The seventh year of the Tianqi reign, late at night. The Forbidden City, Qianqing Palace.
Zhu Youxiao lay gravely ill on the imperial bed when he suddenly heard a click from the floor. With effort, he opened his eyes and saw a golden brick being pushed aside. A head poked up through the floor: his useless younger brother, Zhu Youjian.
Zhu Youjian climbed out, dusted himself off, and took a steaming bowl of medicine from his robes. “Brother, it's time to take your medicine.”
Zhu Youxiao nearly choked. “You… how did you get in here?”
“I dug a tunnel straight from my residence to underneath your bed.” Zhu Youjian looked innocent. “Don't worry, Brother. That old dog Wei Zhongxian will never find it.”
Zhu Youxiao: “…I asked how you dared!”
Zhu Youjian handed him the bowl. “Brother, trust me this once. In my previous life, I was emperor for seventeen years, and the Ming dynasty fell on my watch. I even ended up at that crooked-neck tree on Coal Hill. I was reborn in this life to give our Ming dynasty more time. Wei Zhongxian, Li Zicheng, Hong Taiji: whoever wants to take our Zhu family's realm will have to step over my corpse first.”
Zhu Youxiao stared at him for a long while before finally managing, “You… you're insane?”
Zhu Youjian smiled. “Brother, I'm not insane. In my cricket cage, I have a list of 137 of Wei Zhongxian's cronies. Beneath the old locust tree in my residence, I've buried a map of the defenses in Liaodong. And Zhou Yu'er's account book records the salt tax revenue from seven provinces south of the Yangtze. Brother, rest and recover. Once I've finished this game, I'll show you what it means to turn the tide.”
Looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar younger brother before him, Zhu Youxiao felt his eyes grow hot. He patted Zhu Youjian's shoulder. “All right… I'm entrusting you with my life.”
