While the pirates faced public lingchi, Zhu Ping’an received an imperial edict from the capital, officially promoting him to Right Vice Minister of War for Yingtian and Governor of Zhejiang.
“Honored envoys, your journey was arduous. My humble residence has prepared a modest meal to welcome you.”
After receiving the edict, Zhu Ping’an thanked the imperial eunuchs again, inviting them to dine.
“Thank you, Lord Zhu. We’ll impose then,” the eunuchs accepted gladly.
Li Shu had already arranged a feast. The lead eunuch, Wang Gonggong, Factory Guard officers, and Zhu Ping’an sat at the main table, while lesser eunuchs, guards, and escorts filled ten tables, eight per table.
Though tables were divided, the food was identical—lavish, fragrant, and delectable.
“Jiangnan cuisine shines with the three Yangtze delicacies: knife fish, tender and smooth, rich but not greasy; shad, the king of fish, as the folk rhyme goes, ‘braised shad delights both ends, steamed shad tempts immortals’; and pufferfish, a chef’s test—sweet, succulent, with thick broth, surpassing even Su Dongpo’s verse, ‘when wormwood carpets the ground and reed sprouts are short, it’s pufferfish season’…” Zhu Ping’an warmly urged them to enjoy, describing each dish’s allure.
Li Shu knew how to live well. Her chefs, though not imperial, were nearly as skilled.
The spread captivated the eunuchs and guards, their chopsticks never stopping.
The table was all joy.
“Thank you, Lord Zhu, for your hospitality. After a dusty, exhausting journey, this feast has revived us,” Wang Gonggong said, half earnest, half flattering, after eating his fill.
“Haha, honored envoys, you traveled far for Ping’an’s sake. If I didn’t feed you well, wouldn’t I be at fault?” Zhu Ping’an chuckled, avoiding false modesty about “rough fare.” He jokingly stressed the meal’s care, highlighting his regard for them.
“Haha, Feng Gonggong often says Lord Zhu is witty and charming. Today proves it,” Wang Gonggong laughed.
His tone suggested closeness with Feng Bao—a single “often” hinted at it. Zhu Ping’an seized the chance, “Oh, you’re friends with Feng Gonggong?”
“Lord Zhu’s sharp as ever—one sentence, and you’ve guessed my tie with Feng Gonggong. We entered the palace around the same time, met in humble days, bonded over shared tastes, and supported each other. Our friendship’s special. When I left the capital, Feng Gonggong asked me to send you his regards.”
Wang Gonggong smiled.
“Haha, Feng Gonggong’s friend is my friend. I’ll rely on your care, Wang Gonggong,” Zhu Ping’an replied warmly, adding, “Please send my regards back to him.”
“Of course, of course,” Wang Gonggong said, meaning more than one thing.
“Oh, nearly forgot—Feng Gonggong asked me to seek your advice on something,” Wang Gonggong said, as if just remembering.
“Advice is too much—I can only offer immature thoughts for his reference,” Zhu Ping’an said modestly, then softly asked, “What troubles Feng Gonggong?”
“Thanks to you, Lord Zhu, the bedchamber selection system has made Feng Gonggong a hot figure in the harem, with more opportunities. Recently, he’s got a chance to join the Secretariat.”
“In our inner court, the Secretariat handles daily memorials from the Office of Transmission, capital officials, and vassal kings, plus outer court drafts and inner court approvals. All imperial decrees pass through it. The Secretariat has ten stewards. Recently, Xia Gonggong fell ill and left, leaving a spot Feng Gonggong could take.”
“You may know, most who become Ceremonial Directorate eunuchs come from the Secretariat. Feng Gonggong’s dream is to join it, ideally as Chief Eunuch—then he’d die content.”
“But taking Xia Gonggong’s spot as a steward means giving up his current role in the Bedchamber Office, including the selection system. He’s reluctant to let that go but wants the Secretariat. He’s torn and asked me to consult you.”
Wang Gonggong outlined Feng Bao’s dilemma, seeking Zhu Ping’an’s view. He couldn’t have both—the Secretariat meant abandoning the Bedchamber Office and its perks.
Since the selection system, Feng Bao had gained favor. Harem consorts curried his favor for better chances, making him influential. Handing that over stung.
Yet the Secretariat was tempting. Most Ceremonial Directorate eunuchs came from there—join, and you’re halfway to the top.
“Currently, Chief Eunuch Huang leads the Ceremonial Directorate, with Eunuchs Lü and others as key figures—seasoned, unshakable for years. The top’s locked tight. If Feng Gonggong joins the Secretariat, he’d likely languish, grinding through years with little chance to rise.”
“Secretariat stewards handle heaps of paperwork, mostly behind the scenes, with few chances to shine. The Bedchamber Office, though, puts you front and center—before His Majesty and harem ladies. Do your job well, and they’ll notice, keeping you in their minds. Favor with emperor and consorts—how could promotion not follow?”
“In four or five years, with enough clout, he could aim for the Secretariat again—not as a mere steward but as its head. If he becomes Secretariat Chief, the Ceremonial Directorate’s practically guaranteed, right?”
“Just my view, for Feng Gonggong’s reference.”
Zhu Ping’an thought carefully, offering his take. History showed Feng Bao’s stage wasn’t Jiajing’s reign but the next, under Prince Yu. When the time came, he’d nudge Feng Bao toward the prince for his rise.
“I’ll thank Lord Zhu for Feng Gonggong and pass on your advice,” Wang Gonggong said, clasping his fists.
