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

"Then we—"

"Leave him some fire," Zhu Han said calmly. "Let him shoot."

In the afternoon, the fire at the Meridian Gate burned even brighter, and two people knelt beside the brazier: Gou San and a junior clerk from the Imperial Clan Court.

Both men had sweat on their noses and pale faces. Chen Shu stood to one side, his hands pressed against a damp cloth, his eyes unblinking.

“Look carefully.” Zhu Han stood behind the fire. “Remember how the paper was rolled, how the ash fell, whose hands were shaking, and whose legs were weak.”

“I’ll remember.” Chen Shu nodded.

"Take it away." A moment later, Zhu Han raised his hand.

The captain dragged the two men away and escorted them to the Ministry of Justice.

The fireman adds a pinch of pine resin, and the flames whoosh up briefly before settling down again.

"Your Highness," Hao whispered to Ying, "a short note has arrived from the Yan people, saying—'We don't play with paper, we play with iron.'"

"iron?"

"crossbow."

"where?"

"Behind the clock tower."

"Have someone guard it."

"They've been guarding it for a while now."

"If we can't hold it, we'll demolish it."

"Demolish the clock tower?" Hao Duiying raised an eyebrow.

"Remove the bottom," Zhu Han said. "Remove half of the wooden wedges at the foot of the building so that he can't stand up properly."

"Understood." Hao Duiying turned and left.

At the end of Shen (3-5 PM), behind the Bell Tower.

The wind flips the drumhead; the drum skin is new and tight.

Two wooden wedges at the foot of the building were secretly removed in half and then filled with fine sand, so that they could not be seen from the outside.

A figure dressed in blue cloth climbed up a ladder, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.

When he reached the second floor, his foot slipped and the ladder shifted slightly. He steadied himself, climbed up again, and reached for the windowsill with one hand while setting up the crossbow with the other.

"Fire!" he gritted his teeth.

The crossbow bolt snapped shut, the arrow flew, whipping through the air.

"It's off-center," someone whispered downstairs.

The crossbow bolt grazed the iron handle on the edge of the brazier and lodged in the mud at the brazier's feet. The flames flickered, then settled again.

The figure in blue cloth nocked the second arrow, but just as it was halfway drawn, his foot slipped again, and he slid down a step, his forehead hitting a wooden beam, and everything went black.

"Take him down." The four captains downstairs jumped up at the same time, two in front and two behind, and pinned the man down. The crossbows flew out of their hands and landed with a crisp metallic sound.

"Remove the hat."

The blue-clothed man's straw hat was pulled off, revealing half of his thin face. His skin was taut, and a hint of murderous intent lingered in his eyes.

"Fox fur?" Hao Duiying leaned down to look at him. "You're not wearing a fox fur anymore?"

The man sneered, "I wear it in the summer too."

"It's a pity it's not summer yet." Hao Duiying pressed his hands behind his back, wrapped the rope around them, and said, "Tie it tight."

"Take him away." Zhu Han turned around. "Don't let him stand in the sun."

"Where to bet?"

"Ministry of Justice".

"What do you want to ask?"

"Ask him who gave him the crossbow."

"You got the answer?"

"If you get the information, burn his crossbow," Zhu Han said calmly. "If you don't get the information, burn his shoes."

The escort team passed under the Meridian Gate, and the firelight danced on the man's face, shattering the last glimmer of light in his eyes.

Chen Shu stood by the fire, watching until the person walked away, then slowly exhaled and removed the wet cloth.

The back of my hand was red, but no more blisters appeared.

At the beginning of Youchu, next to Fengtian Hall.

The Minister of Rites paced back and forth, reviewing the edict for tomorrow's ascension to the throne, his throat dry.

Zhu Han came over and said, "Three sentences tomorrow."

Which three sentences?

"Follow the old rules, diligently perform your duties, and keep the gates closed."

"I've noted it down." The Minister breathed a sigh of relief. "Your Highness, after your ascension to the throne—"

"After ascending the throne, remove half of the fire at the Meridian Gate, leaving only half a basin."

Zhu Han said, "Let them know the fire is still burning, but don't scare them."

“I will remember this,” the Minister replied.

Zhu Biao walked out of the corridor, his sleeves tightly tucked in, his eyes clear: "Uncle, I'll sleep in the front room of the Imperial Ancestral Temple tonight."

"No need," Zhu Han shook his head. "It's windy inside."

"I want to see the door to the Divine Treasury for a while."

"If you look at a door for too long, you'll forget who it is."

