A pair of eyes was fixed intently on the same map of Nanjing at this moment. Zhu Buhua stared down at the city spread before him, his flat eyes straining wide as if trying to pluck the Crown Prince from within its lines.
Earlier, soldiers on the wall had reported hitting something with their arrows, though they couldn’t be certain. What was clear was that even if their target had been struck, they hadn’t killed him. They had searched the waters near Zhu Bridge for a long while but found nothing. The Warrior Guard’s cavalry had swept the area around the Qinhuai River several times, equally without success. The Crown Prince had vanished into the darkness like a rat.
A cooked goose had somehow managed to fly right out of the imperial city. The boils on Zhu Buhua’s face swelled even larger with anger, their tips gleaming with an oily sheen. To make matters worse, Su Jingxi was nowhere to be found, leaving no one to help ease his pain. Under both internal and external pressure, Zhu Buhua’s mood, like that treasure ship, seemed ready to explode at any moment.
“Send word to the Central City Military Command. Tell them to focus their search on the area between Dazhong Bridge, Huaiqing Bridge to Yecheng, and Zhongzheng Street. That’s where most out-of-town merchants gather. Don’t skip a single warehouse, and kill anyone who dares to interfere!” Zhu Buhua slammed the table as he practically roared the order. The scribe nearby hurriedly wrote out the document and tremblingly presented it.
Zhu Buhua glanced at the document, noting its header read “By Order of the Eastern Palace.” His cheek twitched as he signed his mark at the bottom. A Warrior Guard messenger immediately took the document and galloped out of the Defense Commissioner’s office.
The treasure ship’s explosion at noon had given Zhu Buhua the perfect excuse. He issued orders in the Crown Prince’s name, requiring all government offices to follow the imperial guard’s unified command. With the heads of various offices either killed or severely injured in the blast, there was no central authority. When they suddenly received orders from the Crown Prince, all complied without question.
In just one hour, Zhu Buhua had gathered all of Nanjing’s defensive forces under his control. This created a peculiar scene in the city: various military units were searching for the Crown Prince under the Crown Prince’s orders.
Of course, Nanjing’s various departments wouldn’t tolerate a Mongol in such a high position forever – questions would arise sooner or later. But at least for this night, he was the most powerful man in Jinling.
Unfortunately, this unprecedented power did little to ease the pain in his face. Only the medicine prescribed by Physician Su could temporarily suppress the agony of his carbuncles, but she had mysteriously disappeared, and those sent to find her had no leads. At this critical moment, he simply couldn’t spare the attention to investigate her whereabouts.
Zhu Buhua sat back in his grand chair and closed his aching eyes, intending to rest briefly. But whenever he closed his eyes, a familiar figure would appear, one that brought both comfort and terror – a figure who stood high above all others.
His original name was Tuotuobuhua, born to a Mongolian noble family in Yunnan. When General Lan Yu’s army captured Kunming, Tuotuobuhua was taken to the palace along with Zheng He to serve as an internal servant. Later, both were assigned to Prince Yan’s court in Beiping, where they met their master, Zhu Di.
Zhu Di paid no mind to Tuotuobuhua’s Mongolian blood and placed great trust in him. This special treatment moved Tuotuobuhua deeply, and he pledged his complete loyalty. After the Jingnan Campaign, when the Prince of Yan became the Yongle Emperor, Tuotuobuhua was granted the surname Zhu and appointed as the Superintendent Eunuch of the Imperial Stables, commanding the Warrior Guard and becoming a crucial figure within the palace.
Although nearly a year had passed since Yongle’s death, Zhu Buhua’s loyalty remained unchanged – at least, that’s what he believed.
“Your Majesty, your servant has reasons for doing this, reasons…” Zhu Buhua mumbled to the figure in his mind. The harder he tried to make out his master’s features, the more ethereal and indistinct they became. He suddenly snapped his eyes open, sweat beading on his uneven forehead.
Zhu Buhua told himself that he had seen the figure move – surely the Emperor approved. His mind somewhat at ease, he returned his attention to the map.
Before him lay an area outlined in goose-yellow lines, situated between the Yinhong and Shangfu bridges and the Three Lanes Imperial Examination compound – the district where noble families resided. Each square represented a mansion, and each mansion represented a founding or Jingnan Campaign meritorious official. If the Crown Prince sought help, he would surely come here first.
The area was a complex web of relationships, and Zhu Buhua had hesitated to search it, only posting Warrior Guard at key points. But now he was determined to cast aside such concerns – even if blood flowed like a river tonight, he would drag out the Crown Prince.
Footsteps approached from behind, and Zhu Buhua turned, knowing it must be the person he despised most. Zuoye He strolled in, casually holding half a piece of apricot-colored begonia cake, his cheeks working as he chewed.
“You certainly have time for leisure,” Zhu Buhua sneered.
“Can’t help it – we White Lotus folk come from poor backgrounds. Always worried the next meal might not come,” Zuoye He swallowed the remaining cake and smiled as he drew closer. “My, my, Eunuch Zhu, those boils on your face seem to have worsened in just this short while. Shall I ask the Holy Mother for some talismans to ward off disease and evil?”
