Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

"I understand." Zhu Biao took a sip of wine and suddenly smiled, "If I really ascend the throne one day, which side will the emperor's uncle be on?"

Zhu Han sighed softly: "If you become an emperor, I will retire to the mountains and forests and pick chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge."

Zhu Biao laughed: "If the emperor's uncle really leaves, I am afraid that I will not be able to sit on the throne securely."

Zhu Han also laughed, "If you can't even protect me, then you shouldn't be the emperor."

On a cold winter night, the palace lanterns flickered and the palace was silent. Zhu Han stood in front of the window, looking at the snowflakes flying outside, with a lot of thoughts in his mind.

At this time, the door of the study was pushed open quietly and Zhu Biao walked in.

The cold outside made his green robe particularly conspicuous, but his eyes still concealed depth and worry.

"Uncle," Zhu Biao's voice was low, but it carried a hint of determination that could not be ignored. "I want to know how you have always dealt with the pressure from those powerful officials in front of my father?"

Zhu Han did not answer immediately, but turned around, his eyes calmly swept across his thin face, and he felt a sense of emotion in his heart.

"Your Highness," Zhu Han said calmly, but his eyes were deep, "When dealing with those people, the most important thing is not to argue with them, but to maintain an inviolable aura in front of them. You have to let them know that no matter how they put pressure on you, they can't shake your determination."

Zhu Biao was slightly stunned, as if he was pondering the deep meaning of this sentence. He nodded, but his eyes were still a little confused.

"Look at me, do you think I'm a little hesitant?" Zhu Biao asked softly, with a hint of helplessness in his tone.

Zhu Han did not answer immediately, but walked slowly to the table and took out an old book from a wooden box.

He placed the book in front of Zhu Biao: "This book is called Zhou Yi. There is a saying in it, 'A gentleman hides his power and waits for the right time to act.' If you understand the truth in it, you will understand what true 'power' is."

"But sometimes, I worry..." Zhu Biao raised his head, his eyes flickering, "If I learn too much, will I lose myself?"

Zhu Han chuckled, his tone gentle but firm: "If you can make the right choice, what's the harm in losing yourself? The real self is not to be a fearless emperor, but to be an emperor who can take responsibility for the world."

"I understand," Zhu Biao opened his eyes, his eyes flashing with determination, "Uncle, if I can succeed to the throne in the future, I will definitely live up to my father and the world."

Zhu Han looked at him with complicated eyes. This young man had shouldered too much and endured too much. Could he become a wise ruler and walk his own path as he wished?
"Your Highness," Zhu Han whispered, "Remember, power is not something that can be sought blindly. To be truly powerful, you must have enough patience and wisdom to wait for and seize the most appropriate opportunity."

Zhu Biao nodded, and the ease between his brows disappeared, replaced by a more firm determination.

That determination, like the cold air rising in the snow, gradually condensed into an unshakable force.

"I will keep your teachings in mind," Zhu Biao's voice was low, but more stable than before, "I will wait for the right time to fulfill my due responsibilities."

Zhu Han looked at him with a hint of relief in his eyes. His nephew finally began to understand the true meaning of power.

However, this is just the beginning. In this vortex of deep palace intrigue, Zhu Biao will have to face more tests and challenges. And Zhu Han will continue to silently support him from behind.

"Uncle," Zhu Biao suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence, "I have a question, are you willing to answer it?"

Zhu Han was slightly stunned, then looked up at him: "What's the problem?"

Zhu Biao was silent for a moment, with a hint of helplessness and contemplation in his tone: "You have always taught me how to gain a foothold in the court and how to use power to control everything. So, have you ever thought that if there is really a day when we can put these power and struggles behind us and live an ordinary life, are you willing to live that simple life with me?"

Zhu Han was stunned, his eyes frozen instantly. He did not answer, as if he was lost in some kind of deep thought.

"I understand," Zhu Biao whispered, "Perhaps you have never thought about this. You are a prince, my father's younger brother, and you have too many responsibilities on your shoulders. Perhaps you are destined to spend the rest of your life in this palace."

Zhu Han still didn't answer, only his deep eyes stared at him.

As the night deepened, snow fell on the palace walls. The Ming Palace was completely silent, with only the sound of wind blowing between the pillars and lifting the heavy curtains.

The lights in the imperial study were still on. Under the glass lamps, the candlelight was as small as beans, swaying gently, as if reflecting a long conversation in the quiet night that would be remembered by history.

Zhu Han stood in front of the window with a scroll of bamboo slips hanging in his hand. He was not focusing on it, but his mind was wandering in another time and space.

