Chapter 32

His Honor Zeng wasn't digging him a pit: without his own part of it, the discussion just now would in fact have been incomplete, so in having him speak, Zeng was rounding out the Hanlin Academy's view.

Zhuo Siheng understood, but he was on the fullest guard for his first address before the throne; he stepped forward with a bow and folded what he'd said a moment ago back into His Honor Zeng's view. When the emperor had heard, he nodded: "We have but two daughters and five sons; two of the boys are truly still young, too early yet for schooling. For the crown prince to study on his own under newly established school regulations — which, once set, can then be used as a model — would help the tone of study as well."

The emperor's three older sons had always studied together; now that the crown prince was being set apart, the other two couldn't very well be left unmanaged, so the crown prince's new teaching system could be taken down a notch and used as a rule for the other princes — and later, when any prince came of age to begin his letters, there'd be a further precedent to go by. That wasn't unworkable. Only, Zhuo Siheng felt that in every part of these words, it was not the crown prince who was being considered.

"This can be settled; let the Secretariat draft a document for Us to see. But as for how the crown prince might best profit in his studies, We should still like to hear views — Zhuo Siheng, have you any thoughts?"

The emperor could address Zhuo Siheng by his given name directly: he wasn't a close minister, so couldn't be called "dear minister"; he wasn't an official of the fifth rank or above, so couldn't be called "my lord"; and he wasn't on close enough terms for the emperor to lightly use his courtesy name — in a case like this the emperor would not stand on ceremony, but call him by name outright.

Only, being called by one's full name was, back where he came from, a thing of extremely high risk too — especially when it was an elder, or a teacher, or a boss doing the calling.

Zhuo Siheng made his mind race a little faster still — but not too fast, not so fast as to seem he hadn't thought at all or had it ready in advance; taking just the right span of time to marshal his words, he answered: "Your servant thinks Your Majesty might keep the crown prince at your side; with His Highness attending you and rendering filial duty, the imperial house would of itself show its warmth and closeness to the world."

The emperor was not a man who showed his feelings much, but one could judge his reaction just then by watching the changes in the face of someone who knew him. From the way His Honor Zeng's eyes had abruptly gone wide, the emperor — calm as water on the surface — had probably been very displeased to hear what Zhuo Siheng said.

"The crown prince is young; how could he be kept at hand to meddle in affairs of state?" The emperor's question came as if he were truly worried that the crown prince's youth made such a thing perhaps unsuitable.

Zhuo Siheng was not surprised at this reaction, and said in his frankest, most sincere tone: "A moment ago Your Majesty spoke with His Honor Zeng of the love between kin, attentive to the smallest trifles down to a hair; that tenderness of a parent for a child moved your servant to the depths. It is from this that I spoke as I did. In keeping the crown prince at your side, Your Majesty need not have him listen to affairs of state; apart from the governing, you might have him join you in appreciating calligraphy and painting and in discussing the arts and letters. The crown prince is quite fond of reading history — surely a thing nurtured by Your Majesty's own words and conduct — and Your Majesty might read and judge it together with His Highness. With Your Majesty teaching by word and by example, the crown prince is sure to advance the further in cultivation and temperament. For father and son of the imperial house to be in loving harmony would surely set a model for all the countless families under Heaven."

Halfway through, out of the corner of his eye Zhuo Siheng glimpsed His Honor Zeng's eyelids drop back down to their drowsing angle, and he understood he'd passed.

And the emperor's reaction, sure enough, was just as His Honor Zeng's eyelids had foretold: hearing him out, he sighed and then smiled again: "No doubt the Zhuo household too is one of loving harmony between father and son, and that is the source of such heartfelt words. We are a ruler of men, and also a father of men; whether as ruler or as father, one must be a model for all under Heaven. Very sincerely said!"

