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

After the officials had left, the wind swept across the golden table from the palace gate, and along the corridor, carrying wisps of incense ash.

The brazier at the Meridian Gate burned steadily, like an unextinguished spark inside the city.

After 9:00 AM, in the corridor behind the Fengtian Hall, Zhu Biao changed out of his simple clothes.

“Uncle,” he whispered.

"Ah."

"Who sent those two incense sticks this morning?"

"The tricks of Yan." Zhu Han said calmly, "The writer changed his pants and wore coarse cloth, thinking he had changed his face, but the writing style is still the same."

"Writing method?"

"The strokes are too far to the right, and the last character is too tight."

Zhu Han raised his hand and pointed to the air, "Those kinds of silk strips wrapped with incense are usually used when writing urgent documents. I've seen them a hundred times."

What about the Meridian Gate?

"The Censorate has taken note," Zhu Han said. "He's standing close by to establish his own position."

Zhu Biao smiled, but the smile was faint: "He knows which side is hot."

"The fire isn't for him to warm himself," Zhu Han said, turning around. "It's for him to remember."

"I know." Zhu Biao gripped his cuffs tightly. "Where will my uncle stand when I ascend the throne tomorrow?"

"Your Excellency."

"And then what?"

"Inside the door." Zhu Han looked at him. "If you're steady, stay half a step away from me; if you're not, get a step closer."

Zhu Biao nodded: "Understood."

Hurried footsteps came from the corner of the corridor.

The Minister of Rites approached and said in a low voice, "Your Majesty, Your Highness, the Imperial Clan Court has delivered a petition."

"explain."

"The Right Chief Secretary said that Lu Xiang instructed him to add two circles: one in the order of a certain prince in a collateral branch, and the other in the 'record of marriages outside the family' of the late emperor's concubines."

"What are you doing at the second circle?" Zhu Han asked.

“We should bring a branch of ‘outside Hui’ into the clan,” the Minister said. “If they do, a row of shrines in the Imperial Ancestral Temple will need to be changed.”

"That's it." Zhu Han said calmly. "Hand it over to the Ministry of Justice. — The Censorate is not allowed to interfere."

"As ordered."

The Minister left. Zhu Biao watched the Minister's retreating figure and whispered, "I won't speak tomorrow, but what about the day after?"

"You'd better say less the day after tomorrow."

Zhu Han said, "The morning court session will only consist of two sentences: one is 'follow the old rules,' and the other is 'be diligent in your duties.' The rest will be left to the Secretariat to discuss."

"What about you?"

"I'll stamp it," Zhu Han said, his smile barely reaching his eyes. "I'll stamp it for them to see."

At 1-3 PM, at the Imperial Horse Stable.

The smell of burning was still there. The minor official Luo Sheng knelt under the eaves, his hands covering his head, sweat dripping from his temples and freezing into small beads on the floor tiles.

“Wang Nan is the one who takes the cards, and Sang Er is the one who takes the people.”

Hao Duiying flipped through the scraps of paper that had been stuck together from the sole of the shoe. "Where is Wang Nan?"

“I worked as a copyist outside the Imperial Academy,” Luo Sheng stammered. “I copied documents every day and occasionally ran errands.”

"Call them here," Zhu Han said.

"As ordered."

Before long, Wang Nan was led to the corridor by two captains, his face pale.

"What did you copy?" Hao asked Ying.

"...family register".

"Who should I copy this for?"

"The Lu residence."

"Can I withdraw money from the Lu residence?"

Wang Nan trembled: "I...I was just doing this on a commission."

Who asked you to do this?

"Sang Er".

"Ask again," Zhu Han said, "where did you go last night?"

“The Secretariat, the Imperial Clan Court, and the Imperial Horse Administration.”

What did you take?

"Two cards."

"money?"

"...fifty taels."

"retreat."

Wang Nan shook out a packet of silver from his sleeve and handed it over, his fingers trembling.

"One last question," Zhu Han looked at him, "Where did you put those two cards?"

"In the corner of the Imperial Horse Stable's warehouse, in a crack in the wall, I was afraid, so I reported the fire."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid there will be trouble with the cards."

"You understand the meaning of disaster?"

“…I know a little.” Wang Nan’s voice was so low it was almost inaudible. “I’ve done it before.”

