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

"Your Highness," a soft voice called from outside the door.

Zhu Han didn't even look up: "Go in."

Huang Qi pushed open the door and entered, holding a folded red letter in his hands.

"This is an urgent message just delivered by the Dali Temple. Something happened in Heibu Lane last night. A family of nine was broken into and murdered. None of them survived."

Zhu Han raised his eyes, his gaze instantly sharpening: "Why did it take me so long to find out?"

"After the incident, they tried to cover it up, and the Dali Temple intended to suppress it privately, without even alerting the Embroidered Uniform Guard. However, the person who planted the information was quick, and we only had the opportunity to obtain the information tonight."

Zhu Han unfolded the letter, glanced at it, and sneered, "Yang Huai? Isn't this man a former subordinate of the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices? He resigned from his post two years ago, saying he was too weak to continue serving, yet he was still murdered?"

Huang Qi said in a low voice, "I have investigated and found that although Yang Huai resigned from his post, he had a secret contact with an official from the Ministry of Rites last month, which may be related to the Zhang Yuan case."

Zhu Han tapped his knuckles lightly on the table: "Any survivors?"

"No. Only an old woman next door heard the sound of horses' hooves at night, very fast and very deep."

"The murderer is not afraid of the curfew and even dares to bring horses into the ward... What kind of identity does he have?" Zhu Han narrowed his eyes and muttered, "This doesn't seem like silencing a witness, but rather... a warning."

Huang Qi's eyes flickered slightly: "What does Your Highness mean?"

Zhu Han slowly stood up and put on his outer robe: "Some people don't want us to investigate Zhang Yuan's matter thoroughly, so they took this ruthless action to warn us."

"However, the Crown Prince is unaware of this."

Zhu Han said calmly, "He shouldn't know."

Huang Qi was taken aback, as if he had something to say.

Zhu Han waved his hand to interrupt him: "He's too soft and doesn't know what 'ruthlessness' is. This position will be his in the future, but right now, he can't even sit on it securely. I don't want to see him shed blood before my eyes."

Huang Qi bowed deeply: "Your subordinate understands."

Zhu Han squinted, looking out at the dark night: "Although Yang Huai is dead, if he really left behind some token, he won't be without a place to stay. Arrange for someone to go to Dajue Temple and check if anyone has recently asked a monk to hide something on their behalf."

"Yes."

"Go back to Zhang Yuan's residence, but do not search or interrogate him. Leave only one person to keep a close watch on his maid. If she makes a move, there will be further plans."

"As ordered."

Zhu Han suddenly stopped: "By the way, is that painting still in the East Palace?"

"Yes, it has been stored in a golden box and kept in a secret vault."

Zhu Han paused, then suddenly smiled faintly: "It's alright, we can invite the Crown Princess over tomorrow and let her burn it herself."

Huang Qi was taken aback.

“If she dares to face it, then she is as good as gold, which is not afraid of being tested by fire.” Zhu Han said calmly, “I don’t want her to spend her whole life being led by someone else’s shadow.”

The next day at dawn, in the warm pavilion of the East Palace.

Gu Qingping sat in the inner room, dressed in a lilac-woven satin gown, a long jade hairpin in her hair, her expression serene and composed. A golden box lay before her, but she was in no hurry to open it.

"Is this the painting?" she asked softly.

Zhu Han nodded: "You don't need to come in person, I can have someone burn it for you."

She shook her head: "No. I want to take one look, then I'll burn it myself."

Zhu Biao stood silently to the side, his expression complex. Zhu Han stood quietly to one side, not interjecting.

Gu Qingping slowly opened the box. The scroll unfolded, the paper showing signs of aging, but the ink marks were still clear.

The figure in the painting stands atop an artificial hill, half-veiled by moonlight, her expression serene, her features resembling her own.

She stared at it for a long time, then suddenly chuckled softly.

"What a waste of such skill; it's truly a fine painting."

Zhu Biao's eyes flashed: "Aren't you angry?"

Gu Qingping did not answer immediately, but quietly reached out and took the bronze stove next to her, and slowly pushed the painting into the fire.

"What's the use of being angry? It's not a sin for people to draw pictures of each other. It's just that people's hearts are detestable," she said calmly.

