The struggle for the throne during the Jiajing reign

Zhu Zaizhen glanced at his attendant, and Ma Dezhao immediately ordered the Imperial Guards and the Imperial Household Department to go out and stand guard. The steward was also led out. As for the servants in the mansion, they were not qualified to pay their respects to a prince.

Even if His Highness Prince Jing were to accept this residence, he would dismiss all these people and transfer staff from His Highness's palace and the Empress's Jingren Palace to serve here. At most, he would buy some more lowly servants. He would never use the people arranged by Yan Shifan.

"Do you two want to hear it?" Zhu Zaizhen asked, standing in front of the large screen inlaid with sandalwood and marble, his back to them. "It's not impossible. If you can hear it, you'll surely be rewarded when you get back."

The two exchanged a glance, both knowing that this reward would be something they would risk their lives for. Given Prince Jing's momentum, even if he couldn't do anything to them in the short term, his favor would only need to be further enhanced.

Without King Jing needing to speak, the commander or the seal-bearer would simply pluck their heads as an apology.

"We dare not."

"Oh, then let's go out."

"Yes."

As the two men were leaving, they brushed past a pregnant woman walking in. Chen Zhao kept his eyes straight ahead, while Gao Zhen kept his eyelids down, but both of them had the same thought flash through their minds at the same time—Yan Shifan.

At this critical juncture, he actually dared to come in person!

Zhu Zaizhen sat down in a rosewood armchair. The marble inlaid on the back of the chair had natural patterns that echoed the landscape on the screen.

He closed his eyes to rest for a moment, and when he opened them again, Ma Dezhao had already led that familiar figure in.

"Your subject Yan Shifan, Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, pays respects to Your Highness Prince Jing." Yan Shifan respectfully performed a deep bow.

Ma Dezhao gave Zhang Xing a wink, and Zhang Xing immediately withdrew and stood guard outside the door, his eyes fixed on the cat from the Eastern Depot.

"No need for formalities, Young Master Yan." Zhu Zaizhen leaned back in his chair naturally, showing no courtesy whatsoever despite Yan Shifan's infamous reputation, and didn't even offer him a seat.

"You are truly audacious; this has greatly surprised me."

Yan Shifan bowed his head and replied, "Your Highness gave me a surprise last time, so I will return the favor with a surprise today. Such reciprocity is a fine story."

"After the last incident, Father Emperor stripped your father of his title of Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince. After this incident, I wonder what other official position Grand Secretary Yan might be dismissed from? It wouldn't be the position of Grand Secretary, would it?"

"Heh, His Majesty still wants my father's old bones to be sheltered from the wind and rain, I doubt it."

"Yan Shaoqing, what a filial son!"

"Your Highness flatters me."

Zhu Zaizhen spoke with a barb, but Yan Shifan clearly didn't take it to heart. He raised his head and stared straight at Zhu Zaizhen, as if examining some rare treasure.

"Ha." Zhu Zaizhen met his gaze without flinching. "What, does Lord Yan think I'm a rare commodity?"

Yan Shifan smiled and said, "I wouldn't dare."

"Not daring is daring," Zhu Zaizhen laughed, a wide grin that narrowed his eyes. "Truly audacious! I've heard of your extensive knowledge and remarkable memory; surely you know what happened to Lü Buwei?"

"I dare not compare myself to Lord Lü, and the situation today is completely different from that of the Qin Dynasty." Yan Shifan touched his almost blind eyes, "But if I could be ennobled and appointed prime minister, I would gladly drink poison."

Zhu Zaizhen was somewhat puzzled: "Grand Secretary Yan, you are old. Aren't the trivial matters of various departments originally to be handled by the junior Grand Secretary? Why are you asking to return to your original post?"

"As Your Highness also said, my father is very old. If he were to pass away one day, what would become of me, a mere junior Grand Secretary?"

Zhu Zaizhen leaned back in the rosewood armchair, his fingers tapping absently on the marble back of the chair. At his age, this gesture would have seemed somewhat comical.

But his expression and calm, deep eyes showed no trace of naivety. Yan Shifan observed him carefully, and the more he observed, the more he felt that he had hit the jackpot.

Yan Shifan straightened up and spoke with a solemn expression that even his father had never seen before: "I am indeed handling the trivial matters of the various departments. Father is old and his energy is failing. I have reviewed eight or nine out of ten of the proposals submitted by the Six Ministries and Nine Ministers before drafting them and then submitting them to Father for approval."

It was called an approval process, but in reality, it was nothing more than the emperor proposing something and the father approving it.

The person who can draft the memorial is ultimately not the one who signs it. If I draft one hundred articles, Father will sign one hundred articles, and those one hundred articles will represent Grand Secretary Yan's intentions.

People in the world recognize the seal of the Grand Secretary, not the ink of a mere Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices.

He raised his hand and pointed to his blind eye: "This eye of mine was not born that way. When I was young, I got into a fight with someone and someone threw lime at me. Since then, I can only see half of things clearly."

But it is precisely because there is only half left that I can see more clearly than others, and see clearly what belongs to me and what belongs to others.

With my father still alive and Your Majesty pleased, I am now a junior Grand Secretary.

My father has passed away, and His Majesty is displeased. I am Yan Shifan.

A government official who failed the imperial examination and became a cripple with one eye blind—at that time, he might not even be able to drink poison to save his body whole; he would either be beheaded or cut in half at the waist.

That is why I have come here today specifically to help Your Highness achieve your great cause and to secure a future for myself.

Yan Shifan was so sincere it was almost naked. He didn't have to say these things; he could have maintained the airs of a junior Grand Secretary and spoken in a cryptic manner, leaving himself a few escape routes.

But he didn't. He laid bare his situation to Zhu Zaizhen.

Why?

Because he was gambling, gambling that the King Jing in front of him, who dared to confront his father and break through the status quo, was not a mediocre ruler who followed the rules.

I'm betting he understands what's behind those words: it's not about surrendering, it's about forming an alliance; it's not about being a dog, it's about partnering.

As for whether King Jing will ultimately decide to discard his loyal dog after the rabbit is caught, it's pointless to discuss that now. There aren't that many choices, but things still need to be done; it's just a matter of winning or losing.

If he wins, he continues to enjoy it; if he loses, he accepts it. Yan Shifan gambles on his own victory, betting that even if Zhu Zaizhen ascends to the throne, he will still need him to stabilize the court, just as the current emperor cannot do without his father.

He's already nearly forty this year, not young anymore. By the time Zhu Zaizhen truly seizes power, no longer needs him, and even wants to get rid of him, he'll have already had his fill.

Moreover, since he had rendered meritorious service in protecting the emperor, even if he were to die, it wouldn't be so difficult to bear the thought of a cup of poison.

Zhu Zaizhen looked at Yan Shifan's firm and resolute eyes and roughly understood what he meant.

However, this guy clearly misjudged something.

That was his elderly father, who looked like he might kick the bucket at any moment, but was actually still quite healthy.

If he hadn't courted disaster, Yan Song could have easily protected him for another twenty years.

However, this is not surprising. After all, Yan Song was seventy years old, which was a very dangerous age in an era when the average lifespan was not high. It was not unexpected that he would fall asleep and never wake up the next day.

Nowadays, it is common for ordinary people to die in their thirties. Living to forty is considered middle age, and fifty is considered long life. The average lifespan of gentry and nobles is longer. Fifty is normal, sixty is also common, and seventy is rare.

…………