Prince Han used a magnifying glass to find fault with the Crown Prince, thinking it would be easy. But he soon discovered it wasn’t so simple.

As this author mentioned before, when the suspicious High Ancestor Emperor had the Crown Prince (then Prince Yan’s heir) handle government affairs and review memorials to test Zhu Gaochi’s ambition and ability.

Zhu Gaochi “focused solely on matters concerning the army and people’s welfare” and “selected those with substantial merit that could be implemented for reporting.” When encountering memorials with textual errors, he ignored them. By grasping the big picture while letting small matters slide, he both demonstrated his abilities and made High Ancestor Emperor lower his guard.

The Crown Prince, this big fat man, had already walked the tightrope in mid-air – he had experience and was very cautious. He knew what emperors feared most was overstepping authority, so this time during his regency, he had the Cabinet first screen out matters involving major military and state affairs, important ministerial appointments, and diplomatic national affairs, sending them urgently to Emperor Yongle for approval.

The Crown Prince strictly acted within the authority Emperor Yongle had delineated – not overstepping, not causing trouble, but also not avoiding responsibility.

If Prince Han was a fly, then the Crown Prince was a seamless egg.

Prince Han the fly rubbed his hands hungrily, circling the Crown Prince’s round egg for a long time, unable to find an opening.

What to do?

When drowsiness meets a pillow, Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander Ji Gang, remaining in the capital, had been seeking opportunities and handed the anxious fly Prince Han a pillow.

The two met secretly on a pleasure boat on the Qinhuai River.

Ji Gang said: “Prince Han’s brow is furrowed – you seem troubled.”

Prince Han wouldn’t admit it: “I’m worried about His Majesty’s campaign and the northern war situation. I originally wanted to follow His Majesty, but he refused, insisting I stay here to guard the capital. As long as the frontier is held, what great danger could the capital face? I drill troops in the capital’s suburbs daily – like a blade polished bright, but without going to battle, it’s useless.”

Ji Gang didn’t expose this, coaxing instead: “Your Highness shouldn’t underestimate yourself. Maintaining the capital like an iron barrel allows His Majesty to campaign boldly with peace of mind.”

Two foxes testing each other. Prince Han, having matters on his mind, raised an eyebrow: “Commander Ji wouldn’t invite me to meet just for a drink.”

Ji Gang smiled: “With official duties busy, stealing half a day’s leisure to drink with Your Highness and chat about how the Crown Prince’s regency has been going lately – the Crown Prince is diligent and practical, his reputation soaring. Everyone’s about to forget about his foot ailment.”

Hearing this, Prince Han felt like he was drinking vinegar instead of wine, sour: “The Crown Prince’s performance has indeed been unexpected.”

Unexpectedly good – whether the earlier complex sacrificial activities or current handling of government affairs, all impeccable.

Ji Gang praised: “More than that – the Crown Prince is also black and white in judgment, not considering personal feelings. Minister of Rites and concurrent Eastern Palace Left Assistant Li Zhigang’s father-in-law committed a crime. Someone went to deliver gifts and plead, and when the final verdict came down, after compensating some silver, Master Li’s father-in-law was cleared. The wronged party refused to accept this, beat drums to cry injustice – but how could common people match a first-rank minister? Minister Li forcibly suppressed it. However, a minor censor at the Censorate submitted a memorial impeaching Minister Li.”

“Seeing the memorial, the Crown Prince immediately summoned Minister Li over. Not caring that Minister Li was his teacher, he gave him a thorough scolding, embarrassing Minister Li greatly. But since the Minister of Rites is a court pillar, the Crown Prince as regent couldn’t punish him, so he could only seal the memorial and send it north for His Majesty to handle.”

The scholars of the Eastern Palace’s Left and Right Assistant Bureaus were all the Crown Prince’s teachers. This teaching position was just a side job – they all had main careers. For example, Xie Jin of the Eastern Palace Right Assistant Bureau was the Cabinet’s first secretary and Emperor Yongle’s think tank leader. Li Zhigang was Minister of Rites and also a scholar of the Eastern Palace Left Assistant Bureau.

Hearing this, Prince Han was overjoyed: “When did this happen?”

Ji Gang: “This morning.”

Prince Han asked again: “Did Minister Li’s father-in-law really commit a crime?”

Ji Gang smiled ambiguously: “Minister Li already arranged everything up and down. What evidence do you think this case could still have?”

Having reached the level of Six Ministries minister, a first-rank official, one had already become cunning. Their backgrounds weren’t clean, but as long as it wasn’t some shocking major case, Minister Li Zhigang’s position was secure – he wouldn’t lose office over a mere censor’s impeachment.

