After boarding the boat, Emperor Yongchang’s mind still held the image of his second son riding away on horseback.
Last autumn, he had heard from Consort Liu that the second son and his wife had gone horse riding together, but the scene Emperor Yongchang had imagined was of his second son sitting on horseback, moving along at a leisurely pace. How could he have dared imagine that his second son could still gallop on horseback as he had before his legs were injured?
Horse riding required forceful use of both legs. Since his second son’s legs couldn’t move, his waist and arms had to exert far more strength and skill to make him appear as effortlessly natural at riding as others.
His second son wasn’t the carefree, unrestrained type. Some children would laugh after falling down and getting back up, some would sit on the ground wailing, but his second son was the kind of pitiful child who wouldn’t laugh or cry, showed nothing on his face, but would silently grieve inside. Now that his second son had grown up, he could disguise it well, but when he was seven or eight years old, adults could tell at a glance that he only appeared prematurely mature because he was forced to be, having no elders to turn to for help.
So after his second son’s legs became crippled, he would rather seclude himself deep within the prince’s manor than appear in public and let people see his scars.
It was his lively and cheerful second daughter-in-law who brought his second son out, enabling him not only to serve at court calmly while sitting in a wheelchair, but even to mount and dismount horses in front of those around him, either being supported or carried.
Emperor Yongchang had been dignified and noble all his life. If one day he suddenly couldn’t walk and needed to be lifted onto the dragon throne or onto a fine horse, Emperor Yongchang believed that his temperament would certainly change drastically, and he would find everyone around him displeasing, because these people would have seen the most embarrassing side of an emperor who should be noble.
A prince could be said to rank below only one person but above ten thousand others, equally noble and extraordinary. Yet when his second son was filled with deathly despair, he never became angry or lost his temper over his brothers competing for his wheelchair. Now he could even accompany his wife horse riding and playing about as if nothing had happened. How broad must this young man’s heart be to achieve such tolerance of others and himself, remaining calm and composed regardless of favor or disgrace?
Only twenty-four years old! At this age, he already possessed such composure. When his second son reached his fifties, he would probably truly be able to remain unfazed even if the sky fell, wouldn’t he?
Besides marveling at his second son’s transformation, from this day forward, Emperor Yongchang also acquired a small secret: he had people take note of what diversions Prince Hui engaged in each time he went out. There was no need to watch closely every moment—just finding out about Prince Hui’s leisure activities and reporting them to him would suffice. After all, Emperor Yongchang had no intention of spying on his own second son.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, today after leaving duty, the prince was directly invited by the princess consort to go horse riding on the grassland.”
“Reporting to Your Majesty, today after leaving duty, the prince was invited by the princess consort to go boating on North Lake.”
“Reporting to Your Majesty, today after leaving duty, the prince was pushed by the princess consort to tour the gardens.”
“Reporting to Your Majesty…”
Emperor Yongchang was astonished to discover that sitting in a wheelchair, his second son was actually living more happily than he himself was at the North Garden. The only thing they hadn’t done was climb mountains.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, today after leaving duty, the prince accompanied the princess consort riding horses up a low hill and only returned after watching the sunset.”
Emperor Yongchang: “…How high was this low hill? Did they walk down slowly or ride down?”
“…They slid down. The prince and princess consort prepared a board shaped like a sled. The princess consort sat in front, the prince sat in back. The hill’s slope was gentle, and the grass had been prepared in advance. The prince and princess consort slid very steadily and didn’t fall.”
Emperor Yongchang quietly covered his chest, feeling as if he had also slid down once himself, his heart clenching tight.
The next afternoon, when Emperor Yongchang left the traveling palace for some fresh air, he happened upon his second daughter-in-law taking the two princesses to slide down…a slope?
From a distance he couldn’t see their features clearly, but Emperor Yongchang heard the excited shouts from the eldest princess, who was usually gentle and well-mannered.
Emperor Yongchang stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at that admittedly very gentle grassy slope, then watching the second princess happily grabbing the board, running up and sliding down by herself. Emperor Yongchang shook his head and turned to go elsewhere.
During the day, Yao Huang was almost inseparable from the two princesses. Sometimes she would also invite Chen Ying and the two secondary consorts to join them. Princess Imperial Fucheng had encountered them several times while touring the gardens. On this day she summoned her daughter and asked why she didn’t go, whether Yao Huang hadn’t invited her.
