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

At the end of the alley was a small room with a half-closed wooden door.

The lamps behind the door were not lit, and only an empty wooden frame was set up. The frame was no different in shape from the frame used for placing a coffin, but the white silk on it had been cut in the middle with a sharp blade.

Beneath the wooden frame was a coffin with a thin layer of blue lacquer.

The coffin lid was not nailed shut, and the cool scent of medicinal powder drifted out from the gaps.

Zhu Han reached out and pressed down on the coffin lid, his eyes darkening: "Open it."

Hao suppressed his doubts, and the two of them, one on the left and one on the right, gently lifted it up.

The coffin lid was closed, and there was no light under the lamp. Only a thin, small figure lay in the coffin, wrapped in a white cloth, with a waxy human skin covering his face.

The wax finish is exquisitely crafted, and at first glance it resembles Zhu Biao; upon closer inspection, the lip line and brow peak are all fake.

Zhu Han stretched out his finger, lifted it from the edge of the 'human skin', and peeled it off.

The boy below was pale, his breathing weak yet present. A tiny mole adorned his brow.

"It's the Crown Prince." Hao said, lowering his voice to the lowest possible level.

"The medicine seals his pulse, putting him in a state of suspended animation for three days." Zhu Han touched his wrist. "The effects of the medicine haven't worn off yet."

Who did this?

"The 'medicine tooth' of the signing network."

Zhu Han pulled out a hidden compartment on the side of the coffin, inside which was a very thin scroll of silk and a small box made of nanmu wood.

The silk scroll begins with only two words: "Sign in".

Hao Duiying coughed lightly: "Your Highness, is this a 'receipt' from the 'system'?"

Zhu Han nodded and handed over the silk scroll: "Read it."

"Sign-in at the 73rd location: Yonghe, conditions met: Sign-in owner arrives, Mig opens, corpse fake set. Feedback: Box 1 - East Inner Key 1, Medicine Specimen 1, Imprint Sample 1."

Instructions: Escort the Crown Prince out of the three gates, ensuring his face is not seen and his whereabouts are not lost. Subsequent divination: Outside the Shenwu Gate on the left side of the palace, half a quarter past the morning drum.

"A photocopy sample?" Zhu Han asked.

"It's in the box." Hao Duiying opened the small nanmu box.

Inside lay three items: a thin printing plate, a copy of the imperial calligraphy, and a short wolf-hair brush with a wisp of cinnabar at the end.

The seal engraved on the plate is not the imperial seal, but the small seal of the Eastern Palace, which was in charge of opening and closing the inner palace and sealing the gate; the strokes are the powerful strokes that Zhu Yuanzhang often used during a certain period.

"This is to ask me to fill in a missing section of the imperial edict," Zhu Han said.

Hao frowned at Ying: "Your Highness, aren't we supposed to no longer be involved with the 'Shadow Edict'?"

"It's not a written edict, it's a gate pass for leaving the palace. Without the gate pass, the Crown Prince cannot leave through any of the three gates."

Zhu Han pointed to the unconscious Zhu Biao, "Once the medicine seal is off, he'll wake up, and his first breath will attract half of the Internal Affairs Department."

"Then let's do it now—"

"Change the coffin," Zhu Han said, "and use the corpse to leave the city."

He took off his outer robe, tore off the inner lining cloth, and quickly bound Zhu Biao into the "death pose" of the inner coffin, stuffing it into the coffin lid with a hidden clasp.

As he fastened the lid, his fingers traced the "mark" on the edge of the coffin—a small, inconspicuous scratch, like an unintentional knife cut.

"Hao Duiying, remember this mark," Zhu Han whispered. "After tonight, if you encounter this 'mark' alone, do not approach it. It is not ours."

"Whose?"

“Cheng Yi’s remaining associates signed a fake document.”

"clear."

A soft sound came from outside the dark room, like the tiny crunch of paper being pressed down by the tip of a shoe.

The two exchanged a glance and simultaneously extinguished the tinder.

A hushed conversation could be heard coming from behind the door.

"here?"

"Master Cheng said it's in this room."

"Hurry up, we need to leave the palace at noon tomorrow."

The scabbard struck the door frame, sending wood chips to the ground.

Zhu Han said in a low voice, "I'll open the door, you light the fire."

As soon as the door opened a crack, three dark figures rushed in, one in front and one behind, protecting a thin coffin.

