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◎Morning Court◎
Six months after Shang Emperor usurped the throne, Ming Emperor led his troops into Bian Capital, executed the Shang Emperor, ascended the throne in accordance with the posthumous edict, and changed the era name to Chongjing. The people of Bian Capital lined the streets to welcome him, and a general amnesty was declared throughout the land.
After Ming Emperor ascended the throne, he followed the posthumous edict to promote Zhou Tan into the Hall of State Affairs, appointing him as Chief Councillor to assist in leading all officials. Su Chaochi, Cai Ying, and Luo Jinglun from the Ministry of Works also entered the Hall of State Affairs, holding the Central Secretariat’s seal to assist in governance.
The first memorial submitted after the establishment of the Hall of State Affairs called for the abolition of the Crown Prince’s Golden Pavilion, citing the Xishao infiltrators captured on Tingshan as justification.
Ming Emperor dispatched Yan Fu to lead the army, achieving a decisive victory over Xishao in the Battle of Dingxi. The ruler of Xishao was utterly defeated, sending a hostage prince to Bian Capital to negotiate surrender. After forty years, they resumed paying tribute to Dayin.
The news of victory arrived by late spring of the first year of Chongjing. Ming Emperor rewarded the three armies, swiftly establishing his reputation among the common people and the military.
The officials had no choice but to set aside their disdain and reassess the eighteen-year-old emperor seated on the dragon throne.
Though Song Shixuan showed interest in border affairs, he was not a tyrant. The long-dormant Office of Censors filled with newly appointed scholars, and the Ministry of Justice reopened old cases, rectifying several longstanding injustices.
The court enjoyed a climate of political clarity.
However, those who hadn’t experienced the palace coup remained dissatisfied with the young Chief Councillor presiding over the officials.
Song Shixuan sat on the dragon throne, carefully listening to the Ministry of Revenue’s report.
“This summer, excessive rains have plagued Jiangnan, causing small-scale flooding due to inadequate dikes. Your Majesty, I request you take preemptive measures by sending officials to repair the dikes and patrol the south…”
“Your Majesty!”
Before the report concluded, another voice interrupted loudly.
The pearls on Song Shixuan’s crown swayed slightly. He asked, “Who is speaking?”
“Minister of the Office of Censors, Shen Luo,” the young official knelt with his ivory tablet, bowing respectfully. “I accuse the Chief Councillor of misconduct: disrupting the imperial examinations, promoting relatives, suppressing scholars, and fabricating false charges in previous years, tarnishing his reputation. As he is soon to be appointed Chancellor, I humbly request Your Majesty reconsider!”
Zhou Tan stood at the forefront of the officials, casting a dispassionate glance back at him.
Song Shixuan’s gaze briefly passed over Zhou Tan’s expressionless face before he stood up, raising his voice slightly. “The matter of Jiangnan’s rains affects the livelihood of millions. If the Office of Censors and the Court of Judicial Review show no concern, how can they divert attention to other matters at such a critical juncture? What is your intent?”
Shen Luo did not back down. “I’ve heard of the Jiangnan situation—it’s merely an ordinary weather phenomenon. Could the Ministry of Revenue’s exaggeration aim to unsettle Your Majesty? With corrupt officials in power, how can we bring prosperity to the people? It’s better to address immediate concerns.”
Song Shixuan remained silent.
The Ministry of Revenue’s report on Jiangnan’s rains wasn’t truly about impending floods. The dikes built by Gu Zhiyan in Jiangnan were designed to last a century. The Ministry raised this issue merely to provide an excuse to reorganize Jiangnan’s bureaucracy.
During his time lobbying the nobles in Lin’an, Song Shixuan personally witnessed powerful families monopolizing officialdom in Jiangnan, promoting only their kin. Though no major disasters had occurred, this system was unsustainable in the long run. Thus, upon settling down, he planned to send envoys to thoroughly reform Jiangnan, punishing corrupt officials to deter others further south.
