Chapter 8: Kicking Up Heels

“Hahaha, I’m late! Sorry to keep you all waiting! I’ll punish myself with an extra drink later!”

Outside the Hall of Heavenly Mandate, Zhu Yuanzhang waved cheerfully to the assembled nobles who had come to greet him, signaling that no formalities were necessary. Then, supporting the elderly Duke of Cao, Li Zhen, he proceeded towards the hall.

Old Duke Li Zhen, father of Duke Li Wenzhong of Cao and grandfather to the great Ming general Li Jinglong, was also Zhu Yuanzhang’s brother-in-law—the only surviving relative of the same generation. The crowd followed the emperor as they entered the Hall of Heavenly Mandate once more.

“Is everyone here?” Zhu Yuanzhang inquired.

Prime Minister Hu Weiyong had been waiting for this question and immediately stepped forward. “Your Majesty, everyone has arrived except for the Earl of Sincerity, who is ill and stayed at home.”

“Why is the Earl of Sincerity’s health worsening? We should have a court physician examine him properly,” Zhu Yuanzhang remarked, almost causing Hu Weiyong to rejoice inwardly. This statement struck right at his heart—exactly the outcome he had hoped for.

“Your Majesty is correct. The Earl of Sincerity, a man devoted to the nation, deserves special care. May he recover soon and help lighten Your Majesty’s burdens,” Hu Weiyong added lightly. Though the words seemed casual, their weight was anything but light.

Zhu Yuanzhang took his seat at the head of the main table, with Old Duke Li Zhen to his left. Those seated at this table, aside from the emperor and the crown prince, were all dukes. Except for Duke Li Shanchang of Han—first among the six founding dukes—who remained in Fengyang overseeing the capital’s construction, the other five dukes were present: Duke Xu Da of Wei, Duke Li Wenzhong of Cao, Duke Feng Sheng of Song, Duke Deng Yu of Wei, and Duke Chang Mao of Zheng.

After the emperor and his guests took their seats, the junior attendants began organizing the remaining nobles and ministers. This time, the host arranged the seating, unlike previous occasions when everyone chose their own places in the emperor’s absence.

Dining is an art: it’s not just about what one eats but also who one dines with and where one sits. The more important the occasion, the more attention is paid to seating arrangements.

This Lunar New Year’s Day banquet had become a tradition since Zhu Yuanzhang ascended the throne. On New Year’s Eve, he dined with his family; on New Year’s Day, he gathered with his old comrades, demonstrating their closeness and fostering camaraderie.

Only those with the rank of at least count, along with some high-ranking court ministers, were invited. It was the grandest banquet of the year and the most meticulous about seating order.

Yet one man was deeply dissatisfied with his assigned place: Marquis Liao Yongzhong of Deqing. When the emperor was absent and everyone chose their own seats, he had taken the chief seat at the second table, reflecting his own estimation of his status. But now, with the emperor present and the host arranging the seating, he found himself relegated to the fourth table!

Although accompanied by Prince Zhu Su, the fifth son of the imperial family, Liao Yongzhong’s face was as dark as a burnt pan. Already displeased, he became even more so. Sitting there with an unapproachable demeanor, he made the rest of the table uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Zhu Yuanzhang chatted amiably with Li Zhen, Xu Da, and others. After years apart, sitting again with these old comrades felt different—a strange mix of familiarity and estrangement.

During the conversation, Zhu Yuanzhang glanced secretly at Liao Yongzhong, smirking inwardly but taking no further action. If someone wanted to make a scene, so be it.

Dishes were brought out one by one after everyone was seated. Zhu Yuanzhang cheerfully invited everyone to begin eating. This banquet was meant to strengthen bonds with the nobles who had helped him build his realm, making the atmosphere lively and convivial.

Glasses clinked, wine flowed, and the merriment continued. Yet Marquis Liao Yongzhong did not touch a single dish. From the start, he opened a jar of wine but poured none for the others at his table, drinking alone. He wasn’t merely drinking—he was pouring one bowl after another straight down his throat.

In no time, he had consumed half the jar. Still unsatisfied, he raised the jar to his lips and continued to drink. When someone quietly offered a word of caution, Liao seemed not to hear. He finished the remaining half jar in one go and opened another.

By now, his face was flushed and bloodshot eyes glaring. This time, he poured not only for himself but also for Prince Zhu Su, ignoring the others who, in his eyes, were unworthy of his cup.

“Your Highness, let’s drink together,” he invited, raising his bowl.

“I... I don’t drink. Marquis of Deqing, please enjoy yourself. Shall I pour some for you?” Zhu Su declined. Firstly, he genuinely did not drink; secondly, he recognized that Liao’s state was off and preferred to avoid him.

“You’re already a teenager, soon of marriageable age. How can you not drink? When I was your age, I was already drinking heartily, eating meat by the mouthful, and wielding my sword against the invaders! Come, drink up! Be a man!” Liao insisted stubbornly.

“Marquis, don’t be like this; he is a prince!” Zhu Liangzu, sitting at the same table, admonished, reminding him to show respect.

“A prince? A prince who can’t even hold his liquor, whose hair hasn’t fully grown?!” Liao exploded at the slightest provocation.

Years of pent-up anger, fueled by wine, erupted like a volcano. He suddenly stood and smashed his wine bowl onto the floor, splashing more than half its contents onto Zhu Su.

“We’ve risked our lives, fought countless battles, been close to death more times than I can count, and accomplished great feats! And yet, we don’t even get a dukedom! Meanwhile, some people who haven’t achieved an inch of merit wear the princely title!” Liao’s words stunned the entire hall.

The once noisy chamber fell into absolute silence. Every gaze fixed on Liao, filled with utter shock. Was he mad? To cause such a scene at a banquet personally arranged by the emperor, uttering such earth-shattering words?

But Liao Yongzhong was far from mad; he was fully aware of his actions. Overflowing with resentment and treated unjustly, he chose this moment to vent his grievances openly before the assembled senior ministers and nobles—to make a scene and see if Zhu Yuanzhang could keep his composure.

As for punishment… what penalty could compare to the cold blow of not being granted a dukedom after his great achievements, and having his stipend halved? He had led the naval forces at Chaohu Lake and won many victories for the Zhu family. Did he think the emperor dared to harm him?

Even if he made a scene now, the worst Zhu Yuanzhang could do was some mild reprimand. No one dared kill a meritorious noble. His own plaque, inscribed by Zhu Yuanzhang with the words “Outstanding General, Wise Commander,” hung proudly at his residence. The iron death exemption token bestowed by the emperor was kept safely at home.

Since the founding of the Ming dynasty, no noble had ever been executed. Regardless of crimes committed, Zhu Yuanzhang dared not truly lay deathly hands upon them. More than once, he publicly promised to honor their brotherhood until the end.

Moreover, the empire was still stabilizing, with many regions unsettled. Their strength was indispensable, and the nobles were powerful. Even if Zhu Yuanzhang was displeased, he had to hold back and dare not act decisively.

As long as he dared not kill, Liao had no fear.

The crown prince’s face darkened, preparing to rise, but Zhu Yuanzhang pressed his hand down. The emperor, still recovering from a recent beating and not yet fully mobile, forced himself to attend to the nobles. The second and third sons, his loyal brothers, also changed color and surged with anger, ready to defend their fifth brother but were restrained by Zhu Yuanzhang.

Holding the wine bowl he intended to offer everyone, the emperor stepped slowly toward Liao Yongzhong. The sound of his shoes striking the floor echoed deeply, as if treading upon the very hearts of those present…