The gate panel fell softly, the door not yet securely fastened, and a great storm arose behind it—Hao Duiying's flint and steel darted through the darkness, igniting a small, wine-stained spark in the corner.

"Fire!" someone growled.

As the firelight blazed and the shadows of blades flashed, the three figures didn't have time to see their enemies clearly before a short knife emerged from behind the firelight and sealed their throats.

The other two tried to block, but Zhu Han had already stepped over the edge of the coffin, swept away their sword strikes with a flick of his sleeve, and landed an inch below their ribs with the heel of his palm. The two men went limp.

"We can't take it with us." Hao Duiying lowered his voice. "Don't make a sound."

"Change the tags." Zhu Han removed the waist tags, door charms, and seals from the three men, swapped them with his own and Hao Duiying's waists, then wrapped them in the tarpaulin and stuffed them into a wooden cabinet in the corner.

The cabinet door was latched shut, the wooden bolts were put in place, and the "click" sound mingled with the sound of the wind outside.

"lift."

"Yes."

The two men, using false identities, carried the "Prince's Coffin" back to the Yonghe Back Corridor from the alleyway.

The snow was still falling outside the corridor, and the darkness of night lowered the light of each palace lantern by half an inch.

The first gate was a side gate of Yonghe Rear Gate. The gatekeeper was sleepy, his eyelids drooping, and he only asked one question: "Where is Manager Cheng?"

Hao Duiying tossed the small imperial seal onto the table. The edge of the seal ink still bore the marks of vermilion ink commonly used on imperial desks. The gatekeeper, upon seeing it, swallowed hard, rose, and circled the door, calling out, "Open—"

There was a very light rhythm in the hidden compartment on the side of the door, like fingertips tapping three dots in the wood.

Zhu Han's ears twitched, but his steps remained steady and deliberate: "Signature."

He responded with a beat: one long and two short. The dark compartment paused for a moment, then responded with two short and one long beat.

This was a subtle indication of the "signing network's" flow—a sign that there were no obstacles ahead and that the backup plan had been prepared. Only then did Zhu Han's heels touch the ground.

The second gate was the inner gate of Shenwu Gate, guarded by half-night shift members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, whose sharp eyes were like cold glints pressed against one's neck.

He picked up the gate token, put it down, picked it up, put it down, stared at the edge of the coffin, and asked, "What's inside?"

"Repaint the old coffin, and it's ready to leave the factory." Hao's voice was hoarse as he looked at Ying. "Manager Cheng is urging us on."

"Open a line."

Zhu Han held the coffin in his hands, his palms slightly sweaty. Opening even a crack would expose them.

He picked up another plaque from his waist and threw it onto the table.

It was a peace token from the Imperial Stables, with an inconspicuous character "小篆—标" engraved on the back.

"What is the Imperial Horse Stable doing?" The Imperial Guard frowned.

"The coffin ordered by the Imperial Household Department has been prepared, and lacquerers have been dispatched from the timber warehouse of the Horse Stables. Manager Cheng has instructed us to return to the Imperial Workshop immediately. Would it be alright if you went to Yonghe Hall to inquire a little later?"

The Imperial Guard stared at the character '标' (banner/mark), a glint in his eyes flashing as if he understood something. He waved his hand and said, "Go."

The third gate is the outer gate on the left side of the palace. The official in charge of the outer gate is a clerk transferred from the Censorate. He is most afraid of taking responsibility and most willing to keep secrets.

He took the small seal, examined the strokes on the edge of the vermilion ink, and hesitated for a moment: "Is it not a copy?"

"Prepare it tomorrow morning." Zhu Han said calmly, "If you leave the record now, the second gate will take you to the second checkpoint for questioning. If you let it pass, I'll give you a signature tomorrow."

"What kind of fortune?"

"Visa-free".

Upon hearing the word "exempt," the scribe's Adam's apple bobbed, and he released the man.

As the coffin passed the left side of the gate, the wind grew even colder.

The slope to the left of the gate leads to the alley outside the Shenwu Gate. After three turns in the alley, there is an abandoned old garden of the Imperial Clan Court—the seventeenth temporary changing point for "Qianwang".

Just as we rounded the second corner, a hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed the corner of the coffin.

"Wait," the person said in a low voice, "Have you signed in?"

