Chapter Twenty: The Great Funeral

On the night of April 27th, at the hour of the Boar, the Empress passed away.

Zhu Xiaoqi wept as if his soul were torn apart—not in the manner prescribed by ritual, but with genuine grief. The one person in this world who truly cherished him was gone. Such sorrow was beyond the comprehension of those who only cried on command. He did not faint this time, but his voice quickly grew hoarse, and in the end, as others wailed, he could only shed silent tears.

The Empress's death was a heavy blow to the Emperor, whose health had never been robust. In early May, the Emperor too fell ill. Despite the devoted care of Noble Consort Zheng, his condition steadily worsened.

On the third day of the sixth month, the Crown Prince and his son were summoned to the palace. The Emperor’s speech was already unclear, but his mind remained lucid. He gently inquired what Xu Guangqi had been teaching, and Zhu Xiaoqi naturally replied that it was the Book of Rites, lavishly praising Xu Guangqi and taking the chance to thank his imperial grandfather for his concern over his studies.

Noble Consort Zheng attended to the Emperor at his side. Zhu Xiaoqi observed her secretly and noticed that her gaze toward the Crown Prince was full of complex emotions: sometimes hatred, sometimes supplication, sometimes fear. Toward Zhu Xiaoqi himself, however, she seemed largely indifferent; her eyes neither warm nor cold when they rested on him.

That evening, the atmosphere at the residence of Yang Lian, Censor of the Ministry of War, was heavy. Left with him were Zuo Guangdou, Zhou Jiamo, Liu Yijing, and Han Kuang—a total of five men. The Emperor's illness was grave, and they felt it was time to discuss what lay ahead.

Zuo Guangdou was the first to speak: “Truly, the Emperor’s illness presents no real problem. Wenru, you might be making much ado about nothing. The Crown Prince’s position is secure, Prince Fu has long since taken up his fief, and the Crown Prince’s succession would naturally benefit us of the Donglin faction.”

Zhou Jiamo added, “We Donglin men have contributed greatly to the Crown Prince’s cause. Once he ascends the throne, we will surely claim many important posts—an excellent prospect.”

Yang Lian frowned. “I fear Noble Consort Zheng may not have given up hope. If a sudden decree appears, naming Prince Fu as successor, we would be powerless. So I believe two things are crucial: first, we must ally ourselves with the palace officials. Wang An, the Crown Prince’s companion-reader, is loyal to the Prince; he can act within the palace to ensure Noble Consort Zheng cannot cut us off from outside. Second, the Grand Secretariat—we must approach Fang Congzhe, have him frequently bring ministers to see the Emperor, so that Noble Consort Zheng cannot work any mischief.”

Han Kuang approved. “Only thus can we be absolutely certain. With the Crown Prince on the throne, Donglin men will be entrusted with power.”

They discussed the details further, then each returned home. The thought of the Crown Prince’s imminent accession and Donglin’s coming dominance filled them with such anticipation that they could scarcely wish the Emperor’s passing to come soon enough.

The following day, Yang Lian and Zuo Guangdou sought out Wang An. Wang An, formerly the companion-reader to Crown Prince Zhu Changluo, naturally wished to see the Prince ascend the throne, and they quickly reached an understanding. Wang An promised to ensure the Crown Prince had access to the Emperor, and that Noble Consort Zheng would have no chance for intrigue; in return, Yang Lian and Zuo Guangdou promised him the position of Supervising Eunuch of the Secretariat after the succession. Once outside the palace, Yang Lian remarked, “Eunuchs are never to be trusted—let us keep him at arm’s length and give him no chance to become too powerful.” Zuo Guangdou nodded repeatedly; civil officials rarely trusted eunuchs, yet could not do without them—an unresolvable dilemma.

Next, the two sought out the Grand Secretary, Fang Congzhe. Upon meeting, Yang Lian said directly, “The Emperor is gravely ill. The Grand Secretary ought to lead the ministers in offering their concern.”

