Chapter 198: The Caged Prince

Chapter 198: The Caged Vassal King

The core of Chongqing Prefecture is Zhongyu District, and the core of Zhongyu District is this Mount Hongya, built against the mountain and along the river, with a vertical drop of nearly a hundred zhang.

This city within a city uses steel rebar for its bones and raw timber for its skin; countless massive beams and columns are driven into the cliff face, supporting this cluster of fantastical architecture that, from afar, resembles a honeycomb.

Beneath the archways with their soaring, jagged eaves lies the mountain's main thoroughfare, bustling with an endless stream of traffic, horses and carriages.

All around, dense sedan lifts and carved galleries intertwine vertically and connect horizontally, carving out one bustling, prosperous mid-mountain street after another amidst the dense cliff-side buildings.

In the cramped alleyways, there are also numerous bluestone-paved paths, winding and undulating, leading to who knows where.

Within this seemingly chaotic environment, however, lurks an inviolable iron law.

The five tiers of Mount Hongya are named 'Gold, Silver, Copper, Iron, Tile'; below the Iron Tier, movement is free, but above the Iron Tier, no unauthorized crossing is permitted.

There is only one fate for transgressors: death.

Behind this cold, stern rule lies the operational model established when this 'city within a city' first opened.

Below the Iron Tier, no residences were built; all shops are open to the public solely through lease.

The commoners of Chongqing Prefecture may also come and go freely, eating, drinking, and making merry without taboo.

But above the Iron Tier, the situation is precisely the opposite.

There are only private residences existing in the form of 'Pavilions,' not a single shop, and outsiders are forbidden from entering at will.

The sole pass is the proof of residence here, commonly known as a 'deed.'

Of course, there are no absolutes in the world.

Besides deeds, there are certain special items that allow their holders unimpeded passage throughout Mount Hongya.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard Centurion's badge in Yan Bahuang's hand is one such item.

"Ding."

As the sedan lift doors slowly slid open, a pastoral scene utterly impossible for Mount Hongya unfolded slowly before Yan Bahuang's eyes.

Within a heaven and earth of but a few mu, field paths crisscrossed in all directions.

Mature rice paddies in the morning light seemed cast from gold; the rice ears, heavy with grain, bent low, and as the clear breeze blew over, a wave of gold surged and rolled.

Dozens of specially assigned, powerfully built Yanren toiled in the fields.

These Yanren, both male and female, all wore smiles, their gazes placid, nearly cast from the same mold.

At the center of the fields stood a thatched cottage.

Before the door were no lack of beautiful pools, mulberry, and bamboo; even a yellow dog frolicked to its heart's content.

And at the four corners of the field's edge stood four towering trees, their shade like canopies; beneath the green leaves crouched mechanical cicadas, their whole bodies gleaming with cold light.

At this moment, if someone gazed down from a higher vantage, they would see only a grand palace with carved beasts and gray tiles; they would never see this little world.

Though it was not his first time here, Yan Bahuang still could not help but sigh in his heart.

Among the millions of commoners in Chongqing Prefecture, who could have imagined that the legendary 'Gold Tier' atop Mount Hongya concealed such a 'Peach Blossom Spring'?

"Old Yan, you've come."

Among the heads bowed in farming, a broad-shouldered peasant looked up, a gentle smile on his mud-flecked face.

No sooner had his voice fallen than the Yanren around the peasant raised their heads in unison, breaking into grins.

"Old Yan."

Their intonation was perfectly uniform, even the curve of their smiles seemingly stamped from the same mold.

Though it was a time of gentle morning light, Yan Bahuang suddenly felt a chill shoot straight to his crown.

"Your subordinate Yan Bahuang pays respects to His Highness, the Prince of Qin."

Yan Bahuang clasped his fists and bowed deeply.

"I've told you how many times, Old Yan, just call me by my given name, Zhu Youhong. No need for those empty, hollow titles."

Before the cottage, Yan Bahuang and the peasant sat facing each other, a worn, rickety low table between them.

On the table lay no mountain delicacies or sea treasures, merely two bowls of bland white porridge.

"You are a Vassal King recognized by the Great Ming Code; to address you by your given name is gross disrespect, punishable by death according to the law."

Zhu Youhong looked at the stubborn old man before him and said helplessly, "They're all just things thrown into the wastepaper pile of history; only you still insist on clinging to them."

He spread his hands, displaying the coarse linen short coat stained with mud, and laughed heartily.

"Besides, where in this world is there a Vassal King who has to sell his own palace to someone else as a safe house just to make a living?"

"It's the New Donglin Party that deserves death!"

Yan Bahuang's expression was grim, killing intent bristling in his tiger eyes.

"Don't say that. They left me my life, merely imprisoning me here; I am already content."

