The court proceedings progressed smoothly, and the Emperor was quite satisfied with the results of their northern investigation.
“Prince Chun has shown considerable skill in governance. He contributed greatly to pacifying Khalkha earlier, and upon returning to court, he devoted himself diligently to his duties. His outstanding work investigating the Yunting case and the Bao family case makes him my right-hand man. When the irregularities occurred at Ningguta, I was so worried I could hardly eat or sleep. Though those Aha were criminals exiled by the court, since we didn’t sentence them to death, they shouldn’t have been trafficked like pigs and dogs. Dao Qin and his accomplices committed heinous crimes. The garrison housed many surrendered people, and they turned the ancestral homeland of our Manchu people into a cesspool of corruption due to my lack of virtue. The Emperor Emeritus has inquired several times, but I didn’t dare report the truth. The Emperor Emeritus has reached his sixtieth year, and disturbing his peace is unfilial of me as his son. Now that my Twelfth Brother has helped ease my worries, I am greatly comforted. After the court dismisses, he shall await my edict at the Yangxin Hall, where I will have a reward for him. The position of Deputy Commander-General of Ningguta shall remain vacant for now, with the Jilin Wula Banner Commander temporarily assuming the role. If any ministers wish to recommend worthy candidates, submit memorials to the Grand Council. It’s not easy to find good officials in remote places far from the Emperor. Without proper supervision, those with great power lose sight of their duties, disregard even their own lives and families, and become consumed by greed. You all understand this well—such people exist not only in distant posts but right here in the court. The only difference is that some are blatant while others try to hide it.”
The person seated on the gilded dragon throne spoke unhurriedly, but the ministers below broke out in a cold sweat. Who didn’t harbor at least some private ambitions? The Emperor was using this opportunity to warn everyone, possibly to build momentum for the next anti-corruption campaign. He had been praising the Twelfth Prince all along—was he planning to entrust him with important responsibilities? The Twelfth Prince was someone who minded his own business and had no deep connections with anyone. If he turned serious, he would dare to challenge even the highest authorities.
Gazes darted back and forth like arrows, but Hong Ce pretended not to notice and proclaimed in a clear voice: “Your humble brother has another memorial for Your Majesty’s review.” He raised both hands, and a palace eunuch respectfully delivered it to the Emperor. Hong Ce continued with his hands folded, “Your brother has been unwell recently. I caught rain on my return from Fengjun and was severely ill for nearly half a month. Last night when I entered the city and returned to my residence, I immediately summoned the imperial physician to check my pulse. I had intended to request leave from Your Majesty, but I was concerned about my unfinished duties. I forced myself to come to the Hall of Supreme Harmony even if I had to crawl… Your Majesty’s praise is more than I deserve. Solving the case was a result of everyone’s cooperation; I dare not claim sole credit. If we must reckon, I have failed in my duties. Your Majesty ordered me to thoroughly investigate the ten-year-old case of Censor Wen Lu. When I reached the Imperial Estate at Changbai Mountain, I intended to interrogate Wen Lu’s three sons, but all three had already died. The case has been stalled for seven or eight months without any progress. I have failed Your Majesty’s expectations and am willing to accept punishment.”
While he spoke, the Emperor read the memorial. After finishing, he folded it, noting that its contents didn’t match what Hong Ce had just said. The Emperor had a transparent heart and mind—one glance was enough to know there was something more to this. Without questioning him publicly, the Emperor merely paused briefly, then patted his knee and said: “Cases shelved for over a decade are indeed difficult to investigate. When I was still a prince, I handled some duties and knew the difficulties of such cold cases when one had nowhere to turn for help. Official duties are important, but your health is even more crucial. You’ve just returned from Ningguta and have worked hard all year. Take good care of yourself at home. Set aside court matters for now—they’re not urgent. Focus on recovering first.”
Hong Ce acknowledged with a “yes.” This exchange between the brothers, though appearing ordinary, carried a deeper meaning. At this stage with the Wen Lu case, should it be investigated? Of course, and thoroughly. However, too much publicity might invite trouble, so it was better to proceed quietly rather than openly. For Hong Ce, claiming illness served two purposes. With rumors of an anti-corruption campaign circulating at court, he lacked the energy to stir up trouble and make enemies—he understood the principle of not drawing attention, just as the Seventh Prince did. Furthermore, with the case not being publicly investigated, he could focus on finding Ding Yi, whom he had never given up searching for. Members of the imperial clan couldn’t leave Beijing without permission, but with the case still in his hands, he could change course immediately if he received any news about her, without even needing to request imperial permission—a considerable advantage.
