What is there to question?
There were real things to attend to!
Zhù Ying had come to see clearly: this new Emperor was an amateur! He had absolutely no idea how extraordinarily complex it was to handle a case of this magnitude. Applying an amateur’s common sense to governing — the new Emperor was about to be educated by reality, but Zhù Ying had no desire to be that teacher.
The Council of State was of course made up of professionals; they were pushing her hard with the mentality of “useful tools get worked to the bone,” but if she truly ran out of steam, they would understand. The precondition being: she had to produce real results first.
Leaving Duan Lin’s cell, Zhù Ying returned with Lin Zan and the Left Aide to the main hall. Lamp after lamp was lit all around. Zhù Ying said: “Have you all eaten?”
“Yes!”
“Go bring the two captains in — time to divide up the tasks!”
She had squeezed in the questioning of Wen Yi and Duan Lin specifically to give the Imperial Guards a chance to eat; by now they should have finished, and the night shift was due.
Both the Court of Judicial Review and the Imperial Guard had been paid; they had eaten; morale was high. The two captains appeared without delay: “My lord, what are our orders?”
Zhù Ying produced a stack of papers: “First divide your men into six groups; I’ll attach some of our own people to each group. We go through the list and arrest people. Arrest only — no house searches!”
Lin Zan asked: “Why?”
Zhù Ying said: “Some of the people on this list live in extended family compounds with elderly elders at home — we can’t sweep out entire families. First present the Court of Judicial Review’s calling card and invite the person out with full courtesy. Question them through the night!”
Lin Zan said: “Good.”
Groups were quickly assigned, and Zhù Ying gave each group several sheets of paper, each bearing one name and address: “Go in the order I’ve arranged — I’ve planned the distances and routes. Bring vehicles — escort them all back in the carriages; the palace gate opens once for each group — that’s it! No commotion! No disturbing the people! No shouting and yelling! If anyone rouses the whole capital, the Court of Judicial Review won’t be large enough to hold a Buddha of that size!”
“Yes!”
“Begin!”
She herself stayed at the Court to coordinate; she had informed General Ruan and Zheng Xi about the arrests, but things could always go unexpectedly during execution, so she remained here. There was also a great deal of written work she needed to do — certain things could not simply be left to clerical staff.
All around, only the crackling of torches, the sound of footsteps. Each group collected their horses, claimed their carriages, and galloped off through the imperial city in different directions.
Zhù Ying said to Lin Zan: “Get some rest. You won’t be sleeping tonight.”
Lin Zan said: “Tonight?”
Zhù Ying sighed and said: “You’ve already been getting people lobbying you for clemency, haven’t you? There will be more ahead. The longer we drag it out, the more trouble! While they’re all still in a daze from the mourning, and before many more people have had time to think it through — get the questioning done, package it up neatly, and hand it over. It’s done.”
Lin Zan was a man with some thoughts of seeking leniency; there were several people among the suspects he knew. But he had his own reservations. “The Emperor has made the Crown Prince the presiding officer, with the Court of Judicial Review handling it — won’t this be too hasty?”
Zhù Ying said: “The Prince of Lu’s status is special — do you think it’s you and me who can deliver the verdict? Even though only we were given this task, can we really leave the Ministry of Justice and the Censorate out of it? We do the investigation; for the sentencing, we’ll have to consult the experts at deliberating law and punishment.”
The Left Aide understood now, and stepped forward: “I’ll have them brew some strong tea!”
Neither Lin Zan nor the Left Aide went to their own rooms; both settled in the main hall. Zhù Ying took up her brush and began writing out another name list. The oath scroll was a piece of evidence — she kept it herself — but the list of names needed a copy. When she had finished, she said to Lin Zan: “This list — the people we are arresting tonight. Double-check it when you have a moment, and if it’s correct, take it tomorrow morning to the Censorate. Otherwise, when the Censors check attendance tomorrow and find someone missing, and they haven’t been reported as absent — they’ll make a scene and disrupt everything.”
