The Company

Chapter 35: The Five-Brightness Fan

Year 1371, Outside Huangjue Temple

Zhu Yuanzhang glared irritably at the pitch-black mountain forest. The imperial guards beside him had already received his harsh scolding - so many people actually couldn't keep watch over a single monk.

"Search quickly! He couldn't have gone far!" Zhu Yuanzhang was furious. That monk was injured, and moreover, in the dark night, the candlelight was so conspicuous.

The guards extinguished their torches one after another, concentrating on searching for that faint candlelight in the deep mountain forest.

Zhu Yuanzhang gazed at this silent mountain forest, listening to the rustling sound of night wind passing through branches by his ears, slowly furrowing his brows.

He would always remember what he had secretly witnessed in the Buddhist temple during his youth.

The curling smoke from an incense candle gathered in the air to form a graceful woman of peerless beauty. And overhearing the words she spoke was what enabled him to achieve today's glory, becoming the ruler of the world.

He was already the most noble man in the world, so why wouldn't that woman come out to see him?

It was all that Little Monk's fault!

Zhu Yuanzhang completely failed to realize that the Little Monk he spoke of, though much younger than him, was actually his senior in monastic lineage.

Or perhaps he did realize, but simply didn't care.

Because he was now the emperor, the supreme ruler of the world, no longer a monk. Even his former master would absolutely dare not discuss any seniority with him. Just as his emotions were surging, Zhu Yuanzhang caught a glimpse of candlelight flashing not far away and immediately wanted to order the guards to pursue it. But as soon as he spoke, he realized that the guards beside him, probably wanting to atone for their failure, had all entered the mountain forest to search, leaving no one behind.

Just as he was about to fly into a rage, Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly restrained his anger. The matter of Zhu was naturally better known by fewer people. And as for such a severely injured Little Monk, couldn't he, a battle-hardened veteran, handle him?

Thinking this, Zhu Yuanzhang tightened his grip on the willow-leaf sword in his hand and chased after that flicker of candlelight.

In the rugged mountain forest, that glimmer of candlelight flickered in and out behind dense trees, like a dancing spirit. The more Zhu Yuanzhang chased, the more alarmed he became - the candlelight always maintained a certain distance from him. His speed wasn't slow, so how could an injured, near-death monk move this fast?

Just as Zhu Yuanzhang almost thought this was will-o'-the-wisp and planned to stop and summon the guards, that glimmer of candlelight unexpectedly stopped without warning.

The warm, dim candlelight burned silently in the completely dark mountain forest. Remembering that beautiful woman from his memory, Zhu Yuanzhang's heart raced wildly. As if bewitched, he pushed aside the branches and slowly approached.

The closer he got, the more astonished Zhu Yuanzhang became, because he finally saw clearly that beside the incense candle, a Crimson Dragon was actually hovering in the air.

In the dark night, this incense candle was held in the Crimson Dragon's mouth, its dragon body constantly swaying in the night.

In that instant, Zhu Yuanzhang thought of countless legends of divine miracles - could it be that he was truly the Son of the Dragon?

Suppressing the fear and excitement in his heart, Zhu Yuanzhang took a few more steps closer before realizing that the Crimson Dragon wasn't real, but embroidered on a black sleeve. Red threads on black fabric. Due to the exquisite embroidery, it looked completely real at first glance.The lifelike crimson dragon coiled along the visitor's right arm, its tail embroidered precisely at the shoulder while its head adorned the cuff of the sleeve. It appeared ready to soar through clouds and mist at any moment. As the night wind incessantly rustled the long sleeves, the distant silhouette resembled a serpentine dragon undulating in motion.

Zhu Yuanzhang felt both disappointment and relief wash over him instantly. This complex emotion swiftly transformed into rage as he rebuked the figure without courtesy: "Who are you? How dare you wear the dragon robe privately? Do you know this is a capital offense?" Zhu Yuanzhang's temper flared violently. Compared to the crimson dragon on this man's black robe, the dragon on his own imperial garment seemed as lowly as pigs and dogs—utterly incomparable.

In response to the emperor's towering fury, the figure in the darkness chuckled softly and retorted, "And who are you? Who granted you the authority to wear that dragon robe?"

These words struck Zhu Yuanzhang like a muffled thunderclap, causing him to jolt abruptly.

Since ascending the throne, the deepest insecurity buried in his heart had been an indelible sense of inferiority.

He had once been a beggar, then a monk, yet now he was the emperor of the Great Ming Dynasty.

Though his ministers bowed and scraped before him, who knew whether they secretly mocked him relentlessly or conspired to usurp his throne?

This was why he needed that incense candle—to rely on extraordinary power for peace of mind.

Zhu Yuanzhang took a deep breath, only then realizing that this person, who shouldn't have been here at all, had his entire face shrouded in darkness. Logically, with the incense candle in his hand, it defied natural laws that no light fell upon his features. Watching the calm flame burning steadily despite the howling night wind, Zhu Yuanzhang deduced that perhaps this man was the true owner of the candle, not that dull and foolish Little Monk.