"Uncle," Zhu Biao's voice came from behind, "Do you really think I can be a good emperor?"

Zhu Han did not turn around, but gently rolled up the bamboo slips and slowly put it back on the table.

His voice was calm, yet heavy: "Whether you can be a good emperor or not does not depend on how you look now, but on how you face yourself in the future."

Zhu Biao walked up to him, a bit of fatigue in his eyes: "But I am not sure who that 'self' is. The prince is me in the eyes of others; the son is me in the eyes of the emperor; and who am I in your eyes?"

Zhu Han glanced at him. Although the boy still had a bit of childishness between his eyebrows, his eyes were calm and lonely beyond his age. He sighed and gently put the jade pendant in Zhu Biao's palm.

"You are not anyone's shadow." Zhu Han said calmly, "You are Zhu Biao, the one who is destined to ascend to the throne. But you can also be yourself."

Zhu Biao looked down at the warm jade pendant in his palm, which was something Zhu Han often wore. The jade had deep veins and a gentle edge. He suddenly felt that this piece of jade was very much like Zhu Han himself.

"Were you also a prince?" Zhu Biao asked abruptly.

Zhu Han smiled, with a hint of self-mockery in his eyes: "Never. If I had insisted on fighting for the position, I probably wouldn't be standing beside you and talking to you."

“So, you gave up.”

"It's a choice." Zhu Han's tone remained unchanged, "I know that if I fight, I may win. But I also know that the country needs more than just one winner. Your father...he needs a younger brother more."

Zhu Biao looked at him with complicated eyes: "But if it were me, I'm afraid... I might not be so free and easy."

"You don't have to be carefree." Zhu Han patted his shoulder, "You have to be firm. If you still think about being carefree and giving in on the day you ascend the throne, that would be a real failure."

Zhu Biao was silent for a long time. Outside the window, the wind and snow were getting stronger, as if the world was also silent for the night when the uncle and nephew were whispering.

"Uncle," Zhu Biao suddenly asked, "If one day you also need me to make a choice, what do you want me to choose?"

Zhu Han looked at him steadily and suddenly smiled: "If that day really comes, I will naturally give you a reason not to regret it."

Zhu Biao opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He held the jade pendant tightly in his palm, as if he wanted to engrave Zhu Han's words into his bones.

That night, the two stood side by side in front of the window, and the wind and snow seemed unable to block the inexplicable tacit understanding and trust between them.

One day, Zhu Han was sitting alone in the palace. Outside the window, pear blossoms were in full bloom, as if spring had climbed up the high walls overnight. "Your Highness," the chief eunuch reported in a low voice, "His Royal Highness the Crown Prince has arrived."

Zhu Han was slightly stunned, then stood up to greet him.

Zhu Biao was wearing a dark blue suit with a few petals of pear blossoms on the corners of his clothes. He walked into the room with a smile, holding a guqin in his hands.

"Does the emperor still like to play the zither these days?" Zhu Biao asked with a smile, "You taught me for three years when I was a child, and now I am here to show you my skills again."

Zhu Han took the zither with a smile, and swept his fingertips across the strings, leaving lingering sounds. Zhu Biao sat beside him and began to sing slowly, his voice low but extremely moving.

"The breeze blows on my clothes, and the white clouds are in my heart. Among all the things in the world, nothing is as good as a spring."

Zhu Han closed his eyes gently, allowing the voice to bring him into a gentle dream.

When the song ended, Zhu Biao stood with his hands clasped in front of him and said, "Uncle, it's spring, I would like to invite you to visit the palace with me for a day."

Zhu Han opened his eyes and looked at the once reserved boy in front of him, who now had the demeanor of an emperor. The corners of his mouth slowly rose: "Okay."

So that day, the Crown Prince and the Prince strolled around the garden together. They did not talk about state affairs or the court, but only about flowers blooming and the moon setting, as if they had returned to the years when Zhu Biao was still a child and Zhu Han had not yet turned gray.

They talked about poetry, music, flowers, and the things they had never finished talking about.

Zhu Biao once asked: "If you had not worn this royal robe, how would you like to live?"

Zhu Han smiled faintly: "I will probably open a bookstore, recruit a few smart disciples, and read, write, and talk about everything in my spare time."

Zhu Biao nodded and said, "If I were not the crown prince at that time, I would definitely become your disciple."

Zhu Han smiled and nodded, his eyes full of tenderness.

