HomeCrane NotesChapter 124: Returning My Lord's Robes (Part 5)

Chapter 124: Returning My Lord’s Robes (Part 5)

When Deng Ying saw Emperor Zhenning in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the Emperor could barely sit up. A large swelling had formed at his throat, with pus and blood pressing against his windpipe. The imperial physicians frequently had to lift the Emperor’s neck to prevent him from suffocating.

Deng Ying knelt before the bed to present the memorials. Emperor Zhenning glanced at them but could hardly keep his eyes open, managing only to breathe out the word “read.”

Following the command, Deng Ying read aloud the memorials from the Ministries of War and Revenue, as well as the Cabinet’s proposals.

The Emperor slightly raised his head and asked hoarsely, “When… when were these memorials submitted?”

Deng Ying reported while kneeling, “Seven days ago.”

“Hu Xiang…” The Emperor opened his eyes. “Why… why hasn’t the Directorate of Ceremonial stamped them yet?”

Hu Xiang quickly responded, “The matter is of great importance, the Keeper of the Seal… is still deliberating.”

The Emperor’s face flushed as he began coughing. The four physicians waiting in the adjacent chamber hurried over with snuff, holding it under the Emperor’s nose.

The Emperor laboriously lowered his head to inhale for a moment. When his breathing steadied somewhat, he raised his eyes and called out again, “Hu Xiang…”

“This slave is here.”

“Tell He Yixian, he is a slave!”

As the word “slave” left his mouth, the Emperor’s shoulders suddenly jerked. He began coughing again, so severely that sparks appeared before his eyes. The physicians quickly helped him sit up as palace servants came forward to pat his back and help regulate his breathing.

Everyone in the hall knelt. Hu Xiang trembled as he spoke, “Master… please don’t upset yourself. Take your anger out on us slaves instead, we know we were wrong…”

Hu Xiang kowtowed repeatedly, while the other palace servants didn’t dare make a sound.

Deng Ying silently watched Hu Xiang, waiting for the Emperor’s next words.

“Deceiving your sovereign, how dare you deceive me! Beat you… will that make you remember?”

Hearing these words, Hu Xiang’s whole body shuddered. He quickly crawled on his knees to the Emperor’s feet. “Master, your slaves’ ears are connected to your heart. We wouldn’t dare forget a single word you say. We deserve punishment for our poor service, but when you accuse us of deceiving you, we cannot accept that even in death… Please look into our hearts, even if you must tear them out…”

“Enough…”

The Emperor lowered his head and drew up his legs. “Drag him out, let him and He Yixian receive the mandarin duck beating.”

Hu Xiang collapsed and was dragged out like a corpse by the Imperial Guards.

“Deng Ying…”

“This slave is here.”

“Come closer.”

Deng Ying straightened up and walked to the bedside, bending down close to the Emperor.

The Emperor’s breath was very hot, mixed with medicinal and metallic smells that entered Deng Ying’s nose.

“Tomorrow… bring me the Cabinet’s memorial on choosing an heir… I will read it myself…”

“Yes.”

The Emperor nodded, “Go… oversee the punishment.”

“Yes.”

“One more thing…”

“This slave is listening.”

The Emperor tilted his neck back, trying to make his voice flow more smoothly, “Tell He Yixian, if he harbors improper ambitions again, he won’t be needed to preside over my funeral rites…”

The funeral rites naturally referred to the grand ceremonies after the Emperor’s death.

With these words, the Emperor had essentially given He Yixian a pardon from execution.

Deng Ying stood up and walked out into the rain. He pointed to an Eastern Depot official eunuch to relay a message to Yang Lun at the palace gate.

By the time he returned to the Eastern Depot, the heavy rain had just stopped, with water from the puddles gurgling through the drainage ditches outside the compound.

Qin Wende was dragging He Yixian and Hu Xiang toward the inner courtyard.