Perhaps this was why he wore the red dragon robe with such unflinching boldness.

Recalling countless previous attempts to hold the candle, only to be inexplicably burned by its flame, Zhu Yuanzhang released his grip from the willow-leaf dagger at his waist. Clasping his hands respectfully, he spoke earnestly: "Chongba has acted rudely and offended you, sir. But I have long yearned for this incense candle—I beg you to part with it."

The candle flame flickered once, decidedly not due to the night wind.

"This candle has no connection to you. Do not force what cannot be."

The voice from the darkness was placid. Only then did Zhu Yuanzhang notice how young it sounded—likely no older than twenty.

Zhu Yuanzhang would never let such an opportunity slip. Not daring to use the imperial "We," he forced out through gritted teeth: "If you insist on taking the candle, Chongba cannot stop you. But that Little Monk..." He deliberately drew out the words, satisfied to see the candle flame tremble violently.

"What do you want then?" The man's tone carried a faint resignation.

"I leave it entirely to your discretion," Zhu Yuanzhang replied with exaggerated cheerfulness. The unspoken implication carried a rogueish undertone—essentially declaring himself reasonable, yet insisting all matters required fairness. Taking the candle was permissible, but only if something of comparable value was offered in exchange.Zhu Yuanzhang spoke with righteous confidence and unwavering conviction, but inwardly his heart was drumming nervously. Unable to see the other's expression in the darkness, he could only speculate anxiously. The flickering candlelight mirrored his unsettled emotions, trembling just like his restless heart. Fortunately, his suffering didn't last long. After a brief moment, the man sighed deeply and pulled a slender object from his robe, handing it over.

By the candlelight, Zhu Yuanzhang saw it was a folding fan with unusually ivory-white ribs. He instinctively accepted it, finding it surprisingly heavy. The fan ribs felt smooth and cool to the touch, making it hard to put down.

"This is..."

"The earliest fans weren't for cooling but were symbols of power made from reeds, used by rulers to display their status and privilege as ceremonial fans," the man explained slowly, his clear voice drifting unpredictably in the night breeze. "The Five Brilliances Fan was created by Emperor Shun. After receiving Shun's abdication and expanding his vision, he sought worthy men to assist him, thus creating the Five Brilliances Fan."

"Ahem, sir, although Chongba's knowledge is limited, I know the Five Brilliances Fan should be a large handheld fan, while this is just a folding fan!" Suppressing his dissatisfaction, Zhu Yuanzhang slowly unfolded the fan. The ribs were substantial, and the surface was made of gold-flecked silk, extremely luxurious. As the fan opened, a perfectly square character "Ming" (Brilliance) appeared before Zhu Yuanzhang.

The large fan surface bore only this single character, with the reverse side blank. Yet Zhu Yuanzhang felt an extraordinary fondness for it, as the dynasty he founded was named "Ming" (Brilliance).

"Five Brilliances represent illumination in all directions. This Five Brilliances Fan isn't the original one, but its ribs are made from remnants of that ancient fan. Whoever wields this Five Brilliances Fan can discern the truth in others' words. I believe this fan will suit your needs better than the Mermaid Candle," the man said calmly.

"So miraculous?" Zhu Yuanzhang's heart leaped. They say human hearts are hard to fathom, and what he needed most was to know whether those around him matched their words with actions. His eyes shifting thoughtfully, Zhu Yuanzhang immediately questioned the man: "True or false? Then I must test it. Sir, may I ask who you are?"

In the darkness, the man smiled wryly and said, "I am merely an antique dealer."

Zhu Yuanzhang was taken aback—this answer was beyond his expectations. Moreover, the Five Brilliances Fan in his hand showed no unusual changes. Frowning, he pressed further: "Then why have you come here?"

The man sighed again, his voice trailing faintly: "Just to retrieve the Mermaid Candle...Zhu Yuanzhang had been closely watching the Five Brilliances Fan and was astonished to see the character "Ming" gradually fading from the gold-flecked silk!

So the fan showed no reaction to truth, but the "ming" character disappeared when lies were spoken?

Zhu Yuanzhang quickly looked up, only to find the man had already departed. In the distance, he saw the glimmer of candlelight as if being slowly carried away into the darkness by a Crimson Dragon.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! We've captured the Little Monk!" The imperial guards rushed up, sweating profusely, to report. They had been terrified to realize they'd lost track of the emperor. Fortunately, His Majesty hadn't gone far.

When Zhu Yuanzhang looked again, the candlelight had completely vanished into the dark mountain forests, no longer visible.Waving his folding fan with spirited enthusiasm, Zhu Yuanzhang gestured cheerfully and said, "Forget it, release him back to Huangjue Temple and treat him well!"