“Save your charlatan tricks. Where did you run off to at such a critical time?” Zhu Buhua said coldly.
Zuoye He bent to examine the map. “I learned some interesting things.” As Zhu Buhua frowned, about to rebuke him, Zuoye He brushed the crumbs from his hands and circled an area around Yinhong Bridge. “You can skip this section entirely.”
“Oh?”
“I just spoke with the guards at Xihua Gate. This afternoon, the Crown Prince visited the Xixin Office to pay respects to his old eunuch attendant, and while there, received an urgent dispatch from the capital via the Court of State Ceremonial.”
Zhu Buhua started. “There was such an incident?”
“I questioned the Jiangdong Gate garrison and found the Court’s registrar – their accounts match the Xihua guards’. I got the postal verification from the messenger.” Zuoye He’s sleeve flicked, revealing a scroll covered in forty-some small seals recording all the horse changes from the capital to Nanjing.
Zhu Buhua snatched it and saw it was dispatched from the Court of State Ceremonial on May 12th. His eyes narrowed. “That date… Could there be complications with the northern palace’s plans as well?”
“Neither of us need worry about northern affairs,” said Zuoye He. “What matters is that the Crown Prince must have seen this secret message and decided to flee. Though as it turns out, that might not be such a bad thing.”
“Bad thing my ass! You still haven’t explained why we can skip searching all those noble mansions around Yinhong Bridge!” Zhu Buhua’s temper flared.
Zuoye He smiled. “Though I don’t know the contents of that dispatch, it must relate to our grand scheme. Think about it – if the Crown Prince knows this involves succession to the throne, how would he dare approach those nobles? Would he know which is Xu Huizu and which is Xu Zenghou?”
Xu Huizu and Xu Zenghou were both sons of Duke Wei, Xu Da. During the Jingnan Campaign, Xu Huizu led troops against the Prince of Yan and refused to surrender, while Xu Zenghou secretly communicated with the Prince of Yan and was executed when Emperor Jianwen discovered his treachery. Though apt, Zuoye He’s comparison was rather venomous, making Zhu Buhua uncomfortable.
“Then where do you think the Crown Prince is hiding?”
Zuoye He’s finger moved across the map. “The Crown Prince came ashore between Zhu Bridge and Xuanjin Bridge on the west bank of the Qinhuai. Alone, he couldn’t have gone far – he must have had local help. Think carefully – who does the Crown Prince know in Nanjing? Someone of relatively low status.”
“The Crown Prince lived in luxury in the north. What connections could he have with common folk or scholars in Nanjing…” Zhu Buhua fell silent mid-sentence. Zuoye He caught this change immediately and pressed him. Scratching his face irritably, Zhu Buhua said, “It’s just a small matter, probably nothing.”
“There are no small matters in rebellion. Tell me.”
Zhu Buhua reluctantly answered, “Today when I met the Crown Prince at Xuanjin Bridge, there was a minor official who had done some service. The Crown Prince had me reward him with a horse and token, probably wanting to settle the debt of gratitude immediately to avoid further connection.”
“What service?”
“The Crown Prince didn’t say, but it was likely because your White Lotus bunch bungled things and let him save the Crown Prince’s life,” Zhu Buhua couldn’t resist adding a barb. Ignoring the provocation, Zuoye He thought for a moment. “What was this official’s position?”
“Who would care about that!”
“When the Crown Prince mentioned the reward, where was this official standing?”
“The bridge was crowded then, how would I remember!”
“So he was in the crowd until the Crown Prince pointed him out?”
“Yes.”
Zuoye He clapped his hands, eyes brightening. “If he was to be rewarded, he should have been standing ready at the front, not hidden in the crowd. I think the Crown Prince wanted to trick you out of a horse and token while concealing their relationship, so he staged this little scene.”
Zhu Buhua’s hand clenched, crumpling the corner of the map and wrinkling the entire city of Nanjing. “I’ll investigate that official’s background!” But Zuoye He stopped him. “Now is the time for city-wide searches, and as the eunuch in charge, you shouldn’t be distracted. Leave these small matters to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nanjing is too large – officials can watch the open, but not the shadows. Our Holy Mother’s White Lotus followers know those dark, filthy gutters far better.”
“No! I won’t let you madmen run wild through the city!”
Zhu Buhua rejected the idea outright. He had no love for the White Lotus. Just a few years ago, these rebels were fighting him to the death. Though circumstances had made them allies now, that didn’t mean Zhu Buhua’s attitude had changed.
Zuoye He stared at him. “You may disregard the Holy Mother’s karma, but if you let the Crown Prince escape over this matter of face and our great plan fails, how will you answer to that noble person?” Zhu Buhua gripped the map tightly, more boils swelling on his face. After much hesitation, he finally released his grip.
“How do you plan to find this official?”
“We have an excellent hunting dog at our disposal.” Zuoye He gave a sinister smile. Though her high cheekbones and upturned eyes made her smile radiant, there was always an aggressive force in her bearing.