"Sign in." Zhu Han took out the small round token that was made of wood and copper, and gently turned it between his knuckles. The other person then let go of his hand, retreated into the shadows, and said in a low voice, "The third coffin, turn on the ladder."

The third coffin had been prepared long ago, almost identical to the ones they brought, except for a tiny, inverted 'mark' engraved on the rim. That was a 'reversed mark' to prevent counterfeiting.

"Alternate." Zhu Han shifted the position of the "Crown Prince's Coffin" to the third coffin, stuffed the original coffin into the hole in the wall, and the stone slab fell gently. The snow-white wall base was neat and tidy, without a single new mark.

"Who was the person who saw you off at the alley entrance?" Zhu Han asked.

“'Yi Yin'”.

"it is good."

There was already a dilapidated mule cart at the entrance of the alley. The courier was wearing a straw hat and a raincoat, looking just like the charcoal burner in front of the dilapidated temple in the suburbs of Beijing.

He coughed and rolled up the carriage curtain: "Throw it up here. A new coffin for an old carriage. Nobody will even glance at it."

Hao Duiying lifted the coffin onto the vehicle, but then gently touched the bottom of the coffin with his hand, pressing an extremely fine iron bead into a pre-drilled hole.

The iron bead entered the hole, the hidden thread went through, and a thin tube in the thin compartment inside the coffin pierced the medicine bag—the second dose of the awakening medicine slowly evaporated.

"Don't wake him up too quickly," Zhu Han said softly. "Let him leave the three gates before he opens his eyes."

"Where is the carriage going?" the postman asked.

“Ciyun Temple,” Zhu Han said, “outside the west city, across the river.”

"Is the host of that event someone from 'Qianwang'?" Hao asked Ying.

"No. The person in charge is greedy and not one of ours. The less one of us they are, the safer this place is."

The courier tapped on the side of the cart, and the mule brayed. The wheels creaked softly as they rolled over the thin snow.

Zhu Han and Hao Duiying walked behind the car in silence.

As we exited the third gate, the night grew even deeper.

The white line on the horizon had just broken free of a bit of ash, and the morning drum hadn't even finished its first beat when the side gate of Ciyun Temple opened a crack.

"The seven-day memorial service is here?" A greasy hand reached out from inside the door and took a piece of paper. There were only two lines on the paper: "Sign-in: Ciyun. Reply: Remain quiet for three days, do not see monks, do not enter the hall. Silver is at the bottom of the coffin."

The host lifted the curtain and glanced at the coffin, then smiled broadly: "You understand the rules, you understand money, you're better than those officials."

He gestured, and two young monks came up and together carried the coffin into the innermost room of the side courtyard.

The door was bolted shut and secured with a wooden plug.

"I've given you the person." Zhu Han turned around. "I'll pick him up myself in three days."

"Please take your time, benefactor." The abbot took the paper, twirling his fingers, "Even a short sutra must be recited."

"Read your own words," Hao said coldly to Ying.

The door closed, keeping the wind out.

The courier pressed his straw hat down, causing the wheel to spin freely, and snow and mud splashed all over his trouser leg.

He looked up: "Signer, next spot?"

“Half a quarter of an hour after the Shenwu Gate on the left side of the palace.”

Zhu Han held up the matching card to him, saying, "But you have to break off the 'teeth' and leave the 'teeth marks'."

"Understood." The courier turned the cart and entered another alley, where it quickly disappeared from sight.

Hao Duiying let out a long-held breath: "First step successful."

“The second step,” Zhu Han said, “is to make everyone see that the Crown Prince is not in the city.”

How do we do that?

"Borrow their eyes."

Afternoon, outside the Meridian Gate.

Lu Tingzheng, the Left Chancellor of the Central Secretariat, shouted in the wind and snow, "The imperial edict has not been proclaimed, and the people are uneasy!" Several censors beside him chimed in, their eyes fixed on the city gate.

Suddenly, something was thrown down from the city gate tower, landing with a thud on the steps below—a half-wet envelope.

The cover has a small seal of the East Inner Court printed on one corner, the red ink still wet.

The gatekeeper ran to pick it up, his hands trembling, and handed the envelope to Lu Ting. Lu Ting opened it and gasped.

"The Crown Prince will leave the city to offer sacrifices at the imperial tombs for three days, and must not be disturbed."

It was written like this on the paper. The signature was the seal of Yonghe Hall, with a note beside it reading "Cheng Yifeng".