Year 1390, Imperial Palace in Yingtian Prefecture

Zhu Yunwen stepped leisurely out of the Ben Hall and passed through the Zuoyou Gate. After crossing the Huagai Hall, he waited for a while beside this pavilion-like structure with its overhanging eaves on all sides and gilded circular roof. Finally, he saw the doors of the Fengtian Hall swing open, and the princes and ministers who had just concluded the morning court session filed out one by one.

Observing their expressions—some trembling with fear, others relieved to have survived, and still others dazed—Zhu Yunwen sighed inwardly.

His imperial grandfather had recently dealt with Li Shanchang, accusing him of treason. Though only fourteen, Zhu Yunwen knew that the seventy-seven-year-old man had been living in quiet retirement after stepping down as chancellor, focusing on a peaceful old age and harboring no thoughts of rebellion. Yet not long ago, Li Shanchang was denounced by a household servant and executed. The case implicated several powerful marquises, and after investigation by the Embroidered Uniform Guard, it spiraled out of control, ultimately involving over thirty thousand officials.

It was said that the executioners had worn out several blades, and the blood spilled on the execution grounds soaked so deeply into the stone bricks that it could not be washed away. Even the falling white snow could not conceal the gruesome scene, staining the ground a dark red upon contact.

The entire court of the Ming Empire was terrified into silence. This was not without precedent: a decade earlier, the highly influential Hu Weiyong case had led to fifteen thousand executions. The current Li Shanchang case implicated even more. No one knew how long the emperor’s wrath would last. It was rumored that ministers attending court each day would bid farewell to their families as if it were their last, unsure if they would return alive.

Zhu Yunwen had been meticulously educated by his father, Zhu Biao, since childhood, emulating his words and actions and believing that benevolence and virtue were the means to govern the world. In his heart, he could not agree with his imperial grandfather’s actions.

Naturally, his father could not agree either. Zhu Yunwen had heard that yesterday, in the imperial study, his father had confronted the emperor over the Li Shanchang case. Though Zhu Yunwen wished to stay uninvolved, today several students were absent from the Ben Hall, including his friend Cheng Cong, which made him unable to remain passive.

After the court ministers dispersed to their respective offices, Zhu Yunwen confirmed that no one had been executed in a fit of rage during the morning session, indicating that his imperial grandfather was in a good mood. Relieved, he turned and took a path toward the imperial study. Along the way, eunuchs and maids he encountered stepped aside and bowed their heads in respect, while not a single guard dared to stop him. Those serving in the palace seemed to feel the turmoil of the outer court more acutely—if high-ranking nobles could not guarantee their safety, how much more precarious was the position of those of lower status.

Zhu Yunwen proceeded unimpeded to the imperial study, where the emperor’s most trusted eunuch, Er Nie, stood guard outside. Zhu Yunwen greeted him softly, and Er Nie, appreciating his respectful demeanor, gently invited him to wait in the warm chamber before hurrying in to announce his arrival. Standing outside the carved lacquer screen inlaid with precious stones, Zhu Yunwen could faintly hear his imperial grandfather’s voice. Soon, Er Nie emerged and nodded to him.

Reading Er Nie’s calm expression, Zhu Yunwen deduced that the emperor was indeed in a good mood today. Reassured, he entered to pay his respects to his imperial grandfather.Zhu Yuanzhang was now sixty-three years old, an age of knowing heaven's mandate, yet he remained vigorous and attended to every matter personally. After paying his respects, Zhu Yunwen looked up and found his father indeed present in the imperial study. Seated behind the imperial desk, his imperial grandfather still held his folding fan, never parting with it even in the bitter cold of winter.

"Yunwen, you've come at the right time," Zhu Yuanzhang said slowly, swaying the fan in his hand. The breeze it stirred made his beard drift gently, his eyes slightly closed, appearing calm and serene. But those familiar with him knew the master of the Great Ming Empire was far from harmless. He continued leisurely, "You are fourteen this year and have studied in the Grand Academy for so long. It's time you understood court affairs. What do you think of the Li Shanchang matter?"

This was an extremely difficult question, but Zhu Yunwen, having come here voluntarily, had prepared for his imperial grandfather to bring it up. Meeting his father's worried gaze, he replied calmly, "Your Majesty's actions have their own reasoning, but implicating too many people may disrupt the harmony of heaven."

Zhu Yuanzhang's fan-waving hand paused slightly, and his half-closed eyes opened a slit, revealing no emotion.

At that moment, Zhu Yunwen noticed something on the imperial desk that shouldn't have been there.

This was the most luxurious palace of the Great Ming Empire, with exquisite dougong brackets and gold-inlaid caisson ceilings atop the hall. The pillars supporting the double-eaved roof were coiled with golden Dragons, underfoot lay Persian long-pile carpets, and on the desk were a Jiangzhou Chengni inkstone, a Peng-style Huzhou brush, a newly fired Hongwu blue-and-white porcelain brush holder from the Hongwu era, and countless other priceless artifacts. Yet in such an environment, a thorny branch lay on the imperial desk, strikingly out of place.

Why was this object here? Naturally, his imperial grandfather had sent for it. And why had his imperial grandfather sought it? Clearly, he intended to convey something.