One of the Censorate’s major functions was enforcing official attendance — including at morning audiences, mourning rites, and so on. If someone who should have been present was not, and the yamen had not reported a leave of absence, the Censor was certain to submit a memorial about it, and that would create noise.
What Zhù Ying wanted was to keep this case as quiet as possible in her hands. No panic could be allowed to spread; no noise that filled the whole world. Best of all, the matter would be wrapped up while most people hadn’t yet realized what was happening.
Lin Zan took the list and looked: “So it’s these people.”
Most of them were openly known to have been close to the Prince of Lu; Lin Zan recognized the vast majority. Looking through it, he felt a certain wistfulness — there were several capable people among them, like Wen Yi. Lin Zan felt sympathy for Wen Yi: being assigned to the Prince of Lu by the late Emperor was not his own choice; a perfectly good man kept beside the Prince of Lu, at odds with two successive Crown Princes — what could he have done? With the new sovereign now on the throne, how could he not be punished?
Lin Zan quietly fixed on a few other names — people with whom he had no particular connection and whom he had always rather disliked anyway. He planned to push as much of the blame as possible onto their heads when the time came to offer his own assessments.
Strong tea arrived. The three buried themselves in work. A great many things had been taken from the Prince of Lu’s mansion; Zhù Ying had arranged them herself — letters and documents from the study had all come to her and were packed in a large box. They needed to be read through, then sealed and handed to the Emperor. She had already scripted the whole scenario for the Emperor: burn them! This would stabilize people’s hearts.
Whether the Emperor would then exact revenge afterward — that was beyond what she could manage.
Zhù Ying read quickly. By midnight, the soldiers and officials who had gone to make arrests returned. Zhù Ying had worked through half the letters.
That night was destined to be sleepless.
The people on the oath scroll had all been brought in, with no one having fled. Zhù Ying said: “The two of us need to get busy! There are twenty-three on the scroll; excluding those already in custody, there are nearly twenty more to question. Question each one through the night to get a general picture.”
Lin Zan said: “So many — and all difficult to question. I fear one night isn’t enough to get any real result.”
Zhù Ying closed the box and locked it, took up the key, and said: “What’s there to fear? Drive them all into the prison — don’t put them in cells yet; bring them all to the main hall. Niu Jin — go to the kitchen and get a jug of wine. And a basket of cups — bring them all to the prison.” She pointed at the box; Xiao Tao was nimble and went to carry it, not looking at all like a man of forty.
The whole party went to the main hall of the prison. Zhù Ying took the seat at the front. Xiao Tao stood beside her cradling the box; Niu Jin carried a jug of wine; Old Huang had a basket of ceramic cups clinking lightly against each other. Twenty-three people were brought into the main hall. Some had come in such haste their shoes were on the wrong feet; some hadn’t even had time to tie up their hair. There were also some who were half-drunk.
For these two days they had all been on edge; many of them, when arrested, had even felt a sense of relief — “at last it has come.” Their immediate concern: it was past curfew, and their families couldn’t even rush to get information or seek influential connections on their behalf.
In the hall, Zhù Ying did not bang the gavel, did not shout; she simply said: “The night is cold and deep — I’m sorry to have everyone come out at this hour. Have a cup of wine to warm yourselves.”
Some wanted to say: stop pretending to be kind. But others had noticed something was wrong — all the people assembled here were those who had signed their names and drunk blood wine on that day.
Sure enough, Zhù Ying continued: “This cup — send it to the Prince of Lu in there. This one to General Zhou You — it’s a pity he couldn’t be there to share a drink with everyone that day. This one to Academician Duan — oh, if they’ve already gone to sleep, there’s no need to wake them.”
Someone received a cup and immediately threw it down: “I won’t drink! I was coerced!”
Zhù Ying raised one index finger and held it to her lips: “Shhh—”
The man stared wide-eyed. Old Huang pressed another cup into his hands. He trembled as he took it. About half was spilled onto his front; he shook all the way through swallowing the rest.
Zhù Ying said: “The Court of Judicial Review is a place of evidence and reason. The law does not impose punishment on high officials. I dislike the use of punishment; I treat you all with courtesy and ask that you extend the same to my people — cooperate with them and speak candidly. Please. Oh — and one more thing: at this late hour, shouting and making a scene is undignified, and it disturbs the night-owls. Please keep it quiet.”
