested on them?

Over the past days, Xue Rui had been studying the fundamentals with Hu Ying’er, making swift progress. In just half a month, he’d mastered material that had taken her several months to learn, prompting his nominal tutor to marvel at his prodigious talent.

If the exam truly proved easier, it would work greatly to his advantage. Passing it would make him a formal astronomical student, entitling him not only to a monthly stipend of seven dou of rice, but also to special imperial gifts during major festivals like New Year's, Lantern Festival, and the Winter Solstice.

Most importantly, an astronomical student was exempt from one household labor conscription, in addition to himself—a huge boon for many commoner families. Xue Yuanhao, for example, also had such an exemption under his name.

However, as Xue Rui had yet to reach adulthood, this exemption remained in his uncle’s hands, saving the family considerable money otherwise spent hiring substitutes for labor service.

After his duties, Xue Rui went straight to the Hu residence. Though the capital was in turmoil, the political situation was gradually clarifying, and his master had been on sick leave for many days—it was time for him to recover, or his position might be in jeopardy.

Meeting with Hu Zhong, Xue Rui discussed the current situation. Upon hearing that Cheng Jing had come to the Imperial Observatory for questioning, and that Xue Rui had offered an effective way to deal with Xu Cheng, Hu Zhong praised him repeatedly for his sound judgment. Even Hu Ying’er looked at him with newfound respect.

Earlier, in a casual conversation, the two had discussed the recent loss of astronomical books by the Southern Observatory beyond the pass, and the emperor’s dispatch of over a thousand men to recover them. She had warned Xue Rui that losing astronomical books was a grave offense, and that even if Liao Zhongxi escaped dismissal, he would certainly be fined; Xue Rui must always remember this lesson.

To prove her point, Hu Ying’er had even fetched the Ming Code and carefully explained the relevant statutes to him. Unexpectedly, the very topic they had discussed so recently had come to bear so quickly. Whether it was Xue Rui’s good fortune or merely Xu Cheng’s ill luck, one could not say.