Chapter Fifty: The Unusual Prime Minister of the Cabinet

Zhu Hao, hidden behind the screen, nearly burst out in anger upon hearing Zhao Nanxing’s earlier words. He managed to restrain himself, venting his frustration inwardly: “Zhao Nanxing, you old schemer, do you have any shame left? You want my father to act decisively, but did you offer him a second choice? This old fox is even more detestable than Zou Yuanbiao!”

While Zhu Hao was quietly stewing behind the screen, Zhu Changluo’s face darkened as he shot Zhao Nanxing a cold glance. He said nothing, for Zhao Nanxing’s words were flawless—he made his intent clear without explicitly suggesting Zhu Changluo kill his own son. Lacking grounds to lash out, Zhu Changluo took a long breath to quell his rising fury, then turned to Marquis Pingnan, Guo Zixuan. “Zixuan, you are the Empress’s brother, my kinsman, and this matter concerns the imperial family. Tell me, how should I handle this?”

Guo Zixuan hurriedly bowed. “Your Majesty, I am not of the court, but since you seek my opinion as a royal in-law, I will say only this: let all proceed according to the laws of Great Ming. The specifics are for Your Majesty alone to decide. I have spoken.” With that, Guo Zixuan stepped aside in silence.

Zhu Changluo had named Guo Zixuan hoping to find support under pressure, perhaps to hear a different perspective. He had not considered just how much animosity his fifth son had attracted, nor the fact that, after placing the Empress under house arrest for the palace fire, he had already offended the Guo family. How could Guo Zixuan possibly support his wishes now?

In choosing whom to consult, Zhu Changluo had only thought of the influential Guo clan, failing to weigh his own strained relations with them.

With three opinions—all urging his father to execute him—Zhu Hao behind the screen grew calm, his anger dissipating into a serene indifference. Hearing Guo Zixuan’s words, only one thought crossed Zhu Hao’s mind: “This fellow must be that old witch’s brother. As hateful as she is, the whole Guo clan is rotten to the core!”

That phrase, “the Guos are all bad,” would linger on Zhu Hao’s lips for a long time, until one day he ceased to speak it—though that is a tale for another time.

Zhu Changluo, too, was unprepared for Guo Zixuan’s obstinate response. With a cold snort, he slapped the table and roared, “So your advice is for me to order the execution of my own son? Is that what you truly wish me to do?”

The three who had spoken were startled by his sudden rage, their faces pale with fear. Yet, faced with Zhu Changluo’s implicit threat, none wavered or amended their views, standing resolute like guardians of the moral order.

Grand Secretary Fang Congzhe, seeing the tension, stepped forward hurriedly. “Your Majesty, please calm yourself. In my opinion, the Fifth Prince cannot be fully blamed. The origin of this affair lies with Minister Cui’s defiance, and the Fifth Prince acted according to law in response. In my view, the Fifth Prince is blameless and even meritorious. Were I present, I would have acted likewise. Moreover, by our law, when nobles or imperial kin commit crimes, they may atone through fines or reduction of rank, rather than facing death. The Fifth Prince is your own flesh and blood, and you acted promptly in placing him in the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s prison—this is already a gesture of accountability. Therefore, I believe no further punishment is warranted.”

Upon hearing Fang Congzhe’s words, Zhu Changluo’s anger subsided. He sat back, his expression softening, and nodded slowly, “Grand Secretary Fang’s words are courteous and reasonable, both proper and compassionate, in accord with tradition and ethics, and pleasing to me. I shall follow his advice: no further punishment for the Fifth Prince. At the same time, I order that Minister Cui be buried with the honors due to national mourning.”

Guo Zixuan silently regarded Fang Congzhe, his eyes filled with uncertainty, clearly unable to fathom the reason behind Fang’s stance.

He was not alone in his confusion. Zhu Hao, behind the screen, was deeply suspicious. He knew well that Fang Congzhe, despite his benevolent appearance, was a staunch loyalist of Princess Dowager Zheng, that old witch, and served as her mouthpiece in court. Fang always spoke in support of her interests, and for someone so calculating, his unexpected defense of Zhu Hao was utterly baffling.

