Xie Jin, confident in his integrity, had returned to the capital for his duty report. Not seeing Emperor Yongle, he thought that since His Majesty was ill and the Crown Prince was serving as regent, reporting to the Crown Prince was the same. Moreover, according to the “enter together, leave together” protocol, present at the time were also Dali Temple Vice Minister Tang Zong, Hanlin Academy Compiler and Eastern Palace Left Chunfang Scholar Yang Shiqi, and others—there was absolutely no private audience or treasonous plotting.
Xie Jin had learned from his previous demotion. Forget about the basic rule of two people entering and leaving together—when speaking with the Crown Prince, he would only appear if four or more people were present.
Xie Jin was a capable minister focused on practical affairs. After completing his duty report, he didn’t linger in the capital and hurried back. Passing through Jiangxi, he encountered severe drought along both banks of the Gan River, threatening famine. He even wrote a memorial requesting governance and dredging of the Gan River channels to draw water for field irrigation.
Emperor Yongle looked at Xie Jin’s urgently submitted memorial, which extensively discussed Gan River governance without any inquiry about whether his health had recovered—completely ignoring him.
Perhaps in Xie Jin’s heart, I am someone destined for the coffin sooner or later, and my opinions are unimportant—not as important as the Crown Prince’s.
The weaker his body became, the heavier his suspicions grew. Emperor Yongle thus ordered the Brocade Guard to arrest Xie Jin midway on charges of “lacking proper ministerial courtesy” and throw him into the imperial prison.
Xie Jin felt more wronged than Dou E, firmly refusing to admit he disrespected the emperor. To prove his innocence, he even named all the officials present when he reported to the Crown Prince—these people could testify for him.
Then… Ji Gang arrested all these people and sent them to join Xie Jin in the imperial prison.
Seeing the group of disheveled officials imprisoned, each had another identity besides their main duties—they held concurrent positions in the Eastern Palace as scholars in the Left and Right Chunfang departments, viewed outside as Crown Prince supporters.
Xie Jin understood: when someone wants to frame you, they’ll never lack excuses. The more he argued, the more suspicious the emperor became, suspecting these people all sided with the Crown Prince, their words untrustworthy to His Majesty.
So Xie Jin simply shut up and said nothing more.
Xie Jin’s silence didn’t extinguish Emperor Yongle’s fury. On the contrary, more and more Eastern Palace officials were arrested by the Brocade Guard and thrown into prison. They nearly swept them all up, seemingly destined to spend New Year in prison.
Throughout the court, some pleaded for these ministers while others kicked them when down, reporting on them. Officials speculated everywhere that the Crown Prince was going to lose favor again… again… again.
The cabinet organized and categorized memorials for Emperor Yongle daily. Emperor Yongle quickly scanned the documents but didn’t release them—nor did he kill them.
Some rejoiced while others worried. Prince Han was absolutely delighted, tasting victory without effort for the first time. He’d done nothing, yet Father Emperor had begun moving against the Crown Prince himself.
How surprising and thrilling!
Prince Han was blooming with joy inside but put on a worried expression when he went to Emperor Yongle to plead for Xie Jin and the others.
“…Father Emperor may have misunderstood the Crown Prince and Xie Jin. At that time, Father Emperor was alternately conscious and unconscious, with the Crown Prince serving as regent. Xie Jin could only report to the Crown Prince. Xie Jin’s heart was with the local people—after his report, he immediately returned and didn’t wait for Father Emperor to awaken for an audience.”
Emperor Yongle didn’t respond, staring fixedly at his second son.
Prince Han felt somewhat guilty: “Father Emperor, when you were ill, the Crown Prince served as regent conscientiously. Everyone praised ‘With the Eastern Palace as regent, no court business was neglected.’ Whether major or minor matters, the Crown Prince resolved them all without delay or shirking responsibility. Your son is also convinced and impressed by the Crown Prince.”
Prince Han seemed to be defending the Crown Prince, but every word was adding fuel to Emperor Yongle’s anger: Look, you were so sick you couldn’t care for yourself, yet the sun still rose and the court still functioned without the slightest chaos. This country is the same with or without you.
Having the Crown Prince is enough.
No wonder Xie Jin only found the Crown Prince for his report before hastily leaving the capital, not waiting for you to wake up. Whether you wake up or not makes no difference anyway.
If the Crown Prince were incompetent, the emperor would have a headache.
If the Crown Prince were too capable, the emperor would have an even bigger headache.
Emperor Yongle finally responded: “Now that I’ve recovered, you go take charge of the capital’s defense.”