Such intentions, however, couldn’t be openly stated in court, lest someone in Bian Capital leak the information to Jiangnan in advance.
On the day of the palace coup, Zhou Tan held two posthumous edicts: one left by Xuan Emperor for Gu Zhiyan, and the other hastily written by De Emperor. Lacking the imperial seal or chancellor’s stamp, its authenticity relied solely on Cai Ying and others to verify, with no additional evidence.
While the officials accepted Xuan Emperor’s edict, they remained tight-lipped about De Emperor’s ambiguous decree.
When Qu You saw Cai Ying present De Emperor’s edict in Xuande Hall for everyone to examine, she immediately understood the source of Zhou Tan’s infamy.
The vague historical references to the “authenticity dispute” now made sense.
Because Song Shiyan had controlled the inner palace during De Emperor’s final illness, Song Chang’s posthumous edict lacked the imperial seal and chancellor’s stamp, making it highly irregular. Had the court collectively refused to acknowledge it and chosen a different heir, there were precedents in history.
Moreover, De Emperor’s edict didn’t address the most crucial issue—the succession.
Presumably, when De Emperor secretly summoned Zhou Tan, he inquired about potential heirs beyond the Crown Prince. Zhou Tan informed him of the successor designated in Xuan Emperor’s edict, so De Emperor’s edict vaguely wrote, “Follow the previous emperor’s instructions.”
A decree lacking formalities and failing to establish the state’s foundation was indeed highly questionable. Thus, later historians struggled with its ambiguity, and its content was lost to history.
Having read through Dayin’s history, Qu You had always assumed only Xuan Emperor left a posthumous edict.
Similarly, the court acknowledged Xuan Emperor’s edict, verifying it and welcoming the Jing Prince’s grandson to the throne—a rightful course of action. However, the identity of the “appointed minister” in Song Chang’s edict remained unresolved.
In the Hall of State Affairs, Cai Ying was a veteran minister of two reigns, Luo Jinglun commanded great respect, and Su Chaochi’s reputation was impeccable. Only Zhou Tan, even after celebrating his birthday at year’s end, was barely twenty-five.
At twenty-five, holding the position of Chief Councillor without noble lineage was unprecedented. Since Dayin’s founding, no minister had ever reached the chancellor’s position at such a young age.
Moreover, Zhou Tan carried unresolved cases from the previous dynasty, linked to the deaths of esteemed ministers. Given the ambiguity of the edict, why should someone recently returned from Ruozhou enter the Hall of State Affairs to lead all officials?
Once the emperor’s temperament became clear, accusations against Zhou Tan snowed into Xuande Hall from the Office of Censors.
During preparations for De Emperor’s funeral and Ming Emperor’s coronation, the Office of Censors even used this as grounds to petition the emperor to revoke Zhou Tan’s title as Imperial Tutor. Forced to compromise, Song Shixuan changed his address from “Teacher” to “Master.”
Though he wished to protect Zhou Tan, the latter forbade excessive favoritism.
From Zhou Tan and Su Chaochi, Song Shixuan learned the principles of governance: to listen to advice impartially and avoid bias. When someone first accused Zhou Tan in court, Song Shixuan instinctively rebutted. After court adjourned, Zhou Tan knelt in his study for an hour.
He said, “Your Majesty should not act thus.”
So Song Shixuan stood silently before the dragon throne, unsure what to say.
It was Zhou Tan who broke the silence with a light cough, turning to ask calmly, “Ask the Counselor: which is more important, the affairs of the people or court politics?”
Shen Luo, also a scholar of the imperial exams, was unafraid to confront him. “Without stability in court, how can we care for the people?”
Zhou Tan continued, “Why do the Office of Censors and the Court of Judicial Review hold ivory tablets to offer candid advice?”
Shen Luo solemnly replied, “We fulfill our duties, upholding the ancestors’ teachings and advising the emperor directly. This is how we honor Dayin’s legacy and the trust of Your Majesty and the court.”
