Chapter 70: The End of the Year

Chapter Seventy: The End of the Year

Generally, only after the emperor’s coming-of-age ceremony can he be wed. Once the grand wedding takes place, it signifies that the emperor has reached adulthood, and it naturally follows that he would begin to govern personally. Thus, the imperial wedding carries immense political significance.

What the Grand Empress Dowager fears is that Zhu Qizhen is too eager to assume power. At the very least, she is not yet confident in entrusting the fate of the empire to him, even though, in her eyes, Zhu Qizhen is a prodigy. Nevertheless, the Grand Empress Dowager never intended to keep the reins of government in her hands forever; she has already given clear hints. When Zhu Qizhen reaches fifteen or sixteen, she will consider allowing him to rule.

This, too, is the Grand Empress Dowager’s attempt to ease the tension between herself and the emperor.

Then, changing the subject, the Grand Empress Dowager said, “Your health has greatly improved. There are matters you must now attend to yourself. With the New Year approaching, there are many things that cannot do without you.”

Zhu Qizhen understood well enough. The New Year’s Day Grand Audience, the subsequent feasts, and the many ceremonies held within the palace after the New Year’s Day—all these required his presence from New Year’s Eve through the fifteenth day of the first month.

Though Zhu Qizhen’s role in these events was mostly ceremonial, and even his words were dictated by tradition, that did not lessen their importance.

After all, Zhu Qizhen was a child emperor. The daily court sessions were mere formalities—nothing more than the six ministers and a few members of the Grand Secretariat going through the motions in front of him. Only during such grand audiences could he meet with large numbers of officials, members of the nobility, and foreign envoys.

Even if it was all ritual, whether the emperor could perform these tasks with grace and dignity directly affected his authority in the eyes of others.

In the Grand Empress Dowager’s view, Zhu Qizhen would have several more years before truly assuming power, and opportunities to meet with the court were rare. For Zhu Qizhen, this was a major test.

He assured her, “Please be at ease, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint you.”

She replied, “In the coming days, Wang Zhi will enter the palace to instruct you on the etiquette of the Grand Audience. I know you have little patience for these things, but you must not let our nation lose face before the world. Do this well.”

“Yes,” Zhu Qizhen answered.

The Grand Empress Dowager gave him a few more careful instructions before dismissing him.

The next day, Wang Zhi entered the palace and began teaching Zhu Qizhen the courtly rituals, explaining every step of the Grand Audience. For over ten days, Zhu Qizhen trained until he had mastered all that was required, and only then was he finally released from these lessons.

Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. By that time, it was already the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month.

All of Beijing began to bustle with excitement, and the Forbidden City was no exception. The eunuchs and palace maids hurried about, their feet barely touching the ground.

Of course, Zhu Qizhen did not need to involve himself in such preparations. He had originally wanted to gather his relatives in the palace for a family dinner on New Year’s Eve, but the Grand Empress Dowager and the Empress Dowager were not on good terms; bringing them together might only cause trouble.

Thus, Zhu Qizhen had no choice but to shuttle between both sides.

The crackling of firecrackers startled Zhu Qizhen from his dreams. Lying in bed, he felt a familiar sense of displacement. Staring at the canopy for a long while, he finally remembered that this was the Ming dynasty.

Though many customs differed from those of later ages, setting off firecrackers remained unchanged.

Listening carefully, he realized it was not just one location—firecrackers were being set off in many parts of the palace, their sounds echoing in unison. As they rang out within the palace, the noise spread across Beijing, with firecrackers going off everywhere.

Who could say how many people were celebrating at once?

At that very hour, civil and military officials, as well as foreign envoys, were leaving their residences surrounded by attendants, all heading toward the palace from various directions to attend the Grand Audience.

Within Zhu Qizhen’s chambers, the palace maids were already bustling, helping him change into his ceremonial robe—the twelve-symbol imperial dragon robe, with sun and moon on the shoulders—the same style he wore at his enthronement, though surely not the very same garment.