It was still chilly in spring, but a few wisps of green could be seen deep inside the palace walls. The sun shone through the thin clouds and fell on the bluestone-paved corridors, reflecting tiny spots of light, like a layer of flowing brocade.

Zhu Han stood at the end of the corridor, wearing a crimson purple python robe and a jade belt around his waist, with a slightly tired look on his face. He held a folding fan in his hand, half-opened, but his eyes were not on the peach blossoms outside the corridor, but on the young man who was walking slowly in front of him.

"Uncle Emperor."

Zhu Biao walked over quickly, with a little sweat on his forehead, but a bright smile.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Zhu Han waved his folding fan lightly, a hint of teasing flashing in his eyes, "Which little maid in the palace made my prince so emotional?"

Zhu Biao was startled, then laughed: "Uncle is teasing me again. If this is true, you will be the first one to disapprove."

"That's true." Zhu Han put away his fan and leaned against the pillar, his tone lazy but serious, "You are now the crown prince, not only the son of His Majesty, but also the future of the world. Your every word and action is related to thousands of eyes. You can't just think of yourself as a teenager."

Zhu Biao's expression calmed down and he nodded solemnly: "I remember my uncle said that I am not anyone's shadow, I am myself. But since I am the crown prince, I should be able to bear that responsibility."

"Very good." Zhu Han smiled, but said no more. He turned around and led him towards the flower hall.

In the flower hall, the fire was slightly warm and a pot of tea was ready. Zhu Biao sat down gently and looked at Zhu Han, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Zhu Han didn't look at him, but lowered his head to pour tea, his voice calm as usual: "If you have something to say, just tell me. Do we still need to hide it between you and me?"

Zhu Biao pursed his lips and said after a while: "Father is in good health these days, and the emperor is very pleased. But I... always feel that he is more... distant from me than before."

Zhu Han frowned, but did not speak immediately.

Zhu Biao smiled bitterly: "When I was a child, although he was strict, he often summoned me to accompany him and taught me poetry and books. But now, every time I see him, he only says a few words, either scolding or scolding, and there is no warmth in the past."

"Are you afraid that he will hate you?" Zhu Han looked up at him.

Zhu Biao said softly, "It's not fear, it's doubt. Doubt whether I have done something wrong, doubt whether I... am no longer trusted by him."

Zhu Han smiled gently and handed the teacup to him: "Your father is not a person who is easily moved by emotions. If he has a heavy burden in his heart, his face will lack emotion."

"But he never said it."

"He is the emperor." Zhu Han paused. "The throne of an emperor is not a place to speak one's mind. But you are his eldest son, the one he promised to the earliest. The less he says, the more he cares. Without you, he would have to watch your brothers fighting each other and the situation would be unstable. You are the needle he uses to stabilize the world."

Zhu Biao lowered his head to look at the tea. The rippling water seemed to reflect the chaos in his heart.

"But I am sometimes in a trance." He whispered, "When I wake up at night, I don't know why I do what I do. My father's trust is blurred, and the loyalty of the courtiers may not be stable, and I-"

"You only know that you can't retreat from this path." Zhu Han said for him, "Because if you don't retreat, you will have someone to rely on. If you waver, the mountains will shake and the earth will tremble."

Zhu Biao nodded, but smiled bitterly: "But I don't want to be emperor. Uncle, I often wonder, if I were not the son of Zhu Yuanzhang, but just a child of an ordinary family, would I be happier?"

Zhu Han stared at him for a long time, and said slowly: "There may be happiness in this world. But if that were the case, you would not have met me, and you would not have had the ambition to rise to the top of the world. You gain and lose. This is fate."

Zhu Biao raised his head, his expression clearer: "If this is fate, then the emperor's uncle is a ray of light in my life."

Zhu Han laughed: "Don't try that. When you were little, you also called me light, and then you turned around and smashed my inkstone."

"You stole my fruit."

"I taught you calligraphy, but you didn't appreciate it and I stole my honey pear."

“That’s what I saw first.”

The two of them chatted with each other, which actually made the atmosphere more relaxed. The wind blew outside the window, brushing against the branches, and a few peach petals gently fell on the window frame.

Zhu Biao suddenly asked: "Uncle, if one day I really ascend to that throne, will you stay by my side?"

Zhu Han looked at him, his eyes no longer joking: "I am by your side, not for the throne, but for you."

Zhu Biao was shocked, then smiled: "Then I have nothing to fear anymore."

Zhu Biao was personally in charge of the renovation of the Imperial Ancestral Temple. He worked hard for several days but did not feel tired at all. On the night he returned to the palace, he went straight to Zhu Han's residence. (End of this chapter)