Zhu Biao paused for a moment, then nodded: "Whatever you say."

“You just need to take care of it tomorrow,” Zhu Han said. “The fire, the paper, and the door are all on my side.”

“There are others,” Zhu Biao said, looking at him. “They’re over here with you.”

"Mm," Zhu Han replied.

At the third crow of the rooster, before dawn, a very thin layer of light already shone on the palace walls.

The brazier at the Meridian Gate came to life first, its flames lying dormant, like a beast unwilling to raise its head.

As usual, Chen Shu stood close by, his fingers padded with a damp cloth, his eyes fixed on the fire; the smith from the Arsenal muttered under his breath, "Don't make any more bubbles today." Chen Shu ignored him, his eyes fixed on the fire.

Inside the east wing of the Fengtian Hall, the Minister of Rites, leading the master of ceremonies, repeated the rhythm once more: "Enter at the beginning of Chen (7-9 AM), bow at the end of Chen (7-9 AM), receive the investiture at the beginning of Si (9-11 AM), proclaim the imperial edict at the beginning of Si (9-11 AM), and receive congratulations after Si (9-11 AM). The sealing ceremony remains unchanged."

“Alright.” Zhu Han stood by Que Ying’s side, his voice not loud. “Today there are many people, but few words. — Whoever talks too much will go to the Meridian Gate.”

The Minister hurriedly agreed and jogged outside.

The golden nails on the palace gate were still closed, and a thin, pitifully narrow white line appeared through the crack.

Hao Duiying came from the corner of the corridor and whispered, "The man behind the clock tower coughed up blood in the night and is still being stubborn, only recognizing the crossbow, not the person."

"Don't force it," Zhu Han said. "Break the crossbow in half, take it to the Ministry of Justice, and we'll question it again this afternoon."

"As ordered."

Where is Lu Ting?

"I didn't go out at night."

"Good. — If he doesn't come out, there's one less problem."

Bells and drums sounded in unison. A sliver of light opened inside the palace gates, like water gushing from the bottom of a well. The gatekeeper called out loudly, "Please—"

Zhu Biao approached from the east gate, his hair tied up in a plain bun, his clothes unchanged; he walked three steps to the golden table and stopped.

The Minister of Rites presented the imperial edict, the master of ceremonies sang the eulogy, the musicians beat the drum, and the drumbeat ended on the third beat.

"Received the title."

The secondary seal was taken out of its box, and Zhu Han personally pressed the clay into it, making sure the seal was exactly one inch in diameter.

The Minister of Rites, holding the "Imperial Edict," spoke clearly and steadily: "By order of the late Emperor, Crown Prince Zhu Biao has ascended the throne. The Central Government will temporarily assist him for three months. All departments, both inside and outside the capital, shall perform their duties diligently and without negligence."

Zhu Biao bowed: "I respectfully accept this."

As the four characters were firmly in place, the chill beneath the palace beams seemed to be gently patted, dissipating by half an inch.

"The sealing ceremony—perform!" the gatekeeper drawled.

The small seal inside the east is pressed with mud, and the seal is stamped three times.

The main gate has been closed for three days and remains closed today.

All the officials stood with their heads held high, their eyes fixed straight ahead. The music began and then stopped, the master of ceremonies sang congratulatory songs, and the civil and military officials stepped forward in turn, bowed, and then withdrew.

At the end of the line, Lu Ting stepped out. He had changed his fox fur coat into a plain black one, his face was pale, and the red lines under his eyes had faded somewhat.

"Congratulations," he said softly.

Zhu Biao nodded: "You should do your best."

Lu Ting took a half step back, no longer looking at the table. Zhu Han glanced at him, then turned his face away.

After the ceremony, the officials dispersed. The gatekeeper led the way, and the officials exited through the left and right gates.

The brazier at the Meridian Gate was stable. The official Chen Shu moved the damp cloth a finger's width away, and the firelight reflected in his eyes looked like a thin line.

Between the hours of Si and Wei, behind the Fengtian Hall.

Zhu Biao removed his court robes and changed into casual clothes. No one spoke in the hall.

Zhu Han stood with his hands behind his back by the window, his gaze fixed on the white shadow on the window paper that was being blown up and then slumped down by the wind.

“Uncle,” Zhu Biao began, “I only uttered four words today.”

"That's enough." Zhu Han turned around. "With so many people, we need to speak less so that we can hear what the next sentence is."

"The next sentence?"