The flames licked the corner of the painting, and in a moment, the paper ash scattered, and the painting turned to ashes.

"From now on, if anyone dares to draw me behind my back again, I will gouge out their eyes." Her tone was gentle, yet it carried an unprecedented sharpness.

Zhu Biao lowered his head, looking both ashamed and embarrassed.

Zhu Han looked at the furnace of ashes, a rare hint of relief appearing in his eyes.

Several days later, a sacrificial ceremony was held at the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

All the important officials of the court were present, and Zhu Yuanzhang personally offered sacrifices to his ancestors. Zhu Biao knelt on Zhu Yuanzhang's left, and Zhu Han sat on his right, solemn and dignified.

After the ceremony, Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly turned to look at Zhu Han and said in a low voice, "I heard that you've been running to the Eastern Palace quite often these past few days?"

Zhu Han bowed: "If the Crown Prince has any doubts, I dare not be negligent."

Zhu Yuanzhang snorted coldly, but said nothing, only saying, "That child is timid and has a lot on his mind, so you should try to persuade him more."

"Yes."

Zhu Yuanzhang turned to Zhu Biao and said, "You too, don't keep things to yourself. If you really ascend to the throne in the future, if you're unsure about anything, go ask your imperial uncle. If he says east, don't go west."

Zhu Biao bowed deeply: "Your subject will remember this."

"It all depends on you." Zhu Yuanzhang sighed. "While I'm here, I can protect you to some extent, but if I'm not, your imperial uncle..."

Zhu Han interrupted, "Your Majesty, please be careful with your words."

Zhu Yuanzhang waved his hand and turned to leave.

Zhu Biao watched his father leave and whispered to Zhu Han, "Uncle, is Father... feeling tired?"

Zhu Han gazed beyond the high palace walls and replied softly, "His body is not weary, but his heart is exhausted."

Zhu Biao lowered his head and remained silent.

Zhu Han suddenly asked, "Biao'er, do you know what's so special about this sacrificial ceremony?"

"Please enlighten me, Imperial Uncle."

Zhu Han smiled: "In previous years, His Majesty would not have allowed the Crown Prince to stand so close during the Imperial Ancestral Temple sacrificial ceremonies."

"Why this year..."

"Because he wants you to stand closer."

Zhu Biao was stunned.

"Standing close means standing firm; standing firm means... being able to catch."

Zhu Han leaned against a stone bench beside the artificial hill, twirling a small bronze object in his hand. Its simple and ancient design was the only relic that the Dali Temple had found in Yang Huai's residence—a button with a hidden compartment containing a thin sheet of paper.

Letter:

"I once admired the ink and kept it in the Cold Painting Pavilion in the North Ward. I opened it at the end of the year with utmost care."

Zhu Han looked at it three times before putting it away and softly called out, "Huang Qi."

Huang Qi emerged from the shadows: "Your Highness."

Where is the "Cold Painting Pavilion"?

"In the northeast corner of the neighborhood, there used to be a painting shop opened by the eldest son of the former Vice Minister of Rites. Five years ago, it was suddenly destroyed by fire, and half of it was burned down. After that, it was closed and left empty."

Zhu Han pondered for a moment: "Take some men there, but don't disturb the residents. Just take the old box from the pavilion, and don't touch anything else."

Huang Qi bowed his head: "Your subordinate will go immediately."

Zhu Han nodded and was about to get up when he suddenly heard light footsteps coming from the end of the corridor. He frowned and turned around to look.

Under the moonlight, a slender figure walked slowly and gracefully. The woman was dressed in a light blue gauze dress, without any makeup. Although her face was plain, it could not hide the intelligence and composure in her eyes.

"Crown Princess?" Zhu Han stood up, somewhat surprised. "It's late at night, why are you still wandering around outside?"

Gu Qingping bowed and said, "Your Majesty, I should not disturb your peaceful night, but I woke up from a dream tonight and felt that there was something I had to say."

Zhu Han's gaze sharpened: "You speak."

Gu Qingping gazed at the moon's reflection in the pond and slowly said, "The matter of Zhang Yuan may be far from over."

Zhu Han remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, offering no prompting.

Gu Qingping said softly, "Last night, a female official from the palace came to see me. She was a female scribe named Shen from the Zhaowen Hall. She didn't say it explicitly, but she hinted that Zhang Yuan might have someone else behind him."