After all, Zhu Qizhen had grown considerably in the past year. His old dragon robe, while not unwearable, no longer fit him properly.

How could the emperor wear ill-fitting robes at such an important ceremony?

Zhu Qizhen did not realize that, even if the old robes still fit, he would likely not wear them. The extravagance of the imperial family was beyond his imagination.

“Your Highness,” Wang Zhen said, carrying a tray, “please chew the ghost away.”

Zhu Qizhen looked and saw a white jade plate resting on a red lacquered tray, upon which sat twelve donkey meat pastries arranged in a circle, with ivory chopsticks resting on a jade holder at the side.

This was a palace custom, though Zhu Qizhen did not know its origin. What he did know was that time was tight.

By then, the officials had all arrived. At sunrise, the Grand Audience would begin in earnest. Jin Ying had already made the arrangements outside the Gate of Supreme Harmony.

But Zhu Qizhen had other duties—first, to pay respects to the Grand Empress Dowager, the Empress Dowager, the palace concubines, and the imperial dowagers of the previous reign.

After completing these rounds, it would nearly be time.

He hurried through his meal, paid his respects to the Grand Empress Dowager, and then went to Kunning Palace to see the Empress Dowager.

Empress Dowager Sun, now dressed in full ceremonial attire, looked dignified and splendid, her solemnity laced with elegance. Zhu Qizhen knew that after the Grand Audience, there would be a great banquet.

The banquet was divided into two parts: one for the outer court, where Zhu Qizhen would host the civil and military officials and foreign envoys, and another for the inner court, where the Grand Empress Dowager and Empress Dowager would entertain the titled ladies.

Such ceremonies could not be missed by Empress Dowager Sun.

She straightened Zhu Qizhen’s robe and said, “My son, this time you must do well. Let the world see that our Ming dynasty has a true Son of Heaven.”

Zhu Qizhen replied, “It is all thanks to your kindness, Mother. Please, do not oppose Her Majesty any longer, will you?”

Sun held him and smiled bitterly. “How would I dare oppose her? I am afraid, that is all. Very well, for your sake, no matter what happens, I will bear it. As long as you are the emperor, I will endure anything. Do not worry, I will not hold you back.”

Many had expected the Grand Empress Dowager to attend the Grand Audience alongside the emperor, lending him her authority. After all, though the Grand Audience was largely ritual, foreign envoys would be present.

Domestic officials would adhere to court protocol, but foreign envoys might not. If anything went awry, could the young emperor handle it alone? Many were concerned. But if the Grand Empress Dowager appeared at the Grand Audience, people would also worry—would this mark the beginning of her regency?

The relationship between the Grand Empress Dowager and the emperor was no longer just a personal matter; it had become a barometer for the dynasty’s politics.

Her decision to withdraw was in part a sign of trust in Zhu Qizhen’s abilities—even the most difficult situations he could manage. But perhaps she also sensed the changing winds.

The Grand Empress Dowager did not wish to create a so-called “Grand Empress Dowager’s faction” in court and sow seeds of future trouble. Thus, she chose to step back.

Otherwise, her presence at such a sensitive event would surely draw sycophants, creating new problems.

Hearing his mother’s words, Zhu Qizhen felt a sudden lightness in his heart and thought, “This is the best news I have heard all year.” With such a mother, he often had to clean up after her, leaving him overwhelmed at times.

He expected that such situations would continue in the future—what could he do about it?

She was, after all, his mother in this life. In ancient times, filial piety governed all. There could be no separation between them, nor could there ever be. With others, one might employ force, but Sun was the one person he must always honor.

As long as she could quietly enjoy her life in the inner palace, that would be a great help to him. Otherwise, Zhu Qizhen truly feared that when the Grand Empress Dowager eventually passed, Sun might create an utter mess.

The Grand Empress Dowager was confident that as long as she lived, Sun could not escape her grasp. But once she was gone, there was no telling what chaos might ensue.