So this case couldn’t be overturned – key evidence was long gone.

Just like when Hu Shanwei had piled up two silver mountains, spent everything, and handed evidence of Fan Gongzheng’s sunken ship to Jiangwen Dynasty’s Minister of Justice Bao Zhao. Bao Zhao swore on his honor to solve the case thoroughly, but it quietly went nowhere.

Justice and political maneuvering – the court wasn’t black and white but a gray area.

Minister of Rites Li Zhigang had talent – he had once worked with Xie Jin on “Records of Taizu,” which is why he could be selected as Eastern Palace Left Assistant scholar to teach the Crown Prince, having a teacher-student relationship.

In an era emphasizing respect for teachers, the Crown Prince’s actions could be called righteously destroying kinship.

Prince Han’s mind spun rapidly: “His Majesty decreed that when the Crown Prince summons ministers, there must be at least pairs, entering and exiting together, no private audiences allowed. When the Crown Prince scolded Minister Li, who was present?”

Ji Gang said: “Grand Academician and Right Assistant Scholar Xie Jin, plus Left Vice Censor-in-Chief Liu Guan.”

This showed the Crown Prince’s careful caution, strictly following procedures. Though regulations required minimum two people present, he wouldn’t cut it close, often arranging a third person just in case.

Xie Jin was both a Cabinet minister and Eastern Palace teacher. Liu Guan was Censorate Left Vice Censor-in-Chief – the Censorate was like today’s Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, supervising all officials, especially high ones.

The Censorate’s highest official was Left Censor-in-Chief, like the Commission secretary. Liu Guan as Left Vice Censor-in-Chief was like vice secretary. So having Xie Jin and Liu Guan present when the Crown Prince scolded Minister Li was most appropriate.

Ji Gang spoke “carelessly,” as if just chatting casually, gossiping. But Prince Han listened intently. Observing with his magnifying glass, he vaguely saw a crack in the egg before him, excitedly rubbing his fly hands.

Xie Jin was the Eastern Palace’s loyal supporter. His phrase “good Sacred Grandson” was the “culprit” for Zhu Gaochi receiving the crown prince title, making him Prince Han’s thorn in the side.

But Liu Guan… Liu Guan was naturally a fence-sitter who never fell – he could be won over.

Prince Han conceived a plan to kill two birds with one stone.

Meanwhile, Emperor Yongle handled state affairs during his campaign, including the memorial impeaching Minister of Rites Li Zhigang.

Emperor Yongle’s personally selected court ministers – when water is too clear, there are no fish. Their character couldn’t all be pure and flawless, but they were all capable officials, especially good at getting things done.

Emperor Yongle saw the memorial and the appendix about the Crown Prince scolding Li Zhigang, feeling displeased. The Crown Prince lacked authority to punish the Minister of Rites – he could give verbal warnings and criticism, but Emperor Yongle felt the Crown Prince, based solely on a censor’s memorial without verifying the incident, had scolded Li Zhigang thoroughly – in front of Xie Jin and Left Vice Censor-in-Chief Liu Guan no less. He felt the Crown Prince was still somewhat hasty.

Emperor Yongle replied to the Crown Prince, highlighting key points from the core values he’d established for the regency:

“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 humiliate them, nor listen partially to form preferences… The weight of the empire’s crucial affairs requires careful examination before action. Any negligence would damage virtue considerably…”

First, magnanimous handling. Second, don’t listen to one side. Investigate before deciding.

Receiving his father’s reply, the Crown Prince was caught in a dilemma. How could he not understand? He had already memorized his father’s regency core values a hundred times.

It sounded simple – be a good person, handle things magnanimously, throw big matters to Emperor Yongle, don’t get involved yourself. The key was grasping the degree – too difficult to master.

Minister Li had perverted justice for personal gain to clear his father-in-law. The Crown Prince lacked authority to handle this.

But Minister Li was also Eastern Palace Left Assistant scholar, the Crown Prince’s teacher. In this relationship, if the Crown Prince knew his teacher was impeached by a censor for perverting justice and showed no reaction, didn’t verbally warn Minister Li, the consequences would be quite serious – the Crown Prince might even be dragged in, slandered for covering up his teacher.

The Crown Prince’s worries weren’t groundless.

If the Crown Prince had truly said nothing about Minister Li’s misconduct and directly sent the memorial to Emperor Yongle, Prince Han would definitely mobilize subordinates to say the Crown Prince lacked private virtue, covering for Eastern Palace scholars.

Looking at his father’s imperial vermillion comments, the Crown Prince had to summon the witnesses present that day – Xie Jin and Left Censor-in-Chief Liu Guan – to discuss how to respond to his father’s suggestions. Additionally, these two could roughly repeat the Crown Prince’s warning words to Li Zhigang that day, proving he hadn’t insulted Minister Li but merely gave verbal reminders.