Zhu Buhua reluctantly signed an authorization, which Zuoye He tucked away before swaggering out of the Defense Commissioner’s office. Even after she left, her sharp voice drifted back from the corridor:
“Besides enjoying Jinling’s delicacies, we White Lotus followers should also savor the fun of hunting the Ming Crown Prince in the Ming capital.”
—
“Zhengyang Gate?”
Yu Qian and Su Jingxi questioned simultaneously as they saw where Wu Dingyuan was pointing. This gate lay directly south of the Imperial City, aligned with Chengtan Gate, Wu Gate, and the Thousand-Step Imperial Road – it should have been the most heavily guarded entrance.
“Little Xingren, remember what I told you at the dock? No matter how capable these rebels are, there’s at least one thing they couldn’t have anticipated.”
“The earthquake?”
“Correct.” Wu Dingyuan glanced at Zhu Zhanji before quickly averting his eyes. “Today when I was escorting the prisoner… er, escorting the Crown Prince back from Shangutai, we passed Zhengyang Gate. The earthquake damaged one corner, and it’s still under repair. The gate can’t be properly secured – there might be an opportunity there.”
Zhu Zhanji gave a cold snort; that fellow had brought up the humiliation he’d rather forget. Yu Qian, however, was overjoyed. While common folk said the Nanjing earthquake was heaven’s shame upon Emperor Hongxi and the Crown Prince, now it had become the Crown Prince’s best ally.
Wu Dingyuan folded the map and tucked it into his robe. “The curfew’s in effect now. Four people walking together would be too conspicuous – we need to make some preparations. Wait here.” Without waiting for the Crown Prince’s permission, he ducked into his bedroom, where various clattering sounds could be heard.
With him gone, Zhu Zhanji felt much more at ease. Another escape attempt was about to begin, and he closed his eyes to gather what strength he could. Su Jingxi noticed a stove nearby and called through the door to ask about using it. Wu Dingyuan said they could use it freely, just to keep any firelight hidden.
Su Jingxi looked around the kitchen. She found half a flatbread in the pot and some turtle-shaped peach pastries left from the Dragon Boat Festival in the cupboard – summer staples for Jinling residents. She found an iron pan and threw everything in, adding some Banqiao radish, water spinach, and winter-ground rice. Soon she had a thick porridge that was neither soup nor gruel. Though unusual, it was rich and flavorful.
Zhu Zhanji, having been through half a night of turmoil, was famished. When Su Jingxi brought out the iron pan, he didn’t bother with a bowl, instead using a large wooden spoon to slurp it down with great relish. As he ate, he suddenly heard a strange sound from beside him. Turning his head, he realized it came from Yu Qian’s stomach.
Yu Qian hastily stepped back, apologizing for his “impropriety.” Since noon when he’d rushed to the Embroidered Uniform Guard, he’d only eaten one zongzi. Zhu Zhanji hesitated, then pushed the pan forward, telling him to eat too. Yu Qian tried to decline, but his stomach growled again. Red-faced, he first thanked the Crown Prince for his kindness, then went to the kitchen to fetch a large ceramic bowl. He carefully scraped half a bowl from the outer edge of the pan and began eating.
The slight awkwardness from their earlier argument dissipated in this moment of sharing. The food turned to energy, circulating warmly through Zhu Zhanji’s body like achieving immortality. Satisfied, he put down his spoon and noticed Yu Qian’s bowl was empty too – he must have been truly hungry.
With food and warmth came reflection, and Zhu Zhanji realized he hadn’t yet asked this loyal minor official about his age and background. He reminded himself not to neglect such matters of recognition, lest he cool the hearts of his subjects.
“What year were you born?” Zhu Zhanji tried to keep his tone gentle.
“Hongwu’s thirty-first year, from Qiantang County in Hangzhou Prefecture.”
Born the same year as me, Zhu Zhanji was surprised. Same age but such different people – from Yu Qian’s old-fashioned manner of speaking, he’d thought him an elderly scholar.
“Which year did you pass the imperial examination?”
Yu Qian’s face reddened as he answered briefly: “The Xinsi year of Yongle’s nineteenth year.”
Zhu Zhanji tilted his head back, speaking nostalgically: “I remember that year – Taizong had just completed moving the capital.” Yu Qian replied, “Yes. The capital had just begun operating, and the examination halls were still made of wooden boards and reed mats. It was so cold in February that the ink froze – we had to warm it by the brazier first. Many candidates failed because they didn’t know how to tend the fire.”
“Haha, in this respect, the capital can’t compare to the auxiliary capital. No wonder the Imperial Academy supports moving the capital back… Oh, right, how did you do?”
Yu Qian awkwardly rubbed his hands: “Your servant was fortunate to achieve first place in the metropolitan examination, but placed ninety-second in the third rank of the palace examination.” Zhu Zhanji let out a surprised “Oh?” This was very strange – first place in the metropolitan exam should have guaranteed at least second rank in the palace examination, even with a poor performance. How did his ranking drop so dramatically?
Yu Qian only offered eight words: “My policy essay didn’t please the Emperor.”