Though Yang Lian was but a seventh-rank official, as a Censor his words could not be lightly dismissed, least of all by the Grand Secretary. Fang Congzhe replied, “You know well His Majesty has never liked ministers inquiring after his health. Last time he expressly refused to see anyone. I have only been able to ask after him through the palace staff, but without much result.”

Yang Lian pressed, “If you go often enough, His Majesty will surely see you. This is an extraordinary time—if the throne does not pass smoothly, we shall all be held responsible.”

Fang Congzhe, truth be told, found their worries excessive. The Crown Prince had been designated heir for over a decade; what could possibly prevent the succession? Even if a decree appeared naming another, the ministers would not support it. Still, he understood the Donglin men’s desire to claim the merit of supporting the new emperor. If he did not comply, they would only make trouble for him, so he agreed to make more frequent visits.

Only then did Yang Lian and Zuo Guangdou leave, satisfied. Zuo Guangdou said, “Those who are not our allies are our enemies. Once the Crown Prince ascends, this old fellow too should be sent packing.” Yang Lian hesitated, sighed, and walked out with him.

The Emperor’s condition fluctuated, but on the nineteenth day of the seventh month, he was suddenly able to get out of bed and walk, and even ate a large bowl of rice—the best news in over two months. Yet the next day, his condition took a sharp turn for the worse: he could neither move nor speak.

Though they received the news, the Emperor did not summon them, so the Crown Prince and Zhu Xiaoqi could only wait outside the palace, unable to enter. At that moment, an elderly eunuch approached—Zhu Xiaoqi recognized him as Wang An, the Crown Prince’s companion-reader. Wang An bowed and said, “The Emperor is gravely ill. Now is the time for the Crown Prince to be at his side. Please, Your Highness, follow me.” The Crown Prince was overjoyed and followed Wang An inside; not a single soul challenged them along the way. When they reached the Hall of Ancestors, Wang An said, “Yang Lian and the Donglin men bid me convey to Your Highness that Donglin has always supported you.” The Crown Prince nodded slightly, then entered with Zhu Xiaoqi and went straight to the Emperor’s bedside, bowing before rising again.

Noble Consort Zheng stood nearby, her eyes flickering, yet said nothing. The Emperor lay motionless, eyes closed. The Crown Prince called softly, “Father Emperor.” The Emperor’s eyelids fluttered open for an instant, then closed again. Relieved, the Crown Prince had seats brought, and the two of them sat by the dragon bed.

That night, they all ate a hasty meal and continued their vigil. Noble Consort Zheng said to Zhu Xiaoqi, “Child, you must be tired. Go and sleep a while.” At such a moment in history, how could he sleep? He shook his head. “Grandfather Emperor’s dragon body is unwell; your grandson cannot sleep.” With such a grand statement, no one dared rest, and so the night of the twentieth of the seventh month passed with everyone watching the Emperor sleep.

Zhu Xiaoqi’s spirits were high; he felt not the least fatigue from the sleepless night—evidence that his recent training had borne fruit. Breakfast was another casual affair, and even the Crown Prince and Zhu Xiaoqi took turns going to the restroom, lest they let down their guard at such a critical time. Noble Consort Zheng carefully helped the Emperor drink a little ginseng broth, which he actually swallowed—then, slowly, he awoke.

He opened his eyes, looked first at Noble Consort Zheng, then turned his gaze to the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince knelt forward. The Emperor said, “You have done well; you will surely make a good emperor.” Then, turning to Noble Consort Zheng, he said, “Let Noble Consort be made Empress.” With these two sentences, he seemed to have expended all his remaining strength, and his body went limp.

Wang An stepped forward, studied the Emperor’s face, then placed his hand before the Emperor’s nose for a moment and announced in a mournful voice, “His Majesty has passed away.” At this, a heart-wrenching scream pierced the air, and Noble Consort Zheng collapsed in a faint.