He didn’t know what else was discussed in court afterward. Having received special permission previously due to his hearing impairment, he could be excused from court when no important matters required his attention. After completing his report, he withdrew to await the court’s dismissal. People with hearing difficulties often develop heightened sensitivity in other areas—feeling the slight vibrations through his feet, he knew it was approaching the Hour of Dragon (7-9 am). Whips for entering court and drums for dismissal—during morning court, eunuchs would crack sheepskin whips on the Imperial Street, and at dismissal, drums would be beaten at the corner of the Inner Right Gate. Attending court at the sound of whips and dispersing at the beat of drums had been the rule since the founding of the Great Ying Dynasty.
The civil and military officials filed out of the Hall of Supreme Harmony in order, and he descended the vermilion steps with them. As a prince, he was in the same row as Prince Zhuang. The Elder Prince Zhuang was the Emperor Emeritus’s brother, someone with little interest in court politics who spent nine out of ten years away from Beijing. When the Emperor Emeritus abdicated, he hastily followed suit and escaped to Yunnan to live as a recluse. His title as an iron-capped prince passed to his eldest son Hong Zan, giving rise to the terms Elder Prince Zhuang and Junior Prince Zhuang.
There were few brothers in the older generation, but in the Hong generation, they were ranked together. Hong Zan was half a year younger than the Emperor, and everyone called him Third Brother. This Third Brother was a refined gentleman who spoke kindly to everyone. Unlike his father, who could be so jovial as to call ten-year-old children his brothers, Hong Zan was different. He was scholarly and had the bearing of a distinguished man. When they were young and Emperor Emeritus examined his nephews’ studies, Hong Zan’s eight-legged essays could move Emperor Emeritus to tears—that’s how impressive he was.
The officials walked toe-to-heel until they reached Imperial Street, then dispersed without daring to socialize openly, though those with connections gathered together. Hong Zan slowed his pace and turned back to wait for Hong Ce, smiling: “I arrived late at the court chambers and didn’t get to speak with you, brother. After traveling for a year, you look tanned and stronger. I just heard you say you’re unwell—what’s the matter?”
Hong Ce replied: “I caught a chill and had a fever for about ten days. Sometimes I break out in cold sweats—a perfectly good undergarment can be soaked through. What do you think of that?” He smiled and gestured to the side, and the cousins stepped aside to talk. “How have you been, Third Brother? Last winter was your fortieth birthday, but I wasn’t in Beijing. Please forgive my lack of proper congratulations.”
Hong Zan waved dismissively: “It’s nothing! I hadn’t planned to celebrate, just wanted to gather with my brothers for some merriment. But then some servants couldn’t keep quiet, and everyone found out. I had no choice but to reserve a few tables at Qingfeng Restaurant to manage the situation.” He continued, “A man breaking out in cold sweats is no small matter. Have the imperial physician examine you right away. You know some medicine yourself—don’t take it lightly, or you’ll end up seriously ill.”
Hong Ce smiled: “I know what I’m doing. I’m drinking tea made from aged wheat, which helps somewhat.”
Hong Zan nodded, then suddenly seemed to remember something: “Oh! A pool in Langruan Garden has accumulated sand and blocked the drainage gate. The palace says they want to excavate and rebuild the pool. I went to inspect it recently and met the Noble Consort Gui in the garden. The old lady entrusted me with a matter… about a coffin board. I tried to dissuade her, saying that as the Consort was in the prime of her life, she shouldn’t think of such things, but she insisted. I had no choice and ordered people to look for camphor wood. Yesterday I received news that they found two pieces of top-quality wood with star patterns and sent them to the workshop for crafting. Such funerary coffins are intricately made, with carvings and lacquering taking one or two years of work. I don’t often visit the garden, so in case the Noble Consort asks, please relay to her that she should rest assured—I’ve taken it to heart and won’t forget.”
Hong Ce felt a headache coming on. His mother had mentioned this before he left Beijing last year, and she still hadn’t forgotten. She probably thought he was just brushing her off, and when her son couldn’t be relied upon, she turned to others—she was deliberately making him lose face.