Zheng Yuanzhen: “She invited me once. I didn’t accept.”
Princess Imperial Fucheng frowned: “Why didn’t you go? His Majesty dotes on the eldest princess. Even if you can’t find common ground with your two sisters-in-law, surely you can’t fail to find topics with the eldest princess?”
Zheng Yuanzhen turned her face away and said: “She clearly prefers touring with Lady Yao. If I forced myself to join them, I would probably only spoil their enjoyment.”
When Yao Huang was still a young lady of modest means on Longevity Lane, Zheng Yuanzhen and the eldest princess could still enjoy activities together—admiring flowers and touring gardens, appreciating tea and playing the zither, or examining poetry, calligraphy, and paintings, all the refined pursuits of noble ladies cultivating their temperament. But ever since Yao Huang became Princess Consort Hui, the eldest princess seemed to have become a different person, actually enjoying listening to Yao Huang talk about those common folk and their mundane affairs, and following Yao Huang in running about wildly on horseback.
Especially the grass sliding that Yao Huang had them playing recently—Zheng Yuanzhen would absolutely never sit on such a broken wooden board.
Princess Imperial Fucheng had no solution for her daughter’s aloof temperament, but thinking that the mother of a nation should be proper and dignified, like Empress Zhou whose every word and action was beyond reproach, Princess Imperial Fucheng felt that it was good for her daughter to maintain such composure. The princesses were His Majesty’s daughters—if they were lively and lovable, His Majesty would like them. Like Yao Huang, who was generous but playful, or like Chen Ying, who was well-mannered but timid, neither had the bearing of a national mother.
Princess Imperial Fucheng even tested the waters when accompanying Emperor Yongchang on a walk, speaking in a helpless tone: “I really don’t know what to do with Yuanzhen. Even at the North Garden, she stays in her courtyard reading books every day, or else accompanies us elders touring gardens and admiring flowers. Look at how much fun her second sister-in-law and younger sisters have every day. I advise her to join them but she can’t let herself go, wasting this opportunity to accompany Your Majesty.”
Emperor Yongchang laughed: “Each child has their own temperament. If Yuanzhen prefers quiet, why must you force her?”
Princess Imperial Fucheng: “I never thought there was anything wrong with Yuanzhen being this way before, but ever since seeing her second sister-in-law, smiling like a flower every day, I’ve actually come to regret not having such a lively, playful daughter—how interesting it would be to have her by my side.”
Emperor Yongchang remembered something and smiled: “The imperial consort was exactly this temperament as a child. Back then you two quarreled every few days, yet I never saw you like her.”
Princess Imperial Fucheng: “…Can raising a daughter be the same as dealing with sisters? The imperial consort competed with me in everything, so I kept her company in competing. But with a daughter, I would wish to give her all my treasures.”
Emperor Yongchang nodded in agreement: “Indeed, you’re so particular and critical about the prince consort, yet you truly raised Yuanzhen as your precious darling. I still remember your gentle appearance when you first brought Yuanzhen into the palace—completely different from your former proud self.”
Princess Imperial Fucheng snorted: “How can the prince consort compare to Yuanzhen? Yuanzhen has half of our imperial family’s blood flowing through her. If the prince consort loses favor, he can be replaced at any time.”
Emperor Yongchang looked at Princess Imperial Fucheng’s shadow on the ground.
What did imperial family blood matter? Before his second son displayed his talents, in his eyes he wasn’t even as pleasing as his niece who would sweetly call him “Imperial Uncle.”
Including Princess Imperial Fucheng—in other matters he as the elder brother could indulge her, including allowing his niece to marry his third son as she wished. But if his third son was mud that couldn’t be molded into form, then she shouldn’t blame him for giving no one any face.
On the morning of the thirteenth day of the sixth month, Prince Qing finally arrived outside the North Garden’s city walls.
On the return journey he had encountered several rainstorms, causing him to be delayed three to five days longer than the trip to Jingzhou.
Emperor Yongchang was holding a small court assembly with his ministers when he learned that Prince Qing had returned. He summoned Prince Qing to come directly to the great hall.
Prince Kang instinctively looked toward his second brother in the wheelchair. Their third brother had suffered so many casualties suppressing bandits, yet Father Emperor was still going to praise him later. Would second brother, who had achieved even greater military merits, feel bitter about this?
