The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the Carpenter Prince!

Zhu Youxiao felt a chill run down his spine. The original prescription was five fen (a traditional Chinese medicine unit), and the Imperial Medical Academy had approved it as "no problem"—five fen was naturally no problem. But at the dispensing station, the polygala root had become a deadly two qian (another traditional Chinese medicine unit)! One set of numbers was used for verification, but another set was used for dispensing. Between the prescription and the medicine bowl, there was an entire Imperial Pharmacy.

The so-called drug testing system he painstakingly established was nothing more than a copper lock that sealed off the front door.

Little did they know, the back gate was wide open, allowing anyone to come and go as they pleased!

"Who was responsible for dispensing the medicine that day?"

"Zhao Laifu." Judge Liu's voice was barely audible.

It's Zhao Laifu again.

"Before joining the Imperial Pharmacy, what government office did you work for? Who recommended you?"

"Your Highness, there is no record of this in the archives."

"He has requested to return to his hometown due to illness, but where is his ancestral home?"

"Hejian Prefecture, Zhili Province." Judge Liu wiped away a cold sweat. "I went to the Directorate of Ceremonial to investigate and review the documents. They only replied that the person had returned to his hometown and the records were cancelled immediately. The files have been archived and sealed."

Archive and seal.

This isn't about destroying evidence at all; it's about legitimately and legally stuffing everything into a place you have no right to interfere with.

Zhao Laifu's trail has ended here. Above that lies the unfathomable abyss of the Directorate of Ceremonial. Wang An's influence cannot reach the lowest levels of the Imperial Pharmacy. And within that realm, who else, besides the cold, sinister figure behind Madam Ke, could wield absolute power?

However, since we can't catch them, let's try a different approach.

If I can't stop you from doing something underhanded, I'll completely block your way to do it!

Since you prefer to exploit the secrets of medicine preparation, I'll seal that crack completely today, forcing you to take another path. Changing paths requires replanning; replanning inevitably leaves traces; and once traces are left, I'll have a handle!

With this in mind, Zhu Youxiao leaned forward slightly and stared intently at Liu Yuanpan, who was lying prostrate on the ground.

"Your Honor, I have a plan. Please listen to it and see if it works."

Judge Liu's forehead was pressed tightly against the gold brick, and he dared not utter a sound.

"From now on, whenever the Imperial Pharmacy receives medicine, the Imperial Medical Academy must, in addition to verifying the prescription, add another strict rule. A special envoy must be sent directly to the Imperial Pharmacy to oversee the dispensing process. If the prescription says five parts of Polygala tenuifolia, then five parts must be weighed accurately! Even a fraction more or less must be recorded. After weighing, both the Imperial Medical Academy and the Imperial Pharmacy must sign an agreement on the spot, making two copies, one for each location!"

Judge Liu suddenly raised his head, his face filled with undisguised terror.

"Your Highness! People from the Imperial Medical Academy are monitoring the scales in the Imperial Pharmacy... This is tantamount to having eyes installed right under the noses of the Directorate of Ceremonial! What if they do that...?"

"The Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs has no jurisdiction over the rules of the Imperial Medical Academy." Zhu Youxiao's tone was extremely calm, as if he were merely discussing a trivial official matter. "His Majesty once decreed that 'all medicines must be presented only after the prescription has been verified by the head of the Imperial Medical Academy.' I ask you, what exactly is being verified in this verification? If only the prescription is verified and not the medicines, what difference is there between verifying the prescription and not verifying it at all?"

He paused, then spoke with a chilling intensity.

"The court judge has thoroughly transferred the responsibility of verifying prescriptions from paper to physical evidence; this is the proper course of action. Even if the matter were to escalate to the Emperor's court, he would find no fault whatsoever!"

Judge Liu stood frozen in place, his mind racing.

He had spent twenty years in the Imperial Hospital, enduring countless dangers and hidden attacks. Yet, this fifteen-year-old Crown Prince, with just a few words, was determined to carve out a legitimate opening in the otherwise rigid territory of the Imperial Pharmacy!

Could the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs have stopped it?

Of course, it can't be stopped.

The "prescription" was an imperial edict personally issued by Emperor Taichang. If the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs wanted to stop it, they would have to go to Emperor Taichang and say, "Your Majesty, your edict is too presumptuous." Tell me, which eunuch in the world would dare to say such a thing?!

Having understood this matter, Judge Liu kowtowed deeply: "Your subject... obeys."

"It's not an imperial decree," Zhu Youxiao coldly corrected. "The Crown Prince has no authority to issue decrees. These are internal regulations drafted by you, the head of the Imperial Medical Academy, in an effort to achieve excellence. I have never heard of them."

Judge Liu has finally seen the light.

In case the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs later raises questions, he can simply insist, "This is a regulation I drafted myself, and it has nothing to do with the Crown Prince." The Crown Prince reaps all the benefits, while the responsibility rests on the regulation itself, and the backing behind it is the current Emperor's decree, which no one can overturn!

This prince wasn't using him as a tool; he was clearly forging a shield for him!

Zhu Youxiao got up, walked to the threshold, and then stopped.

