Volume One, Chapter Two: Prince Ning Enters the Palace

Thunder rumbled—the sound of five hundred horse hooves striking the flagstones was like rolling storms. The black cavalry swarmed around a vivid scarlet figure at their head, swiftly reaching the gates outside the imperial city.

Inside his office, Zhou Dexing was savoring a touch of wine when his subordinates rushed in with a report, startling him so much that his cup nearly slipped from his grasp.

Without a thought for appearances, he leapt up in alarm and hurried toward the palace gates.

“Your Highness, Prince Ning.”

Outside the city gate, Zhou Dexing bowed respectfully to Zhu Quan, who sat mounted at the forefront. His face, however, was soon shadowed by suspicion and wariness as he glanced at Deng Zhen and the others.

“May I ask, Your Highness, why you have brought so many soldiers to the palace at this late hour?”

Though Zhou Dexing always spoke softly in Zhu Quan’s presence, in truth he was a powerful minister—granted the title Marquis of Jiangxia in the third year of Hongwu, and charged with the security of the imperial city, enjoying the Emperor’s deep trust.

Alas, he could not control his own offspring; in the end, his entire family was executed due to his son’s debauchery in the harem.

“It’s nothing of great consequence,” Zhu Quan replied with an easy smile, “I simply wish to return to my fief and have come to bid farewell to the Emperor and the Empress Dowager.”

Return to his fief?

Who’s he trying to fool with talk of returning to his fief at this hour of the night? Does he really take me for a fool? Zhou Dexing cursed inwardly, his face immediately growing cold. He bowed again, saying, “Your Highness, this is not the time for jokes. If you truly wish to take your leave of His Majesty and Lady Yang, it would be best to do so in daylight.”

“So, Marquis Jiangxia, you intend to bar me from the palace?” Zhu Quan narrowed his eyes at Zhou Dexing, his smile tinged with mockery.

Zhou Dexing’s heart skipped a beat at the look, but he remained dutiful. “It is late, Your Highness. His Majesty and Lady Yang must be resting. I beg you not to make things difficult for me.”

A cold laugh escaped Zhu Quan. He gestured to his rear.

Deng Zhen immediately dismounted and strode toward Zhou Dexing.

Perhaps it was the oppressive aura emanating from Deng Zhen, but Zhou Dexing involuntarily retreated several steps, his vigilance sharpening as he stared at Zhu Quan. “Your Highness, what is the meaning of this?”

He nearly blurted out that forcing one’s way into the palace was tantamount to rebellion, but managed to restrain himself.

“Don’t be afraid, Marquis Jiangxia,” Zhu Quan said lightly, his eyes flashing with scorn and disdain, “I merely ask Deng Zhen to show you something.”

Zhou Dexing, realizing Zhu Quan did not intend to storm the palace, breathed easier. He thought, At most, it's just an object—no harm in taking a look. He accepted it from Deng Zhen.

But the instant he saw it clearly, he began to tremble uncontrollably, stumbling back as though he might collapse.

“How…how can this be? My son, that wretch, even if he had the boldness of a tiger, would never dare such a thing…”

Zhu Quan, having seized control of the Lijing Gate, had, of course, already obtained evidence of Zhou Ji’s misdeeds in the imperial harem. What Deng Zhen handed over was just a small portion of it.

Yet even this fragment was enough to terrify Zhou Dexing to the point of barely being able to contain himself. As a marquis who had followed Zhu Yuanzhang in founding the dynasty, he knew all too well: whether true or not, if such evidence landed on the Emperor’s desk, his family would be utterly doomed.

Zhu Quan watched Zhou Dexing’s collapse with a faint sneer. “Did you see clearly, Marquis Jiangxia?”

“I…I did,” Zhou Dexing stammered, gazing at Zhu Quan with desperate pleading in his eyes.

“Now I wish to enter the palace to bid farewell to the Emperor and the Empress Dowager. Do you still object?” Zhu Quan’s voice suddenly boomed, as thunderous as a storm.

Though releasing a prince into the palace at midnight would surely earn some punishment from Zhu Yuanzhang, it would be nothing compared to the consequences of what Zhu Quan held in his hands.

Zhou Dexing hesitated only a moment before forcing a fawning smile and bowing. “Your Highness’s filial devotion is most commendable; though it is late, I could never bear to bar you at the gate.”

With the formalities done, he immediately snapped at his men, “Why are you still standing there? Open the gate at once and let His Highness, Prince Ning, enter to fulfill his filial duty!”

“Excellent. You are a man who understands the situation, Marquis Jiangxia.”

With a light laugh, Zhu Quan spurred his dark stallion through the palace gates in grand fashion.

Deng Zhen and the five hundred personal guards followed, displaying an unmistakable arrogance.

Meanwhile—

Inside the palace, in the front hall of Qianqing Palace.

This was where Zhu Yuanzhang usually worked and rested, a place that ought to be bustling with activity. Yet now it was eerily desolate, not a soul in sight.

The vast hall was empty, save for the dragon bed where ‘Zhu Yuanzhang’ lay, clad in a bright red imperial robe, eyes closed as if peacefully asleep.

“Your Highness, Crown Princess—His Highness is inside; I will leave you here.”

A deep voice rang out. Three figures hurried to the doors of Qianqing Palace.

“Commander Jiang, is it true…the Emperor Grandfather has really passed away?”

“Second Prince, would I dare to lie about such a thing?”

At that, the Crown Princess, Lady Lü, standing beside Zhu Yunwen, suddenly wailed, her cries filling the air as she shoved open the palace doors and stumbled inside.

Whether Zhu Yunwen was moved by her weeping or genuinely grieving his grandfather, his own tears soon followed.

Watching the pair’s retreating backs—uncertain whether their sorrow was real or feigned—Jiang Huan pursed his lips and quietly closed the doors behind them.

Not a word of tonight’s events must leak out, or else the Emperor would become the laughingstock of the empire by morning—and Jiang Huan’s own head would be the first to fall.

“Sigh! Your Majesty, this is sheer folly—if word of this feigned death gets out, even if the censors do not denounce you, the people will mock you over their cups and meals.”

As Lady Lü and Zhu Yunwen wept their way into the hall, a voice sounded from behind a wall near the weapons rack.

The speaker was Duke Xin, Tang He, who by rights should be enjoying his retirement in Fengyang, a bead of sweat slipping down his brow.

Beside him stood another Ming noble, Duke Fu Youde, his face etched with resignation.

Only Zhu Yuanzhang, seated between them, wore a broad smile, his eyes fixed on a peephole cleverly crafted into the wall.

Through this hole, he could observe every detail of Qianqing Palace.

Yet after only a few moments, Zhu Yuanzhang’s brows furrowed, a hint of displeasure creeping over him.

“Have I not treated her well these past years?”