Chapter 143: The Second Prince

Gou Ye only had a general understanding of Ming dynasty history, but he remembered quite a few of its prominent figures quite well, especially Zhu Houzhao. In his original era, Zhu Houzhao was such an eccentric anomaly that subsequent dynasties used him as a textbook negative example to lecture their own imperial heirs.

Although there were chronological discrepancies, Gou Ye could confirm that the Zhu Houzhao before him possessed the exact same personality as in the original timeline; this much was beyond doubt. What perplexed Gou Ye, however, was that his father was not the Hongzhi Emperor, nor was he the eldest son. In other words, the crown prince in this era was someone else entirely, and the future emperor would not be the person standing right before him.

Perhaps the long river of history also deemed this man too bizarre, and thus in this era, he was denied such glory and position, Gou Ye thought to himself.

In history, Zhu Houzhao was indeed the epitome of a negative figure—dissolute and lawless, employing wicked sycophants, greedy for wine and lust, absurd and scoundrelly, neglecting proper business, and idling away his time. The terms associated with him were rarely suitable for children: the Leopard House, powerful eunuchs, adopting foster sons, seizing women...

Yet, in Gou Ye's eyes, this naive young man before him did not seem nearly as unbearable. In fact, the longer he looked, the more adorable this Zhu Houzhao appeared.

Gou Ye had originally intended to exchange a few casual pleasantries with him and then make an excuse to leave the palace, but Zhu Houzhao was reluctant in every possible way. He scampered out the door, turned back to make a "hush" gesture, and a moment later crept back in on tiptoe, peering left and right while hugging the doorframe.

When he turned back around, he pulled two small flasks of wine out from his robes—heaven knows where he had stolen them from. Grinning from ear to ear, he scurried over to Gou Ye and said with a smile, "Come on, Master Gou, I risked my life to steal these from another room. There's no more, so the two of us will just share the dried fruits on the table, one flask each."

Gou Ye smiled somewhat helplessly at Zhu Houzhao's antics. A dignified second imperial prince actually sneaking out to steal wine—if word of this got out, he would surely become the laughingstock of the imperial court.

Gou Ye had no choice but to nod and say, "Fine, but just this one flask. You must not go get any more wine; I have to head back and take care of some matters shortly."

Hearing Gou Ye's words, Zhu Houzhao was as happy as a child. He sat down in his chair, crossed his legs, and proceeded to drink and chat merrily with Gou Ye. Through their casual conversation, Gou Ye finally came to understand just how miserable a thing it was to be an imperial prince.

Not only did they have to study day and night, but today was an exception; under normal circumstances, instructors gave lectures that lasted the entire day. By evening, they were required to memorize everything learned that day, and the instructors would test them the following day—very much like homework in modern society, only perhaps much more grueling by comparison.

Secondly, being an imperial prince was terribly lonely. Aside from studying, practically their only recreational activity was hunting. True to the martial traditions of the imperial family, every prince had to begin learning martial arts from a very young age. However, Zhu Houzhao was rather playful and could be considered a dabbler who accomplished nothing thoroughly, whether in academics or martial arts.

Consequently, as an imperial prince cooped up in the palace all day, he had virtually no contact with outsiders. Aside from his own siblings, the only people around him were eunuchs and palace maids. Being rather mischievous, Zhu Houzhao's thoughts differed from ordinary people, so he failed to win any favor among his brothers and sisters, and thus had never forged a genuine fraternal bond with anyone.

As for the eunuchs and palace maids, needless to say, given their lowly status, how could they dare to casually cozy up to an imperial prince? Furthermore, Zhu Houzhao was merely a second prince who essentially had no destiny tied to the throne, leaving him with little value for others to butter up.

At this, Gou Ye finally understood why Zhu Houzhao in the original era had allowed figures like Liu Jin to lead him by the nose, turning a blind eye even when he knew they were ruining the country and afflicting the people. Was he truly unaware? Gou Ye did not take him for a fool; during their conversation, he could sense that Zhu Houzhao possessed a very clear train of thought in both his speech and reasoning. The most crucial factor was simply loneliness. For a youth of such lively nature, this loneliness had been suppressed for far too long, to the point that when he finally ascended the throne, it burst forth with full force. One had to say this was also a disguised form of catharsis.

History is written for posterity, and later generations mostly understand their predecessors through these historical texts. Yet what a person was truly thinking in their heart, why they wanted to act that way, and why they chose to go against the grain... none of these things could be written down in books. Only by sitting face-to-face and coming to a deep understanding did Gou Ye realize that history had been rather biased against the young man before him.

Happy times are always fleeting. Unawares, the two flasks of wine had been completely emptied by the pair. Zhu Houzhao, still feeling unsatisfied, wanted to resort to his old trick and go steal some more wine, but Gou Ye sternly refused him. While it sounded stern, his method of compulsion was simply threatening never to come visit again.

Realizing that with his own alcohol tolerance his father and the others would surely discover him if they kept drinking, Zhu Houzhao ultimately yielded to Gou Ye. As a study companion, Gou Ye was unsure what his exact duties were supposed to be, but literally speaking, it simply meant accompanying the prince in his studies. Therefore, as he prepared to leave, Gou Ye composed a poem, writing it out on a sheet of Xuan paper to serve as proof for Zhu Houzhao of today's studies. When the Emperor asked about it later, it would let him know that this trip had not been in vain and that he had indeed accompanied the prince to study. Yet, looking at the wine flasks on the table, Gou Ye felt a twinge of conscience—was doing this really okay? It seemed that whenever he came in the future, he must faithfully and strictly perform his duties.

After lingering a little longer, Gou Ye announced his departure, and Zhu Houzhao did not press him to stay further. Watching Gou Ye's retreating figure as he was about to leave, Zhu Houzhao sat disconsolately on the edge of the table, waving goodbye. Once Gou Ye truly stepped out the door and he looked at the empty room, an inexplicable sense of loneliness welled up spontaneously.

Only then did he seriously look at the Xuan paper on the table, which bore the poem Gou Ye had left behind:
"I urge you not to cherish your robe of golden threads,
I urge you to cherish the days of your youth.
When flowers bloom and are fit to be plucked, pluck them straight away,
Do not wait until the flowers are gone and you break empty branches."