Two white cloths were laid out at the bottom of the steps, with eight guards securing the corners. As if venting his anger, Qin Wende took out two heavy canes about three inches wide and threw them onto the white cloth with a “thwack” that immediately made Hu Xiang wet himself.

As Deng Ying walked toward the entrance, Qin Wende hurried a few steps to meet him. “The messenger didn’t specify the number, Supervisor. How many strikes?”

Deng Ying glanced at the white cloths on the ground and said evenly, “One cloth is enough.”

“Huh?”

Qin Wende scratched the back of his head. “Beat one person? Weren’t both supposed to be beaten?”

Deng Ying said, “Mandarin duck beating.”

“What?”

“Do as ordered.”

Deng Ying turned around. “These are His Majesty’s orders.”

Then he said to the guards holding He and Hu, “Untie their bonds.”

Qin Wende was somewhat dissatisfied and lowered his voice to say to Deng Ying, “What’s the point of a mandarin duck beating? Isn’t this just letting them put on a show?”

Deng Ying remained silent.

He Yixian laughed as he knelt on the ground. “I never thought I’d see the day when you would discipline me.”

The guard pulled the ropes from his body and barked, “Stand up!”

He Yixian stood, removed his official robe, and walked a few steps toward Deng Ying. “The master must have a message for you to relay.”

Deng Ying said, “After the elder receives his punishment, I will relay it.”

“Very well.”

He Yixian finished speaking and looked down at the white cloth on the ground. “You see, even when the master shows mercy to us, he strips away our dignity just as easily. You’re just a slave who dared to act like an official. When the time comes, you’ll lose more than just your dignity.”

Having said this, he trembled as he lay down on the white cloth, stretched out his legs, and clasped his hands above his head.

Qin Wende picked up the cane from the ground and threw it in front of Hu Xiang. “What are you standing there for? Get up and start.”

Hu Xiang had wet himself and his steps were unsteady as he rose. It took him a long while to pick up the cane Qin Wende had thrown on the ground.

The so-called mandarin duck beating was a merciful punishment in the inner court, where the punished would beat each other, thus giving them considerable leeway.

Hu Xiang was already terrified by Qin Wende’s demeanor. Now stripped to his undergarments and barely able to stand under everyone’s gaze, he raised the cane and brought it down weakly, making Qin Wende very anxious to watch.

Yet despite the lightness of the strike, He Yixian couldn’t help but arch his back.

Hearing He Yixian’s groan, Hu Xiang dropped the cane and fell to his knees: “Elder… your son… cannot bring himself to do this… cannot do this…”

He Yixian raised his head. “Enough, hurry up. The quicker we finish, the less face we lose.”

“Yes… yes, yes…”

Hu Xiang struggled to his feet again, biting his lip as he raised the cane once more.

After twenty strokes, He Yixian caught his breath for a long while before finally getting up. Hu Xiang quickly threw down the cane and lay down. “Elder, beat your son hard, beat hard…”

Instead of immediately taking up the cane, He Yixian took his official robe and covered Hu Xiang’s lower body.

Hu Xiang turned back with tears in his eyes. “Elder…”

He Yixian straightened up while holding his waist and sighed, “Turn around.”

Hu Xiang bit his sleeve and turned around, his face covered in tears.

Deng Ying turned away and walked toward the compound gate. Qin Wende followed a few steps and asked, “Supervisor isn’t staying to watch?”

Deng Ying shook his head, “You watch. I’m leaving.”

With that, he had already walked out of the inner compound gate.

He Yixian’s desire to preserve Hu Xiang’s dignity seemed similar to how Yang Lun had once preserved Deng Ying’s dignity. However, He Yixian could do it openly, while Yang Lun could only do it in secret, though this was better for Deng Ying.

If Yang Lun had acted like He Yixian, openly preserving Deng Ying’s dignity, wouldn’t that have been another form of humiliation?

Scholar-official and eunuch.

Eunuch and scholar-official.