Upon seeing "Cheng Yi," Lu Ting's expression changed twice: "That's...that's the eunuch in charge of the seal?"

The imperial censor beside him brightened up: "A sacrifice at the mausoleum? Three days?"

A sudden realization struck the group – for the next three days, no one could enter Yonghe Hall, and no one could get any information out of them.

Upstairs, Zhu Han withdrew his gaze and said calmly, "They want a piece of paper, I'll give it to them; they want a lie, I'll give it to them too."

"Your Highness, Lu Ting saw the name 'Cheng Yi.' Will he follow the clues to find out 'Cheng Yi's death'?" Hao Duiying asked.

“Let him touch it,” Zhu Han said. “The only thing he touched was a dead man. Dead men are the most talkative.”

The chatter at the Meridian Gate faded into the distance, the wind carrying the whispers around under the eaves.

When the appointed time arrived, someone inside the gatehouse showed his waist token, but it wasn't an imperial attendant; it was the Vice Minister of the Arsenal.

Upon seeing Zhu Han, the Junior Minister immediately handed him a long, narrow sealed box: "An old box from Yonghe Palace, containing old 'samples' of artifacts, to be handed over to the Marquis of Nan'an for inventory by imperial decree."

"Whose order is this?" Zhu Han asked.

"His Majesty's oral decree."

"Your Majesty..." Hao Duiying's tongue twitched, but no sound came out.

"Understood." Zhu Han put away the box. "You may leave."

Once the box lid was pried open, there were stacks of booklets, printing plates, and pen samples tied with silk ribbons.

None of them were new: the edges were rounded, the paper was brittle, and the ink was dry and white.

These are the "shadow archives" of the "shadow edicts"—the bottom of the box through which Cheng Yi, Zhao Yuan, and their ilk revealed the "imperial will." Now, this archive has fallen into Zhu Han's hands.

"Your Highness, shall we burn it?" Hao asked Ying.

"Don't burn them." Zhu Han picked out three pages from the book. "They must be used, and used cleanly."

He tucked the three pages into his sleeve, turned to the people outside the door and said, "Summon the Secretariat and the Ministry of Rites to the palace to receive the proclamation."

"What are you announcing?" Hao asked Ying.

"Announce 'No imperial edict'," Zhu Han said. "Announce 'Awaiting imperial edict'."

At three quarters past noon, at the Fengtian Hall.

The officials stood in their respective ranks. Only one table was set up in the hall, on which was a blank vermilion clay box.

Zhu Han stepped forward and bowed, saying, "His Majesty has passed away, and his will has not yet been issued."

I have received an imperial edict—the Crown Prince shall temporarily evade the palace and leave the city for three days to offer sacrifices at the imperial tombs. Three days later, I will announce the imperial decree.

Lu Ting cupped his hands in greeting: "Since the summons is scheduled for three days later, what is the purpose of today?"

"Clear the seals," Zhu Han said. "All copies must be sent to the central government, and all unauthorized seals must be destroyed. From this day forward, all seals, both internal and external, must be verified by the central government. Anyone who violates this rule will be executed."

"Isn't this just a name change for 'Yingzhao'?" someone couldn't help but mutter.

Zhu Han looked over, and the man shrank back.

"I know you're afraid." Zhu Han tucked his sleeves, his gaze calm. "Better to guard than to be afraid. Guard your own seals and regulations. Don't touch other people's seals."

As soon as he finished speaking, the bell outside the hall tolled three times.

Night, a side courtyard of Ciyun Temple.

"Whoosh—" A rapid breath escaped from the coffin, like a person who had been submerged in water finally breaking through the surface.

After a bout of dry heaving, Zhu Biao sat up from the coffin, his face pale, his hand gripping the edge of the coffin, and a layer of medicinal mist still lingering in his eyes.

"Uncle?" He recognized the figure in front of him, his voice hoarse.

"Don't move." Zhu Han wiped the sweat from his forehead with a cloth. "The medicine hasn't worn off yet. Moving too much will make you vomit."

“Father…” Zhu Biao’s throat tightened.

"It hasn't been announced yet," Zhu Han said. "You haven't seen his face, but you haven't lost sight of him."

Zhu Biao looked bewildered: "What do you mean?"

"You must not see anyone, you must not show your face, but you cannot lose your identity." (End of Chapter)