"doing what?"

Wang Nan did not answer.

"Send him to the Ministry of Justice and let him think about it." Zhu Han turned around. "Tell the Ministry of Justice to first ask who taught him 'understanding'."

After saying this, he turned and walked away. As he stepped out of the corridor, he suddenly stopped and turned back: "Luo Sheng."

"exist!"

"Refund the money, and make a note of it."

"Yes!"

"You refund the money, and we'll put it in the book," Hao Duiying added from the side. "If it's in the book, we'll have proof, and we'll show it to you later to give you credit."

Luo Sheng kowtowed repeatedly. Zhu Han stopped watching, turned and left.

Midnight, Xicheng Post Road.

The wind died down, and the snow fell lightly. Two riders came from the north, their manes adorned with tiny ice crystals. The riders wore thick felt cloaks and each carried a bag on their shoulder.

The lead rider stopped outside the reeds, looked up at the sky, but saw no stars.

He dismounted, placed the bag on the ground, opened it, revealing two thin wooden plaques, each engraved with the characters "wild goose" and "dwelling," with a thin line on the back.

He handed the two cards to Li Gong, who was standing in the shadows, and said, "Retreat."

Li Gong caught it and nodded, "Understood."

"The innermost thread is broken," the man said in a low voice. "The fox fur men have gone back."

“He will come back.” Li Gong stuffed the cards into his pocket. “He likes to use crossbows.”

The man chuckled, "You recognize his gait."

“He walked lightly,” Li Gong said. “Light people don’t step on the ice prematurely.”

Without another word, the two mounted their horses and rode away, braving the wind and snow.

The official stated that he had popped the small blister on his palm again, and gasped in pain.

He washed his brush, looked up and saw a shadow move outside the window, like a tree branch.

"Who?"

"Don't be afraid," said the person outside the wall. "The fire at the Meridian Gate will start again tomorrow, so stand closer."

"……I know."

The person outside the wall seemed to smile, or perhaps not: "Stand closer, and your eyes will remember how the fire consumed the paper."

Chen Shu hummed in agreement and then added a note—changing "anonymous" to "external".

He put down his pen and suddenly asked, "Which government department are you from?"

They didn't return from outside the wall. Their footsteps faded into the distance.

He sat there for a long time, then suddenly smiled.

He fell asleep after laughing, his palms still aching, but not as calm as his heart.

Just before dawn, at the Meridian Gate.

First, light the brazier, then prepare two rolls of pine resin and one roll of saltpeter.

The tinderbox in the armory tapped the tinderbox, and the flame leaped up. Chen Shu, the censor, stood close as usual, but when the tinderbox moved him aside, he took a half step forward.

"It's hot," the fireman warned.

“Record it,” Chen Shu replied.

"Your Highness," Hao Duiying came to Zhu Han's side, "The Ministry of Justice has reported that Wang Nan has implicated someone—Gou San, the old writer of 'Moku'."

"where?"

"He worked as a water carrier outside the Imperial Clan Court."

"Grasp."

"There's another thing—last night, two groups of people tried to enter Ciyun Temple, but the abbot didn't open the door."

"He loves money, not trouble," Zhu Han said calmly. "Stay."

Inside the hall, bells and drums sounded, music was played, ritual attendants chanted praises, and Zhu Biao moved to his place as usual.

"By the Mandate of Heaven—At the Great Ceremony of Ascension, let us pay our respects."

The only difference today is that the hall is warmer now, there's no smoke, and the gold bricks are no longer damp. The wind has shifted; everyone knows it.

After the ceremony, the congratulations were received.

The Minister of Rites brought the "Imperial Edict of Ascension," but Zhu Han didn't make it too long, only one inch as needed. The secondary seal was returned to its box, and the Crown Prince's seal was sealed in its case.

"I accept it with utmost respect."

As soon as the four words were uttered, all the officials in the hall kowtowed.

"Disperse." Zhu Han waved his sleeve, his gaze slicing through the crowd like a knife.

As soon as he reached the steps of the palace, a palace eunuch came running up, holding a box and kneeling down: "Your Highness—we found a jade tablet in the ancestral temple's treasury, and there is a piece of paper hidden in the back of the tablet."

Zhu Han took it, unfolded it, and saw that the paper was as thin as a wing.