She waved a hand; cups were collected; each person was taken in turn to the prepared cells. Without any conspicuous search of the body — they were simply invited to bathe and change, and then to “have a conversation.”
Zhù Ying no longer participated in questioning them herself; she stayed in the hall working. She read all the letters, locked the box, had Xiao Tao bring sealing tape and sealed it. Then she dealt with a backlog of miscellaneous Court business — certain things that could not simply be delegated to the clerical staff.
Wu Xiang, also on duty tonight, came walking over with Zhou Wei. Wu Xiang said: “My lord, it’s late — you still have to attend court tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t you like to rest for a bit? That room has been kept quiet and clean, with new bedding all laid out.”
Zhù Ying said: “Don’t worry about me. You two should rest.”
Neither Wu Xiang nor Zhou Wei could actually go rest at a time like this. They returned to their room and lay down without changing clothes.
Beyond the case itself, Zhù Ying also had another matter to think through: the division of spoils. There was certainly going to be an amount to skim from the confiscation — without that, future work would be impossible. How to take it, how much to take, how to distribute it, how much to distribute — she had a plan for all of it.
Then there were the people who would come to petition for clemency: Zhou You’s mother-in-law was dead but his wife was still alive, and had gone to petition through Zheng Xi’s mother — what was to be done? General Ruan was also petitioning on Wen Yi’s behalf. And then there were others…
As dawn approached, the depositions began coming in one by one. Zhù Ying read through them. Some had confessed straightforwardly; some had pushed all blame onto Wen Yi and the Prince of Lu, claiming they themselves had been deceived; some insisted through clenched teeth that they had been coerced and threatened with the deaths of their entire families, and had been forced to join the traitors. None spoke very deeply; there would need to be more detailed interrogation.
Beyond these, some testimonies revealed that certain local officials in the provinces had also secretly curried favor with the Prince of Lu. From the letters and gift lists Zhù Ying had retrieved from the Prince of Lu’s mansion, she could see this as well.
She put all of this into another box, locked it, sealed it, stood up and said: “Everyone has been working all night — make the necessary arrangements for the daytime watch and then the night-shift people should rest.”
The kitchen sent up breakfast. Zhù Ying ate quickly, rinsed her mouth, and dried her hands: “Everyone has worked hard. Take turns eating and resting.”
She washed her face, picked up the box, and Lin Zan, who had drunk another bowl of tea, said: “My lord, this subordinate is truly in awe of you!”
Zhù Ying said: “One eats the sovereign’s grain.” She also gave special instructions about Old Huang and the Left Aide: “These two are getting on in years — don’t disturb them for a while; let them sleep half a day.”
Old Huang said: “Old people sleep lightly — I’m not tired at all.”
Zhù Ying shook her head, picked up the box, and first went to see the Emperor. Xiao Tao and Niu Jin rushed after her: “My lord, let us carry that!”
The two of them carried the box, escorting Zhù Ying. The Council of State informed her that the Prime Ministers had already gone to the imperial presence. Zhù Ying heard this and made her way there as well. Tao and Niu followed until they reached the door they could not pass through, and there they handed the box back to Zhù Ying.
Daylight had just broken when Zhù Ying entered, box in arms. The people of the Council of State and the Crown Prince were already assembled. She performed the proper obeisance. Zheng Xi, General Ruan, and a few others arrived shortly after.
The Emperor saw the box she was carrying and asked: “What is that?”
Zhù Ying said: “The Prince of Lu confessed, and an oath scroll was found. The Court of Judicial Review, working from the names on it, spent the night inviting a number of people to stay overnight as guests. This one contains correspondence and documents retrieved from the Prince of Lu’s mansion; this one contains a number of initial depositions.”
The Emperor smiled with satisfaction: “Excellent!”
Two eunuchs came forward, each receiving one box. Zhù Ying then drew an envelope from her sleeve: “This is the oath scroll.”