Previously, Emperor Yongle had stripped Prince Han of his defense authority and given it to Duke of Ying Zhang Fu. Now it was returned to its original owner.
Prince Han was naturally delighted. He excelled at military affairs and had considerable prestige in the army. Now, because Father Emperor was wary of the Crown Prince, he entrusted him with the capital’s defense.
Prince Han seized the opportunity firmly and began training his successor—dragging Prince Han’s heir Zhu Zhanhe along daily, drilling troops and practicing battle formations without a moment’s rest.
Emperor Yongle distanced himself from the Eastern Palace while favoring Prince Han.
Thus, the topic “#Is the Crown Prince Going to Be Deposed?#” became trending in official circles again, like pouring water into a hot oil pan—crackling and popping with endless chatter.
Emperor Yongle turned a deaf ear to all this. He was waiting for one person’s response—the Crown Prince.
Daily, people sought out the Crown Prince, begging him to intercede for these loyal Eastern Palace officials—these people were quite stubborn. Though trapped in prison, confined in the dark imperial dungeon, not one person, including Xie Jin, falsely accused the Crown Prince to escape punishment.
Not a single one.
They were willing to sacrifice everything for the Crown Prince, placing their positions and even lives aside to protect him. How could His Royal Highness the Crown Prince sit by and do nothing, not go plead with the emperor?
Every day people sought out the Crown Prince, begging him to save the innocent officials in prison.
Each time, the Crown Prince received them courteously, patiently listened to their appeals, then politely sent them away.
But the Crown Prince never sought out Emperor Yongle to plead for these Eastern Palace supporters trapped in prison—never taking a stance.
Thus, court rumors spread that the Crown Prince was weak and heartless, pulling up his pants and denying everything. For self-preservation, he was two-faced—outwardly sighing for these ministers while privately going about his business, not daring to utter a word.
Who would have thought you were this kind of naturally cold Crown Prince!
With New Year’s approaching and these innocent ministers destined to spend it in prison, separating countless families, people continued beseeching the Eastern Palace for the Crown Prince’s intercession.
No matter how these people knelt and pleaded desperately, kowtowing until their foreheads bled, the Crown Prince sat motionless like a Buddha statue in the high seat, responding with silence.
Unable to get what they sought, in desperation, their pleas turned to angry curses: “Your Highness the Crown Prince can’t even protect his own people or manage a plea for mercy—who will dare serve the Eastern Palace or work as Eastern Palace officials in the future!”
“Back in the Hongwu era, when Crown Prince Yiwen was alive and his teacher Song Lian was implicated in Hu Weiyong’s treason case and sentenced to death, Crown Prince Yiwen knelt and desperately begged Emperor Gaozhu to pardon Song Lian, pleading for his teacher’s life—only then was Song Lian spared. Now with Xie Jin suffering injustice, will the Crown Prince truly sit by and do nothing? Bah!—mmph.”
To prevent further unseemly curses, they gagged him and dragged him out.
The Crown Prince sighed: “Just escort him out—don’t make things difficult for him.”
An attendant asked: “What if he continues cursing?”
The Crown Prince said: “You can gag one person’s mouth, but can you gag all the mouths under heaven? Better to channel than to block—let him curse.”
Perhaps the more voices cursing the Eastern Palace outside, the better chance the Eastern Palace had of surviving this crisis.
The Crown Prince had become a clay Buddha himself—a clay Buddha crossing the river, unable to protect even himself.
Crown Prince’s heir Zhu Zhanji came to pay respects to the Crown Prince. Since being enfeoffed as Crown Prince’s heir, he’d moved out of the Eastern Palace. The imperial palace had a dedicated Crown Prince’s heir palace, plus the Secretariat to advise him, subordinate officials, etc. Emperor Yongle had essentially cleared out the Eastern Palace officials with one stroke, but hadn’t touched the Crown Prince’s heir palace officials.
On the contrary, Emperor Yongle relied even more heavily on this eldest grandson than before, consulting him on all major military and state affairs—just bypassing the Eastern Palace.
Zhu Zhanji watched the gagged man being dragged away, and from his angry eyes could guess he was cursing his father.
As a son, no matter how busy, Zhu Zhanji’s daily morning and evening attendance to inquire after his parents’ health was mandatory. No one could fail in filial duty.
So knowing that anyone who approached the Eastern Palace met no good end, with the prison gates always open and arms wide to welcome you, Zhu Zhanji still persisted through wind and rain, consistently making his morning and evening visits to greet his parents.
“How is Father’s health today?” Zhu Zhanji said roughly the same thing daily, as if going through the motions.
The Crown Prince, having been scolded senseless, gave roughly the same response each time: “I’m fine. Go see your mother.”