Zhu Yunwen, being highly intelligent, didn't think his imperial grandfather meant for someone to offer a humble apology. After brief reflection, he arrived at an answer.

Zhu Yuanzhang had been observing Zhu Yunwen's expression and asked, "Do you grasp the deeper meaning of this object?"

The Crown Prince Zhu Biao, standing nearby, grew tense. He and the emperor had just returned from court and hadn't discussed this. He could discern the emperor's intent, but fearing his young son might err in his response, he watched anxiously.

Zhu Yunwen replied gently and elegantly, "The thorn branch Your Majesty selected likely represents the Great Ming Empire. As the empire is newly established, its foundations are unstable and fraught with thorns. Your Majesty's intention must be to remove the thorns from this branch, making it easier for my father to hold without injury." His pre-adolescent voice still carried a youthful timbre, yet it was remarkably soothing.

Crown Prince Zhu Biao's anxiety eased, and he rose to bow respectfully, saying, "Your Majesty's thoughtful consideration fills your son with reverence."

Zhu Yuanzhang, unconcerned with Zhu Biao's reaction at the moment, closed his fan and pointed it toward Zhu Yunwen, asking, "Yunwen, is there something more you wish to say?"Zhu Yunwen lowered his gaze, clenching his fists tightly as the stinging pain gave him strength. He heard his slightly trembling voice echo through the grand hall: "Grandfather Emperor, but how can you be certain that what you cut down are all thorns, and not future branches that may sprout, or even potential trunks?"

Crown Prince Zhu Biao was taken aback, his emotions growing complex—a mixture of worry and pride.

After all, such words could only come from a young man as fearless as a newborn calf facing a tiger.

Zhu Yuanzhang showed no anger. Instead, he looked appreciatively at his grandson standing in the center of the hall. Instead of answering the question, he posed another: "Have you come here today for your father? For those officials? Or for some other purpose?"

Zhu Yunwen stiffened slightly. He could have claimed he came out of concern that his father might anger the Emperor, or out of compassion for the Emperor accumulating too much bloodshed against heavenly harmony. He could even have refuted him with lengthy passages from the Four Books and Five Classics. But then he suddenly recalled something his father once told him:

"Never lie before your Grandfather Emperor."

So, Zhu Yunwen bowed his head and admitted honestly, "My classmate Cheng Cong didn't attend the Great Foundation Hall today..."

Zhu Yuanzhang gently unfolded his folding fan, seemingly pleased with his grandson's answer. A slight smile touched his lips as he nodded. "I understand. I will have him return to class tomorrow." After a pause, he added solemnly, "As for how to distinguish thorns from branches—someday, I will make sure you understand."

Zhu Yunwen trembled at these words, then grasped the unspoken implications in his grandfather's speech. He looked up uncertainly and exchanged a glance with his father; both saw the same spark of understanding in each other's eyes.

Year 1398, Imperial Study

Zhu Yunwen sat behind the imperial desk with mixed emotions. He had always known he would occupy this position someday, but he never expected it to happen so soon.

His father, Zhu Biao, had coveted this chair for twenty-five years but passed away from illness six years prior. Defying all opposition, the Emperor had named him, Zhu Yunwen, Crown Grandson. Shortly after the Emperor's recent demise, the throne of the Great Ming Empire had fallen to him.

At just twenty-one years old, Zhu Yunwen felt the weight on his shoulders immensely heavy. How could someone so young wield control over the empire as his grandfather had?

Zhu Yunwen stared at the folding fan lying quietly on the imperial desk. Before his death, his grandfather had fully revealed the fan's origin and secrets to him. This had made him understand why the Emperor was so convinced that those he executed were merely thorns, not branches.

Yet, he was not eager to use this Five-Clarity Fan.

Having grown up in the imperial palace, he had witnessed too much deceit and intrigue.

Here, lying had become second nature—because sometimes, without lies, one simply couldn't survive.

Moreover, even when speaking the truth, it was often mistaken for falsehood.

And knowing whether others spoke truth or lies, knowing the whole truth—was that a blessing or a curse?

Thinking of his grandfather, Zhu Yunwen felt that he had not lived a happy life."Mingzhe, do you wish to know whether others speak truth or falsehood?" Zhu Yunwen lifted her head, gazing at Cheng Cong who was accompanying her in reviewing memorials at her side. Mingzhe was his courtesy name, derived from the phrase in Zhong Lun: "The wise man is called Cong."

Cheng Cong was about the same age as Zhu Yunwen. His father had originally served as a Deputy Administrator in the Ministry of Personnel but was implicated in the Li Shanchang case. If not for Zhu Yunwen's courageous plea for mercy at that time, Cheng Cong and his family would likely have joined the ranks of the unjustly executed souls. After Zhu Yunwen ascended the throne, Cheng Cong was appointed as a Reader in the Grand Secretariat. Though not a high-ranking position, it allowed him to serve directly before the emperor. This honor did not make Cheng Cong overstep his bounds; instead, he became even more cautious and prudent. After a moment of contemplation, he set down the memorial in his hand and respectfully said, "Your Majesty, setting aside the saying 'water too clear breeds no fish,' how does one determine what is false? If I were aware of the severe drought in Hebei but reported that all was well, that would be a falsehood. But if I were unaware of the drought, and local officials reported that all was well, and I presented such a memorial to Your Majesty, would that be considered false or true?"