Zhu Zhanji had just experienced Yu Qian’s powerful mouth – charitably called “speaking without reserve,” less charitably “lacking all filters.” He guessed that during the palace examination, Yu Qian couldn’t help but criticize current policies, and Emperor Yongle’s brushstroke had demoted him straight from first place to third rank. After all these years, his forthright temperament hadn’t changed a bit.
Thinking about how his grandfather Zhu Di had also been irritated by Yu Qian during the palace examination, Zhu Zhanji couldn’t help but smile slightly. He asked further, “Then what? What was your first appointment?”
“Your servant was appointed as an official of the Beijing Reception Bureau. In Yongle’s twenty-first year, I was sent on a mission to Huguang, and upon returning the next year, was transferred to the Nanjing Reception Bureau, where I remain.”
Zhu Zhanji finally understood why Yu Qian became so awkward when discussing his career. The Beijing Reception Bureau offered excellent career prospects, but with his hatred of evil, he must have offended someone during his Huguang mission and was later transferred to the Nanjing Reception Bureau. Though called a lateral transfer, it was practically exile.
For a twenty-seven-year-old to be thrown into such a place yet maintain his fighting spirit – only Yu Qian could manage that.
“Ah, don’t be discouraged. Once we successfully return to the capital, I’ll arrange a suitable position for you, like… um, like…” Zhu Zhanji’s mind raced, wondering what position would suit this outspoken official. Suddenly inspired, he said, “Ah, you can be a Censorate Inspector.”
The Censorate Inspectors were responsible for impeaching officials and reviewing criminal cases – they could report any misconduct directly to the throne. The position couldn’t have been more suitable for Yu Qian. Zhu Zhanji almost wanted to praise himself – this was exactly how ancient wise rulers matched people to positions.
Yu Qian gave a slight bow, showing little excitement. Zhu Zhanji recalled how this man had been quoting Mencius earlier – he believed that “the sovereign is light.” This deflated him somewhat. Suddenly curious, he asked, “If this prince’s fate were unknown after this attack, and you happened to be in the central government, how would you handle it?”
“If Prince Yue plots usurpation, establish Prince Xiang; if Prince Xiang plots usurpation, establish Prince Yue,” Yu Qian answered without hesitation.
“Hey… I said my fate was unknown, not that I was dead. Shouldn’t you try to rescue me first?”
“The nation cannot go a day without a ruler. As officials, we must naturally prioritize the state.”
So he cares most about the state, not me… Zhu Zhanji sighed softly, but looking at Yu Qian’s serious face, he didn’t dare say more.
Before Yu Qian could respond, there was movement at the door as Wu Dingyuan emerged from his room. He had changed into official clothing and carried a cangue, a monk’s black robe, and a bundle.
Still avoiding Zhu Zhanji’s gaze, Wu Dingyuan addressed Yu Qian: “Our greatest advantage is that the enemy knows only of the Crown Prince, not us three. But the curfew’s in effect, and four people traveling together would be too conspicuous. We need a pretext.”
He opened the bundle, revealing a monk’s certificate, a string of locust wood prayer beads, and a warrant from the Yingtian Prefecture: “These are from a case my father handled two days ago – a monk from Faming Temple who seduced female worshippers. Magistrate Xue issued an arrest warrant, but the criminal monk fled, leaving only these personal effects. They’ll serve our purpose perfectly.”
Yu Qian’s brow furrowed slightly: “How so?”
Wu Dingyuan picked up a razor from beside the window, wearing a half-smile: “As a constable of Yingtian Prefecture, I discovered and arrested the fugitive monk, taking him to the prefecture office. With both his certificate and our arrest warrant, any questioning can be answered without revealing flaws.”
“What about Su Physician and me?”
Wu Dingyuan recited an official document: “Said criminal monk defiled the wife of a Reception Bureau official, was caught by her husband, and is being taken to the offices. Considering the official’s wife’s reputation, they are permitted to enter the office at night to give testimony.”
Yu Qian and Su Jingxi both choked – this fellow’s story was viciously clever. The three of them had suddenly become a lecher, a defiled woman, and a cuckold. Yu Qian even suspected Wu Dingyuan might be taking personal revenge.
“Using the official escort of a criminal is a good strategy, but… couldn’t we use a different case?”
“How many ready-made cases do you think we have? Like a bridegroom falling in a cesspool – do you want face or life?” Wu Dingyuan replied.
Yu Qian sighed. Setting aside status, the story was indeed perfect, even explaining why four people would be traveling together after curfew.
Wu Dingyuan gripped the gleaming razor, pushing past Yu Qian and Su Jingxi. Zhu Zhanji sensed his ill intent and widened his eyes in refusal: “What are you doing? Body, hair, and skin are gifts from one’s parents – you can’t… This prince will kill you, you donkey-stabbing dog!”
But he soon dared not move. First, the cold razor was pressed against his hairline; second, this criminal had closed his eyes. Zhu Zhanji feared any tremor might open a bloody gash, so he remained still.