"The person stationed at the weighing station must be personally selected by the magistrate; he must be a seasoned official who is inflexible and doesn't know how to adapt. As for that Zhao Laifu, if he dares to show his face in the capital region, I will report it to him immediately."

Judge Liu prostrated himself to receive the order.

Only after the prince's footsteps had completely faded away did he manage to get up, leaning on the table for support. Although his legs felt weak, he felt strangely at ease.

For the first time in twenty years, he felt that the position of Imperial Medical Academy wasn't so hot to sit on anymore.

On the same day, in the office of the Grand Secretary.

A returned petition was prominently displayed on Fang Congzhe's desk. On the folded page was a formal red-inked annotation written by the Directorate of Ceremonial, bearing the official seal of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

"The training institute is for the Crown Prince's studies. The Hanlin Academy has other important matters to attend to, so there is no need for you to overstep your bounds."

The wording was extremely polite.

But their politeness was bordering on glaring.

Fang Congzhe examined the folded document with vermilion annotations three times over.

The first time I read it, the literal meaning was "mind your own business."

The regulations and laws were reviewed a second time. Instead of issuing a decree, the emperor rejected the proposal with a vermilion edict. This was not a private suggestion from the crown prince, but a proper and decisive decision by the emperor.

The third time, the timing and urgency were considered. Five or six days had passed since he submitted his memorial to test the waters, exactly matching the timeframe Emperor Taichang had taken to "let me think about it." The emperor did not reject it hastily, but rather pondered it thoroughly for five or six days before firmly rejecting it.

After reading it three times, Fang Congzhe casually pushed the folding book to the corner of the table, picked up a cup of hot tea and took a sip, showing no sign of anger.

It was originally a trial balloon, and now that we've figured everything out, this deal isn't a loss.

The truth revealed boils down to two words: protecting one's own.

To be fair, Fang Congzhe served as Grand Secretary for seven years and served two emperors. Emperor Wanli's mastery of checks and balances was undeniable. However, in Emperor Wanli's eyes, the eldest son was not a blood relative, but merely a political figurehead forced upon him by the civil service.

But the current Emperor Taichang is completely different.

Once a crown prince, who has been trapped in the Eastern Palace in fear for thirty years, ascends to the throne, his obsession with protecting his own children becomes utterly unreasonable.

For a mere training institute, the Hanlin Academy's involvement would be nothing more than a perfunctory formality. In the Wanli era, such a trivial matter wouldn't have warranted the emperor's utmost attention. But Emperor Taichang was different. He insisted on holding onto it tightly for five or six days before finally coldly drawing up his decision.

This is my son's property; the outer court has no right to lay a finger on it!

The emperor speaks of checks and balances to his officials, but speaks of protecting his own to his successor; the two are worlds apart.

Upon realizing this, Fang Congzhe simply pulled out the folded document and shoved it deep into the back of his desk, then picked up his pen again to continue drafting the proposal. His writing remained as steady as ever, without deviating from the prescribed rules in the slightest.

Then we'll wait.

Emperor Taichang could protect the emperor for a time, but how could he protect him forever? Yesterday, when the emperor was receiving audiences in the warm pavilion, he clearly saw that the emperor's hand holding the teacup trembled twice before he barely brought it to his lips.

This lifetime, I fear, will not last long either.

During his seven years as Grand Secretary, patience was his greatest asset. While the previous six Grand Secretaries came and went like a revolving door, Fang Congzhe remained steadfast as a rock.

Without him.

He was just more patient than anyone else.

Outside the window, the old, withered locust tree swayed violently in the north wind, its dry branches pounding against the window frame with a series of teeth-grinding, dry sounds.

Fang Congzhe simply lowered his head and drafted the proposal, neither listening nor asking.

The East Palace side hall was already deep in the night.

Zhu Youxiao stood by the window with his hands behind his back, clutching the bronze key tightly in his sleeve.

Today, he accomplished two things.

He stared at the tiny circle in vermilion ink, no bigger than a mung bean, on the test paper for a long time, but ultimately didn't dare turn around.

Starting tomorrow, the people of the Imperial Medical Academy will be firmly anchored in front of the scales of the Imperial Pharmacy, like nails stuck in iron. With written agreements and signatures on record, Zhao Laifu's underhanded tricks of turning five cents into two coins will be completely rendered useless. If the hidden hand still wants to tamper with the medicine, it will have to find another way. Changing the path requires starting anew, and every action leaves a trace, giving the culprit the opportunity to follow the trail.

Today, he has effectively closed one dead end. As for where to weave the next net, he will have to think about it carefully.

Zhu Youxiao loosened the slightly sweaty copper key, turned around, and walked back to his desk.

He took a sheet of Xuan paper from the drawer, spread it out, dipped his brush in ink, and steadily wrote eight large characters.

—A small circle drawn with a vermilion pen is worth more than ten years of reading.

He examined it for a moment, carefully folded it, and solemnly placed it under the inkstone. Immediately afterward, the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty grabbed the document that was to be reviewed the next day and opened it to the first page.

This Ming Dynasty, riddled with problems, still needs to be sorted out.