“Oh?” Zhou Tan asked indifferently, “Counselor Shen, are you responsible upward or downward?”
Shen Luo opened his mouth but froze.
The question was tricky. If he answered “upward,” it implied neglect of the people. If “downward,” it contradicted his actions—having interrupted the Ministry of Revenue’s report prematurely.
Seeing Shen Luo kneel silently for a while, Zhou Tan spoke first to relieve the tension. “Your Majesty, the Counselor accuses me of disrupting the imperial exams and suppressing scholars—charges I would never dare commit. The accusations of promoting relatives and tarnished reputation, however, are my faults. After today’s court, I will willingly receive ten strokes of the cane to atone and demonstrate my sincerity.”
He turned around. “Would the Office of Censors like to continue their accusations?”
Song Shixuan stepped down from the platform, but Zhou Tan looked up at him and shook his head.
The accusation of “promoting relatives” referred to Song Shixuan’s reinstatement of Bai Shating shortly after ascending the throne, following the general amnesty that brought him back from Lingnan.
This was the emperor’s decree, processed through the Hall of State Affairs and the Central Secretariat. Now, the Office of Censors sought accountability, naturally placing the blame on Zhou Tan.
Shen Luo rose and retreated a few steps. “The Chief Councillor speaks wisely. I have nothing further to say.”
Thus, the Ministry of Revenue resumed their report. Coming to his senses, Song Shixuan dispatched Su Chaochi to inspect the southern provinces. The ministers voiced no objections.
Morning court lasted longer than usual but still concluded before the morning mist dispersed.
As soon as court adjourned, Song Shixuan leaned on the eunuch Qingyi’s arm and whispered, “Quickly summon Physician Bai from the Imperial Hospital.”
Qu You learned the news before Zhou Tan’s punishment concluded.
Song Shixuan practiced self-discipline and revived the various rituals neglected during De Emperor’s reign. No civil officials were executed; instead, before punishment, offenders knelt before Zhangde Gate to recite The Great Learning from The Book of Rites in full.
Following De Emperor’s directive to “reduce ceremonies by half,” his funeral was modest. Moreover, the six months of Shang Emperor’s usurpation delayed matters, leaving only half a year for mourning.
Thus, shortly after ascending the throne, Song Shixuan married a girl from Su Chaochi’s family under the ministers’ advice. The Su family was prestigious, renowned for raising exemplary daughters.
The emperor and empress were harmonious. With many responsibilities at his young age, Song Shixuan’s harem currently included only the empress and one concubine.
Knowing Song Shixuan admired Zhou Tan and his wife, the empress often invited Qu You to the palace. Qu You liked the young empress and had just received her invitation to visit that day.
Little did she know that upon arriving at the eastern gate, she’d hear the news.
Through the lingering morning mist, Zhou Tan knelt before Zhangde Gate. Officials exiting court formed groups, whispering and casting glances her way, discussing something.
She heard his voice.
“…If one harbors anger, they cannot be upright; if fearful, they cannot be upright; if indulgent, they cannot be upright; if burdened by worries, they cannot be upright. When the mind is absent, one sees without seeing, hears without hearing, eats without tasting. This is called…”
She wanted to approach, but a eunuch beside her stopped her, bowing respectfully. “Lady, as a woman, you cannot cross the central gate before all officials have departed. It is against protocol.”
Qu You leaned on the red pillar beside her, muttering, “…Protocol?”
She didn’t know how long she stood at the threshold until she heard a sigh beside her. “You know, everyone has become somebody now, yet they still chant the same old refrains: ‘I had no choice,’ ‘It couldn’t be helped’…”
Turning her head, she found Bai Ying standing beside her.
Bai Ying slung his medicine box diagonally, nodding his head as he mused aloud, “Tsk, if a person isn’t free, they’re like a caged crane—unable to soar, unable to live or die.”
He turned to smile at her. “When I first met you, I never imagined that someday, you’d be one of those waiting properly behind this threshold.”
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