Fortunately, Wu Dingyuan worked quickly, shaving the “dragon hair” clean in a few swift strokes, revealing a pale scalp. He stepped back to look, then bent to pull an incense stick from the earlier oath-taking censer. Yu Qian’s quick hands snatched it away: “Let’s skip the ordination scar! We’ll say he’s an uninitiated novice…”
If the Ming Crown Prince were branded with a monk’s ordination scar, it would truly become a joke for the ages. Su Jingxi came over with the clothes, placing a thick handkerchief under his right shoulder: “The wooden cangue is heavy – we don’t want it hurting your wound.”
Zhu Zhanji was moved to tears, thinking this girl was practically a bodhisattva compared to that demon Wu Dingyuan.
Under Su Jingxi’s care, the Crown Prince donned the monk’s robe and prayer beads, looking every bit like the novice monk, making Su Jingxi giggle. His face flushed with embarrassment, but Su Jingxi said, “Actually, Your Highness does look a bit like Monk Bianji now.”
Bianji was a disciple of the great Tang Dynasty monk Xuanzang, known for his handsome bearing. He was executed by bisection on Tang Taizong’s orders for having an affair with Princess Gaoyang. Su Jingxi’s subtle flattery immediately turned Zhu Zhanji’s anger into joy. Then Wu Dingyuan approached with the cangue, sending his improved mood plummeting again.
Wu Dingyuan was practiced at this. He first snapped the two boards of the cangue together, securing it around the neck, then “clang” went the shackles around both wrists. He rubbed some stove ash on his hands and smeared it on the Crown Prince’s face. The handsome monk Bianji instantly became an ugly monk in chains. Before Zhu Zhanji could protest, Wu Dingyuan had already looked away, telling Yu Qian: “Don’t worry, the locks are loose – they can be broken free at any time.”
Zhu Zhanji was very dissatisfied. I am the Crown Prince after all – couldn’t you have warned me before smearing my face? Am I the kind of dim ruler who can’t take honest advice? At the very least, you should look me in the eye – what’s with always avoiding eye contact?
Wu Dingyuan continued coldly: “Let me be clear upfront. I suffer from epilepsy and can’t stand bright fires – they trigger attacks. If I truly have a fit, you’ll have to fend for yourselves. It won’t be because I’m choosing not to help.”
Su Jingxi asked curiously: “This epilepsy, it only comes on when you see large fires?” Wu Dingyuan replied: “Seeing the Crown Prince’s face also makes me ill.”
Zhu Zhanji knew this was true, but it still felt wrong to hear, and his expression darkened further. Just then Yu Qian slapped his forehead: “Oh no, I need to go home and change clothes.” He had discarded his official robes earlier, and his current short white laborer’s outfit would immediately give them away.
“Where do you live?”
“I’m posted here alone, staying in the Ministry of Rites dormitory at Willow Bay, at the east end of Chang’an Street, very close to Zhengyang Gate.”
Wu Dingyuan thought briefly – no one in Nanjing knew of Yu Qian’s connection to the Crown Prince, so moving alone should be safe. He listened outside again; the night watchmen probably wouldn’t announce the time tonight, but he could roughly estimate it was between the end of the dog hour and the beginning of the pig hour.
“Meet us at the entrance to Zongbo Lane inside Zhengyang Gate at the rat hour,” Wu Dingyuan said.
Zhu Zhanji couldn’t help but cry out. Though this minor official’s cursing had been harsh, he was the Crown Prince’s greatest support in this hostile city of Nanjing. With his departure, Zhu Zhanji suddenly felt rudderless.
Hearing the Crown Prince’s call, Yu Qian bowed deeply: “Your Highness, please remain calm. Your servant will return shortly.” He glanced at Wu Dingyuan, then reassured the Crown Prince: “Though this man is greedy and lazy, he has one virtue – he’s honest and keeps his word. Since he’s agreed to escort Your Highness out of the city, he’ll surely see it through.”
He said this right in front of Wu Dingyuan, who merely lounged with folded arms and drawled, “Remember the five hundred taels of silver you promised me.” Yu Qian snorted without replying and left.
Within moments, he returned. When Wu Dingyuan impatiently asked what else he’d forgotten, Yu Qian bent to pick up the small bronze incense burner and carefully tucked it into his robes: “This is the ritual vessel before which His Highness took his oath. It cannot be abandoned – I must take it.”
Zhu Zhanji’s expression froze, and what little attachment he felt instantly vanished. He had sworn before this incense burner to return to the capital no matter what, never giving up. Yu Qian wasn’t entirely confident, taking the burner along to serve as a constant reminder and admonition.
“That was my birthday gift to my sister. If you’re taking it, you’ll have to pay extra,” Wu Dingyuan interjected. Yu Qian waved his hand: “Five hundred and one taels then!” and walked away.
The remaining three made final preparations and left Wu’s courtyard. Zhu Zhanji led the way in his monk’s disguise, neck in the cangue. Unaccustomed to the top-heavy restraint, he stumbled along, truly resembling a fallen criminal monk. Wu Dingyuan followed close behind with a bamboo-framed storm lantern, occasionally striking the “prisoner’s” legs with his iron ruler. Su Jingxi had arranged her hair in a common woman’s high bun, head wrapped in a kerchief, following at the rear with downcast eyes as if ashamed to show her face.
