Chapter 094: Can He Truly Be Emperor?

Playfulness is one thing, mischief another, but never make light of virtue.

Xue Rui considered himself a man of integrity; thus, he did nothing improper to his young maid, merely frolicked with Su Su for a while so she might get a taste of the joys of being a concubine ahead of time.

After their bout of playfulness, the two lay side by side on the bed, calming their somewhat rapid breaths.

Thinking of Hu Ying’er, Xue Rui grew troubled again and asked his maid, “Su Su, what do you think I should do to persuade my mother to let Hu Ying’er marry into our family?”

Su Su seemed dazed, as if still lost in the wildness of moments before; only when Xue Rui repeated his question did she turn her head, gazing thoughtfully at her young master. “Madam will never agree. If you wish to marry Miss Hu, there’s only one way.”

“What way?” Xue Rui was astonished and quickly turned to his maid.

Su Su covered her mouth, laughing. “Unless you can persuade Miss Hu to become a concubine, Madam might consent.”

“What kind of rotten idea is that?” Xue Rui said, annoyed, and reached under the covers to pinch at random, startling Su Su into leaping from the bed.

Clutching her chest, face flushed, Su Su protested, “Young master, you’re too much! You told me to speak, and now you bully me. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Xue Rui pouted, “If you want to be a concubine, how can you not let your master bully you? When you’re older, you might even beg me to bully you, and then I won’t stop at just this.”

“I’m not some foolish girl; I’ll never beg you to bully me, hmph!”

Su Su, innocent to such bawdy talk, shot Xue Rui a glare and went to fetch water for his morning wash.

As the night deepened and all was quiet, Xue Rui finished washing and soon drifted into sleep.

“Young master, wake up!”

In his dreams, Xue Rui heard someone calling him. He groggily glanced around; dawn had yet to break.

At the bedside, Su Su, busy combing her hair, reached out to prod him, stirring Xue Rui’s temper. He seized Su Su’s wrist and drew her into his arms, yawning, “Waking me so early, I’ll punish you by making you sleep with me a while longer.”

But Su Su struggled free, pinched his arm, and said urgently, “There’s an official at the manor, says he wants to see you!”

“What official? I don’t care if it’s the king himself… Wait, who did you say?” Xue Rui sat up abruptly, startled.

“I don’t know who. Xiao Cui just knocked and said it’s an eunuch from the Prince Cheng’s residence.”

“An eunuch from Prince Cheng’s residence—Cheng Jing?”

Xue Rui frowned. Just yesterday, outside Dong’an Gate, he’d seen Cheng Jing and Zhu Qiyu. For an eunuch from Prince Cheng’s residence to arrive at the Hu manor in the dead of night, something major must be happening.

“Su Su, what day is it today?”

Xue Rui asked as the maid helped him dress.

“It’s the twenty-ninth.”

Xue Rui recalled the date and began to surmise the eunuch’s purpose.

Quickly dressed, he wiped his face with a cloth and hurried toward the main hall.

At the entrance to the flower-hung gate, Hu Zhongzheng and Xue Yuanhao were speaking in low voices.

Seeing his son approach, Xue Yuanhao frowned. “Why are you only just here? We’ve waited for you ages. Come, let’s meet the steward from Prince Cheng’s residence.”

It was still the third watch; darkness lingered. Xiao Cui carried a lantern ahead to light the way.

Hu Zhongzheng, advanced in years and frail, struggled with the heavy dew of late autumn; Xue Rui stepped forward to support him and quietly said to the two, “Father, Master, this eunuch is almost certainly here about Prince Cheng’s ascension!”

Both Hu Zhongzheng and Xue Yuanhao looked at him in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The rumors have spread through court and capital these days. The ministers are preparing to enthrone Prince Cheng, probably with memorials ready, just waiting for today’s court session to push it through!”

The master and disciple were not fools; from their conversation at the gate, they had already guessed the eunuch’s visit was likely about Prince Cheng becoming emperor.

Still, for such a momentous matter, Prince Cheng did not consult Yu Qian and other ministers, but instead came to them—what did it mean?

Only the eunuch from Prince Cheng’s residence could answer that question.

The three, worried, arrived at the main hall, where an elderly eunuch with a kindly face, pale and beardless, sat sipping tea—it was Cheng Jing, whom Xue Rui had met just yesterday.

Cheng Jing looked up, set his teacup aside, stood, and greeted them with a smile. “This must be the esteemed astronomer, Master Hu. I have long heard of your reputation and am honored to meet you at last.”

Hu Zhongzheng politely returned the gesture. “Your visit, Master Cheng, brings honor to our humble home.”