Somewhat embarrassed, he joked: “My mother always loves novelty. She bothered me about this before, but I thought it was too early to prepare such things and deliberately delayed her. She became unhappy and ended up approaching you.” He cupped his hands in greeting, “Third Brother, you’ve been troubled. I’m truly sorry.”
Hong Zan replied: “We’re brothers—no need for such formality. If our positions were reversed and I had matters from my household to entrust to you, would you help? You’re also tired—whatever I can help with, I’ll take care of. Go home and rest properly, and regain your strength for handling cases… Speaking of cases, Wen Lu’s sons are all gone?”
Hong Ce confirmed, “It’s a mess. In the end, they all died of plague.”
Hong Zan responded with a slow “Oh,” “How pitiful. I used to play Buku with Wen Ruliang… So the case is shelved now?”
He glanced at Hong Zan, who wore an expression of great compassion, appearing to have had deep connections with the Wen brothers. Hong Ce, however, was tight-lipped—no one could extract information from him that he didn’t wish to share. Could the news that the Wen brothers were “the last surviving members” be kept from those who had once plotted against them? The answer was affirmative. Officials in Beijing would give orders down the chain of command, with the final level inevitably reaching the Imperial Estate. People there secretly engaged in petty corruption, and when their schemes went awry, they would fabricate stories to their superiors, claiming deaths and complete losses. The distance was too great for higher authorities to personally verify, so matters were glossed over. The information he had obtained hadn’t spread, and even if people in Beijing had planted informants around him, it would be useless—regardless of who asked, he couldn’t reveal anything, not even to those closest to him. Thus, he answered ambiguously: “From His Majesty’s meaning, it seems he doesn’t want the investigation to continue. After all, so many years have passed, the witnesses are gone, and evidence is hard to find. Continuing would just be wasting effort. Better to let it go than expend manpower on a futile task.”
“That’s how it should be,” Hong Zan nodded and smiled, “The court has so many matters—memorials piled mountain-high in the Grand Council chambers. If we don’t handle urgent current affairs but instead cling to old cases, won’t new cases eventually become old ones too? His Majesty is supremely intelligent and weighs the importance of matters with precision. Since that’s settled, you can rest easy—it’s a good thing. It’s getting late. Earlier you were summoned to await orders at Yangxin Hall—you should go now. I must head to my ministry as well. Let’s pick a day soon for a meal together, brother.” As he spoke, he waved his hand, “See you later.”
Hong Ce agreed and watched him leave through the Left Wing Gate. Turning, he saw a eunuch from Yangxin Hall coming to greet him, who bowed deeply and said: “Greetings to the Twelfth Prince! His Majesty has summoned you—please follow this servant.” Hunched over, he led the way, ushered him inside, and settled him in, smiling until his eyes became narrow slits. Turning, he took a tray from a young eunuch, poured tea, and presented it ingratiatingly: “This servant has prepared the finest pre-Qingming Dragon Well tea for you. Please enjoy it slowly. The Emperor is currently receiving someone in the Southern Study—the Twelfth Prince need only wait a moment. His Majesty will be here shortly.”
“Second Steward, thank you for your trouble. I just returned and heard you’ve been promoted—I haven’t even congratulated you yet!”
He was joking, but the other became embarrassed, exclaiming: “My good lord, please continue to call this servant Luzi! What ‘Second Steward’? This servant has only a few years of experience—how could I puff up my chest before you? If you have any instructions, please command—serving you is this servant’s honor. This ‘Second Steward’ lives to serve His Majesty and the Twelfth Prince, come heaven or earth.”
He managed a thin smile and looked down at the tea leaves in his cup, straight as needles, floating at various heights after being steeped in boiling water. He took a sip and nodded: “This year’s tribute tea is good, not like last year when they mixed Lotus Heart with Sparrow Tongue, thinking people wouldn’t notice.”
Luzi quickly flattered him: “The Twelfth Prince is a tea master—you’re right! No wonder His Majesty always invites you to share when he has good tea!”
He didn’t respond, sitting quietly and staring blankly at the tea leaves.
When the Emperor entered, he found him lost in thought. The official matters had already been addressed in morning court, and now only family affairs remained between brothers. Without saying much, he stood before Hong Ce and handed him a thick stack of booklets, “Inside are the daughters of officials of the third rank and above, with names, details, and portraits. Take a look and see which one suits you—take her home to warm your bed!”