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Chapter 10
Five and a half days had passed since the secret treatment began. The imperial envoys would arrive at any moment.
Deep within the palace, atop the windless watchtower, a bronze gong rang out. Its solemn resonance stretched long and heavy. Though it sounded only once, the clear, weighty note split the air.
Even though the sun already stood high in the sky, the palace had seemed frozen in time until that sound broke through. Every ear turned toward it. The world, which had been holding its breath, seemed at last to inhale again.
Soon after, a court eunuch hurried toward the Royal Secretariat, and the official tally tags of the civil and military officials were set in motion. It was the signal that the imperial envoys of the Ming Emperor had reached the southern gate of the capital.
Ministers changed into their ceremonial robes and advanced toward the palace in disciplined ranks. Some could not conceal their unease; others watched with eyes glinting in anticipation of the change this moment might bring.
Along the refined stone road before Gwanghwa Gate, the civil and military officials lined up in order. The crimson sleeves of their court robes and the flags fluttered in the wind. Their hardened expressions and tense shoulders laid bare Joseon’s reality—standing before the vast power of the Ming Empire.
“His Majesty the Emperor’s Heavenly Envoy has arrived!”
At the herald’s cry, a long procession appeared beyond the palace gates. Ming cavalry dismounted, and behind them emerged the Heavenly Envoy, Zhang Weiming (張維明). In his mid-fifties, clad in a court robe embroidered with gold thread and wearing an imperial hat bestowed by the Emperor, he dominated the space with a single glance. His expression was cold, his face unmoving as carved ice. As he appeared, the surrounding sounds faded away.
Zhang Weiming, Minister of Rites, was renowned for his diplomatic skill. Especially when dealing with tributary states, he wielded both severity and leniency with equal mastery. Behind him stood court historians, officials from the Ministry of Rites, and attendants responsible for rare imperial gifts. Their attire was splendid and dignified, their very steps exuding arrogance—as if to flaunt the might of Ming. The Joseon ministers scarcely dared meet their eyes.
There was, however, a problem. At such a critical moment, the King of Joseon was nowhere to be seen. Everyone knew this, yet no one dared voice it. They merely watched the envoys’ movements in strained silence.
When the procession reached the courtyard of Geunjeongjeon Hall, Left State Councillor Jeong Hak-yeon stepped forward under the Crown Prince’s orders. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, though he strained to maintain composure.
He bowed deeply before Zhang Weiming—the highest courtesy Joseon’s foremost official could offer to the Emperor’s envoy.
“It is our immeasurable honor to behold the Heavenly Envoy of His Imperial Majesty. Joseon welcomes your sacred steps with utmost sincerity.”
Zhang descended from his palanquin and stepped forward. Lightly touching the gold embroidery at his waist, he looked down at Jeong Hak-yeon and blinked slowly. His gaze was sharp as a hawk’s, his lips curling in faint disdain.
“You are Jeong Hak-yeon, Left State Councillor of Joseon. Our new Emperor holds particular interest in your king.”
His voice was low and commanding. Though it carried far, the chill within it seemed to freeze the hearts of all who heard.
“And yet…”
He swept his gaze across the courtyard.
“Where is your sovereign? Is it not the king’s duty to personally receive the Emperor’s envoy?”
Silence fell over the courtyard of Geunjeongjeon. Jeong knew he could not evade this question. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, feeling truth and falsehood circle within his mouth.
“Our sovereign has been taken ill and thus cannot personally grant audience. However, his will to welcome the envoy remains unchanged. Shortly, the Crown Prince shall attend in his stead and render full courtesy.”
Zhang’s eyebrow twitched upward.
“Ill, you say? So grave an illness? No such word reached my ears beforehand.”
“It is not grave, yet he remains under careful treatment.”
“Then where is the Crown Prince? If he acts in the king’s stead, should he not first present himself as head of court?”
“The Crown Prince does not leave His Majesty’s side and attends upon him constantly. Soon, a proper occasion will be arranged to honor the will of the Celestial Empire.”
“Is that so?”
Zhang nodded faintly, though dissatisfaction lingered in his gaze. The ministers lined before the hall felt the cold atmosphere settle over them like frost down their spines.
“I have come under a special command of His Imperial Majesty. I am to receive personally the congratulatory memorial from the King of Joseon upon the Emperor’s accession, and to reconfirm Joseon’s loyalty.”
“We shall obey the Heavenly Envoy’s command.”
“Therefore, I must meet your king in person. This is not optional. When may that be arranged?”
“As soon as possible.”
Jeong’s voice trembled slightly. Zhang regarded him with faint amusement.
At that moment, the ministers’ gazes shifted in unison. As if sunlight had pierced through thick fog, Crown Prince Lee Ham stepped forward. His stride was firm and straight, resolve glinting within his calm expression.
“I greet the Heavenly Envoy at last. I am Lee Ham, Crown Prince of Joseon.”
He bowed directly before Zhang. His voice was low and composed, yet carried an undeniable strength.
“My royal father, struck by sudden illness, could not come in person. Thus I have received his command to welcome you in his stead. Joseon has never forgotten the grace of the Celestial Empire. Tonight, I pray you rest from your journey and recover your strength.”
Zhang studied him closely, as though testing the young prince. Ham did not waver. He met the envoy’s gaze without flinching.
“Tomorrow evening, our court shall host a grand welcoming banquet. The following morning, in two days’ time, my royal father shall personally grant you audience.”
Zhang narrowed his eyes, then at last allowed a slight curve to his lips—not quite a smile, but an acknowledgment of interest.
“Very well. Then we shall meet in two days’ time. Today I shall rest, and tomorrow attend your banquet.”
Only then did the tension in the courtyard ease. Ministers exhaled quietly. Yet Ham remained tight-lipped. He knew the true beginning was only now.
That evening, in the Crown Prince’s study, only a few candles burned. Concern weighed heavily upon the two men present.
Jeong spoke first, his voice low.
“Your Highness, why did you promise two days hence? Zhang Weiming is no ordinary man. He will not be easily deceived.”
“Did you not see the authority they displayed upon entering today? There is no retreat. We must receive investiture before news of Father’s death reaches their ears. Only then can I protect my people with my own hands.”
Desperation edged Ham’s voice. Outside, preparations for the envoys’ banquet filled the air with noise, yet here, silence pressed down like stone.
“Master, the second stage alone will not suffice. We must use the third stage—the one Physician Yun spoke of, pushing the special pill into his body.”
“Your Highness! That method carries no guarantee of success. And even if it succeeds, His Majesty’s body—!”
Ham knew better than anyone that what he was doing was unfilial. Yet he could not stop now. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with firm resolve.
“He has already passed. Even if his body suffers further harm, preserving Joseon comes first. The audience will last no more than half a shijin. We need only endure that half hour. So long as they cannot take his pulse and harbor no suspicion during the audience, it will suffice. And I trust Physician Yun. If it is Soheon, she will succeed. The true beginning is now.”
