Chapter Thirty-Three: First Encounter with Wei Zhongxian

Unable to make sense of it, Zhu Hao waved his hand, dismissing everyone except Gongsun Ce. When the others had left, Zhu Hao asked, “Gongsun, do you think they carried out my orders with genuine effort this time?”

The reason Zhu Hao asked was because he still felt uneasy, fearing that those sent out to search might have been perfunctory and careless. He trusted Gongsun Ce and Shi Qian completely, as their loyalty was absolute. Wei Xiaobao’s loyalty was also at ninety-eight, so there was little concern. The real problem lay with Xie Gang, whose loyalty hovered at fifty, and whose Imperial Guards formed the main force of the search. If Xie Gang wasn’t diligent, then this search would have amounted to nothing at all.

Gongsun Ce, though unaware of the concept of loyalty values, understood Zhu Hao’s meaning at once. He pondered for a while, then replied, “Your Highness, I believe you’re really asking about Commander Xie. He was quite earnest in the search, but he has some complaints about me, thinking he should be in charge and that the whole matter ought to be handed directly to his Imperial Guards. He feels that my involvement—and that of others—is unnecessary and useless.”

Zhu Hao sneered inwardly, cursing, “That Xie Gang fool! No sense of unity, only concerned with his own power and status, insisting everyone must obey him! That pretender! With loyalty at fifty, he’s truly unreliable.”

Despite these thoughts, Zhu Hao knew that only Xie Gang had the means and authority to conduct such a large-scale search. A new idea began to take root: he must build a team of his own, people he could trust. He shouldn’t depend entirely on Xie Gang; with such a force, he could balance and check Xie Gang’s power. Only through balance could talents be united and at ease. Otherwise, with Xie Gang monopolizing authority, Zhu Hao might soon find himself unable to command at all, which was not the outcome he desired.

As Zhu Hao was considering all this, a report came from outside the palace: “The Crown Prince’s attendant requests an audience with the Fifth Prince!”

Zhu Hao thought to himself, “I truly haven’t visited my elder brother lately, all because of that fire incident. I mustn’t let him hold a grudge over this, or, once he ascends the throne, my days of ease will be over!”

With such thoughts, Zhu Hao quickly said, “Let him in at once!”

At his command, his attendant brought in a eunuch who appeared to be around thirty. The eunuch’s features were fine and gentle, with a faint scholarly air, though his eyes bore a subtle, fierce coldness. Since arriving in the Ming court, Zhu Hao had encountered hundreds if not thousands of eunuchs, but never one with such bearing. He mused, “This man is surely no ordinary figure.”

As Zhu Hao was thinking, the eunuch knelt and said, “By order of the Crown Prince, I come to pay respects to the Fifth Prince and wish you health and fortune!”

Zhu Hao smiled at him, “You’re one of my elder brother’s people—so you’re one of us. Rise and speak.”

When the eunuch stood, Zhu Hao continued, “How should I address you, sir? Did my brother send you to deliver some news to me?” Zhu Hao took the opportunity to ask his name, wondering if he might be a famous figure from history whom he could win over. Having a true confidant by his brother’s side would be greatly advantageous.

The eunuch answered, kneeling again, “Your Highness, my humble name is Wei Zhongxian. You can call me ‘Little Wei’. The Crown Prince sent me—”

Zhu Hao never caught the rest, for the name Wei Zhongxian struck him with tremendous force. He could hardly believe that this gentle-looking, smiling, scholar-like man before him would one day become the infamous eunuch who brought disaster upon the Ming dynasty, sowing the seeds of its destruction. The shock was far greater than when he first heard Wei Zhongxian introduce himself.

But since the man claimed that name, Zhu Hao doubted there could be two eunuchs named Wei Zhongxian in the Ming court at this time—such odds were even slimmer than winning the lottery. Now certain that this was indeed the future arch-eunuch, Zhu Hao mused, “Should I just kill him while he’s weak, to spare Ming from his future havoc?”

