Chapter 227: Core Values of Feudal Regency
Eastern Palace.
The Crown Princess paced anxiously: “Zhanji is only twelve years old, yet he has to follow His Majesty on the campaign. Isn’t he too young?”
The Crown Prince said: “When I was twelve, I came to the capital, ostensibly to serve High Ancestor Emperor with filial piety, but in reality as a hostage, separated from Father Emperor and Mother Empress from then on. Prince Han, Princess Yongping, and Princess Ancheng were even younger.”
The Crown Prince had shouldered the responsibility of being the face of Prince Yan’s mansion at such a young age, facing various speculations and doubts, as well as High Ancestor Emperor’s tests and trials. He used food to console himself – he went out as a youth and returned as a fat man.
The Crown Prince matured too early, while Prince Han and his two sisters, three siblings in their rebellious phase, huddled together for warmth. The alienation between brothers and siblings born of the same mother led to today’s imperial family chaos.
Born into the imperial family, none had freedom – whose days were easy?
After ten months of pregnancy, the Crown Princess was still a mother: “Your Highness at least grew up beside His Majesty and the Empress until age twelve. Zhanji was taken to Yunnan before age two and only returned after five years. These years in the Eastern Palace, he’s been like a guest, careful in everything, mindful of all matters. He’s spent more days with Father Emperor than with us – the Eastern Palace is just a place where he sleeps. Now we can’t even see him daily.”
The Crown Princess sat down wiping tears. Lady Guo consoled her: “His Majesty taking the Imperial Grandson on campaign – some people want to follow but can’t. This is an opportunity for the Imperial Grandson to gain experience. My brother Guo Xuan will also go north this time as a personal guard to protect the Imperial Grandson.”
Lady Guo’s widowed mother, Madam Xu, had made a desperate gamble this time, placing all bets on both her son and daughter with the Eastern Palace.
The Crown Princess felt slightly comforted, though still reluctant to part, she was helpless.
Learning that his eldest cousin would follow the Emperor on the imperial campaign, Zhu Zhanhe brought many items to the palace for Zhu Zhanji – lightweight leather armor, new firearms from the gunpowder factory, and so forth.
“I know you have everything and don’t lack these things, but this is my sincere intention.”
Zhu Zhanhe looked enviously at his eldest cousin: “I also want to follow Imperial Grandfather on campaign, but he refuses, saying I’m still too young. How am I young? I’m as tall as you and at least ten pounds heavier.”
Zhu Zhanji was trying on the armor, which hung loose inside, giving the feeling of a person rattling around in armor. It fit Zhu Zhanhe just right, but was somewhat large on him.
“Imperial Grandfather’s campaigns surely won’t be just once. Wait patiently for the next time.” Zhu Zhanji looked in the mirror, saying: “I’ve been growing lately. The armor should fit properly by the time we reach Beijing.”
He continued: “Following this imperial campaign, the journey is long – I definitely won’t make it back for Grandmother’s major anniversary (second year after death). You must offer incense to Grandmother for me then.”
“And also—”
“Stop.” Zhu Zhanhe covered his ears: “You’re more nagging than Father King and Mother Consort. I finally escaped home for some peace, and you’re lecturing again.”
Zhu Zhanji had to stop talking. He had shouldered Eastern Palace responsibilities from a very young age, becoming the crippled Crown Prince’s right hand. His cousin Zhu Zhanhe had the formidable Prince Han above him – everything was handled by his father, so this heir needn’t worry about anything. Whenever Prince Han had time, he would lecture his son, with the catchphrase: “Look how excellent your eldest cousin is.”
Zhu Zhanji was excellent to an inhuman degree. Zhu Zhanhe sometimes felt exhausted just watching his eldest cousin – he definitely didn’t want to become a second Zhu Zhanji. He only wanted to be himself.
Zhu Zhanhe’s ears were callused from listening, refusing discipline, often talking back until Prince Han was speechless with anger and reached for a stick to beat him.
Naturally, Zhu Zhanhe wouldn’t meekly take a beating. He’d run to the palace, to the Rouyi Hall where Empress Renxiao’s coffin lay, knowing Prince Han didn’t dare beat him there.
