Chapter Twenty-Six: Within the Palace

No matter what the civil officials thought, Liaochen had grown utterly indifferent to their opinions. Outwardly, they carried themselves with moral dignity, but beneath the surface, they scrambled after petty gains, all while claiming to be scholars of the classics.

There was nothing new in the court, so the turmoil in the Ministry of Rites involving Liaochen quickly spread. The Directorate of Ceremonies was among the first to hear of it. Before the reign of Chongzhen, the two secret agencies and the Imperial Guard were still quite effective. Now, every detail—the origin, process, and dialogue—was laid out before Li Guang, the chief eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonies. Although Li Guang was a eunuch, he was well-read in the Inner Study; had he not been a eunuch, he believed he could have easily placed among the top ranks in the imperial examinations. Thus, Li Guang often viewed matters from the perspective of a civil official, a habit that was, to say the least, peculiar.

“Sigh, His Majesty is gravely ill, yet how can his ministers behave this way?” Li Guang mused as he read the report, knowing he must submit it. Sooner or later, someone would report this to the emperor; there were more than a few in the inner court watching his every move. If he continued to conceal the matter, no excuse would save him, for he was, after all, a servant of the Son of Heaven.

Li Guang’s concerns were well-founded. Just as he prepared to report, someone had already beaten him to it—none other than the famed Liu Jin. Moreover, Liu Jin had not reported to the emperor directly, but to Crown Prince Zhu Houzhao. Upon hearing the news, the crown prince was furious. “What are these ministers trying to do? Do they wish to see my father dead? Why didn’t the secret agencies report this?”

“I heard about this from a young eunuch on duty at the Eastern Agency. I don’t know if Li Guang has spoken yet. Li Guang has always prided himself on his scholarship,” Liu Jin replied, slyly handing the crown prince a metaphorical knife, nearly accusing Li Guang outright of siding with the civil officials. The crown prince recalled Li Guang’s usual conduct and was filled with resentment.

“No, I must inform my father and mother of this,” the prince declared, preparing to go to the Palace of Diligent Service to report directly. Liu Jin’s face turned pale with fear; he knelt and clung to Zhu Houzhao’s leg, pleading, “I only objected to Li Guang, who, though a servant, sides with the outsiders. But Your Highness, if you go, Li Guang will surely know it was me who spoke. I don’t care if I die, but I cannot bear to see Your Highness in trouble!” Liu Jin’s tearful appeal made the prince laugh. “Don’t sound like a jilted lover. I won’t go directly, so stop crying.” Zhu Houzhao realized Li Guang had confidants in the palace; if he rushed to report, he would only doom Liu Jin.

Instead of going to his father’s quarters, Zhu Houzhao went to Kunning Palace to find his mother.

Inside Kunning Palace, the empress flew into a rage. She cared little for the officials outside, but the inner court was under her jurisdiction. “I won’t spare that old dog who betrays his own kind!” she said, nearly grinding her teeth. If anyone in the realm cared most for the emperor, it was Empress Zhang. After twenty years of marriage, she was deeply attached to her husband, and seeing him grow weaker each day tore at her heart. Li Guang had thoroughly offended the empress.

Li Guang considered himself loyal to the Ming dynasty and the present emperor, but a decade of devotion could not outweigh the crime of “concealing from the sovereign.” The Ming had established the secret agencies precisely to provide a separate channel of intelligence, balancing the civil officials. Yet Li Guang and the civil officials had concealed the event together—what was the point of the agencies then? Clearly, Li Guang’s scholarship had blinded him; he considered himself loyal but forgot his proper place. If one’s position is wrong, everything else is wrong.

Li Guang, realizing he could no longer suppress the matter, proceeded to the Palace of Diligent Service. After announcing his arrival, he entered and found the empress and crown prince present, while the emperor lay on his couch.

The eunuchs and maids around him now looked at him strangely.

“Your servant bows to the emperor. Long live Your Majesty!” Li Guang knelt and saluted.

The hall was silent; no one told him to rise, so he remained kneeling. At last, he sensed something was amiss, sweat beading on his brow as he wondered what mistake he had made. Sneaking a glance, he saw the empress and crown prince’s eyes icy, while the eunuchs looked at him as if he were a dead man. In the warm hall, Li Guang felt the chill of midwinter.

After a long pause, the emperor coughed heavily and rasped, “Li Guang, we have been master and servant for over ten years, haven’t we?”

Li Guang answered, “Seventeen years and nine months, Your Majesty.”

The emperor sighed, “Nearly eighteen years, yet eighteen years cannot compare to a few years in the Inner Study with a tutor.”

Li Guang, desperate, replied, “Your Majesty, I have only you in my heart!”

“Go now; retire in Fengyang. I do not wish to see you again.” Emperor Hongzhi clearly did not believe him.

“Ah!” Li Guang was stunned, then burst into tears. “Your Majesty, I am utterly loyal, Your Majesty…”

“Leave,” the emperor said, refusing to trust the confidant who had served him for so many years. Gravely ill, he was at his most suspicious, tormented by fear of death, pain, and worries about the court. His patience was gone. Now, knowing even his most trusted eunuch had learned to conceal things, who could say how many more matters had been hidden from him? He could only rely on his son and his beloved wife, for they alone were family.

Li Guang left the Palace of Diligent Service in a daze, filled with remorse. If he still did not understand why the emperor had dismissed him, he was unworthy of his post.

Along the way, eunuchs and maids avoided him as if he were a venomous snake. Li Guang could only smile bitterly. He wandered to the entrance of the Directorate of Ceremonies, intending to tidy up his affairs, but a young eunuch barred his way: “Master Li, you are no longer one of us. The Directorate is a sensitive place; best not to enter and make things difficult for us.” Li Guang, powerless, saw that those who had once desperately sought his favor now disregarded him entirely.

He then went to the cabinet offices, hoping the ministers might help him, but found he could not enter. He asked a gatekeeping eunuch to announce him, but the eunuch sighed and shook his head. What more was there for Li Guang to understand?

The next day, Li Guang hurried off toward Fengyang. No one dared see him off; the eunuchs feared to, and the civil officials were unwilling, not wishing to be tainted by association with a disgraced eunuch.

Li Guang’s fall made all the ministers realize the gravity of the situation. Assistant Minister Huang Bin of the Ministry of Rites resigned overnight, barely reading the reply before hastily returning to his home in Anhui.

On that very day, Liaochen ascended the teaching platform at White Cloud Temple and began instructing the gathered Daoist followers on meditative concentration, cultivating the spirit, transforming the yin soul into the yang soul, and glimpsing the mysteries of the divine path.