In this world, only someone who had experienced similar circumstances could preserve his dignity without wounding his pride, like Zheng Yuejia.

But he was already dead.

At this thought, Deng Ying suddenly felt something wasn’t quite right.

Besides Zheng Yuejia, there was one other person – that person who was the source of his shame, yet before whom he would willingly remove his clothes and stand naked.

At this moment, Deng Ying very much wanted to see her.

The lamps were already lit in Chengqian Palace.

After the autumn rain, flickering lamp shadows covered the ground.

Yang Wan sat with her feet on the chair edge, hugging her knees as she pondered her notes under the lamplight.

Yi Lang was reading in the study, his recitations occasionally drifting out. Heyu, Qingmeng, and others sat across from Yang Wan reviewing accounts while roasting sweet potatoes over the charcoal fire.

Yang Wan held up her notes and leaned back against the chair.

Less than a month remained until Emperor Zhenning’s death, yet he still hadn’t issued the edict naming his heir.

Yang Wan closed her eyes, trying her best to recall the documents she had read and related research papers.

From Emperor Zhenning’s death until the Second Prince Yi Jue’s death by illness and Yi Lang’s ascension to the throne, only a few months passed.

However, the history of these few months concealed many mysteries and remained a hot topic in Ming Dynasty research.

Was this final edict ever issued? If so, what did it contain?

Why wasn’t it proclaimed through the Cabinet, and for what reason was it eventually hidden away somewhere?

If it wasn’t issued, then why didn’t they follow the Great Ming Code as they had after the Red Pill Incident when the Cabinet drafted an edict in the absence of an imperial decree when the emperor died?

The Ming History records that the Second Prince died of illness, but many historical materials compiled later by Qing scholars mentioned that in Zhenning’s final years, the Empress took extremely careful care of the Second Prince, and his illness was gradually improving. If so, why did the Second Prince suddenly die of illness after the Emperor’s death?

Any one of these questions pointed to the mainstream view that the Second Prince died in the struggle for succession.

And the perpetrator was likely an inner court eunuch.

Later, someone studying Yi Lang’s Hundred Crimes Record written to Deng Ying extracted a crime that had never been corroborated by historical materials – harming imperial clan members.

This discovery later became evidence supporting the Second Prince’s death.

Yang Wan straightened up, tucking back her loose hair as she organized the logic of this information in her notes.

The nearby lamp had nearly burned out its wick. Just as she was about to get up to change it, she saw Heyu and Qingmeng stand up. “Supervisor.”

Deng Ying nodded at the doorway but didn’t enter.

Heyu and Qingmeng quickly withdrew.

Yang Wan put down her brush and smiled at him while hugging her knees. “Did His Majesty see the memorials?”

“He did.”

“You didn’t end up like me, did you?”

“No.”

“That’s good. What about the Ceremonial Office staff, did His Majesty deal with them?”

Deng Ying nodded, “Yes, but they weren’t executed.”

Yang Wan tilted her head, “How could it be easy to execute them? If they were executed, who would guard the funeral funds His Majesty set aside for himself?”

Her words cut straight to the core of the matter, but they reminded Deng Ying of what Jiang Min had told him, and he fell silent.

Seeing him not speaking, Yang Wan slowly lowered her legs from the chair, limping as she walked toward Deng Ying.

“Did you oversee the punishment today…”

Before she could finish speaking, she stumbled and nearly fell.

Deng Ying quickly reached out to support her. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Yang Wan put her hand on Deng Ying’s shoulder and smiled, “If your foot wasn’t injured, I’d make you carry me to bed today.”

Deng Ying looked down at Yang Wan’s knee. “My foot doesn’t hurt. I can carry you.”

“Who are you trying to fool?”

“I’m not fooling you.”

Yang Wan pinched Deng Ying’s arm. “Alright, you’re unhappy, aren’t you?”

“I’m not unhappy…”

“Ouch…”

Yang Wan frowned, “Wrong way, the bed’s over there.”

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