Chapter Two: The Cheap Father Zhu Changluo

Hearing the beautiful woman’s words, the imperial physician Sun Hong dared not delay. He immediately replied, “Reporting to Lady Consort Liu, the Fifth Prince’s internal organs and blood circulation are clear and unimpeded; there is no serious danger. However…”

Seeing that the physician hesitated, Lady Consort Liu quickly pressed him, “However what? Please, physician, speak plainly!”

At her urging, Sun Hong knelt and bowed, saying, “Please, Your Ladyship, do not worry. I observe that the Fifth Prince has a cerebral contusion from the blow to his head, resulting in some blood stasis. My analysis is that this stasis has caused the Prince’s current speech difficulties. Allow me to prescribe a remedy; with a few days’ treatment to dispel the stasis, he should be well again.”

Hearing this, Lady Consort Liu—this beautiful woman—felt a measure of relief. Though her face still bore a trace of worry, she managed to force a smile. Even this slight smile, however, was enough to captivate all present; so enchanting was it that Zhu Hao, who had just been through such an ordeal, found himself momentarily entranced.

Words such as “Consort Liu,” “Fifth Prince,” and her gentle address to him as “Youjian” echoed in Zhu Hao’s mind. A diligent student of Ming history, Zhu Hao suddenly felt as if a flash of lightning had struck his thoughts. At that moment, he realized with certainty that he had found himself in one of those melodramatic transmigration tales.

He could hardly believe such an absurd thing had happened to him. The beautiful woman was now his mother in this life, Consort Liu, favored consort of Emperor Guangzong Zhu Changluo of the Ming Dynasty. His convenient “father” was none other than the same emperor. The physician Sun Hong who had just taken his pulse—well, he was just a physician! And as for himself, he had become the most unfortunate last emperor of the Ming, the Chongzhen Emperor, Zhu Youjian.

At this moment, Zhu Hao felt as though a thousand wild horses were stampeding through his heart. What kind of luck was this? Other transmigrators become Tang or Song founders, at worst a stable monarch or a carefree prince, a marquis with lands and leisure. But him? Had he exhausted eight generations of luck to transmigrate into the last emperor of the Ming, doomed to meet a tragic end? Though this was technically his ancestor, and he had often felt sympathy for him when reading history, who would actually wish to be the last emperor, to end up hanging himself on Jingshan? The title of that world-famous novel came to mind—this truly was a “Miserable World.”

No matter how unwilling he was, Zhu Hao knew he had no choice but to accept his fate. If he were to shout, “I’m not this damned Zhu Youjian, I’m a modern man, my name is Zhu Hao!” he would likely be committed as a lunatic and never again see the sunlit world outside the palace.

Well-versed in Ming history, he knew that Zhu Youjian only became emperor by chance. If his “brother,” the Tianqi Emperor Zhu Youjiao—so fond of carpentry and acting like the legendary craftsman Lu Ban—had not been poisoned by the powerful eunuch Wei Zhongxian, and if Zhu Youjian had not seemed so meek and easy to control, the throne would never have come to him. His mother, Consort Liu, was never favored by the emperor, and she would soon be forced to drink poison and die. Now, seeing his own current situation, Zhu Hao felt the danger keenly. He thought: better to live shamelessly than die with dignity—he must find a way to survive the court’s treacherous power struggles. After all, his half-brothers all died young, some not surviving infancy, others only a few years old. If there was nothing suspicious in all that, ghosts might as well be real. In these circumstances, he decided, the only way to survive was to pretend to be mad or foolish.

With this in mind, Zhu Hao cried out, “Where am I? Who am I? Where’s my mother? Waaaah!” He sat down and bawled on the floor.

Lady Consort Liu’s heart ached at the sight. She hurried to cradle him in her arms, murmuring, “Don’t cry, Youjian, don’t cry. Mother is here!” Zhu Hao could see she was genuinely concerned for him, but for now, survival meant he had to keep up his act, even if it meant wronging this new mother.

Thinking thus, Zhu Hao pushed her away and wailed even louder, “You’re not my mother! I want my mother! Waaaah!” The push sent Lady Consort Liu stumbling to the ground, tears streaming down her delicate cheeks, looking utterly pitiful.

The imperial physician, witnessing this scene, knew it was best to leave quickly. He hastily scribbled a prescription and handed it to Shuangxi, then hurried away as if fleeing. As the mother and son wept together on the floor, a sharp voice rang out, “His Majesty the Emperor arrives! Consort Liu, receive the imperial presence!”

At this, Lady Consort Liu scrambled up and knelt at the door, calling, “This concubine, Consort Liu, welcomes Your Majesty!”

