Wang Cang Hai replied with measured calm, “Your Majesty’s wisdom in governance rivals that of the great emperors of the Han and Tang dynasties. You are destined for a long life, which is a blessing for Great Yong.”
The emperor suddenly grabbed Wang Cang Hai’s arm and pulled him closer, gritting his teeth as he said, “Sixty years. You’re saying I will only live to sixty?”
Wang Cang Hai struggled lightly to free his arm, but the emperor’s grip was unyielding. A faint frown crossed his face as he said, “A full cycle of sixty years is a long life. Your Majesty’s achievements will be recorded in history, and your name will be remembered for generations.”
The Yong Wu Emperor tightened his grip and said darkly, “What use is being remembered for generations? When a person dies, it’s like a lamp going out—nothing remains. Once I close my eyes, everything will be gone. My father was a brilliant and powerful emperor, but even he couldn’t protect his favorite crown prince and eldest grandson after his death. In the end, the throne of Great Yong fell into the hands of me, his least-favored son of lowly birth.”
Using his free hand, Wang Cang Hai pried the emperor’s fingers off one by one. Once freed, he rubbed his wrist and replied coldly, “Since Your Majesty already knows your transgressions, why ask me? If the meteors are truly a sign of divine punishment, then Your Majesty should reflect deeply, govern diligently, and care for the people. That would be the best way to console the spirits of your ancestors.”
The Yong Wu Emperor snorted through his nose and said, “Even if I start governing diligently from today, dedicating the rest of my life to being a good emperor, would the spirits of the Zhu ancestors forgive me? My father may not have known while he was alive, but once he saw my short-lived elder brother and nephew after his death, he would certainly know who was responsible for their deaths. His temper was so fierce that he would probably want to crawl out of his tomb to strangle me himself.”
“Zhu Di.” Wang Cang Hai suddenly called out the Yong Wu Emperor’s personal name. “Calm down.”
It had been a full decade since anyone dared to address the Yong Wu Emperor by his given name. The emperor froze for a moment, staring intently at Wang Cang Hai, as if trying to discern any trace of emotion on his face. But there was none—Wang Cang Hai’s expression remained indifferent, cold, and detached, as though the matter had nothing to do with him. This stern and unfeeling countenance only made the Yong Wu Emperor more agitated.
“Wang Cang Hai,” the emperor said, his face dark and voice growing faster and more emotional, “I have sinned. I will suffer divine punishment and retribution from the heavens, but you won’t escape it either. Back then, my father lavished extraordinary favor upon you—unprecedented throughout history. At thirteen, you entered the cabinet as a junior scholar. By sixteen, you were appointed Deputy Commander of the Five-City Garrison, wielding military power over the capital’s defenses. My father allowed you to study alongside the imperial princes and grandsons in the Zijing Pavilion, personally training you in horseback riding and archery with the Crown Prince, Zhu Wen, at the Nanhai Hunting Grounds. And how did you repay my father’s overwhelming grace? By setting fire to the Jiqing Palace, burning Zhu Wen alive—your closest childhood friend. It was you, Wang Cang Hai! You helped me, a traitorous rebel, seize my nephew’s throne. You are my greatest accomplice in the Tianjing Rebellion. You are a regicide, Wang Cang Hai! Hahaha! When you die, you’ll go to hell with me to face judgment.”
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