Meu Pai, Jiajing
Viajando no tempo para o vigésimo oitavo ano do reinado de Jiajing, tornei-me o príncipe herdeiro Zhu Zairui. Neste momento, Yan Song acabara de assumir o poder na corte, Xu Jie queria casar sua neta para se proteger, Gao Gong se recolhia à Academia Hanlin para escrever livros, Zhang Juzheng apresentava memorial após memorial sem ser notado, e Hai Rui estava prestes a ir a Pequim prestar o exame imperial. No frio e silencioso palácio, Zhu Zairui dedicava-se a promover a bondade entre pai e filho na família imperial, bem como a amizade e respeito entre irmãos. O tempo passou, e uma túnica amarela ofuscante apareceu diante de seus olhos. Jiajing, sorrindo, disse: “Príncipe, o tempo esfriou, vim trazer-lhe mais roupas!”
Meu Pai, Jiajing
Twenty-eighth year of the Jiajing reign.
The seventeenth day of the third month, the day of Dinghai.
The morning light was faint, and despite the arrival of spring, the capital remained gripped by a lingering chill. Within the Forbidden City of Beijing, which stretched silently from north to south, the palace security was absolute, and no clamor dared break the stillness. From the Daming Gate to the Bei'an Gate, and from the Dong'an Gate to the Xi'an Gate, palace attendants and maids moved in silent, orderly processions as they began their day.
Inside the northwestern corner of the Donghua Gate, the Qingning Palace—with its ornate, cloud-touching eaves and shimmering cinnabar lacquer—was currently in a state of frantic disarray as servants hurried to and fro. The atmosphere was most oppressive within the bedchamber itself. Among the sea of kneeling eunuchs and palace maids, the sound of stifled sobbing could be heard.
On the bed, Zhu Zaiji’s eyes flickered, opening a narrow slit. The weeping at his bedside made his head spin.
"Gurgle..."
"Pah!"
Suddenly, Zhu Zaiji sat upright on the bed, a mouthful of dark, clotted blood surging from his throat, instantly staining his robes and the bedding.
Yet, this sudden movement acted as if a pause button had been pressed on the entire room. The weeping ceased instantly, and the chamber became so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.
There was no wind in the palace, but the kneeling servants felt a bone-chilling cold settle deep within their bodies. A