"The next sentence isn't coming out of your mouth," Zhu Han's smile softened slightly. "It's in their hands."

"Should the fire at the Meridian Gate still be kept?"

Leave half a basin.

"Why not withdraw completely?"

“Once the fire is extinguished, they’ll be bolder,” Zhu Han said calmly. “Leave half of it to teach them to see and remember. But don’t add any more pine resin today.”

Zhu Biao nodded: "I understand."

Footsteps hurried outside the door. The Minister of Rites entered, his palms still sweaty: "Your Highness, Your Highness, the Imperial Ancestral Temple—the treasury has been sealed for three days and is full. The Imperial Clan Court is requesting permission to open it for half a day tomorrow morning."

"As before," Zhu Han said. "The gates open at dawn and close at noon. The gatekeepers take turns on duty in two shifts. All the fire ropes are removed, and no wires are allowed to be hidden under the bell."

"I will obey."

The Minister had just left when the imperial messenger arrived again: "Your Highness, the Ministry of Justice requests instructions—the man behind the Bell Tower calls himself 'Bai San,' but does not state his surname or acknowledge any master."

"Make him kneel for two hours. At the Meridian Gate, by the fire."

"Yes."

"You're going to use him in public?" Zhu Biao asked.

"No need," Zhu Han shook his head. "Kneel down and let him see for himself."

"why?"

"He likes to be tough, let him be soft for once." At midday, the fire was nearing the Meridian Gate.

"Kneel." The captain pressed the man down, one step forward from the brazier.

The figure was thin, with bruises on his forehead and a bluish mark pressed into his brow bone.

He looked up, his gaze like the back of a knife, bright but without any sharpness.

Chen Shu took half a step back, then moved back to his original position.

Hao Duiying stood behind the fire and said calmly, "Every time you look at the fire, the fire looks at you."

"You can't beat me." The man's voice was hoarse.

"You shouldn't try to beat Fire," Hao said to Ying. "Fire only remembers that no one can beat it."

The man remained silent. Flames licked the paper, the edges curled, and the ashes fell back into the basin.

A breeze blew through the doorway, carrying a hint of pine resin. The official's nose tingled; the damp cloth on the back of his hand burned, yet he didn't remove it.

"Take it away." A moment later, Zhu Han raised his hand.

"The prison," Hao said to Ying, "Let's change rooms and ask them slowly."

The escort team dragged the people far away, the fire pit was cleaned up, and the fireman added a small pinch of sand, but no more oil.

At the end of Shen (3-5 PM), in the Ministry of Justice prison.

"Ask." The person in charge pushed open the door.

Bai San was forced to sit in front of the table, his hands wrapped with two layers of coarse hemp, but he didn't look up.

"What's your last name?"

"His surname is Bai."

"Name?"

"third."

"Who gave you the crossbow?"

"I don't remember."

"Where did the crossbows come from?"

"It fell from the sky."

The person in charge sneered, reached back and grabbed a wooden ruler, which landed on the corner of the table with a "thud".

"Don't type it," Zhu Han said from the doorway. "We can't type out the name."

The person in charge stopped and put the ruler away.

"Why are you shooting fire?" Zhu Han asked.

Bai San raised his eyes, revealing a hint of coldness: "Because you are afraid of fire."

"Who said that?"

"That's what people in the city say."

"City dwellers only see the fire burning the paper, but they don't see how the fire also burns people."

Zhu Han sat down. "You shoot fire, that takes guts. If you shoot a person, that's fate. — With this breath, do you want to save your life, or your guts?"

Bai San did not answer.

"I won't kill you," Zhu Han said to himself. "Go back to Yan and take one message with you."

Bai San sneered: "You want me to be your foot too?"

“No,” Zhu Han shook his head. “You’re a hand.”

"explain."

“Tell your family—the days of playing with paper in the city are over. If you keep playing with iron, the iron will eat you up.”

Bai San's eye twitched, but he remained firm: "I'm not bringing it."

"If you don't bring it, you'll kneel by the fire at the Meridian Gate for three hours. If you do bring it, kneel for one hour."

Bai San paused for a moment: "...One."

"Take it away." Zhu Han stood up. "Release it through the north gate before dawn."

At the hour of You (5-7 PM), the outer storehouse of the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

The seal remained intact. A very faint sound came from inside the door, like someone tapping it with their finger, then stopping.

The new head of the Imperial Clan Court stood guard by the door, his legs numb.

"Open for half a day, then seal it again," Zhu Han said, a small box tucked into his sleeve.