By now the sky was pitch black, thick ink-like clouds obscuring stars and moon, erasing all outlines and details. Even people standing face to face could barely make out each other’s features. For this terrified group of fugitives, this was welcome news.
Wu Dingyuan truly knew Nanjing’s layout well. He led them through streets and alleys, sometimes slipping past boarded-up bookshop corridors, sneaking through a hedge beside an abandoned temple, and sometimes boldly striding past the glazed memorial arch in front of the Imperial Academy. He moved like a crafty loach, skillfully weaving through the fisherman’s net.
The entire city district rippled with waves of unease as if the noon explosion’s aftershocks still hadn’t settled. Anyone looking down on Nanjing would have seen numerous points of light dotting the darkness, each representing a torch-bearing patrol. They swept through every alley and burst into every home with menacing force.
Wu Dingyuan’s group was stopped and checked seven or eight times by different patrols. Fortunately, their preparation was thorough, and the documents were complete. When the soldiers heard they were escorting a lecherous monk, their faces turned suggestive, stealing glances at Su Jingxi in the rear while overlooking Zhu Zhanji’s filthy face.
Moving stop and start, they soon reached the inner side of Zhengyang Gate. This faced Imperial Street, with Zongbo Lane slightly to the west. The lane was named for the high officials of the Ministry of Rites who lived there – the Minister, Vice Ministers, Directors, and Associate Directors. Every residence featured high gates and deep courtyards, multiple halls, and walkways – truly mansions of the elite.
The distant Zhengyang Gate lay shrouded in darkness, without torchlight. Wu Dingyuan said going too early might alert their quarry, it was better to wait for Yu Qian. As summer approached, the lane entrance had been covered with an awning for shade and rain protection, so the group waited quietly beneath it.
The lane had lost its usual dignified silence, with faint crying sounds reaching the entrance. When the Crown Prince arrived in Nanjing, the Ministry of Rites officials had led the welcoming ceremony at the Eastern Water Gate. Thus, when the treasure ship exploded, the Ministry officials suffered the heaviest casualties. Starting tomorrow, every household in Zongbo Lane would likely be in mourning, every door marked with funeral banners.
Standing under the awning, Zhu Zhanji’s face grew uncomfortable as he heard the crying. Though not his responsibility, these were Ming elites, his future subjects, now slaughtered like animals. The indignation in his heart was hard to suppress. Looking around to distract himself, his gaze occasionally fell on Wu Dingyuan, who kept turning away. Anger welled up:
“Wu Dingyuan, why won’t you look at me properly? Do you also think this prince lacks virtue and talent, not understanding the way of rulership?”
Wu Dingyuan bewilderedly raised his head. The moment their eyes met, that familiar stabbing pain returned. His brow furrowed and he started to look away, but Zhu Zhanji shouted: “Don’t look away! Look at me!”
Wu Dingyuan had no choice but to maintain eye contact. After three or four breaths, the stabbing pain spread from his temples, like a hot iron slowly cutting across his forehead, turning his skull inside out. Finally unable to endure, he groaned and crouched down, clutching his head.
Seeing this, Su Jingxi quickly pressed her fingers to his Fengfu and Tianzhong acupoints. Zhu Zhanji hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from Wu Dingyuan and stood awkwardly, unsure what to do. After catching his breath for quite a while, Wu Dingyuan struggled to his feet, veins still bulging on his forehead.
Su Jingxi rose and addressed the Crown Prince: “It’s nothing serious, just a mild attack of headwind – probably triggered by some stimulus.”
“Stimulus? Is seeing my face such a great stimulus?” Zhu Zhanji was half dissatisfied, half dejected.
Su Jingxi said: “Your humble servant has treated similar conditions before. Such ailments usually stem from some terrifying experience, after which similar sights trigger a reaction. As they say, ‘once bitten by a snake, ten years afraid of good ropes’ – that’s the principle.”
Zhu Zhanji asked puzzled: “But I’ve never met him before!”
Su Jingxi took Wu Dingyuan’s right hand, applying pressure to the tiger’s mouth point while asking: “Have you ever served the imperial family? Or met any royal clan members?” Wu Dingyuan shook his head, pulling his hand away. He didn’t want any more entanglements – once Yu Qian arrived, he’d send these people out of the city and never see them again.
Su Jingxi took a cloth band from her waist and began wrapping it tightly around his temples, speaking softly: “Whatever troubles you’re holding inside, letting them accumulate year after year – when the pot’s full it will overflow, eventually causing serious illness. You can’t keep troubles bottled up; you need to share them with others.”
Wu Dingyuan smiled coldly: “Only the drinker knows if the tea is hot or cold. Why are you so interested in prying into others’ troubles?”
“I’m a physician. Seeing unusual ailments naturally piques my professional interest – what other motive could I have?”
“I’m neither in pain nor discomfort – how is this an unusual ailment?”