His words were entirely from the angle of father-son relations and teaching by word and example — watertight, and touching not at all on affairs of state; the emperor's stand, that he didn't want the crown prince too much entangled in worldly business, was already clear enough. There was no need for Zhuo Siheng to work against the emperor, and to tell the truth, he felt that, given the crown prince's temperament, age, and gifts, the boy really ought to keep some distance from court politics for now; the emperor wasn't wholly partial, either — there was, more or less, some plan of his own in it. Why fire the first shot of his official career grandstanding against a man who was, after all, talking sense? Nor would it do, at his first address before the throne, to offer nothing but meaningless pleasantries — he was, at the least, eating the sovereign's salt and had even taken a house the emperor had granted him! He ought to play some crucial part.

At the least, he felt that between father and son of the imperial house, to set politics aside and speak of feeling instead was not a bad choice: it saved the emperor's face and his father-son bond before the ministers and indeed all under Heaven, so he wouldn't be reproached over this whole series of maneuvers about the Eastern Palace, and it gave the crown prince a chance to grow close to his father. As for whether he could seize it... Zhuo Siheng wasn't sure; he couldn't provide after-sales service to that extent. But the crown prince was famously filial, and getting on with his own father in an ordinary setting shouldn't be too much trouble... probably...

Answering that one question had already left Zhuo Siheng in a state of brain-cell deficit, but at least it had passed without mishap. The emperor had His Honor Zeng consolidate Zhuo Siheng's views with his own, see whether the Hanlin Academy had anything else to add, and within these two days submit a memorial settling the particulars of the crown prince's schooling.

On the way back to the Secretariat, His Honor Zeng, probably tired too, kept his eyes closed and rested; and just as Zhuo Siheng had relaxed and was thinking to shut his own eyes a little while, Zeng Xuandu sprang a surprise attack on him: "Attendant Zhuo, that you can weigh things by your own heart and counsel sincerely is a fortunate thing indeed."

Zhuo Siheng knew he meant his statement before the emperor on the crown prince question, and — not wanting to be too self-effacing nor too proud — could only smile: "It was all heartfelt; my first address before the throne, I was very nervous, and dared not use glib words and flattery, so I could only tell the plain truth."

"The plain truth isn't necessarily what the emperor doesn't want to hear; you've grasped that principle earlier than most, and your road will run the smoother for it." Zeng Xuandu's head swayed with the rocking of the carriage. "To fawn and nothing more is truly not the way of a minister..."

True — to do nothing but fawn on the emperor was to be after his grace and one's present standing, and to make that the aim of office; then one's whole footing and intent were likely none too upright. Everyone wanted to keep his head and the black gauze cap on it, of course, but one still had to hold to some principles and professional ethics.

There was no need to say this aloud; Zhuo Siheng felt that His Honor Zeng, having been an official so many years and so valued by the emperor, must surely understand it, and so he only assented and said no more.

"I used not to put much faith in 'the man is as his writing'; writing is always good at dressing up the heart, and hard to see through. But your writing is of a piece with the man you are — clear in its lines of thought, limpid in its reasoning. The work of the Hanlin Academy suits you well." Zeng Xuandu smiled too, and then closed his eyes again.

But Zhuo Siheng couldn't help feeling His Honor Zeng seemed to have words on the tip of his tongue that he left unsaid.

In truth he had a question of his own too... he still wanted to know just where his departmental-exam essay had fallen short of Peng Shihu's. Though the matter was past and he'd taken the zhuangyuan besides, for an exam-grinder like Zhuo Siheng the force of habit gave him a compulsive-summarizing syndrome and an intense pride where exams were concerned; one defeat didn't really matter — what mattered was wanting to know where he'd gone wrong.

Only, as things stood now, for him to press about the departmental exam would look very petty, without the least largeness of mind — as if he'd never won at all, pushing his advantage past all mercy, and, on top of taking the zhuangyuan, playing the smug winner besides. So he couldn't very well ask after all.

Three days after this address, a ruling finally came down on the crown prince's schooling: the emperor decreed it be handled according to the Hanlin Academy's memorial, with the arranging of lessons and enriching of studies to be discussed by the Hanlin Academy together with the Hongwen Academy; and the crown prince might attend on the emperor after his lessons, but must not let his studies grow slack and idle away in play.