Zhu Zhanhe entering the palace naturally alarmed Emperor Yongle. Before Prince Han could go to Rouyi Hall to drag Zhu Zhanhe out, Emperor Yongle intercepted and called Prince Han to his study for a thorough lecture, telling him to teach his son calmly and not always resort to threats of violence.
Favoring grandsons over sons, Emperor Yongle rarely showed his sons kind faces, but was quite benevolent toward his grandsons. In Emperor Yongle’s eyes, Zhu Zhanhe wasn’t as well-behaved as Zhu Zhanji, but resembled his own childhood appearance the most – he couldn’t bear to let his grandson be beaten.
Unable to beat or scold, Prince Han could only reason with Zhu Zhanhe. The same few phrases rearranged in different combinations – Zhu Zhanhe would doze off listening.
Zhu Zhanhe often complained to Zhu Zhanji: “Why do you always make things difficult for yourself? Can’t you just not be so excellent and outstanding? My father keeps nagging that phrase about ‘people more excellent than you work even harder.’ You must do everything perfectly – how are we younger brothers supposed to live?”
Zhu Zhanji only smiled: “When you’re in my position, you’ll understand why.”
Zhu Zhanhe didn’t know that Zhu Zhanji actually envied him.
After giving many gifts, Zhu Zhanhe finally produced the last item from his collection: “This is a telescope that Eunuch Sanbao brought back from his western voyages… Eunuch Sanbao gave it to Sister A’Lei, who asked me to pass it to you.”
Zhu Zhanji hesitated a moment before accepting the telescope: “Has she been very busy lately? No time to enter the palace, having to ask you to deliver things for her.”
Why didn’t she come personally? It’s convenient for her to enter the palace.
Zhu Zhanhe, carefree and unaware of his complicated eldest cousin’s implications, said: “Yes, she’s very busy. Eunuch Sanbao returned from his voyages with many rare treasures and novel Western items. To prepare for the next voyage, the shipyard must build larger vessels – I heard the new ships are so big you can race horses on deck and even grow vegetables. A’Lei is very interested. She disguises herself as a young eunuch and follows Eunuch Sanbao around all day, cataloging foreign items and copying sea charts. Hearing you’d follow Imperial Grandfather on campaign, she asked me to bring this to you.”
A girl like A’Lei could never stay home embroidering and writing poetry – finding something to do was good. But why didn’t she tell me? I had to learn about her activities from my cousin.
Hearing this, Zhu Zhanji felt somewhat dejected. Unable to criticize A’Lei, he sternly lectured Zhu Zhanhe instead: “Look, even A’Lei, a girl, is more sensible than you. She helps Eunuch Sanbao prepare for voyages while you idle around all day doing nothing.”
This infuriated Zhu Zhanhe: “So my coming to the palace to see you off and bring gifts becomes a bad thing? Hmph, good intentions treated as ill will.”
Knowing he’d misspoken, Zhu Zhanji quickly found an excuse: “I’m just too worried about you – I’m about to go north with Imperial Grandfather. If Prince Han wants to discipline you in the future, no one can stop him. If you continue being so dissolute, who knows how many beatings you’ll take.”
This depressed Zhu Zhanhe: “You’re right. Without my protective umbrella, how will I deal with my father?”
Zhu Zhanji pointed toward Rouyi Hall where Empress Renxiao’s coffin lay: “Grandmother will bless you from the afterlife.”
The Emperor’s campaign and the Crown Prince’s regency – two major events, both full of ceremonial significance.
Before the campaign, complex sacrificial ceremonies had to be performed for heaven and earth, ancestral temples, altars of soil and grain, and the mountains and rivers the army would pass through. A month couldn’t complete them all. Emperor Yongle, being practical, left first with the Imperial Grandson, leaving all sacrificial duties to the regent Crown Prince.
This tormented the penguin Crown Prince. He had to participate in every sacrificial activity. The complex ceremonies often required standing for half a day. Taking the ancestral sacrifice as an example, beyond the preliminary preparations, the Crown Prince had to participate in eight major steps of the formal sacrifice: welcoming spirits, initial offering, secondary offering, final offering, drinking blessing wine, clearing ritual vessels, sending off spirits, and distant viewing.