"Where did it come from?" "The third row of the Divine Treasury Jade Tablet, the seventh one from the west."

When was it inserted?

"...I don't know."

Who reported it?

"A minor clerk in the Imperial Clan Court."

"What about people?"

"gone."

"Grab it." Zhu Han stuffed the paper into the box. "Hand it over to the Central Bureau—match the pattern, the ink, and the paper. Match them three times. After that, throw it into the fire."

"Yes, sir." The eunuch withdrew, carrying the box.

Hao raised an eyebrow at Ying: "This technique isn't new."

“Not new,” Zhu Han said. “It’s the old method. — Old methods are easy to break.”

"Why don't you seal the sacred vault first?"

"Seal it off." Zhu Han nodded. "Seal it off for three days, then open it for half a day. Let them stuff whatever they want into it, then burn it all together."

“…Brilliant.” Hao Duiying couldn’t help but laugh. “It saves us the trouble of catching them one by one.”

"What are you laughing at?" Zhu Han said calmly. "Watch the door."

Afternoon, Ministry of Justice prison.

Gou San was forced onto a wooden bed, his old eyes were cloudy, and the veins on the back of his hands were bulging.

"You can read?" asked the official in charge of the Ministry of Justice.

"recognize."

"Who gave you permission to copy the license plate?"

"...Nobody's here."

"Still being stubborn?" The person in charge slammed his hand on the table. "If you don't talk, I'll cut off your fingers first."

Gou San raised his eyelids and saw Zhu Han and Hao Duiying standing in the corner. He didn't dare to look directly at them and just lowered his head: "Speak, then speak. — It was taught by Sang Er from the Lu family."

"Sang Er?" the steward sneered. "You certainly know how to pick a name."

“He paid me.” Gou San gritted his teeth. “He said he’d copy a register, in the old style. I know how to copy the old style.”

"The old style?" Zhu Han asked. "Where were you before?"

"Inner Palace Moku."

Who will take you in?

"...Zhao Yuan."

"Dead." Hao Duiying snorted.

"Even if you die, leave your hands behind." Gou San's lips twitched. "If I don't want to do it, I'll starve. Who cares about me?"

"Enough with the complaints," the manager said coldly. "Just ask about the thread. Who's behind Sang Er?"

"...Prime Minister Lu."

"Is there proof?"

“Yes.” Gou San turned a section of his sleeve outward, revealing a thin piece of paper. “This is the corner of an old-fashioned payment coupon, with a small stamp of the character ‘Lu’ on it. The money I was given was always wrapped in such a corner.”

"Take it down," the official ordered.

"Wait," Zhu Han said. "'Lu' isn't a new character; don't let him hide something. —Let me ask you this: Are you willing to take your hand out of the fire today?"

Gou San hesitated for a moment, then nodded: "I'm willing."

"Alright." Zhu Han turned around. "Take him to the entrance of the Censorate and make him kneel for two hours. Tell everyone who passes by: You copied texts, you took bribes, and you recognize who you are."

The official in charge was taken aback: "Your Highness's method—"

"Didn't you copy the words for him?" Zhu Han retorted. "If you copied them for him, then you should kneel down for him."

Gou San was taken away. A gust of wind swept through the corridors of the Ministry of Justice, stirring up scraps of paper.

Zhu Han folded back a piece of thin paper from his sleeve and said calmly, "Take his life in two days."

"Why not today?" Hao asked Ying.

“He gave it to me today.” Zhu Han looked at him. “It’s more useful to let people see how the words were written on kneeling than to let them see how the person died.”

"understood."

At the beginning of the day, beside the Fengtian Hall.

The Ministry of Rites officials went over the ceremonies for the second day once more. The Music Master looked up and said, "One drumbeat, three bell strikes, two lines of eulogy, the words of praise remain unchanged."

“Let’s keep going,” Zhu Han said, “until you’re sweating.”

"As ordered."

They continued on their way. When they reached the places marked "Receiving the Imperial Seal" and "Receiving Congratulations," Zhu Han suddenly said, "Stop."

"Your Highness?"

"After receiving the congratulations, add a section—'Sealing the Gate'."

"Sealing the gate?" The Minister of Rites was startled. "There is no such provision in the classics."