“Heart sickness is still sickness, just often overlooked. In my years of medical practice, I’ve found that when words serve as medicine and listening as treatment, heart sickness often cures itself. That’s why I always try to talk more with people I meet.”
Wu Dingyuan waved his hand impatiently: “A few words can cure illness? That might work for ladies in noble houses.”
“People often don’t know if their tea is hot or cold.”
Su Jingxi made this pointed comment, then tactfully fell silent, finishing the bandage without another word before stepping aside. Wu Dingyuan felt his head – though the binding was uncomfortable, his earlier discomfort had indeed lessened.
“Seems my father was right – everyone has some good qualities,” Wu Dingyuan said softly. Su Jingxi recognized this as his way of expressing thanks and smiled slightly before going to chat with the Crown Prince.
After about a quarter-hour, footsteps approached from the distant street as Yu Qian hurried over. He had only one ceremonial robe left at home, worn for grand sacrificial ceremonies. The crimson silk robe with its wide sleeves looked quite bulky on him, its long red and white silk ribbons at the front of the skirt fluttering about as if ready to trip him at any moment.
“Why did you… wear something like that?” Wu Dingyuan couldn’t understand – they were escaping, not performing heavenly sacrifices.
“It can intimidate people,” Yu Qian replied matter-of-factly.
Reception officials were responsible for comforting the regions and promulgating imperial edicts, so their ceremonial robes were particularly magnificent – anything less wouldn’t properly represent court dignity. For soldiers and civilians who couldn’t distinguish official ranks, the more elaborate the robe, the more intimidating it appeared. Yu Qian’s handsome bearing particularly suited the ceremonial dress, making him look especially imposing.
“Did you encounter any checkpoints on your way?”
“No. Who would dare stop someone dressed like this?”
Wu Dingyuan nodded and said to stay quiet and follow his lead. He rearranged their formation: the lecherous monk and constable in front, the official supporting his wife behind, and they headed toward Zhengyang Gate.
Zhengyang Gate was under repair, so no lights could be lit on the walls at night for fear of igniting construction materials. The guards only maintained two torches at each end of the gate passage, illuminating several yards around the gate, with wooden barriers blocking access. Seeing people approach, they instinctively raised their spears and called out for them to halt.
Wu Dingyuan motioned for the other three to stay at the edge of the torchlight, then stepped forward: “Escorting a prisoner for the Yingtian Prefecture – requesting swift passage.” He handed over the warrant and his tin badge. The guards couldn’t read but recognized the large seal on the warrant, though one muttered suspiciously: “Who transfers prisoners in the middle of the night?”
Wu Dingyuan glanced back at Zhu Zhanji, then leaned in close to the guard, speaking mysteriously: “Brother, have you heard of the ‘Long Elder Kong’ from Faming Temple?”
This was a vulgar joke, with each character carrying crude implications. The guards had heard about Faming Temple’s unsavory reputation, and finding the nickname so fitting, burst out laughing: “You’ve arrested one of their monks?”
Wu Dingyuan waved the warrant, lowering his voice: “A Reception official’s wife went to pray for a child at Faming Temple, and this little monk offered to ‘enlighten’ her with his ‘vajra scepter.’ But the husband came home early and caught them in the act, then reported it.”
The salacious story involving an official, told crudely, perfectly suited the old soldiers’ tastes. The two guards looked at the three figures and snickered. One asked: “Shouldn’t you be taking this lecher to Yuanxian County? Why head outside the city?”
Wu Dingyuan pointed into the distance: “The Prefect said this matter would embarrass the court, so he’s transferring the case to neighboring Jurong County for quiet resolution. Why else would we be out at night? Look, the wronged husband even wore his court robes – like a tortoise biting a wooden pole, he’s determined to fight to the end.”
The clever double entendre, mocking both the official as a cuckold and his stubbornness, sent the guards into another round of laughter. One moved to shift the barrier, but the other suddenly said: “Wait, do you have a permit from the Defense Commissioner’s office? Orders just came down that all gates are sealed and can’t be opened without authorization.”
Wu Dingyuan stamped his foot, lamenting: “Digging a well after the house is on fire! The order just came from the Defense Commissioner – how could I have time to get a permit?”
“Without a permit, we can’t open the gate.” The guard dropped the barrier back with a clang.
“You’ve heard about what happened at the dock today – all the offices are in chaos. Who am I supposed to get a permit from?” Wu Dingyuan said. The guards showed understanding but wouldn’t move the barrier. Wu Dingyuan considered trying a bribe and was reaching into his robe for silver when Yu Qian strode forward from the edge of the torchlight.
Seeing his extravagant crimson official robe and stern face, the guards shrank back, their attitude becoming much more respectful. Yu Qian shouted: “Are you creating obstacles here because you think this official’s rank is too low to respect?”
The guards inwardly groaned. Even an eighth-rank official was still an official – common folk dared not provoke them. They could only smile apologetically and cite regulations. Yu Qian sneered and pulled out an iron city pass token, tossing it to the guards. Though illiterate, they’d seen plenty of these tokens. After examining it, one said: “Sir, the token’s fine, but it’s for daytime passage – it doesn’t authorize opening gates at night.”