Many were surprised that the emperor had suddenly taken the crown prince to heart, and thought it quite unexpected; but what truly surprised Zhuo Siheng was not that the memorial he'd written on the Hanlin Academy's behalf had passed so easily, but the emperor's next three decrees in a row:

— Madam Luo elevated to Noble Consort, and her son enfeoffed as Prince of Zhao;

— Madam Luo's younger sister commended for her broad learning and high talent and her clear grasp of law and precedent, granted the office of female scribe, to enter the inner court and teach the princesses and commandery princesses learning, ritual and law;

— the repair of the Eastern Palace might be deferred for now, but the Grand Academy, long fallen into disrepair, was to be renovated as soon as possible, and the sons of titled families and of officials of the seventh rank and above would enroll in the fifth month as by former custom.

The last missing piece of the fog-shrouded jigsaw in Zhuo Siheng's mind was set in place by the emperor himself.

From first to last, the emperor cared nothing for the Eastern Palace, the crown prince, or the princes; what he cared for was the stability of his rule and the security of the throne.

He doted on Consort Luo — now Noble Consort Luo — and on her son the Prince of Zhao. Had he said outright from the start that he meant to elevate them, many would have jumped up to object that the crown prince's own affairs were still unsettled, and that to elevate a favored consort and favored son first was against law and precedent. So he settled the crown prince's business first — though only on the surface, for what power had a crown prince with no Eastern Palace? — while Noble Consort Luo's father had been only a petty citrus officer, now dead, and her house had no kin left but the younger sister: no worry of consort-clan at all. To dote a little on such a favored consort and the favored son she'd borne would not affect the drift of court affairs in the slightest.

As for Noble Consort Luo's younger sister, Zhuo Siheng had vaguely heard a bit of gossip about her back at the Constellation Banquet in the Fengle Tower: a latter-day Lady Ban, they said, of the highest attainment in learning — so much so that even the Grand Princess, herself renowned for learning and virtue, held her in high regard. This dynasty, following the old precedent of the former Princesses Zhen and Ding, did not oppose women studying; noblewomen in particular were expected to make being lettered and sensible their first concern. Making Noble Consort Luo's sister a female scribe served, for one thing, to let her teach the princesses and commandery princesses, and to display the court's devotion to learning; and for another, perhaps the emperor meant to arrange a good, presentable marriage for her, giving her a title rather than leaving her the orphaned girl she now was — a match arranged by the emperor himself would surely be no poor one, and yet would breed no consort-clan power either: wealth and honor to spare, but no real handle on power. Something like that.

The last item was the crucial one. Zhuo Siheng had heard Zhuo Yan tell how the children of many noble kin and senior ministers, on reaching a certain age, had the chance to enter the palace as study-companions to the princes and princesses — an extra bestowed honor. But the emperor seemed to have no intention of doing this; likely he feared that the offspring of the nobility, making contact with the princes too early, would form factions between the great houses and the princes, each backing its own and striking down the rest — his own father had been brought down in just this way, and it must weigh on his heart — and so he had all the young men go dutifully to study at the Grand Academy, that no one might scheme to enter the palace, form cliques, and take sides ahead of time.

This whole combination — a bit of talking-around-the-point, a bit of parry-and-strike, and a stroke that used one aim as cover to reach another, all rolled into one — was a combo with every punch landing on flesh: it all but shut off any chance of the great houses colluding with the crown prince and the princes, and cleared his own harem of the ills of consort-clans besides. At the least, this crop of princes had their wings clipped before they came of age, and flying out of the emperor's palm was now next to impossible.

The crown prince included.

Zhuo Siheng found himself seeing this emperor — only ten years his senior — in an entirely new light.

It was like a brilliant show of imperial statecraft playing out live before his eyes, and it taught him the first lesson of his career at court: the sovereign's heart is unfathomable.

But he also drew from it the first rule of his own life as a civil official: always think about a problem from the standpoint of the emperor and the balance of the court.