“Open the new door, close the old one.” Zhu Han said calmly. “Write it after the ceremonial notes, not in the rites classic.”

"...I will remember that." The Minister wiped his sweat.

The ceremony of "sealing the gates" was very short: the gatekeeper would seal the central gate with a seal for three days, while the left and right gates remained open as usual. The small seal of the Eastern Palace was used, without touching the secondary seal or the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

"What are we doing for the three-day closure?" the Minister of Rites couldn't help but ask.

"Let people know that not everyone can count the number of gates in the middle."

Zhu Han said, "It's to get people used to going elsewhere."

"Understood." The Minister bowed. "I will proceed with caution."

Night fell, and a thin mist rose on the bluestone path in front of Yonghe Hall.

Zhu Biao sat in the hall for a while, with no music or drums in his ears, only the faint hissing sound of incense.

The door clicked open, and a wisp of wind blew in.

Zhu Han entered.

“There’s a new law in tomorrow’s ceremony,” he said. “Sealing the gates.”

Zhu Biao raised his eyes: "From now on, I'll also take the side path?"

"You go through the middle door," Zhu Han shook his head. "The others go through the side door."

Zhu Biao was silent for a moment, then smiled lightly: "My uncle wants me to learn how to open doors."

“You are the door,” Zhu Han said. “If you open it, everyone can pass through; if you close it, everyone can go around it.”

“I remember.” Zhu Biao placed his hands on his knees. “Where will you stand tomorrow?”

"Your Excellency."

"Take a half step back?"

"retreat."

"And then what?"

"Back off again," Zhu Han said calmly. "Back off behind the door."

"It's cold behind the door."

"It's even colder outside."

Zhu Biao smiled and said, "Okay."

"There's one more thing," Zhu Han changed the subject. "There's a piece of paper tucked behind the jade tablet in the Imperial Ancestral Temple's treasury. We took it, and someone will come to ask about it tomorrow. You won't answer."

"Who will ask?"

"Anyone could."

I won't answer.

"Correct."

The two remained silent, the candlelight flickering in the hall.

After a long silence, Zhu Biao said, "I won't ask how you opened these doors."

"They won't tell me even if I ask."

“I know. If you don’t tell me and I don’t ask, the door won’t collapse.”

"Remember this sentence." Zhu Han tucked his sleeves. "Remember it wherever you go."

He rose and left the hall. The night outside seemed to drip from the roof tiles, forming a thin layer of paint that could not be wiped off.

A tiny spark flickered at the foot of the corridor, gazing at the basin of flowers at the Meridian Gate.

Deeper still, to the left of the inner city gate.

A sedan chair stopped at the entrance of an unnamed alley. The curtain was lifted half an inch, revealing a hand wearing a silver ring.

With a flick of his wrist, a small, thin figure darted out of the alley and crouched under the eaves of the sedan chair.

"Speak," a low voice came from inside the sedan chair.

"The paper from the God of War has failed."

Shadow said, "It was taken by the people in the central government. Our matter of 'southern Hui' is going to be difficult."

"If it's difficult, then retreat," the person in the sedan chair said calmly. "We don't only have this one path."

"On Lu Xiang's side—"

"Let him rest for three days." The person in the sedan chair smiled faintly. "He'll wake up on his own. But it won't make a difference."

At dawn, the fire at the Meridian Gate was lit very early.

As usual, the official stood closer, and the fireman handed him a thin piece of paper: "Take this, and keep an eye on things."

Chen Shu shook his head: "No."

"hot."

"It needs to be hot." Chen Shu smiled, a small smile, "So that I can remember the words clearly."

The fire danced in his eyes, like a thread stitching yesterday and today together.

Just as they were sewing the third stitch, the drums from the Fengtian Hall sounded.

When the fifth stitch was sewn, the fragrance started to waft.

When the seventh stitch was sewn, the pen fell, the secondary seal was pressed down, and the Crown Prince's seal was sealed in the box.

When the ninth stitch was being sewn, the gatekeeper loudly proclaimed, "Seal the gate!"

"The sealing ceremony—perform!" The Minister of Rites' voice was clear and bright.

The gatekeeper presented the seal, which was then pressed with the small seal of the east gate and sealed with mud. The central gate remained closed for three days.

The officials watched, but none of them spoke. (End of Chapter)