By this time, Left Vice Censor-in-Chief Liu Guan had already received Prince Han’s hints and benefits. All old foxes – Liu Guan saw that Emperor Yongle didn’t immediately react to the memorial impeaching Li Zhigang by having the Censorate investigate Minister Li, but instead reminded the Crown Prince “though they may have small faults, don’t humiliate them, nor listen partially to form preferences.”

So His Majesty’s meaning was to let Minister Li off, turn a blind eye, not wanting to pursue court ministers during the campaign to maintain court stability.

If that was His Majesty’s meaning, why not sell a favor to Prince Han and Minister Li?

The Crown Prince’s health was poor. They said diabetes had no cure, limited lifespan, wouldn’t live long – some might even suddenly die…

Liu Guan weighed pros and cons, deciding to cooperate in a performance with the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince summoned them. According to rules, two or more ministers had to enter and exit together. Xie Jin arrived first, waiting at the door for Liu Guan. Liu Guan came late, explaining: “Sorry, just went to relieve myself.”

People have urgent needs – understandable. Xie Jin said: “No matter. Master Liu, please.”

The two entered the hall together. Halfway there, Liu Guan’s face suddenly paled, clutching his stomach: “No good, I need to relieve myself again. Trouble Master Xie to wait for me.”

After a while, a young eunuch came saying: “Master Xie, Master Liu has finished relieving himself and went directly to the Crown Prince. He asks you not to wait in place but come immediately.”

Xie Jin didn’t think deeply, assuming there were Censorate officials and Court of Imperial Sacrifices officials from four departments supervising at the Crown Prince’s location, so Liu Guan didn’t wait for him but went directly to find the Crown Prince.

Xie Jin hurried to the Crown Prince’s study. Entering, he saw no trace of Liu Guan – only the Crown Prince and attending eunuchs.

Xie Jin quickly backed out. Liu Guan came running clutching his stomach: “Sorry, went to relieve myself again.”

Only then did the two enter together.

The Crown Prince and Xie Jin never imagined that Xie Jin’s single extra glance would bring disaster.

Prince Han secretly reported to Emperor Yongle that Xie Jin had privately met the Crown Prince.

Emperor Yongle was half-believing. At this time, his eyes and ears remaining in the capital – Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander Ji Gang – also secretly submitted a memorial saying Xie Jin and the Crown Prince had briefly met without supervision.

Very briefly, but they had met – unclear what they discussed.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard were his eyes and ears. Now Emperor Yongle believed Prince Han’s words.

Xie Jin’s position as Eastern Palace Right Assistant scholar was just a side job – his main position was Emperor Yongle’s Cabinet secretariat’s first confidential secretary.

Dear readers, do you remember how Song Lian, one of the Four Early Ming Masters, went from Crown Prince’s Junior Guardian with three generations of the Song family serving in the palace, to nearly having his entire family exterminated by High Ancestor Emperor, who killed Song Lian’s son and grandson? Only Empress Xiaoci’s pleas spared Song Lian from death, exiling him to White Emperor City instead.

At that time, three generations of the Song family all worked in the palace as High Ancestor Emperor’s secretariat members. As an emperor, the greatest taboo was trusted confidants having private relationships with external officials or other sons. Regardless of what was said, it was nearly unforgivable.

Xie Jin had committed a major taboo.

Emperor Yongle issued a transfer order, saying the newly established southwestern Jiaozhi Province urgently needed talent for governance, transferring Cabinet member Xie Jin there.

Any discerning person could see this was demotion.

Xie Jin knew he’d been trapped. Ultimately it was his carelessness – protesting would only drag the Crown Prince down too. He could only pack his belongings, take the travel permit issued by the Ministry of Revenue, and travel thousands of miles to his post.

Though Jiaozhi was remote, if he achieved political success, there would be future opportunities to return to the capital.

Court ministerial appointments and dismissals were beyond the regent Crown Prince’s authority. The Crown Prince clearly understood Xie Jin had been schemed against by Liu Guan and others, knew who was behind Liu Guan’s instructions, but could say nothing. He couldn’t even see Xie Jin off.

The Crown Prince Father Emperor wanted was a horse that could run without eating grass. A capable marionette.

Xie Jin’s demotion was just killing the chicken to warn the monkeys. Father Emperor wanted court ministers to know that though he campaigned against the Tartars and wouldn’t return for at least a year or two, he remained the Great Ming Empire’s sole master. Even the Crown Prince was just working for him.

Imperial power rested solely in Father Emperor’s hands.