Du Shien stepped forward to receive it. Zhù Ying’s expression shifted slightly — she gave an almost imperceptible tilt of her chin at him. Du Shien gave a slight nod in return, indicating he was all right.
The Emperor tore open the envelope and read through it, and erupted in fury — striking the armrest: “How dare they!”
Zhù Ying gave a brief account of everything done over the past day and night, including the situation with Wen Yi, Duan Lin’s father and son’s self-justifications, and so forth. Liu Songnian said: “What personal grievance does he have? If anything, he shouldn’t be committing crimes in broad daylight!”
The Emperor said: “Precisely! Back in the day, the Duan family hired assassins…that was to harm Zhù Ying, wasn’t it?”
Zhù Ying gave a slight bow and continued: “The documents from the Prince of Lu’s mansion have been secured. The property and goods are too numerous — still being tallied; once tallied, your servant will report. “
“Hmph! Of all the brothers, he was the greediest — the one with the most money!”
“Your servant will make a thorough accounting. There are also these initial depositions — only a first round of questioning; more detailed depositions will follow in a few days. Oh — they will probably not make it within the new-era amnesty window.”
The Crown Prince let out an involuntary laugh.
The Emperor regained some composure and said: “What about the co-conspirators — aren’t they to be treated leniently?”
Zhù Ying said: “The Ten Heinous Crimes are not covered by any general amnesty. Grace comes from above.”
The Emperor was satisfied: “You handle it as you see fit.”
Zhù Ying said: “There is one more matter requiring Your Majesty’s sanction.”
“What?”
“To celebrate the new sovereign’s accession and to display Your Majesty’s magnanimity, I request that certain innocent people in the Prince of Lu’s household be released, so that they may go among the people and spread word of Your Majesty’s benevolent virtue.”
“Are there innocent people in the Prince of Lu’s household?”
Zhù Ying said: “There are. Commoner women who were seized by force, weavers and embroiderers taken away with half a string of coins. They are currently being detained in the mansion. Having too many of them is noisy, and it costs money to feed them — better to release them. Having an excessive accumulation of resentment is inauspicious. I thought — taking a sum from the Prince of Lu’s treasury as travel money for them. And also: I’ve heard the Prince of Lu seized farmland from commoners. That needs to be verified before it can be returned. For now, at least inform them so they have something to look forward to. Oh — it’s winter; until the verification is done and the land returned, perhaps distribute some firewood and grain so they can see the new year through. All of this is the mess made by the Prince of Lu, yet once again it falls on Your Majesty to clean it up.”
The Emperor smiled slightly: “Agreed.”
Zhù Ying said: “For the land to be registered, the Capital Prefecture will need to go to a great deal of trouble.”
Zheng Xi said: “That’s as it should be.” He and Wang Yunhe exchanged a glance and knew that Zhù Ying’s old habit had flared up again.
The Emperor said cheerfully: “You are truly my pillars and supports!”
The two of them modestly declined the honor.
Zhù Ying withdrew to one side, listening as they talked about the funeral, the new era name, and the reassignment of personnel. She said nothing.
When the conversation was finished, the Crown Prince asked the Emperor for permission, saying that since this case had also been assigned to him, he felt bad knowing nothing about it, and wanted to go look at the Court of Judicial Review once the mourning rites were done.
The Emperor said: “Go!”
Zhù Ying went first to go through the mourning rites. Her rank now placed her in the innermost circle of attendees. When the rites were done and the Crown Prince had not yet arrived, Luo Sheng came first. He asked: “You’ve been very busy these days?”
Zhù Ying said: “With what happened, the Court of Judicial Review can’t afford not to be busy.”
Luo Sheng said: “Take care of yourself. About the affairs of the Court of State Ceremonial—” Zhù Ying had been yanked away to the Court of Judicial Review so suddenly that Luo Sheng had not even had a chance to ask how things stood going forward.
Zhù Ying said: “For now there is nothing major pending at the Court of State Ceremonial. I’ve left things with Zhao Su, and he is fairly capable. Shen Guanghua manages the Office of Ceremonial Etiquette smoothly as always. At year’s end it’ll be time for performance reviews; Ke the Client-receiver was very dedicated in receiving the four tributaries last year — oh!” She opened the cloth bag for her jade tablet, pulled the tablet out, reached to the bottom of the bag, and produced a small folded piece of paper: “I wrote it all down here — nearly forgot to give this to you.”
