Chapter 044: Inheritance of the Title

During the Zhengtong era, the Ming dynasty’s system of hereditary nobility had become nearly perfected. The current system was based on the principles of “son succeeds the father upon his death” and “the legitimate heir precedes the eldest,” with some unusual cases such as “a younger brother succeeding after the elder’s end,” or “skipping a generation.”

Since ancient times, disputes between legitimate and illegitimate sons over the succession of titles were considered a severe breach of moral order; rarely did an illegitimate branch receive support, and thus it was uncommon for an illegitimate son to successfully seize a title. In actual history, when Duke of England Zhang Fu died at Tumu Fortress, his title did not pass to his legitimate son Zhang Zhong, but to his eldest illegitimate son, Zhang Mao—a highly exceptional occurrence.

According to the “Duties of the Ministry of Personnel,” when a duke, marquis, or earl passed away, the sons and grandsons would petition for succession; after the rites and burials had been completed, the Ministry of Personnel would review the matter, referring it to the relevant prefecture, which would inquire into the legitimacy of the succession, collect genealogical records, and send all documentation back for verification before a decision was made.

The inheritance of titles in the Ming dynasty was not decided by the noble himself but was usually petitioned for by the family elders after his death. The Verification Office and the Five Military Commissioners were responsible for the investigation; undisputed cases proceeded smoothly, while contested ones were rejected.

Xue Rui’s involvement in the bitter struggle for the Duke of England’s title stemmed from his knowledge of history—he knew the court would eventually grant the succession to Zhang Mao, not to the legitimate son Zhang Zhong, and so he proactively sought an alliance.

As for Zhang Zhong, he lost his father at an early age and was left without proper upbringing. With Zhang Fu constantly away commanding troops and rarely exercising discipline, Zhang Zhong grew up wild, debauched, and violent. Moreover, due to his congenital physical disability, he was out of favor with his father. After Lady Wu gave birth to Zhang Mao, Zhang Fu, overjoyed at having a son in his old age, frequently expressed his satisfaction, saying, “Now I have an heir.” Lady Wu took those words to heart.

In recent years, as Zhang Fu’s health declined and his days grew numbered, Lady Wu began plotting for her son, constantly whispering in her husband's ear and gradually swaying his intentions. Zhang Mao, though young, was clever and thoughtful, and Zhang Fu indeed hoped his youngest son would inherit the title and glorify the family.

However, the succession was not for him to decide. Despite Zhang Zhong’s disability, there remained Zhang Zhong’s son, Zhang Jie. According to the principle of “skipping a generation,” even if the title passed over Zhang Zhong, it should have gone to the legitimate grandson, Zhang Jie, not to the illegitimate Zhang Mao. Thus, Zhang Fu hesitated, never daring to submit a petition to the court.

This time, Zhang Fu went to war in his old age for one crucial reason: to earn further merit and then petition for his illegitimate son Zhang Mao to be granted the title, thereby increasing the court’s likelihood of approval. Who could have foreseen the disastrous defeat and Zhang Fu’s death on the battlefield?

Now, with Zhang Fu gone, Lady Wu was left without support and deeply anxious. Xue Rui seized the opportunity to approach her, waiting for the right moment to use the power of the Duke of England’s household to rescue his own father.

As Xue Rui departed the duke’s residence, a council being held in the Palace of Compassionate Tranquility was just coming to an end.

That morning, Prince Cheng had led Yu Qian and other ministers to the palace to consult with Empress Dowager Sun about the crisis. At first, the Empress Dowager had hoped to keep the news secret, but the truth could not be concealed. In less than half a day, word of the emperor’s capture had spread throughout the capital. With no other choice, she summoned Prince Cheng and the ministers for a council.

The first matter on the agenda was how to respond to the emperor’s capture. The ministers all agreed that the Empress Dowager’s plan to ransom her son with gold and jewels would be futile, though they did not oppose it. Instead, they suggested that the court formally send envoys to negotiate with Esen, the Taishi of Oirat, and secure the emperor’s release.

Empress Dowager Sun had no objection but instructed that the envoys should bring lavish gifts to increase the chances of the emperor’s safe return.

The second issue was the fate of the capital. With the three main armies annihilated, fewer than ten thousand troops remained, all demoralized, old, or infirm; it was unlikely they could hold the city. The Empress Dowager, fearful and believing the capital’s fall imminent, asked the ministers whether the court should relocate to Nanjing to escape the Oirat threat.

This proposal met with opposition from some ministers, notably Yu Qian. After such a crushing defeat, if even the court fled to Nanjing, the morale of Beijing’s defenders and citizens would collapse, and the city would surely fall. If the Oirat were truly to take the capital, they would use it as a base to conquer the surrounding regions, which were defenseless; soon all of northern China would fall, and once the Oirat’s power was consolidated, they would march south. Half the empire would be lost—was this not a repeat of the Song dynasty’s tragedy?

In the future, Emperor Zhu Qizhen would be remembered with infamy, and Empress Dowager Sun, in death, would be ashamed to face her ancestors.

After much deliberation and with the eunuchs’ counsel, the Empress Dowager finally reached consensus with the ministers: the capital must be defended to the death.

The ministers then offered a series of proposals for the city’s defense. With the Empress Dowager’s approval, it was decided that an official announcement would be made at the imperial court the next day.

...

Upon arriving at the Hu residence, Xue Rui inquired about his master’s whereabouts and went straight to the study. Seeing him, Hu Zhong set down his brush and asked, “How likely do you think it is that the court will relocate the capital?”

“Not in the slightest,” Xue Rui replied firmly. “The court has only lost the three main armies, not the entire military of the nation. To say nothing of the distant provinces, just the garrisons nearby can muster tens of thousands. There are also the reserve forces and the coastal defense troops, not to mention the personal guards of the princes—all of whom can be brought into the capital. In total, assembling two hundred thousand troops is entirely possible; it is more than enough to defend the city.”

Hu Zhong gave a wry smile. “Then you should go and persuade your sister. She’s packing up the household, planning to flee with the family.”

“What?” Xue Rui was stunned. “Where does she plan to go?”

“Tianjin.”

“That’s just what I had in mind,” Xue Rui thought, surprised. A month ago, he had considered several places of refuge, and Tianjin was one of them. He hadn’t expected Hu Ying’er to come to the same conclusion.

However, Hu Ying’er had overlooked one crucial point: Hu Zhong was an official of the court. If he fled, he would be held accountable, and given his integrity, he would never abandon his post. All of Hu Ying’er’s preparations would be for naught.

Upon questioning the maids, Xue Rui learned that Hu Ying’er was packing valuables for her brother and went straight to Hu Cheng’an’s quarters.

“Xiaocui, hurry up—there isn’t much time. We need to move quickly or we won’t make it out of the city,” Hu Ying’er urged, as several maids bustled about, never stopping for a moment.

Seeing Xue Rui enter, Hu Ying’er called out, “Go home and tell Aunt to start packing. Come with us to Tianjin.”

“No, I’m staying in the capital,” Xue Rui replied without hesitation.

Hu Ying’er stared at him in disbelief, then said irritably, “Are you planning to stay here and die? You must not know that I’ve already sent people to investigate—those noble families and the homes of ministers are all scrambling to send their families out of the city. The gates are already jammed. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be trapped.”

“Is that true?” Xue Rui had expected commoners to flee, but never imagined that even the noble houses and high officials would be so desperate to send their families away.