But unwillingness was useless. The general trend was such that human power simply couldn’t reverse it. Those beside him all urged him to give up. Originally, when Cui Shaoting had wanted to use Ye to threaten them into withdrawing troops, the Tartar army had already experienced no small upheaval, feeling that Ye Tan’s disregard for Ye’s life or death was too heartless. Now it went without saying—not only had Ye been sent back to the royal court, the great king had personally issued an edict saying they were not permitted to fight anymore, ordering them to sound the gongs and withdraw troops.
But Ye Tan refused. He was convinced the situation could still turn around, stubbornly staying outside Zijing Pass unwilling to leave, always feeling that perhaps the next moment Tuomu would think clearly—even if he couldn’t think clearly himself, Ye would make him think clearly. Compared to the benefits Great Zhou could give, breaking into Great Zhou could gain far, far more benefits. He didn’t believe his older brother didn’t understand this principle, nor did he believe Tuomu wouldn’t be moved.
But he waited and waited. He didn’t wait for Tuomu’s change of heart or even a single word from Ye. Instead, he waited for a surprise attack from Great Zhou soldiers. Those soldiers from Hebei West Circuit had all originally served under Marquis Dingyuan—each one was strong and robust, different from ordinary Great Zhou soldiers. Their equipment was also excellent, and they even had many firearms. Ye Tan encountered surprise attacks for several nights in succession and nearly lost his own life in his sleep.
At this point, if he didn’t withdraw, it would probably no longer be just small-scale mutiny. No matter how many ambitions and ideas Ye Tan had, he could only give up and honestly announce the troop withdrawal.
With this withdrawal, no one was happier than the defending general of Zijing Pass. Yuan Hong, who had later been transferred from Hebei West Circuit to Zijing Pass, breathed a sigh of relief. He wrote a battle report overnight, and together with the supervising censor’s memorial, sent it by eight-hundred-li express to the capital. Only then did he feel as if he’d lived through it all again.
He’d thought he would certainly die at this Zijing Pass. In the most difficult times, he’d even written his final letters. Who knew he’d pick up his life in the end—this was truly an unexpected delight.
When the battle report reached the capital, it was already the day before Zhou Weizhao’s investiture ceremony. Emperor Jianzhang was greatly pleased, laughing aloud in the Supreme Ultimate Hall. He had Eunuch An take the victory report down to Chief Minister Chang, having Chief Minister Chang read it personally. Finally showing joy, he declared: “Heaven blesses our Great Zhou!”
Chief Minister Chang was also moved with emotion, tears appearing in his already somewhat clouded eyes.
Having fought this war for so long—although on the surface he’d always been part of the war faction and had firmly urged Emperor Jianzhang to hold steady, did he truly have confidence in his heart? Now they’d finally endured to this day, finally blocked the Tartar people outside Zijing Pass, and also quelled the internal rebellion. He felt this could truly be considered not failing the late emperor’s entrustment. Trembling, he knelt on the ground and called out long life.
When news reached the inner palace, Empress Lu thought she’d heard wrong. For a moment she couldn’t react. After a moment, she asked: “Is it true? The Tartars have truly withdrawn their troops?!”
Crown Princess Lu was so delighted she didn’t know what to do. She vigorously nodded in affirmation: “They’ve truly withdrawn. Victory reports sent by eight-hundred-li express, entering the Imperial City all the way from Vermillion Bird Avenue. Now everyone everywhere knows.”
Then it was true. Empress Lu truly couldn’t hold back—she put her palms together and recited a Buddhist invocation. She’d thought until the day she died she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes, yet who knew the war would be pacified.
Although it still couldn’t offset her transgressions, at least these transgressions were somewhat smaller. When she closed her eyes in the future, she would dare to go before the ancestral spirits to plead guilty.
After rejoicing, Empress Lu couldn’t help sighing again: “This is good then. I hope there will be no more warfare.”
Emperor Jianzhang thought the same. He ordered the Cabinet to formulate rewards and punishments, and instructed the Ministry of Rites that after finishing Zhou Weizhao’s investiture ceremony the next day, they should continue formulating regulations for welcoming Cui Shaoting and the others back to court.
Cui Shaoting and the others hadn’t returned yet, but Prince Gong, who had already reached Langfang earlier, arrived first. When Eunuch An entered the imperial study to report, even his feet trembled somewhat. He hung his head to finish speaking, not daring to breathe heavily, holding his breath and restraining his voice as he stood to the side.
Emperor Jianzhang was silent for a long while before seeming to laugh once and instructing Eunuch An: “Transfer him to the Court of Judicial Review.”
Before the transfer, Emperor Jianzhang still wanted to see him once.
After Prince Gong had wanted to die but not dared to die, he became even more unwilling to die. All along this journey he’d been on tenterhooks. There were also many times he’d thought living on had no meaning—he certainly wouldn’t have freedom, his days would certainly be miserable, so he might as well die. But this thought lasted only an instant. After it passed, he still wanted to live.
Only at this point did he understand the saying others spoke—better a wretched life than a glorious death—made sense. Thinking that after death there would be nothing left truly frightened him. Upon seeing Emperor Jianzhang, he finally lost all his former high spirits, stubbornness and obstinacy. The moment they met, he burst into tears, rushing forward to grab Emperor Jianzhang’s legs and cry out for Father Emperor to spare his life.
Emperor Jianzhang hadn’t expected his once most beloved son to become this appearance. He’d rebelled without the capability to rebel, invited the wolf into the house, and finally ended up in such a state. In the end, he didn’t even have backbone left—skeletal and emaciated, begging for his life. The anger that had originally filled his heart instantly dissipated. Toward such a person, what use was scolding him now? He couldn’t even muster the interest to scold him. Not wanting to deal with him anymore, he frowned and laughed coldly once, said not a single word, and left.
Only this time did Prince Gong thoroughly understand fear. Even if Emperor Jianzhang had beaten or scolded him, it would be better than now when he seemed to completely fail to see him. He was so anxious he couldn’t eat. When the Court of Judicial Review Minister came to interrogate him, he wouldn’t say half a word, only insisting he wanted to see Emperor Jianzhang and Empress Lu.
How could Empress Lu possibly go see him again? Hearing someone come in to report the news, she looked at that person coldly for quite a while, then without hesitation had the messenger beaten until crippled. At this point, whether Prince Gong lived or died was no longer something she could decide. Whatever more she said would be inappropriate.
Without Empress Lu’s interference or pleading, the decision regarding Prince Gong’s disposal was quickly determined—degraded to commoner status and granted a white silk.
If it were only rebellion, his father might still remember flesh and blood kinship and give him a way to live—confining him behind high walls for the rest of his life would suffice. But Prince Gong’s transgressions went far beyond this. Xibei was now devastated entirely thanks to his gift. The court’s wind and rain turmoil was equally inseparable from him. If he didn’t die, there would be no way to quell the fury of people throughout the realm.
Prince Gong didn’t want to die and refused to die. He cried and shouted demands to see Empress Lu. When there was truly no other way, he cried and said he wanted to see Crown Princess Lu.
The Court of Judicial Review Minister’s heart pounded with fear. He dared not delay any longer. That very night he requested the Imperial Clan Court Minister to come, and with a white silk strangled to death this Prince Gong. To the outside world, they said Prince Gong had committed suicide from fear of punishment.
Suicide from fear of punishment was still death. The common people of the capital spread the news to each other. The chief culprit was dead. Now the war was also won, the Tartars had slunk away shamefully, Zijing Pass was preserved—naturally their days ahead would be better. They were always happy.