Luo Sheng took it. Zhù Ying replaced the tablet, and just then the Crown Prince arrived: “What are you two doing?”
“A few items of handover,” Zhù Ying said. “I left in a hurry and haven’t finished yet.”
The Crown Prince sighed: “How thorough you are in all things.”
“I wouldn’t dare claim that. People will assume I’m thorough in everything, and when I forget something — as I inevitably will — people will say I did it deliberately. That would be truly impossible to defend against.”
Luo Sheng said: “Never — everyone knows your character. One’s character comes before one’s conduct.”
The Crown Prince looked at this somewhat guileless father-in-law with mild perplexity, wondering: is this true wisdom disguised as simplicity, or simple-minded sincerity?
Filled with a slight puzzlement, the Crown Prince walked with Zhù Ying toward the Court of Judicial Review. He did not take a sedan chair; the two walked together, talking as they went. Lin Zan tried to follow, but was intercepted by the eunuchs. He caught only a fragment of the Crown Prince’s words: “Is the case going smoothly?”
Lin Zan thought for a moment and did not follow.
Hadn’t the case just been reported upstairs a little while ago?
Useless, the lot of them, Zhù Ying thought — and then said aloud: “Not one fraction of what Gong Jie was.”
“Gong?” The Gong Jie case had occurred before this Crown Prince was born. Zhù Ying said: “He was the Prime Minister Gong Jie, from the late Emperor’s reign.”
The Crown Prince replied with seriousness: “The Prince of Lu’s treachery was far more dangerous than Gong Jie’s!”
Zhù Ying understood his meaning — Gong Jie could never have usurped the throne, but the Prince of Lu could have. But she said nothing to unpack it. This could not be unpacked — push it further, and then your own Crown Prince’s threat to the throne…
Zhù Ying said: “In fact it turned out fine — the Prince of Lu’s ambitions were laid out in plain sight.”
The Crown Prince asked: “And Wen Yi?”
“He failed the late Emperor, and he failed himself.”
“And Duan Lin?”
“A tedious person.”
Zhù Ying remained impassive. The Crown Prince grew somewhat agitated. He looked at the person before him — compared to the purple robe, Zhù Ying looked improbably young. But when the name Gong Jie had come up just now, he suddenly realized that this fair-complexioned, beardless “newly prominent official” had a far richer history of experience than he had imagined. The intelligence of this person was also more dependable than he had imagined.
A truly infuriating kind of intelligence! So abundant that she would not play along with his conversation.
“You are perhaps too unfeeling,” the Crown Prince said. “I am asking in good faith. From back when my father was still living, I have known you were a capable person, and I have asked in good faith — but you are always at arm’s length and just out of reach. In the Prince of Lu’s uprising, I thought you were inclined toward the Eastern Palace — so why now this cool detachment?”
“Shh—”
“You—”
“Here we are,” Zhù Ying stopped and said. The Court of Judicial Review was just ahead. “When I went south from here all those years ago, I encountered a case on the road. Commissioner Luo presided; I assisted. I don’t remember much else from that time, but I do remember saying to him: in any case, establishing the facts is certainly important; if the truth is unclear, everything else is groundless. But the hardest part is not in the investigation or the interrogation — it is in what is done once the truth is known. You have the wood — what are you going to build with it? I believe that is what truly reveals a person. I ask you to pay attention to that.”
The Crown Prince met her eyes. Zhù Ying said: “The principles are written in books. But how does one demonstrate that one has truly absorbed those principles? It is through things — one thing at a time. However you ask, whoever you ask, they can only give you certain truisms that sound like empty words. Turning principles into capability has no shortcut; once you’ve done it, when others ask you, all you’ll be able to give them is those same principles. I am not playing at riddles. Please settle your mind and first finish handling this case. When it is finished, there are certain questions you will no longer need to ask. Please—”