Though Cheng Cong's words were somewhat convoluted, they struck Zhu Yunwen like a sudden revelation. No wonder his grandfather had executed so many people—it was unlikely that so many would dare to deceive the emperor. Aside from his grandfather's intent to make an example of non-imperial founding meritorious officials, most of those executed were innocent victims. Moreover, deception and concealment were an unspoken rule in officialdom.

Due to his impoverished youth, the Hongwu Emperor harbored a deep-seated hatred for corrupt officials and held an inherent distrust of bureaucrats—a trait that persisted even after he became emperor. Officials received a meager monthly salary of just seven dan and five dou of grain. Out of curiosity, Zhu Yunwen had once inquired and learned that one dan of grain was equivalent to five qian of silver, meaning two dan equaled one tael of silver—a pitifully small amount. This was especially inadequate since officials had large households to support, including servants and retainers. Under such circumstances, taking risks became a matter of survival.

Even with the Hongwu Emperor's unprecedented severity toward corruption—including the brutal punishment of flaying and stuffing the skin with grass—corrupt officials persisted like weeds sprouting after a wildfire. Why was this?

Zhu Yunwen's mind wandered, but Cheng Cong disapproved of his distraction in such a situation. Adjusting his robe, Cheng Cong respectfully advised, "Your Majesty, a decision must be made regarding the matter of the Prince of Yan."

A bitter smile touched Zhu Yunwen's lips as he reflected: While his grandfather had wielded the executioner's blade against non-imperial meritorious officials, he had generously enfeoffed imperial princes. Of the twenty-five princes enfeoffed during his grandfather's reign, twenty-four were his uncles. With veteran generals and officials largely purged, military power fell into the hands of these princes, each commanding their own armies and wielding significant authority—almost like sovereigns of minor empires. Meanwhile, Zhu Yunwen felt like a vulnerable lamb surrounded by a pack of wolves. No matter how high and sturdy the walls of Nanjing were built, they offered little protection.

His fourth uncle, the Prince of Yan Zhu Di, was enfeoffed in Beijing (Shuntian Prefecture), but his three sons remained in the capital, Nanjing. Officially, they were studying in the imperial academy, but in reality, they were hostages. Recently, Zhu Di had submitted a memorial claiming to be critically ill and begging Zhu Yunwen to allow his three sons to return to his domain so he could see them one last time before his death.Whether to agree to the Fourth Uncle Zhu Di's request was a matter of heated debate within the court. Minister of War Qi Qin strongly advocated detaining the three sons of the Prince of Yan as hostages to restrain the prince's actions. However, the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices argued that seizing his sons would hand Zhu Di a pretext to justify his rebellion. At this moment, Cheng Cong reminded him that a decision must be made now, as further delay would only worsen the situation.

Zhu Yunwen looked at the memorial Cheng Cong had presented to him and smiled sardonically.

He had never understood why his grandfather had chosen him as the heir. In many ways, his fourth uncle Zhu Di resembled his grandfather more closely—decisive in both military command and governance. Yet his grandfather had directly passed the throne to him, even though, with the second and third uncles deceased, convention dictated that the fourth uncle should have succeeded.

It was only after learning of the existence of the Wuming Fan that he understood his grandfather's choice. His grandfather must have known that the fourth uncle was not a man of sincerity. Moreover, looking back now, it seemed all too convenient that the two uncles, both in their prime and older than the fourth uncle, had passed away before his grandfather.

Zhu Yunwen sighed deeply. In his grandfather's hands, the Wuming Fan might have been a powerful asset. But in his own hands, even though it could reveal that his fourth uncle's claim of serious illness was a lie, no one could tell him what he should actually do.

"Mingzhe, draft an edict for me," Zhu Yunwen said. "State that I permit my three cousins to return to attend to their father's illness. Then dispatch Zhang Bing, the Left Administration Commissioner of Beiping, and Xie Gui, the Regional Military Commissioner, to visit on my behalf." A mocking expression flickered across his face as he thought of his ever-dignified fourth uncle forced to feign illness, giving him a private sense of satisfaction. But the smile soon faded. He could only resort to such petty mischief, utterly helpless in the face of the wolves circling him.

As his gaze fell upon the Wuming Fan on the imperial desk, Zhu Yunwen silently lamented:

Grandfather! A fan that can distinguish truth from falsehood may add flowers to brocade, but it cannot provide relief in times of need...

