Chapter 38: The Nightmare of the Yongle Emperor

Eighteen days ago, on the day Zhu Zhanhe arranged for Wei Jizhong and Xiao Xizi to depart, the Yongle Emperor, Zhu Di, found himself at the Jiming Temple in Yingtian Prefecture. Distraught by the bitter rivalry between his two sons for the title of Crown Prince, he had retreated to the temple seeking a moment of peace. Exhausted from reviewing endless memorials, he eventually drifted off to sleep on a small daybed.

In his dream, the Yongle Emperor saw himself clad in shining armor, wielding a long blade, and chasing his nephew, the Jianwen Emperor, through a narrow, winding passage. He kept lamenting to himself how adept that little whelp was at hiding. After traversing the long corridor, he unexpectedly found himself before a door. In a daze, he pushed it open. Behind the door lay a scene of golden splendor—to his shock, he had pursued his target all the way into the Taihe Hall of the Imperial Palace. Suddenly overcome with tension, his expression turned grave. He took several deep breaths, gripped his blade tightly, and stepped into the grand hall with trepidation.

Inside, everything felt hauntingly familiar: the gleaming pillars, the crimson decorations, and the rows of officials assembled for court. Yet, as he hurried through the crowd, panicked and weapon in hand, he realized with a start that the faces around him were those of the great ministers from the Hongwu era—Lan Yu, Xu Da, Chang Yuchun, Li Shanchang, Liu Bowen, and many others.

He turned back abruptly to see the Jianwen Emperor sitting on the floor of the throne dais, dressed in the robes of an Imperial Grandson, looking at him with a mocking sneer. But what truly filled the Yongle Emperor with terror was the figure sitting upon the throne itself, whose back was turned toward him. Suddenly, the figure on the throne turned around, revealing a familiar and horrifying face: his own father, the Hongwu Emperor.

A cold sweat broke out over the Yongle Emperor instantly, and his sword clattered to the ground. He fell to his knees, calling out "Father," but received no response. The Hongwu Emperor’s face was grim and ferocious, his sharp gaze fixed coldly upon his son. Moments later, the Hongwu Emperor merely waved his hand, and two generals dragged in an old woman, bound and shackled. The Yongle Emperor looked up and realized with horror that it was his own mother. Two strange soldiers then forced him to the ground, and no matter how he struggled, he could not break free. He could only watch helplessly as his mother was dragged away amidst her piercing cries for help. Before he could offer any defense, his father appeared before him, raised a blade, and swung it toward his head. He woke with a start.

"Father, no!" the Yongle Emperor gasped, drenched in sweat.

"Jianwen, my good nephew, where exactly are you hiding?" he muttered, leaning against the armrest of the daybed to steady his racing heart, his eyes burning with murderous intent. He turned to see the bald monk Yao Guangxi, who was chanting scriptures nearby, and headed toward him.

Meanwhile, at the Prince of Han’s mansion, Zhu Zhanhe was drinking tea with his mother, the Princess of Han, who was sharing some recent gossip.

"I heard a small, insignificant state sent your grandfather a woman. She’s from the same place as Consort An, surnamed Pu, only sixteen years old. But these people from small states are so ignorant. I heard she actually had the audacity to splash wine all over Lady Hu. Truly, ignorance is bliss. Even I am cautious when speaking with Lady Hu; she really has no sense of propriety..."

As the Princess of Han spoke with great animation, the Prince of Han burst into the room and headed straight for his son. "Cough, cough... Son, come here. I have something to tell you," he said, feigning illness as he dragged his son toward the study.

"Mother, I’m going to the study with Father. Please get some rest," Zhu Zhanhe said, casting a helpless look at his shameless father.

"Yes, yes, my dear, I need to talk to our son. You rest now—and don't forget to send those gifts to the Crown Princess!" the Prince of Han called out to the air, not looking back as he hurried his son away.

The Princess of Han, left bewildered, watched them go with a look of confusion and suspicion.

Inside the study, the Prince of Han could barely contain his excitement. "Son, your uncle and Xiao Xizi have already left. Tell me, what is this surprise you promised?"

"Father, it’s of no use to you now," Zhu Zhanhe replied, rolling his eyes at his impatient father. "Even at the fastest pace, it will take them a month to go and return. You won't be able to use it for this current matter." He sat down leisurely and sipped his tea. "Father, your chances of success this time are slim. Why take the risk?" He knew that whether it was his father’s hasty planning or the Jinyiwei hidden within their own household, failure was all but certain.

Zhu Gaoxu’s expression shifted, his face a mask of confusion, resentment, and helplessness.

"Zhanhe, this is my last chance. The Ministry of War is coming for my military seal and my control over the city’s defense! If I don't act now, I’ll have no choice but to go to my fief and wait for death! I refuse! I must prove that I am no less capable than the eldest!" His voice grew louder, eventually erupting into a roar. "Your grandfather went back on his word! He lied to me! He told the court that he had never said, 'The Heir is sickly, you must strive harder.' He made me slap my own face! He has pushed the eldest back onto the throne of the Crown Prince! I knelt there and shouted 'Long live the Crown Prince!' I refuse to accept this!"

Zhu Zhanhe quickly stood up and steadied his father, who was trembling with uncontrollable rage. "Father, although I disagree with this plan, since you are determined, I will support you. I will guard the house and protect Mother. Go and do what you must."

"Good, good. You truly are my fine son," the Prince of Han said, deeply moved.

"I shall begin to play the part of a sick man now," the Prince of Han said, his tone steadying. "And you’re sure... this surprise of yours is really of no use?"

Zhu Zhanhe rolled his eyes again, exhausted by his father’s fickle temperament. "Don't even think about it, Father. It’s useless."