The Crown Prince felt helpless. He too wanted to have a good talk with his steady, reliable eldest son to relieve pressure, but his eldest son was now also heir apparent. Each time they spoke, both sides had crowds of people watching, and all words would reach Emperor Yongle’s ears.
Sigh, forget it. Better to do less than more. Right now I’m a plague god—anyone who gets close to me suffers bad luck. Let it be this way. Staying away from me, his father, is beneficial for my eldest son.
“Yes, your son takes his leave.”
Zhu Zhanji also understood the Eastern Palace’s current predicament. He too was anxious and worried for the Eastern Palace.
But just as the Crown Prince couldn’t speak up for Eastern Palace officials, he couldn’t speak up for the Eastern Palace either.
Zhu Zhanji went to the Crown Princess. Crown Princess Zhang was holding a cloth tiger, encouraging the one-year-old young princess to walk. The young princess was the Eastern Palace’s only girl, and her birth had once brought the Eastern Palace a brief period of happiness.
The young princess was plump and white, toddling unsteadily like a penguin. Her walking style resembled the limping Crown Prince remarkably.
Yet Zhu Zhanji found the young princess’s chubby, adorable appearance very much like little sister A’Lei in childhood. He clapped his hands toward his sister and squatted down: “Come here, let big brother hold you.”
Suddenly seeing the “stranger” Zhu Zhanji, the young princess clutched her cloth tiger and threw herself into her mother’s arms, not daring to look at big brother, crying in fear.
Though Zhu Zhanji came morning and evening daily, the young princess was usually either sleeping or playing. To her, big brother Zhu Zhanji was an even stranger existence than father the Crown Prince.
Zhu Zhanji awkwardly withdrew his hands.
The Crown Princess picked up the young princess, stroking her back comfortingly, and said to Zhu Zhanji: “Your sister is still young and somewhat shy with strangers—she’ll be better when older.”
Zhu Zhanji knew his presence would only make his sister more distressed, so he sensibly took his leave.
The Crown Princess watched her son’s thin, noodle-like retreating figure, wanting to call out and remind him to eat more supplements in winter and take care of his health, but the young princess in her arms was crying with hiccups, so she could only tend to the little one first.
Zhu Zhanji left the Eastern Palace amid his sister’s cries.
From age twelve, he’d spent most of his time accompanying Emperor Yongle on campaigns or holding down Beijing, becoming distant from the Eastern Palace. When they were together, they didn’t seem like father and son—more like colleagues maintaining the same position for mutual benefit.
Later, after being enfeoffed as Crown Prince’s heir with his own palace, he became even more detached from the Eastern Palace. Strictly speaking, the Crown Prince’s eldest son and the Crown Prince were in the same boat, but the Crown Prince’s heir palace and Eastern Palace were not in the same boat.
Both being heirs apparent, though father and son, they were now also in competition. With one country having two heirs, the Crown Prince’s heir existed as a backup—prepared to seamlessly take over should the Eastern Palace have a blowout.
If the Crown Prince were deposed, according to succession order, the Crown Prince’s heir was first in line—Prince Han wouldn’t have a turn.
Now, with the Eastern Palace facing difficulties, the Crown Prince’s heir had the heart and intention but dared not speak.
The Eastern Palace also appeared indifferent toward the Crown Prince’s heir.
Emperor Yongle constantly elevated the Crown Prince’s heir while suppressing the Crown Prince. This praise-and-criticism approach gradually spawned rumors throughout court and country that His Majesty wanted to depose the limping Crown Prince and have only the young, capable Crown Prince’s heir as sole heir.
Moreover, from appearances, the Crown Prince’s heir had indeed seemed distant from the Eastern Palace since childhood, always like an outsider—this was fact.
Hu Shanwei issued strict orders forbidding the spread of rumors that would sow discord in the imperial family. Anyone defying this would be immediately sent to the Palace Justice Department for severe punishment.
Palace people dared not discuss it anymore—after all, everyone had to make a living in this gorgeous prison called the harem. But those wagging tongues outside the palace were beyond Hu Shanwei’s ability to silence.
Instantly, “Depose the Crown Prince, Keep Only the Crown Prince’s Heir” shot to number one on the trending topics.
Hu Shanwei commuted to work daily and thus knew the outside hot topics. She asked Ji Gang: “With such rumors spreading outside, won’t your Brocade Guard do something about it?”
Ji Gang chuckled: “We only listen to His Majesty. If His Majesty wants us to act, we’ll immediately arrest and execute a few people to make an example. If His Majesty doesn’t speak, no matter what rumors spread outside, it’s none of our business.”