Imperial Study, 1402 AD

Zhu Yunwen sat alone behind the imperial desk, his eyes filled with desolation. Outside, palace maids and eunuchs hurried about, their movements punctuated by occasional weeping and arguments. The once solemn and silent palace was now steeped in sorrow and despair. At times, the distant sounds of clashing weapons and battle cries could be heard.

It seems I am truly unfit to be an emperor, Zhu Yunwen thought, a self-mocking expression crossing his handsome features. He had occupied the throne for four years, and it appeared it was time for a change.

For the past four years, he had been locked in a struggle with his fourth uncle, Zhu Di. Now, at this juncture, he could not help but admire his opponent.

As he reflected on his brief reign, Zhu Yunwen heard the sound of running footsteps outside. He looked up to see Cheng Cong enter in haste, bypassing formalities as he urgently reported, "Your Majesty! Duke of Cao Li Jinglong and Prince of Gu Zhu Hui have opened the Jinchuan Gate, welcoming the traitorous Prince of Yan into the capital!"

Upon hearing this, Zhu Yunwen's smile did not fade but instead deepened with resignation. He nodded as if everything had become clear and said, "No wonder the sounds of battle outside have ceased. So that is the reason."Cheng Cong was startled by his expression. When he looked around and saw the imperial study stripped bare of all antique artifacts, he exclaimed in astonishment, "Your Majesty! This... this..." Then, recalling the eunuchs and palace maids he had seen outside carrying bundles as they fled the palace, he burst into fury, "Those servants! They're simply... simply..." Being a refined man, even in a moment of shock and rage, he couldn't force out a single curse.

Zhu Yunwen waved his hand and said, "I allowed them to take the things and leave. The Four Books teach tolerance—why make them accompany me on this final journey?"

Cheng Cong's heart trembled, realizing that Zhu Yunwen had resolved to die. He stepped forward urgently, "Your Majesty! You must leave too! With the city in chaos, you could seek refuge with one of the other feudal lords..."

Zhu Yunwen smiled faintly and raised a hand to stop him, saying calmly, "A lamb remains prey to wolves wherever it goes. What difference does it make to escape from one wolf's jaws only to fall into another's?" Before Cheng Cong could protest further, he continued, "Mingzhe, tell me truthfully—am I fundamentally unsuited to be emperor?"

Cheng Cong froze at these words, noticing that Zhu Yunwen had abandoned the imperial "We" in his speech.

Gazing at the young emperor seated behind the imperial desk, his smile tinged with fragility, Cheng Cong felt a profound sorrow. "Your Majesty."

"Don't speak falsehoods now—I can always tell when you're being genuine." Zhu Yunwen picked up the folding fan on the desk with a wry smile. Of all the items in the imperial study that could be moved, he had gifted everything to the attending servants. The only thing remaining was this five-brightness fan.

Cheng Cong straightened his expression. "Your Majesty, I shall always speak truthfully to you." Seeing that Zhu Yunwen wasn't sending him away but instead engaging in conversation, his panic gradually subsided into calmness, restoring his usual composure. He adjusted his disheveled court robes and spoke with the same reverence as during their usual audiences: "Your benevolent governance has seen the Ministry of Justice report prisoners reduced to thirty percent of the era of the Great Ancestor in the first year of Jianwen. In the second year, you decreed the reduction of heavy taxes in Suzhou, Songjiang, Jiaxing, and Huzhou—no more than one dou per mu, earning universal praise from the people. The reestablishment of the Six Ministries..."

Cheng Cong's clear voice echoed quietly through the imperial study, creating a world utterly detached from the chaos and noise outside the palace.

Zhu Yunwen listened silently as Cheng Cong recounted his achievements one by one. When the study regained its quietude, he sighed deeply, "Too short... only four years..."

"Indeed, too short. And the primary reason is that the founding emperor did leave Your Majesty a thornbush with its spikes removed, but he never anticipated that a thornbush without protective spikes would be easily snatched away by others." Standing in the empty study, Cheng Cong voiced thoughts he had never dared express before. Zhu Yunwen had once confided in him about the thornbush metaphor, which had left a deep impression on him.

Zhu Yunwen stared blankly at the five-brightness fan in his hand. He didn't need to open it to know Cheng Cong spoke the truth.

Just as Cheng Cong had declared his sincerity, Zhu Yunwen had never doubted a single word from him. This included all the Confucian scholars around him—upright and outspoken in their remonstrations. Throughout these four years, Zhu Yunwen had never once unfolded this five-brightness fan."Your Majesty, there is still time. You should leave..." Cheng Cong, noticing Zhu Yunwen's wavering expression, immediately urged, "Even if... you dislike being a lamb, you don't have to be one..."

Zhu Yunwen understood his meaning, a flicker of light passing through his eyes, but it soon vanished.

Raised deep within the palace since childhood, he had long been designated as the future crown prince. His daily studies consisted of the Four Books and Five Classics and principles of statecraft. He didn't know what else he could do if he weren't emperor.

Cheng Cong, however, seized upon that fleeting glimmer and continued persuading, "Your Majesty, you and I are of similar build. Later, you can wear my court robes and leave. My servant awaits at the Western Corner Gate."