“Let me ask you: does this token specifically state it’s only valid during daytime?” Yu Qian demanded aggressively.
“No, it doesn’t. But since the gates are closed at night and you don’t have gate-opening authority, it effectively means daytime only.”
“So if the gates were open at night, my token would be valid, correct?”
“That’s true, but the gates are closed at night…” The guard tried to argue but suddenly choked on his words.
Zhengyang Gate was under repair, its doors removed from their hinges and leaning against the outer wall, unable to be closed. In other words, Yu Qian’s request for night passage at Zhengyang Gate was entirely within regulations. The guards felt something was wrong with this logic, but could find no flaw in Yu Qian’s argument – he had thoroughly confused them.
“Nanjing’s gates open and close at dawn and dusk to prevent outside enemies from entering, not to imprison residents inside. If you’re going to be so inflexible, this official will go to the Defense Commissioner’s office right now and ask how many strokes of the rod are prescribed for obstructing an official messenger!”
Yu Qian raised his chin, his voice ringing with authority as if pronouncing judgment from the magistrate’s bench. The guards’ faces changed color immediately. Though Reception officials were low-ranked, they represented the court in foreign missions, and those who obstructed them faced severe punishment. The guards cursed this official inwardly for abusing his authority – a cuckold still wielding such official pressure – but dared not delay further and quietly moved the barrier.
Yu Qian shot a triumphant glance at Wu Dingyuan as he tucked the token back into his belt. Wu Dingyuan rolled his eyes skyward, seeing nothing worth showing off about.
The final path out of Nanjing had finally opened. The four passed through the wooden barrier and plunged into the deep gate tunnel. The passage had no lighting – stepping inside was like sinking into an ink pool, surrounded only by thick, viscous darkness. Their shoes made crisp impacts against the stone pavement, the sounds echoing back and forth in the narrow passage until all sense of direction was lost.
Wu Dingyuan walked in front, silent. This was his second time through this tunnel today – another twenty steps and he’d be free of this mess. Strangely though, the closer they got to the end, instead of feeling more settled, he grew increasingly uneasy, sensing something important had been overlooked.
The twenty-some steps passed quickly, and a line of light became visible ahead, presumably torchlight from the outer gate filtering through. However… Wu Dingyuan squinted as he examined it – the light seemed scattered as if coming from multiple angles.
Had the guards set up lanterns beside the torches? Wu Dingyuan pondered this, suddenly stopping. Behind him, Zhu Zhanji was caught off guard, the cangue ramming into his back. Wu Dingyuan stumbled, and his vague suspicion suddenly crystallized.
“Little Xingren, you said you came from your home in Willow Bay and no one stopped you?”
“First, don’t call me Little Xingren; second, yes, what about it?”
“Were you stopped and then allowed to pass, or not stopped at all?”
“Of course not stopped at all – I didn’t pause once on my way. They probably feared the dignity of the court robes?”
Wu Dingyuan turned back toward the darkness: “You were followed.” Yu Qian exclaimed in shock: “How is that possible?” Wu Dingyuan explained: “The entire city is being searched tonight. What merit or power does a minor Reception official have to pass completely unhindered, without even being stopped for inspection?”
Su Jingxi was the second to understand: “No inspection means they deliberately let him pass, wanting to follow him to find the Crown Prince.” Zhu Zhanji rattled his chains: “Impossible! I never told anyone about Yu Qian!”
Wu Dingyuan dropped a saying: “Rabbits leave moving grass, hawks create rising winds – nothing in this world leaves no trace.” Then he drew his iron ruler, cautiously edging toward the exit.
If they were being followed, the best strategy wouldn’t be to trail directly behind, but to circle around outside the gate for an ambush – trapping them like turtles in a jar. The scattered light ahead suggested at least seven or eight lanterns had been hung high, indicating people had already reached the outer gate, though probably not in large numbers.
“What now? Should we force our way through before their main force arrives, or quickly retreat?” Wu Dingyuan faced a difficult choice. They were just steps from the outside – retreating now would be a shame, but if the enemy blocked the exit, charging forward would be suicide.
Before he could decide, the light ahead suddenly broadened – someone was moving the gate several feet, and they were about to enter the tunnel!
Wu Dingyuan raised his ruler, gritting his teeth for a desperate fight. A stocky figure darkened the exit light as they entered first, though backlighting obscured their features.
Wu Dingyuan knew his technique surpassed ordinary soldiers, but he lacked their physical strength – he had to strike first. He feinted with his ruler, swooping like a falcon at the opponent’s lower body. But the other had anticipated this surprise attack, meeting iron ruler with iron ruler with a “clang.” They exchanged three or four rapid strikes in the darkness before both retreated. Their fighting styles were similar, their weapons identical – they had fought to a draw.
More people rushed into the tunnel then, some carrying lanterns that filled the passage with yellowish light. Wu Dingyuan finally saw his opponent’s face clearly, just as the other recognized him.
“Father?”
“Dingyuan?” The waves of shock crossing Wu Buping’s old face matched those on his son’s.