Cheng Jing laughed softly and glanced at Xue Yuanhao, noting his resemblance to Xue Rui and immediately guessing his identity. He bowed again. “You must be the illustrious disciple. The exploits of father and son are the talk of the capital, and even the prince himself applauds, calling you models for all subjects.”

“You flatter me, Master Cheng. I am but a commoner, hardly a model for anyone.”

Xue Yuanhao knew well that recent rumors in the capital stemmed from his son’s machinations. Now, being praised so highly by Cheng Jing made his cheeks burn.

Cheng Jing laughed heartily. “No need for modesty. The court needs capable men now more than ever; in a few days, your status will be legitimized.”

With Prince Cheng Zhu Qiyu now acting as regent, all affairs of state depended on his decisions. As Zhu Qiyu’s confidant, Cheng Jing’s words were trustworthy.

The three picked up on his meaning and were delighted.

Xue Yuanhao quickly bowed. “Then let us borrow your auspicious words, Master Cheng.”

After the pleasantries, Cheng Jing looked to Xue Rui, merely nodding in greeting.

Standing while talking was not proper hospitality, so Hu Zhongzheng gestured, “Please, Master Cheng, take the seat of honor.”

Cheng Jing’s late-night visit was clearly not for idle conversation. After seating him, Hu Zhongzheng went to the door and instructed the servants outside, “Move farther away; unless I call, do not approach the main hall.”

Once the servants were dismissed, Hu Zhongzheng and his disciples took their seats, waiting for Cheng Jing to begin.

Cheng Jing was direct. As soon as they were seated, he spoke, “You’ve no doubt heard that many officials on the court wish to enthrone our prince, but the realm is in turmoil, even in peril. The prince, though he wishes to save the nation, is reluctant to shoulder such immense responsibility. Should disaster strike, he fears becoming the ruler who lost the dynasty—how could he face his ancestors or the millions of his subjects? Thus, he hesitates greatly at the ministers’ proposal. What do you think—should he become emperor or not?”

Should he become emperor or not?!

Hearing Cheng Jing’s question, not only Hu Zhongzheng and Xue Yuanhao, but even Xue Rui were bewildered. Matters concerning the survival of the Ming dynasty—he was asking for their opinion?

Cheng Jing finished and did not press; he simply sipped his tea quietly.

The transfer of imperial power had always been a sensitive topic, and many had lost their heads or seen their families annihilated for choosing the wrong side.

The question of Prince Cheng’s ascension was even more fraught, because the reigning emperor, Zhu Qizhen, was still alive, though detained with the Mongols. If Zhu Qiyu became emperor, what would happen when Zhu Qizhen returned? If Zhu Qiyu remained on the throne, how could they arrange for Zhu Qizhen? If Zhu Qiyu abdicated but Zhu Qizhen bore a grudge, Zhu Qiyu could face a terrible fate—who could foresee it?

Moreover, with the Ming dynasty beset by internal and external threats, and the Mongols poised to invade again, if Zhu Qiyu became emperor and Beijing fell, he would have nowhere to turn and could not survive.

Better, perhaps, to remain a carefree prince; if things went awry, he could escape and at least save his own life.

Cheng Jing’s words made clear Zhu Qiyu’s dilemma.

Yet these were matters beyond their power to solve. Lacking the ability to change things, they could only stay detached.

The master and disciple exchanged a glance, agreeing wordlessly. Hu Zhongzheng rose and apologized, “Master Cheng, such matters are beyond a minor official’s authority. If His Highness has doubts, he should consult the ministers; perhaps they can offer guidance.”

Cheng Jing was not offended by this polite refusal. He set down his teacup and spoke softly, “What is spoken today goes from your mouth to my ear—no one else need know. The prince sent me because he admires your skill in astronomical divination. If you perceive any hint in the heavens, it could aid his decision and prevent him from being swayed by the ministers. What do you say—should he heed the ministers or not?”

So, Zhu Qiyu no longer trusts the ministers, but believes in divination!

Hu Zhongzheng and his disciple felt uneasy at Cheng Jing’s explanation.

Others might not understand, but as specialists in astronomy and divination, they were well aware of its subtleties.

If all matters could be foreseen in the heavens, the chief astronomer would not be a mere eighth-rank official, but might lead all the ministers, governing solely by celestial signs—and the Ming dynasty would never stray from the right path.

Xue Yuanhao stood and offered a wry smile. “Master Cheng, the stars are mysterious and unpredictable; according to the records, recently there has been no celestial sign concerning imperial succession. It would be unwise to speculate. If His Highness values such matters, perhaps he should convene the astronomers for joint deliberation, to see if there is any insight.”