"And what about you?" Zhu Yunwen didn't answer but instead asked in return.

"I will set fire to this palace shortly. No one will see my face then." Cheng Cong spoke with utter calm, showing no regard for life or death. In fact, he felt it was a blessing earned over lifetimes to be able to devote his loyalty to the young emperor before him.

Zhu Yunwen chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, I still have tasks for you to complete. Come closer."

With that, he slowly unfolded the five-paneled fan in his hand.

Zhu Di sat triumphantly atop his horse, deliberately tightening the reins and slowing his pace as he passed the officials prostrating in reverence.

This feeling was damn good!

Seeing the familiar capital of Yingtian Prefecture open its gates to him without resistance, Zhu Di—were it not for his stern and unyielding image—would have laughed heartily and roared, "I have finally returned!"

Ah, no. Perhaps he should refer to himself as "zhen" now—the imperial "We" have finally returned!

As Zhu Di indulged in these secret fantasies, his peripheral vision caught his second son, Zhu Gaoxu, riding closely behind him instead of his eldest son, Zhu Gaochi.

During the Jingnan Campaign, it was his second son who had contributed the most. At the final moment when Zhu Di was about to agree to divide the realm with Zhu Yunwen along the Yangtze River, this second son arrived with troops and crossed the river in one vigorous push. His merit was significant, so Zhu Di had made him a promise on the battlefield: since his elder brother Zhu Gaochi was often ill, if they won the empire, he would be named crown prince.

Zhu Di naturally knew these words were merely to please his son. In any dynasty, the appointment or removal of a crown prince could shake the foundations of the state. If his eldest son Zhu Gaochi committed no major faults, the throne would rightfully pass to him.

As for that promise—it was a lie.

Zhu Di had told countless lies in his life. His mother was of lowly birth, yet he publicly claimed to be the son of Empress Ma. He spoke only what his father wished to hear, made grand promises to his subordinates, and felt no great psychological burden lying to his own son. Thinking coldly thus, he cast an approving smile at his second son, Zhu Gaoxu, whose face was flushed with excitement as he rode closely behind.

Misinterpreting this gaze, Zhu Gaoxu grew even more fervent.

Just as Zhu Di was about to offer a few words of encouragement, a commotion erupted ahead. He turned back in displeasure, only to stare in shock at a thick column of smoke rising in the distance—precisely from the direction of the imperial palace.Immediately whipping his horse into a gallop, Zhu Di raced forward, ordering people to extinguish the fire at once. Even without sending anyone to investigate, he knew it must be his incompetent nephew Zhu Yunwen setting the blaze himself. He didn’t want this nephew to die just like that—he still intended to legitimately receive the throne through abdication from him, forcing him to admit his mistakes. Only then would his four-year-long Jingnan Campaign be judged in history as a righteous war.

But as he gazed upon the roaring flames already engulfing the palace, Zhu Di nearly ground his teeth to dust. The imperial palace was built entirely of wood—once a fire started, it was nearly impossible to put out.

Everyone was at a loss, silently watching the magnificent palace burn to ashes. No one spoke; they could all feel that this fire was consuming the old era of the Ming Empire.

Zhu Di sent people to search for Zhu Yunwen, but found nothing. All evidence suggested that Zhu Yunwen was likely inside the burning palace.

"Father! Someone claims to have a message from the Jianwen Emperor." The fire had raged for an entire day, and as the sun set and the flames began to die down, Zhu Gaoxiu dragged a man over. Their Yan faction had long ceased referring to Zhu Yunwen as "His Majesty," calling him only the Jianwen Emperor.

Zhu Di looked closely and saw a young man wearing a sixth-rank court robe. After a moment’s recollection, he remembered this was Cheng Cong, a cabinet reader who was extremely close to Zhu Yunwen. The man appeared disheveled, his court robes in disarray—likely searched by Zhu Gaoxiu for hidden weapons before being brought over. Narrowing his eyes, Zhu Di spoke with imposing authority, "Oh? What message did he leave?"

"Your Highness, Prince of Yan, please dismiss your attendants. What I am about to say should not be heard by others." Cheng Cong shook off Zhu Gaoxiu’s grip, his expression calm. He straightened his court robes with solemn dignity.

Unconcerned about any threat from this scholar who couldn’t even strangle a chick, Zhu Di waved his subordinates away, even sending off the reluctant Zhu Gaoxiu. Then he fixed his gaze on the composed young man before him, his eyes falling on the folding fan in the man’s hand. It looked familiar—he recognized it as the very fan his late father had never been without.

Probably another treasure-offering sycophant trying to save his skin, Zhu Di thought, recalling the nobles and officials who had earlier opened gates to welcome him, hoping to claim credit for supporting his ascension. A trace of contempt entered his gaze as he said dismissively, "Speak."

Ignoring Zhu Di’s expression, Cheng Cong calmly explained the origin of the Wuming Fan in his hand and its magical ability to distinguish truth from lies.