A moment later, a middle-aged man in magnificent robes entered the chamber. Zhu Hao, momentarily distracted from his act, stole a glance at his “father,” the Emperor Guangzong, Zhu Changluo. The emperor strode in with vigor and authority, looking every bit the picture of health—not at all like a man with only a month left to live, as history would have it. Clearly, there was something suspicious about the historical accounts of Emperor Guangzong’s death. Zhu Hao could not help but marvel at the palace’s many untold secrets.

The emperor laughed as he helped Consort Liu to her feet. “I came to see you and the boy as soon as I finished court affairs! Where is Youjian? Why doesn’t he come to greet his father?” As he spoke, he glanced at Consort Liu and noticed her swollen, tear-stained eyes. His face clouded with anger. “Beloved, why are you crying? Did the Empress bully you again? I’ll see justice done for you! Hmph! She’s gone too far. One day I’ll depose her!”

Consort Liu hurriedly clung to his sleeve. “Your Majesty, this has nothing to do with the Empress. It’s my fault—I have committed a crime and beg Your Majesty’s punishment!”

The emperor snorted, “You don’t need to speak for the Empress. I know how to handle her!”

Still clutching his sleeve, Consort Liu sobbed, “It truly has nothing to do with the Empress. I failed to care for Youjian, and he injured his head. Now he doesn’t even recognize me! I have wronged Your Majesty!” Unable to contain herself, she collapsed, weeping bitterly.

The emperor was shocked. He strode to the boy, scooped him up, and asked, “Youjian, tell me—who am I?”

Putting on the voice of a small child, Zhu Hao replied, “You’re my father, my favorite father!”

Hearing this, the emperor’s expression softened somewhat. He then pointed at Consort Liu, who was still kneeling in shock but had forgotten to cry, and asked, “Then tell your father, who is that?”

Imitating a child, Zhu Hao bit his finger and said, “That’s my mother! Father, why do you make mother kneel? Did she do something wrong? If you must punish someone, punish me! Don’t punish mother, please?” As he spoke, the shameless Zhu Hao tugged at the emperor’s sleeve, pleading adorably. If he hadn’t looked so much like an eleven- or twelve-year-old child, he might have been kicked out on the spot.

The emperor was clearly pleased with this, his mood lightening. He chuckled, “Your mother? She’s in trouble—she deceived me, so she must kneel there. Youjian, when you grow up, you must never deceive your father, do you hear?”

Zhu Hao nodded vigorously and continued to plead on Consort Liu’s behalf. “Father, please forgive mother! It’s my fault—I disobeyed her, ran off to play, and hit my head. I couldn’t even remember mother just now. If you hadn’t come, I might never have remembered anything again!”

Zhu Hao’s words were masterful. First, he exonerated Consort Liu—she hadn’t deceived the emperor—and explained he truly couldn’t remember anything. Second, he flattered the emperor, implying that his recovery was due to the emperor’s arrival, as if borrowing the emperor’s good fortune. If such words had come from a courtier, the emperor might not have believed them, but spoken by a child, they seemed all the more sincere. The emperor was delighted.

He laughed heartily. “Very well! For Youjian’s sake, I won’t punish your mother!” With that, he set Zhu Hao down and helped Consort Liu to her feet. “Beloved, get up—the floor is cold, you’ll catch a chill!”

Consort Liu thanked him and rose, and the family once more enjoyed a harmonious moment together.

Zhu Hao had originally decided to feign madness and foolishness, but now he abruptly changed his mind. The reason was simple: he realized he had been deceived by the history books. History claimed that Emperor Guangzong and Consort Liu had a poor relationship, which he had believed, but today’s events clearly contradicted that account. It was obvious that later historians, constrained by some pressure, had altered the historical record.

Now that Zhu Hao understood this, he realized that, with a protective emperor for a father, he no longer needed to act mad. What’s more, it seemed his father was quite fond of his beautiful transmigrated mother. With such double protection, Zhu Hao much preferred being a self-indulgent noble than a fool.

That evening, the family dined together in great harmony. Zhu Hao did everything he could to please his imperial father, coaxing laughter after laughter from the emperor. The emperor, in high spirits, even drank more than usual, and, emboldened by wine, patted Zhu Hao’s head and declared, “Youjian is cleverer than Youjiao! With an heir like this, our ancestral empire will surely endure forever!”

He spoke without intent, but Zhu Hao was deeply shaken. If his father truly passed the throne to him, he could bypass his carpentry-obsessed brother and become emperor himself. Then that villain Wei Zhongxian would never seize power, and perhaps the Ming Dynasty would survive. This was no small matter! With this in mind, Zhu Hao redoubled his efforts to win the emperor’s favor.

But Consort Liu, startled, dropped her wine cup to the floor. She immediately pulled Zhu Hao to kneel at the emperor’s feet, her face full of anxiety. “Your Majesty, this concubine is terrified. You are drunk. The succession must follow ancestral law—heirs are named by birth and seniority. Please do not speak so carelessly. I am afraid…”