Zhu Youhong sighed, "Actually, I'd rather they stripped my Vassal King title and reduced me to a commoner. At least then I could leave here and see what the empire's rivers and mountains look like today."

Yan Bahuang lowered his eyes, his voice deep: "It is this subordinate's incompetence, failing to help Your Highness escape this cage; I beg Your Highness to punish me!"

"What punishment? Under the crushing weight of the general trend, to drift with the current is already a rare feat; no one can stop it."

"Enough, let's not speak of this." Zhu Youhong waved his hand with a smile, pointing at the porridge bowls on the table, "It's early, Old Yan, you haven't eaten breakfast yet, have you? This porridge is from this year's new harvest, the flavor is good, try it quick."

Yan Bahuang remained silent, lifting the bowl with both hands and finishing it clean in three or two gulps.

Compared to his swift, decisive manner, Zhu Youhong appeared slow and deliberate, sipping the porridge mouthful by mouthful.

A moment later, Zhu Youhong drank the last drop of rice soup, setting the bowl down with a look of satisfaction.

"I remember before I came to Chongqing Prefecture to take up my fief, I saw some records about the Former Ming period in the Huangliang Historical Archives."

"At that time, the empire was beset by internal and external troubles, rocking in the wind and rain. Many commoners couldn't even drink such white porridge, forced to eat tree bark and mud to fill their bellies. There even appeared the hellish spectacle of starvation corpses stretching a thousand li, fathers and sons swapping children to eat."

"Back then, the commoners struggled for a single dou of rice; who could have imagined a thousand years later, today, this heirloom rice grown by human labor would still be beyond the reach of everyone?"

Yan Bahuang's brows knit in fury, his words ringing clear: "All chaos originates from the New Donglin Party. Exterminate them, and the empire will surely regain the glory of the Longwu Emperor's era!"

"Rivers and mountains are hard to change; it is a task of ten thousand years. The empire's decline was not achieved in a single morning or evening! Haste makes waste; this principle, Old Sir, you should understand."

Yan Bahuang frowned tightly, replying in a deep voice: "Ten thousand years is too long; I only seize the day!"

Zhu Youhong's expression turned solemn, "Matters must be handled one by one, rice eaten mouthful by mouthful! The current reality is the enemy is strong, we are weak; treading on thin ice, we can only advance step by step, for a single misstep means total defeat!"

"Qi Huai dared aid the Honghu people, and Old Yan you exterminated his whole clan, which was justified. But he still holds the identity of a 'Senior General,' with many court officials invested behind him."

"My incense-affection in the court now hangs by a thread; sheltering the Chongqing Prefecture Embroidered Uniform Guard this once doesn't mean I can shelter them again. In your future actions, you must be extremely careful."

Yan Bahuang's face tightened, he hesitated, but ultimately only sighed inwardly, rose, and cupped his fists: "Your Highness's lesson is correct; this subordinate was reckless."

Zhu Youhong spoke earnestly, "The Honghu are but a skin disease; the New Donglin Party is the lesion. Which is light, which is heavy—I hope you will weigh it carefully, Old Sir."

Yan Bahuang lowered his eyes, concealing his gaze: "This subordinate understands."

The conversation having reached this point, the atmosphere had grown somewhat oppressive.

Zhu Youhong smiled unconcerned; he knew the temperament of this Centurion Yan all too well.

Once the conversation didn't click, the other party wouldn't utter another half-sentence.

Just as he was pondering how to steer the conversation elsewhere, to ease the tension, a Yanren suddenly dropped his hoe in the distant furrows and came running over, his expression frantic.

"Your Highness, a patrol communiqué has arrived from the Imperial Clan Court."

Zhu Youhong started at the words, glancing at Yan Bahuang with a helpless smile. "It seems I truly cannot keep you here any longer, Elder."

"Your Highness, please take care of yourself."

Yan Bahuang clearly understood the weight those three words—Imperial Clan Court—carried. He immediately cupped his fists in salute, turned, and strode away in great strides.

Only after the door of the sedan chair bearing Yan Bahuang slowly slid shut did Zhu Youhong raise a hand and snap his fingers.

In an instant, the chirring of cicadas rose from the great trees planted at the four corners of the fields.

Amidst a sound like the beating of wings in a gale, the furrows shifted into floor tiles, the giant trees morphed into beams and pillars, and the farming Yanren revealed their true nature as servants, dropping to their knees upon the ground.

That beautiful pastoral scene had, in the blink of an eye, transformed into a gloomy palace.

"Roll call from the Imperial Clan Court. Is the Prince of Qin present?"

A cold, hollow voice echoed through the empty grand hall.

Zhu Youhong lifted his gaze toward the dome above; the rough hemp tunic on his body had already been replaced by a deep azure court robe embroidered with golden coiling dragons.

"Prince of Qin, Zhu Youhong, is present."