While Zhu Hao and Guo Zixuan puzzled over this, the other two prominent leaders of the Donglin faction, Zhao Nanxing and Zou Yuanbiao, could no longer sit still. Exchanging glances, they knelt together and cried, “Your Majesty, you must not!”

Zhu Changluo’s face, which had just lightened, instantly turned cold as he swept his gaze over them. Though they knew opposing the emperor meant courting disaster, for the sake of their faction’s reputation, they had no choice but to steel themselves and speak.

Under Zhu Changluo’s icy glare, Zhao Nanxing spoke first: “Minister Cui has served three reigns and rendered great service to the state, without fault to the court. Now he has been killed without cause. If Your Majesty does not punish the murderer severely, you will chill the hearts of all scholars and plunge our Ming dynasty into dire peril!”

Zhao Nanxing’s words were met with a cold snort from Zhu Changluo, who snapped, “Zhao Nanxing, how dare you address me in such a manner! You have some nerve!”

Zhao Nanxing, undaunted, pressed on: “I know my words today offend Your Majesty. My death would be a small price, but even so, I cannot bear to see our dynasty’s two centuries of legacy destroyed. I beg Your Majesty to reconsider!”

As soon as he finished, Zou Yuanbiao added, “I share Minister Zhao’s view. If Your Majesty disregards the feelings of scholars and persists, then I ask you to execute us first. We would rather die for Ming than live to see its ruin! Grant us this mercy!”

If Zhao Nanxing’s words were forceful, Zou Yuanbiao’s were an ultimatum. Both, leaders of the Donglin faction, held enormous esteem among the scholar class. Even Wei Zhongxian, in his later unchecked power, dared not move against Donglin while they lived, only beginning his purge after their deaths.

Zhu Changluo knew well that they could not be killed, but he had no intention of letting them off easily. With a cold snort, he declared, “Confucius said in the Analects, ‘A gentleman is dignified, not contentious; associates with others, but does not form factions.’ You have forgotten the sage’s admonition that gentlemen do not form parties! For you to stand before me, rattling your tongues, is shameless and dishonorable! I know the Donglin faction has great influence, and that you sway the hearts of scholars. I will not fall for your tricks, nor will I kill you.”

With this declaration—“gentlemen do not form parties”—Zhu Changluo had torn away any pretense, exposing the Donglin faction’s unity. Zhao Nanxing and Zou Yuanbiao turned pale, recalling the ruthless resolve with which the founding emperor had slaughtered the “Hu Weiyong faction,” even though Hu was a meritorious prime minister. For mere factionalism, he was flayed and stuffed. These two had no such achievements, and Zhu Changluo’s accusation left them fearful. Fortunately, they were not Hu Weiyong, and Zhu Changluo was not Zhu Yuanzhang; he did not strike them down. Yet his next words were almost worse than death.

After a pause, Zhu Changluo continued, “I’ve heard that the foreign merchants on Penghu Island have been unruly, engaging in banditry. Since you two are so upright, I wish to appoint you as governors of Penghu to restore order. What say you?”

Zhu Hao, listening behind the screen, nearly laughed aloud. He remembered the historical records clearly: in the thirty-second year of Wanli (1604), Dutch Captain Weymaer led two warships in a surprise attack on Penghu, building shelters and intending permanent occupation. Ming General Shen Yourong confronted them, forcing their withdrawal by November. At this time, Penghu was hotly contested between Ming and the Dutch. Although still Ming territory, two years later, in the second year of Tianqi (1622), the Dutch again invaded. Though Ming’s Fujian navy expelled them, whenever war broke out there, death was certain for anyone sent. Zhu Hao mused, “Father’s move—killing with a borrowed knife—is truly ingenious!”

Both men, as grand secretaries, had access to military reports and knew well that Penghu was a den of wolves and tigers. If they did not yield now, they would surely be dispatched to this perilous place. Yet, having spoken, there was no chance to recant. Despairing, they looked to Guo Zixuan, who had just stood with them, but Guo now appeared as tranquil as a meditating monk, treating them as air.

Seeing this, the two exchanged bitter smiles and sighed quietly.