Chapter Four: I Received a Dream Visitation from Emperor Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang

Zhu Cilang could be seen at the foremost row, bowing before the Grand Secretary Zhou Yanru, his voice clear and resonant: “Father Emperor, in my opinion, though the situation in Liaodong is in disarray, the strength of the Jianzhou rebels is spent, and the mountain passes remain secure. However dire the state in Liaodong, for now, it can worsen no further. What matters now is to reform the military system, drill new troops, suppress internal rebels, and restore the border forces’ vigor. Most important is to select loyal and capable men, and devise new measures for levying taxes.”

Chongzhen listened, brows slowly furrowing, but upon seeing the newcomer, a touch of gladness finally appeared on his face.

Yet, the ministers’ faces darkened at these words. Some keenly caught the edge hidden in Zhu Cilang’s final sentence.

It must be remembered, during Wei Zhongxian’s dominance, eunuchs had been dispatched to institute new commercial taxes across the land! At this thought, many felt thunderstruck, looking at Zhu Cilang as if seeing him for the first time.

Minister of Rites Lin Yuji sighed softly and said, “His Highness the Crown Prince’s sincerity is true and his filial piety commendable. Yet at this moment, Your Highness’s chief task should be diligent study and the nurturing of your health.”

Lin Yuji sought gently to steer the conversation away and offer Zhu Cilang a way out.

But Zhou Yanru, bearing the title of Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince, was more forthright: “Suppressing the rebels is certainly urgent. But for the Crown Prince, it is not your affair. Besides, such suppression demands the assembly of troops from every province, a costly endeavor. The matters of Liaodong and quelling rebellion together already strain the court to its utmost. These should be deliberated carefully. As for tax policy, it is the foundation of the state, affecting millions at a stroke. It is not to be enacted in such turbulent times. I, though unworthy, am Grand Tutor to Your Highness. I beg you to reconsider!”

“May the Crown Prince reconsider, may Your Majesty reconsider…” echoed several ministers.

Chongzhen’s face darkened, and, most unusually for the Palace of Heavenly Purity, private murmurs began to rise.

“Shouldn’t the Crown Prince be convalescing in the inner palace, attending to his studies? Why is he here in the Palace of Heavenly Purity?”

“This is the council chamber for state and military affairs. Without the Emperor’s leave, and not as regent, how has the Crown Prince entered here?”

“To propose new taxes—what crime have the people committed? How could the Crown Prince…”

An unexpected statement, once spoken, sent his name echoing through the court.

But not a single high minister supported Zhu Cilang’s words. The look of relief on Chongzhen’s face was soon replaced by irritation from the mounting criticisms. Zhu Cilang’s face flushed and paled by turns, each rejection from the great ministers stinging with humiliation. At fourteen, what right did he have to speak on affairs so tangled and weighty? More than that, his intent was not to tax the common folk, but merchants! Yet, what merchant lacked the backing of powerful officials? At just the faintest suggestion, he was met with fierce opposition. Such selfishness, such disregard for the empire’s ruin.

At this, a wave of sorrow welled up in Zhu Cilang’s chest.

He turned and stared steadily at the clamoring ministers: “Gentlemen, you are the pillars of the realm, inheritors of imperial favor through generations. My father the Emperor seeks your counsel, yet not a one can relieve his worries. I, as the Crown Prince of Great Ming, heir to the throne—should I not speak on such matters of state?”

The ministers all lowered their heads, frowning, muttering to themselves. Just a child, rumored to have been left dull from a grave illness and unable to remember his lessons. Now, before the assembled grandees, he shows no deference or courtesy at all. Truly, he knows not his place—perhaps those rumors of illness are not unfounded.

“No doubt some of you think, here I am making a commotion before the Emperor, neglecting my studies, disregarding etiquette—surely my mind is addled by illness!” Zhu Cilang’s gaze was unwavering. A few of the less resolute ministers, meeting his eyes, quickly lowered theirs.

Several old foxes put on a look of righteous indignation, feigning shock at his words.

Zhu Cilang smiled, his face turned tragic, his voice stirring with passion: “No need to deny it. Indeed, I suffered a grave illness, three days without waking. Because I dreamt that the Great Ancestor appeared to me in a vision, bidding me behold the future of the Ming dynasty!”

The Great Ancestor!

Zhu Yuanzhang, founder of the Ming!

At the revelation of such a vision, even Chongzhen could not remain seated. Rising, he demanded, “What message did the Great Ancestor bring you?”

Now, no one thought Zhu Cilang, young as he was, would dare invoke the Ancestor’s name to deceive. Besides, three days’ unconsciousness with no illness found by the imperial physicians—surely this was a visitation from the Great Ancestor!

Zhu Cilang drew a trembling breath, as if recalling some dreadful memory: “Your son dreamt that two years hence, rebels would storm the capital and the Central Plain would fall; that in three years, the Tartar cavalry would break through the passes; within the Nine Provinces, no Ming subjects would remain. I saw the Manchu conquerors with a butcher’s blade in one hand and a razor in the other. The people of Ming, their garments and hats stripped away, clothed in foreign dress, hair left long, heads shaven—‘keep your head or keep your hair,’ slaughter without number. I saw the court still wrangling, still betraying. Patriots dying on the battlefield, opportunists groveling. The Great Ancestor stood before me, all the imperial forebears regarding me with cold eyes. In such a vision, as a scion of the royal house, Father Emperor—how can I dwell in idle peace within the deep palace? In this vast empire, soldiers may surrender, generals may surrender, ministers may surrender, even nobles ennobled by imperial favor may surrender, even the palace eunuchs may surrender. But I, as heir of the royal house, to retreat a single step more is to walk the road to death! Father, in such peril, as your son and the Crown Prince of Great Ming, if I do not strive now to relieve your cares and bring peace to the land, must we wait until the scenes of my dream come to pass?”

The hall was silent as the grave.

The Crown Prince’s illness was now explained, and what followed was a rising tide of nameless dread.

The three words “Great Ancestor” carried a power too great to ignore. Even these learned ministers, versed in history and classics, trembled inwardly at the thought of the Ancestor’s stern rule.

Scholars like Liu Zongzhou might insist that a wise man does not speak of ghosts and spirits. Yet most, especially those with guilty consciences, could not help but let their fear magnify under the shadow of such omens.

For a long moment, the hall was hushed, the ministers quaking.

At last, after a long, shuddering breath, Chongzhen opened his eyes and surveyed the assembly, his voice hoarse: “The Grand Secretariat is to draft a new strategy for Liaodong at once. The Ministry of War is to discuss troop mobilization and training. The Ministry of Revenue is to deliberate on securing funds. All of you, retire and rest.”

Zhu Youjian waved the ministers away. Glancing at Zhu Cilang, he turned and walked toward the rear of the hall, his steps unsteady.

Seeing this, Zhu Cilang felt a sourness in his heart and hurried to support him, but Zhu Youjian brusquely shook him off, striding on in silence.

Soon, father and son reached the inner quarters, where Wang Cheng'en quietly dismissed all attendants.

Meeting Zhu Cilang’s resolute, bloodshot gaze, recalling the dream of the Great Ancestor’s charge, Zhu Youjian stumbled back a step, closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of his son’s unwavering eyes.