"Who is it?" Zhu Han asked briefly.

Gu Qingping shook her head: "She didn't dare to say it explicitly, only that 'Don't believe that painting skills are solitary; there are hidden intentions in the brushstrokes.'" Zhu Han pondered: "The word 'intentions' is used extremely aptly."

Gu Qingping continued, "I thought this matter was over, but Lady Shen is usually taciturn. Since she dared to come and warn us at night, she must have other worries."

Zhu Han stared at her for a long time, then suddenly smiled and said, "You're not as reserved as you used to be."

Gu Qingping calmly replied, "If you have been married into the Eastern Palace for six years and still only know how to avoid trouble and retreat, you would probably have been eaten away to the bone long ago."

Zhu Han nodded slightly: "Are you saying these things today because you believe me, or are you testing me?"

“It is a letter.” She looked at him calmly. “There are not many people in the world who can protect the Crown Prince. I know that Your Highness is among them.”

Zhu Han nodded: "Alright, if I find out who's behind this, you'll have to see it for yourself."

Gu Qingping bowed respectfully and said, "Your Highness, I thank you."

Zhu Han waved his hand: "Let's go back, it's almost dawn."

Without saying anything more, she turned and left.

That figure was calm and quiet, yet possessed a refined elegance unlike that of ordinary women.

Zhu Han watched them go for a long time, then turned to Huang Qi and said, "If anyone in the palace dares to have designs on the Crown Princess, it won't just be people like Zhang Yuan."

Huang Qi said in a low voice, "I also think that Zhang Yuan is just a pawn."

"Investigate. List all those who have had any dealings with Zhang Yuan in the past year at Zhaowen Hall. Pay special attention to those recommended by the Imperial Study, Hanlin Academy, and Cabinet."

"As ordered."

Three days later, at Lenghua Pavilion. The pavilion was now a ruin, half charred and half covered in dust.

Huang Qi led three men in quietly, without alerting the residents of the neighborhood.

They found a stone box beneath the floor of the pavilion; the iron lock was rusted but undamaged.

Upon returning to the Prince's residence that night, Zhu Han personally opened the box.

Inside the box was a roll of cloth, three letters, and a small jade pendant, warm in texture and lustrous in color, typical of northern products, not from the Central Plains.

The letter was unsigned, but the contents were clear:

"Judging from the Crown Prince's consort, she is beautiful and well-mannered, truly fit to be a queen. However, the Crown Prince is gentle by nature, and I fear he will find it difficult to manage internal and external affairs. We can seduce her body, sow discord in her mind, and wait for an opportunity to establish another consort..."

Zhu Han finished reading the letter, his expression unchanged, but the pressure between his fingers tightened slightly.

Huang Qi said in a low voice, "Your Highness, this is clearly a deliberate trap."

“Not bad,” Zhu Han said in a low voice, “and this is no small matter.”

"Should we present this to the Emperor?"

Zhu Han slowly shook his head: "No. If we present it, we will alert the people behind the scenes. If they temporarily avoid the limelight, it will be difficult to find them. Moreover, this letter came too conveniently, and its true intention may not be just to slander the Crown Prince."

Huang Qi was taken aback: "Could it be... a test?"

“Possibly.” Zhu Han’s eyes were deep. “Or perhaps that person is trying to provoke me into making a move.”

Huang Qi paused for a moment: "Your Highness means... they are not afraid of Your Highness's investigation, they are only afraid that Your Highness will not take any action."

"Yes." Zhu Han sneered, "Now that the Crown Prince has gained some foothold in the court, those old foxes can't sit still anymore."

"Then what happens next..."

Zhu Han closed the box lid, his tone calm yet firm: "Spread the word that I will investigate the painter's death and give the Crown Princess an explanation. I want to see who's eager to jump out and put out the fire."

Huang Qi accepted the order and left.

Night falls, in the secret chamber of the Eastern Palace.

Zhu Biao was reading a memorial when Gu Qingping brought in tea.

"Your Highness."

Zhu Biao looked up and gave a weary smile: "Why did you come in person?"

"You haven't slept for two nights, so I brewed some tea for you by the lamp." She placed the tea on the table. "I also want to tell you something."

"what's up?"