Within these eight major steps were countless smaller steps, which were further divided into sub-steps. Each sub-step had been strictly choreographed by ritual officials – every movement had to be perfect. The penguin Crown Prince not only had to stand but also respond according to the choreographed actions.
Take the simplest example – the second major step, initial offering, began with the sub-action of hand washing.
Ritualized hand washing was more exhausting than washing one’s hair ten times.
First, the Minister of Ceremonies had to request the Crown Prince (substituting for the Emperor) to be led to the hand-washing position. Then came four sub-actions: kneeling, washing hands, drying hands, and rising. Each action required a formal request from the Minister of Ceremonies, while the penguin Crown Prince performed like a wound-up robot, completing each movement properly.
This was just the beginning – later choreographed actions were even more complex.
After over a month, the penguin Crown Prince had lost weight, but his feet were swollen beyond recognition, especially the left foot. The foot bones showed obvious deformity, and even the big toenail had rotted and fallen off.
The Crown Prince’s ability to complete all ceremonies relied on terrifying willpower. Wearing size 5XL ceremonial robes and special soft-soled shoes made by the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau, his feet felt like walking on knife points. He truly embodied the Little Mermaid from “The Daughter of the Sea” – having split her fish tail in two, each step felt like treading on knife points. His longing for power and love made him endure inhuman torture, surviving day after day.
No one dared suggest the Crown Prince rest.
The Crown Prince couldn’t rest. Once he stopped, his brother Prince Han would substitute for the sacrifices. If he couldn’t even handle ceremonies properly, who would believe he was capable of regency?
Ceremonies were nothing, yet they were everything.
The Crown Prince persevered, at the cost of ruined feet – his originally healthy right foot now showed signs of becoming diseased like the left. His diabetes-related foot complications grew worse.
The Crown Prince’s resilience impressed even Prince Han, who had been watching for entertainment, waiting for the Crown Prince to collapse or simply faint so he could substitute for the sacrificial duties.
I was wrong. Crown Prince Brother doesn’t always win lying down. At least in endurance, I’m far inferior to him.
Prince Han didn’t get his chance to see the Crown Prince fail at the sacrifices.
However, this was just the beginning. The Tartar campaign would last at least a year and a half – the Crown Prince would have plenty of opportunities to make mistakes.
With the Crown Prince as regent, court was held normally in Wenhua Hall. Emperor Yongle clearly defined the Crown Prince’s authority:
“Except for appointments and dismissals of civil and military officials, foreign tributary affairs, border troop deployments which must be reported to the imperial entourage, all routine matters need not be reported.”
This meant that except for major state affairs like important civil and military appointments and diplomatic-military matters, everything else was left to his discretion without needing to ask.
This was the basic law of the Crown Prince’s regency.
Emperor Yongle also taught the Crown Prince the core values of feudal regency for handling “routine matters”:
“I command you to oversee the state. In all affairs, be magnanimous and not hasty. All civil and military officials were appointed by me – though they may have small faults, don’t need to humiliate them, nor should you listen partially to form preferences… Be respectful and cautious!”
This meant to stay calm in all matters. These officials were appointed by me for good reasons. If they have small errors, just teach them moderately – don’t listen to one side or form biases. Be cautious before making any decisions.
Additionally, Emperor Yongle established strict regency procedures. Every action by the Crown Prince had to be legally procedural: The Crown Prince was absolutely forbidden from meeting officials privately. All officials had to meet with the Crown Prince in pairs at minimum.
After grand court sessions, when the Crown Prince summoned officials for discussions, they “must enter and exit together with the aforementioned officials. If anyone enters or remains alone,” Censorate officials, Court of Imperial Sacrifices officials, Rectification officials, and Discipline officials from four departments had to supervise nearby.
Such strict procedures meant the Crown Prince’s every move was under Emperor Yongle’s supervision even during the imperial campaign.
But what if censors and minor officials covered for the Crown Prince? Who would ensure this supervision was effective?
Emperor Yongle assigned this task to someone who absolutely couldn’t cover for the Crown Prince – Prince Han.
Crown Prince as regent, Prince Han supervising the Crown Prince – double supervision. Prince Han observing the Crown Prince with a magnifying glass – absolutely delightful.