“Other than you two, the rest of the astronomy bureau are useless parasites!”

Cheng Jing shook his head disdainfully. “When the matter of moving south was raised, I visited the astronomy bureau. There appeared the sign ‘Mars enters the Purple Palace.’ Chief Astronomer Xu Dun and others thought this referred to the emperor and the Mongol leader, but young Xue here claimed it applied to Guangdong. I didn’t believe him at the time and reported Xu Dun’s view to the prince. But now, I see Xue’s words made sense. Surely you anticipated the situation in the southeast?”

The situation in the southeast?

Hu Zhongzheng and Xue Yuanhao turned to Xue Rui, astonished and somewhat confused.

Xue Rui knew exactly what Cheng Jing meant and asked deliberately, “Is there another conflict in Guangdong?”

“So you do know.”

Cheng Jing’s expression confirmed it. He sighed, “The court has decided how to respond to Mongol invasion, so I won’t speak of that. As for the southeast, just yesterday the Guangdong administration sent urgent news: the remnants of the rebel Huang Xiaoyang have reemerged, gathering tens of thousands in Xinhuai and Xiangshan, and took advantage of the army’s defeat to seize counties, threatening to set the region ablaze. Last night, reports from Fujian arrived: the rebels under Deng Maoqi’s followers, led by Deng Bosun, rose in coordination with those in Guangdong, and have occupied Youxi and Shaxian. Government troops were defeated, over two thousand soldiers routed. With both provinces’ forces depleted, the rebels are ascendant—if the situation deteriorates, the entire southeastern half may fall to their hands. Do you think the court can prevail on both the frontier and in the southeast?”

The Deng Maoqi uprising in the thirteenth year of the Zhengtong era, and the Huang Xiaoyang uprising in the fourteenth, were well known to those present.

Both uprisings had swept through two provinces, forcing the court to expend immense resources to restore order.

Yet none of them expected that, amid defeat and turmoil, both groups of rebels would reignite a new round of rebellion—a heavy blow to the already precarious court.

Still, Cheng Jing’s words hinted that the southeast’s situation would change soon; it seemed Xue Rui had foreseen this.

“Is this mere coincidence, or has he truly glimpsed the secrets of heaven?”

Hu Zhongzheng and Xue Yuanhao found it hard to believe, so they looked to Xue Rui, their eyes questioning.

Truth be told, Xue Rui himself hadn’t expected such uncanny events.

Earlier, when Cheng Jing had visited the astronomy bureau to ask Xue Rui to interpret the sign “Mars invades the Purple Palace,” Xue Rui had wanted to take a different approach—linking the coming uprising of Huang Xiaoyang’s remnants in the southeast to the court situation, with the court representing the Purple Palace and the rebels as Mars. The rebels rising against the court would fit the celestial sign.

This interpretation made sense.

But Xu Dun and others thought Xue Rui was making things up, fearing trouble, and had him forcibly removed. Cheng Jing had considered Xue Rui too young, disregarded his advice, and adopted Xu Dun’s view instead.

Now, with Guangdong in crisis and Fujian calling for aid, and the Mongols threatening the heartland, the Ming dynasty was in turmoil, even at risk of collapse.

The officials, recognizing the danger, were more convinced than ever that the court needed an emperor to lead and rescue the situation, hastening their push to enthrone Prince Cheng.

Just yesterday afternoon, Yu Qian and other ministers visited Prince Cheng’s residence, intending to petition the empress dowager to enthrone Zhu Qiyu. But Zhu Qiyu dared not become emperor at such a critical moment; he told Yu Qian he had no intention.

The sudden upheaval in the southeast shocked Cheng Jing—not so much because of the rebels’ strength, but because Xue Rui’s prediction of trouble in the southeast had come true!

He hadn’t followed Xue Rui’s advice before, but within days, the prediction was fulfilled.

Considering Xue Rui and his father’s actions, Cheng Jing concluded that Hu Zhongzheng and his disciples could indeed glean secrets from the stars.

Given the chaos in the southeast, he believed they must have foreseen it; regrettably, he hadn’t heeded Xue Rui’s warning, allowing matters to spiral out of control.

Regretful, Cheng Jing saw his prince trapped between choices and suddenly found a solution.

The prince hesitated to ascend because he feared the Ming dynasty was on the brink of ruin; if he learned the situation would improve in the future, his doubts could be dispelled and he would no longer resist becoming emperor.

Thus, Cheng Jing truthfully reported Xue Rui’s prediction of upheaval in the southeast.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Qiyu was both alarmed and delighted, and sent Cheng Jing to Hu Zhongzheng’s home that very night to inquire about the fate of the realm.