"Yes, sir." The gatekeeper pressed the small seal on the east side of the door with mud, peeled off a corner, and opened a crack in the door.

Zhu Han handed the small box inside the door: "Place it in the third row, seventh from the west."

"Yes, sir." The eunuch dared not ask any further questions.

"Let people in at dawn tomorrow. Keep track of how long it takes, and whose hands they are. Record everything outside the door."

"Yes."

"What did you stuff in?" Hao asked Ying in a low voice, curious.

"An empty box," Zhu Han said calmly. "Let the person who likes stuffing things in it spend a night stuffing it in an empty box."

At the beginning of the Xu hour, in the library of the Marquis of Nan'an's residence.

The wind outside the window was faint, and a little dust had accumulated on the paper window.

Zhu Han unfolded the two small letters. One was from Yanmen: "Retreat from the outer lines, guard the passes, not the cities." The other was from Juyong: "No breaches."

"The fox fur people will go back," Hao said to Ying.

"Let him go back." Zhu Han folded the two letters together. "The city needs to be quiet for three days."

"What about Lu Ting?"

“He won’t make a move tonight.” Zhu Han looked out the window. “He will definitely make a move in two days.”

"What are you moving?"

"The character '动' (dòng)."

"You're going to stop me?"

"I won't stop him." Zhu Han shook his head. "Let him write a long article."

"To whom is it written?"

"Write it to Huo," Zhu Han smiled. "After you finish writing it, show it to the Meridian Gate."

At the beginning of the day (亥初), at the Secretariat.

Lu Ting hunched over his desk, his pen moving very slowly, his back stiff as a piece of wood.

He straightened the paper, ground the ink finely, and wrote the "Ceremony Letter for Ascending the Throne," each character appearing as if it were being bitten out from between his teeth.

He stopped writing halfway through, then suddenly extinguished the lamp wick, causing the flame to dim slightly.

The child stood outside the door, too afraid to go in.

“Go and bring Sang Er back,” Lu Ting suddenly said.

"My lord—the Ministry of Justice..."

"Bring it back."

The boy responded and withdrew. Lu Ting nodded again, as if saying to himself, "Bring him back to kneel at the door, not by the fire."

At dawn, at the Meridian Gate.

The brazier was half-burning. The official, Chen Shu, stood nearby as usual, seemingly no longer needing a damp cloth.

The fireman tapped the iron fork holding the ash on the rim of the basin, and the ash fell and the fire stabilized.

"The fire is a bit small today," the fireman said.

"That's enough," Chen replied.

"Does your hand no longer hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

“Then you’ll be able to write longer,” the fire-maker chuckled.

Chen Shu smiled and said, "Yes."

The palace bells rang. The curtains of Fengtian Hall rose to waist height, and the ebony box on the golden table remained securely in place.

Zhu Biao took his seat, the Ministry of Rites chanted praises, the music master raised his clapper, and the drumbeat stopped on the second beat.

"Proclamation."

"I accept it with utmost respect."

"The door will remain closed, no changes will be made."

The gatekeeper announced the seal, and the small seal inside the east gate was pressed down, smoothing out the mud lines.

The officials watched them leave without saying a word.

Zhu Han took half a step back, still inside the doorway.

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

The eunuch rushed forward: "Your Highness, someone outside has delivered a note—it says 'A collateral branch requests recognition'."

Where's the paper?

"It was burned."

Who burned it?

"The Censorate".

“Okay.” Zhu Han nodded. “Tell them that we’re not adding oil to the fire today; it’s for burning paper money for them.”

"Your Highness," Hao said, entering through the side door, "the man from the bell tower has been released through the north gate."

"Is anyone answering?"

"Yes. The man with the fox fur didn't arrive; instead, two men wearing straw hats came. We'll just observe."

"Go back when you've seen enough."

"I've gone back."

"One more question," Zhu Han said, looking at him. "How many groups went to Ciyun Temple last night?"

"The three groups were all blocked by the abbot in the front hall."

"Then the host can still be used."

What should we use?

“Use his love of money to avoid trouble,” Zhu Han said calmly. “Give him money and have him keep a close watch on the door.”

At the beginning of the day, outside the Ministry of Justice prison.

Sang Er was carried to the door by two people, and Lu Ting ordered someone to place a straw mat at the bottom of the steps.

Sang Er was panting heavily, his eyes unfocused. Lu Ting stood on the steps, looking down at him for a moment before turning and entering the house. (End of Chapter)