Zhu Di’s face shifted through several emotions. Now he understood why his father had disliked him until death—the problem lay with this Wuming Fan! No wonder his elder brother Zhu Biao had been so honest, never telling lies—he must have known the fan’s secret. Zhu Di had always thought it was just his brother’s nature!As a ruler himself, he naturally understood the immense significance of this Five-Luminance Fan to him. Unable to contain his exhilaration any longer, he threw back his head and laughed heartily, "Your achievement is monumental! What reward do you desire? Once I formally ascend the throne, I shall grant you a lavish reward!" While speaking, he unceremoniously took the fan from Cheng Cong's hands, inwardly resolving that such a crucial secret must never be known by another soul—this young man before him must be silenced for good.

Only the dead can truly keep secrets.

By then, the fire in the distant palace had nearly burned out. A guard reported discovering a charred body in the ashes, unrecognizable as either Emperor Jianwen or not.

Zhu Di slowly unfolded the fan in his hand and asked Cheng Cong, "Do you know if that corpse is my nephew?"

Cheng Cong straightened his posture, a faint, proud smile gracing his lips. "Your Highness, the Prince of Yan, are you aware that the Emperor knew the secret of this Five-Luminance Fan? Yet throughout his four-year reign, why did he never once unfold it?"

Zhu Di furrowed his brow but offered no reply, inwardly scoffing at the notion that Zhu Yunwen could resist using such a treasure if he possessed it.

Cheng Cong gave him a penetrating look, his lips curling into a cold smirk—mocking either his arrogance or his ignorance—and said softly, "Because only those who delight in lies would doubt the truth in others' words."

Zhu Di froze, then a wave of humiliation and fury threatened to overwhelm him. Casting aside all decorum, he roared, "Speak! Is Zhu Yunwen in that hall or not?" His gaze fixed intently on the Five-Luminance Fan, ready to test Cheng Cong's veracity.

But Cheng Cong had no intention of answering. Without hesitation, he hurled himself toward the southern wall of the palace.

The guards nearby, caught off guard by his sudden action, failed to stop him in time.

Zhu Di stared impassively at the young cabinet attendant lying limp beneath the wall, grinding out the command through clenched teeth: "Search."

2013 AD

"Ah... That Zhu Di forgot—even with a Five-Luminance Fan that tests truth, people can still refuse to answer!" The rabbit plush inhabited by the Doctor had been dressed in a thick red cotton coat. Though merely a plush toy immune to winter's chill, with snowflakes drifting outside, it seemed fitting to dress for the season. The buttons, however, were a bit too tight. Struggling with his newly rounded form, the Doctor shuffled from the countertop toward the Boss, gesturing for help with the stubborn buttons.

Though puzzled how a plush could feel stifled, the Boss set down the folding fan he was polishing and undid the buttons for the Doctor.

"Whew, that's much better." The Doctor wiggled his long bunny ears and resumed critiquing the earlier tale. "I suppose Emperor Yongle, Zhu Di, carried that Five-Luminance Fan everywhere afterward, never letting it leave his side? No wonder he and his father Zhu Yuanzhang were both bloodthirsty tyrants. During the early Ming dynasty, only Emperor Hui's four-year reign offered officials respite—every other era was a river of blood! And Zhu Di even invented the 'extermination of ten clans,' outdoing the 'nine familial exterminations.' How... formidable."The Boss offered no comment, as he did not believe everything was caused by him giving Zhu Yuanzhang the Five-Brightness Fan. Even without the Five-Brightness Fan, the slaughter would still have occurred. Just as Cheng Cong had said, only those who enjoy telling lies would doubt whether others’ words are true or false. Different objects serve different purposes in different people’s hands. In Zhu Yunwen’s hands, this Five-Brightness Fan was merely an ordinary folding fan.

Seeing the Boss remain silent, the Doctor finally couldn’t hold back and asked the biggest question on his mind, “Boss! Since you managed to fake Emperor Hui of Han Liu Ying’s death and rescue him, and you know so much about the Five-Brightness Fan, did you also save Emperor Hui of Ming Zhu Yunwen? Ah! It seems both of them had the posthumous title ‘Hui’! What a coincidence!”

The Boss still did not speak, instead picking up the Five-Brightness Fan from the Brocade Box again and carefully wiping it with a silk cloth.

"Boss! Don't keep us in suspense! Zhu Yunwen was one of the few emperors in history without a recorded death date. It's said that Zhu Di later sent Admiral Zheng He on his maritime expeditions precisely to search for Zhu Yunwen's whereabouts! Did he actually die or not? Without getting an answer, the Doctor felt utterly tormented.

At that moment, the Boss slowly unfolded the folding fan in his hand. On the luxurious gold-flecked silk, the dignified square character "Ming" gradually revealed itself as the fan opened.

"Oh? Want to know the answer? Then would you like to hear the truth? Or a lie?"

"........"

(End of Chapter)