Zhao Sui only gazed straight ahead.
Outside the great hall, Prince Qing gave his floating dust a final pat, and after receiving permission, strode in with head held high and chest out.
“Your subject Zhao Xun pays respects to Father Emperor!”
Returning from his external assignment, Prince Qing knelt on the ground and performed the kowtow ritual to his father emperor on the dragon throne.
Emperor Yongchang said flatly: “Rise.”
Prince Qing stood up. At this moment he alone stood in the center of the great hall, his figure upright and appearance handsome, looking very much like promising material.
Emperor Yongchang had favored his third son precisely for his fine writing, fine martial skills, and fine appearance. Knowing he was brash and impetuous, he still gave him opportunities to gain experience and learn. Who could have imagined that his third son hadn’t taken his earnest teachings to heart, hadn’t taken Peng Daji—whom he had specifically assigned to assist him—to heart, and had gone ahead and implemented his own clever stratagem? So disrespectful, narrow-minded, and unrepentant! No matter how talented, he would be defeated by his own failings!
The fury he had suppressed for half a month rose steadily from the depths of his heart. Emperor Yongchang stared at the son before him and demanded: “I sent you to suppress bandits. Tanzhou Prefect Feng Gui and Wuling Guard Commander Peng Daji were the right and left arms assisting you in bandit suppression. When you first arrived in Jingzhou, you weren’t familiar with their character or their talents as officials. Why didn’t you first investigate their backgrounds?”
Prince Qing’s heart turned cold, but he forced himself to remain calm: “Father Emperor’s rebuke is correct. Your son should not have neglected this point due to eagerness to suppress the bandits…”
Emperor Yongchang coldly cut him off: “Before you left, did I or did I not warn you not to rashly seek glory through reckless advancement?”
Prince Qing: “…You did.”
Emperor Yongchang: “Before you left, did I or did I not instruct you to strive to suppress the bandit rebellion with minimal casualties?”
Prince Qing’s face flushed red: “…You did.”
Emperor Yongchang suddenly stood up and pointed at Prince Qing below, sternly berating him: “Then did you treat all of my words as mere wind passing by your ears! Only one thousand mountain bandits, and I gave you five thousand elite troops and one thousand prefectural soldiers, yet you actually threw away all one thousand prefectural soldiers! In my reign and the previous emperor’s combined, we’ve suppressed over a hundred bandit groups large and small, and this is the first time our official forces have suffered more deaths than the bandits! You’ve completely lost face for me, yet you still dare to submit a merit petition, still dare to argue stubbornly with me!”
By the time he finished his tirade, Emperor Yongchang had already walked up to Prince Qing. Prince Qing had long since knelt down again, unable to withstand the imperial might, his forehead touching the ground as he tearfully pleaded: “Your son was wrong. Father Emperor may punish your son however you wish. Please take care of your dragon body…”
Prince Kang, the Left Chancellor, the Right Chancellor, and over a dozen civil and military high officials all knelt down, jointly requesting His Majesty to calm his anger.
With their kneeling, Prince Hui sitting in his wheelchair became extremely conspicuous.
Emperor Yongchang instinctively looked over.
Zhao Sui gripped the armrests on both sides of the wheelchair, his arms exerting force, about to prop up his upper body.
Emperor Yongchang’s eyelid twitched. He gave his second son a look that said “sit still and don’t move,” took two deep breaths, then turned his back to the assembly and said: “Prince Qing was careless and underestimated the enemy, causing one thousand prefectural soldiers to needlessly lose their lives. Though he has merit in suppressing bandits, it hardly offsets his fault. His noble rank and stipend are forfeit for one year, and he shall reflect on his errors behind closed doors for three months.”
As soon as the emperor’s words fell, the court historian kneeling at the side of the great hall was the first to stand with lowered head, return to his writing desk, lift his brush and dip it in ink, recording this major event from today’s court assembly that had enraged Emperor Yongchang.
And this was Emperor Yongchang’s true punishment for Prince Qing.
He had to preserve the imperial family’s dignity and couldn’t proclaim all the foolish things his third son had done throughout the court and realm. But he let the important ministers of this dynasty witness his dissatisfaction with his third son’s incompetence in underestimating the enemy, and had the historian record this shameful incident of his third son. This was almost equivalent to telling them that his third son no longer had any possibility of advancing to heir apparent.