Yet he ultimately dismissed the idea. Historically, his elder brother trusted Wei Zhongxian deeply, granting him the power to ruin Ming. Zhu Hao didn’t know how much his brother trusted him now, and killing Wei Zhongxian might prove more harmful than useful. Besides, even if his brother didn’t care much for Wei Zhongxian, such an act would be a humiliation for the Crown Prince. Though his brother was timid and their father still lived, Zhu Hao might escape immediate trouble, but if his father died and his brother took the throne, with Empress Guo adding fuel to the fire, Zhu Hao could well face retribution.

Imagining such a scenario, Zhu Hao shivered and thought, “To lose patience over a small matter is to ruin a great plan. Little Wei, now that you’re in my sights, I’ll keep a close watch on you. I refuse to believe you can stir up trouble under my gaze!”

In the Eastern Palace, the Crown Prince seldom had Wei Zhongxian kneel. Now, with Zhu Hao lost in thought, Wei Zhongxian remained kneeling so long his back ached, nearly collapsing. He had to prompt Zhu Hao, “Your Highness…”

Wei Zhongxian’s words snapped Zhu Hao from his reverie. He quickly said, “Ah? Oh! I was distracted just now. What were you saying? What did my brother send you for?”

Wei Zhongxian didn’t believe Zhu Hao had simply drifted off. He could never imagine that his name alone had so shocked Zhu Hao. He thought Zhu Hao was deliberately embarrassing him, and cast a subtle glance, a hint of malice flickering in his eyes—unbeknownst to him, Zhu Hao’s keen perception caught it all.

Zhu Hao saw the malice but said nothing, unconcerned. It wasn’t that he underestimated Wei Zhongxian; rather, even the most capable eunuch’s power was granted by the imperial family. Wei Zhongxian became the all-powerful “Lord of Nine Thousand Years” only because the royals neglected to guard against him.

It’s like someone who, knowing they’ll lose their wallet in a certain place, simply doesn’t take the wallet there or avoids the place altogether. How, then, could they lose it?

The same logic applied: now that Zhu Hao knew the dangers Wei Zhongxian would pose, he could guard against him at every turn. How could Wei Zhongxian ever endanger the Ming dynasty?

With Zhu Hao’s intervention, the infamous “Lord of Nine Thousand Years” would never rise again.

Wei Zhongxian, though dissatisfied, responded obediently, “The Crown Prince sent me to deliver two little gifts to Your Highness, and also to tell you that he misses you. He hopes you’ll visit him soon.” With that, Wei Zhongxian presented two exquisite wooden carvings.

Zhu Hao feigned delight, eagerly accepting the carvings and admiring them for some time. Noticing Wei Zhongxian still kneeling, he smiled, “Little Wei, why are you still kneeling? Come, stand up. I’ve already said you’re one of us, no need for such formality!”

He continued to play with the carvings, then told Wei Zhongxian, “Little Wei, tell my brother that I like these gifts very much. Tomorrow I will come in person to thank him.”

Wei Zhongxian, reassured, replied, “I will certainly convey Your Highness’s words to the Crown Prince. I take my leave.”

Zhu Hao kept his head bowed, busy with the carvings, and didn’t look up as Wei Zhongxian departed, merely waving his hand to dismiss him.

After Wei Zhongxian left, Zhu Hao mused, “This man can hide his emotions, but his moods still show through. Perhaps he’s inherently shallow, or just hasn’t been tempered yet. It’s hard to imagine that the historical ‘Lord of Nine Thousand Years,’ whose mere name inspired dread, could be so unimpressive in person.”

Though Zhu Hao thought this, he wasn’t complacent. He immediately dispatched Shi Qian to monitor Wei Zhongxian closely, and to report any unusual activity at once. Shi Qian accepted the task and set off, while the disgruntled Wei Zhongxian strode toward the Eastern Palace, unaware that Zhu Hao had placed him under strict surveillance.

Nor did Zhu Hao know that Wei Zhongxian’s assessment of him was the exact opposite of his own: “The Fifth Prince is unfathomable, seemingly simple but adept at concealment, like a hidden dragon waiting to rise. He is not to be trusted, best kept at a distance, lest one suffer harm.”

Thus passed another busy day. Luban remained undiscovered, but Zhu Hao had unexpectedly encountered Wei Zhongxian. The wooden carvings and Zhu Youxiao’s message reminded Zhu Hao that he must visit the Eastern Palace tomorrow.

That night, the moon shone bright and the stars were sparse, and nothing more was said.