Gu Qingping hesitated for a moment: "I suspect... that someone in Zhaowen Hall has been plotting against me."

Zhu Biao paused slightly in his grip on the pen.

"How did you know?"

“I hadn’t paid any attention before, but in the last six months, women have been coming into my room to give lectures, ostensibly to recite scriptures, but in reality to observe my movements and subtly convey messages through their actions…”

Zhu Biao frowned: "You should have told me sooner."

"I originally intended to be patient and not want anything to escalate." She paused, "It was my uncle who reminded me that I realized the matter was serious."

Zhu Biao frowned.

“Qingping…” he said in a low voice, “If anything happens to you, I will not be at peace even if I ascend the throne.”

She looked at him and said softly, "If you are uneasy, then don't be soft on others anymore. Your enemies will not back down just because you are kind."

Zhu Biao looked up and met her gaze, a genuine chill appearing in his eyes for the first time.

"I understand."

Gu Qingping rose and bowed: "Your Majesty, I am willing to go to Zhaowen Hall for the sake of the Crown Prince."

Zhu Biao was startled: "You're going? It's too dangerous."

"It was precisely because I went that no one dared to doubt me."

Her tone was calm and unhurried, like flowing water, yet as firm as iron.

Zhu Biao gazed at her for a long time before finally nodding.

"Then go. But remember, do not go alone. I have ordered Huang Qi to lead a team to protect you."

"Yes."

The Zhaowen Hall was located in the western part of the palace city. Throughout history, it was a place where princes and princesses studied and practiced etiquette. It also had female officials in charge of registers and female teachers who lectured on the classics. It was jointly managed by the Ministry of Rites and the palace.

Although the land did not belong to the Eastern Palace, it was adjacent to the Eastern Palace, separated by only one wall.

At the beginning of Chen Shi (7-9 AM), Gu Qingping, dressed in casual clothes, entered Zhaowen Hall accompanied by a palace maid.

The female attendant at the gate had already been informed and welcomed her into the main hall of the building.

The hall was furnished with tables and desks, mostly filled with books and documents. The female officials rose to greet them, creating a peaceful atmosphere, though their expressions varied.

"The Crown Princess has arrived. Please rise."

Gu Qingping spoke gently, smiled slightly, and took her seat in the main seat.

"I have recently heard that the library has a rich collection of books and that there are also famous scholars and ladies giving lectures and discussing philosophy, so I came here to listen."

The registrar, Ms. Shen, rose and bowed: "Your Highness is absolutely right. In recent years, the Zhaowen Academy has received thirty boxes of books from the Ministry of Rites and has also added two lecturers. There are often literary gatherings."

Gu Qingping nodded, her gaze sweeping over the women in the hall: "I see that most of you are renowned for your talents. Since you are here today, why not let me hear your brilliant ideas?"

She tapped her fingers lightly on the table: "Then you may write a passage on the theme of 'Mirror Image,' or copy a passage from an old scripture."

Upon hearing this, the women in the hall were taken aback. Some whispered among themselves, their faces showing unease, as if they were quite surprised and doubtful about this sudden question.

Lady Shen remained expressionless and spoke first: "Your Majesty, I am willing to try."

She took out paper and pen and wrote:

"The reflection in the mirror is not the true reflection; the reflection in the human heart is even deeper. What the eyes see may not be the true form; only what the heart recognizes is the true nature."

Gu Qingping smiled slightly: "A good line."

She took it and examined it closely, then said, "Others are coming too."

Before long, all the women wrote a short passage on the theme of "Mirror Image," which was then collected and placed on a table by the palace maids.

Gu Qingping read through the list carefully, her features exquisite and her tone gentle, but in reality, she had already quickly sifted through the information in her mind.

She was well-versed in Zhu Han's method—setting a question is setting a trap, hiding clues in the text, and probing the mind through the words.

A young woman wrote: "The person in the mirror is still, and there is no dust in the heart." She wrote very quickly, and the meaning of her words is peaceful.

Another style of women's script reads: "A mirror can reflect one's appearance, but not one's bones; a shadow can reflect one's body, but not one's heart." The brushstrokes are slanted and straight, with a slightly flamboyant style.

Only one female historian, named Fu Yiwan, hesitated to begin writing, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes darting around as if in doubt. (End of Chapter)