I Built a Territory in Ancient Times Chapter 107

Chapter 107

Prime Minister Wen’s mansion had nearly been trampled by all the officials visiting these past few days. Ever since Prime Minister Wen had communicated with the Emperor and received the Emperor’s support, he had quickly returned to his residence and hastily penned a memorial regarding the West Qi Corridor. The next day, the memorial was presented to the Emperor, and during the morning court, the Emperor brought it up for discussion.

This action was like poking a hornet’s nest, and the senior officials in the court began to discuss it heatedly. The West Qi Mountain was located between the Suixi Kingdom and the Wuliang Kingdom, and if not handled carefully, it could lead to conflicts between the three countries. Currently, the Great Yan Dynasty was already facing internal and external struggles and had no strength to expand its territory. Prime Minister Wen had always been cautious in his actions, so why had he suddenly submitted such a memorial?

Some opposed it, thinking it was an unnecessary action that would waste people’s efforts and resources. Others, who were loyal to the Minister, believed the matter would benefit the country and the people. While it might require additional manpower and resources in the short term, it would secure a better future for future generations. Some took a wait-and-see approach, not taking sides.

Of course, this matter couldn’t be decided immediately. Some clever individuals began to ponder the Emperor’s attitude, but the Emperor had given no clear response. This left people feeling uncertain. After all, West Qi was on the frontier, and although it hadn’t been much of a concern before, now there was a large Buddha—Duan Wang—stationed there.

They had never heard of the concept of the Western Qi Corridor before. Now that Duan Wang had returned to the capital, it suddenly became an issue. Who would believe that Duan Wang’s influence wasn’t involved in this matter?

The emperor’s lack of stance was also quite telling. After all, Duan Wang was no ordinary figure—he held the emperor’s trust. When he was assigned to Liangzhou, everyone thought Duan Wang had lost favor. However, on his first day back in the palace, it was rumored that the eleventh and twelfth princes were punished because of him, while Duan Wang faced no consequences. Even Imperial Concubine Hui, who pleaded with the emperor, couldn’t change his decision. Wasn’t this evidence enough? The emperor’s favor for Duan Wang hadn’t waned in the slightest, and his status still ranked higher than that of the other princes.

This showed that the matter was indeed related to Duan Wang, and the emperor’s silence was a subtle form of support for him. After analyzing it this way, some people changed their views and decided to follow the emperor’s lead.

The court was in an uproar, with ministers arguing loudly during the morning assembly and continuing to bicker after it ended, creating constant noise and unrest.

In the face of this, Prime Minister Wen could only seek refuge in the Emperor’s Deyu Palace for some peace and quiet. He wasn’t unaware of the consequences of his actions, but if he didn’t do it, who else would dare?

“You’re still laughing at me…” Prime Minister Wen’s complaint slipped out, but he quickly realized his mistake and apologized. “Your Majesty, please forgive me.”

The emperor’s face, which had been full of warmth, stiffened. The atmosphere, once cozy, suddenly turned heavy. This person had changed so much over the years. He used to be carefree and unrestrained, but now he was cautious and guarded.

The emperor smiled lightly, his tone casual as he spoke. “Forgive you? You say that every day. If you’re not tired of it, I certainly am.”

Prime Minister Wen felt awkward, suddenly aware of his mistake. The pleasant atmosphere had made him forget their current positions. For a moment, he had thought they were back in their youth, with no status barrier between them, speaking freely to each other.

When the emperor spoke, Prime Minister Wen’s unease grew. He regretted coming here in the first place.

The emperor glanced at him, tapping his chess piece against the board twice as a reminder. “It’s your turn. I’ve already warned you—no regrets.”

Prime Minister Wen came back to his senses, only to realize that in his distracted thoughts, he had placed his piece on the board. The move had blocked his own path, and his once-promising position had been sealed off, turning into a dead piece.

When he realized what had happened, he quickly reached for the piece to take it back, but the emperor placed his hand on top of his, pressing it down firmly. “I warned you—no taking it back.”

Their hands touched, and Prime Minister Wen’s face turned pale. The touch sent a shock through his hand, and he quickly withdrew it.

The emperor seemed disappointed, but pretended not to notice, smiling as he swiftly placed his piece. “Wen Qing, I concede this round.”

Prime Minister Wen gave a bitter smile. “I lost.” One mistake led to another, and the game was beyond repair. Whether he admitted defeat early or late, the outcome was the same. There was no point in struggling further and making it more embarrassing.

No longer interested in the game, Prime Minister Wen was about to leave when the emperor stopped him. “I can see you’ve had enough of this. The person who caused the trouble should be the one to solve it. Since that reckless boy was the one who started it, let him handle the problem.”

Prime Minister Wen raised his eyes to meet the emperor’s, who wore the same calm expression, a faint smile playing on his lips. He lowered his gaze and respectfully said, “As Your Majesty commands.”

At that moment, when the emperor spoke those words, Prime Minister Wen’s heart skipped a beat. The emperor, always so busy, had noticed his emotions, which was a rare comfort. But that was all it was—just the emperor showing concern for a subordinate.

Prime Minister Wen took his leave, and the Emperor sighed deeply. Wen Qing had grown quite haggard these past few days, and that troublemaker had dragged him into this mess. The Emperor decided that the troublesome boy needed to resolve the issue soon, to prevent Wen Qing from overworking himself any further.

Ming Yu found the Eldest Princess as she was preparing to send someone to call them to join the essential part of the garden party, which involved elegant activities like composing poetry and discussing ancient and modern topics.

These kinds of events were always very similar—either playing games like passing a flower with drums or floating wine cups on winding waters. The point was to enjoy refined pursuits in the company of scholars and literary enthusiasts. Ming Yu was merely interested in the spectacle; if it came to him actually participating, he wouldn’t manage. Everyone knew that his knowledge only stretched to recognizing words by their pictures.

Today, the Eldest Princess had prepared the floating wine cups event. This meant they would sit by the flowing creek, placing a wine cup downstream filled with wine. As the cup flowed towards each person, the sound of the drums would stop, and whoever the cup stopped in front of had to compose a poem or write something on the spot. If they failed, they would be fined three cups of wine to add to the fun.

This was a favorite elegant pastime of contemporary scholars and literary guests. Generally, some fine works would emerge from these events, and if any great poetry came from it, it would be admired by people and could even be passed down through the ages. Who wouldn’t want to participate?

The Eldest Princess and Ming Yu sat at the upper stream, as the hosts and judges. After the signal was given, the sound of drums began to beat rapidly, and everyone eagerly prepared to show their talents.

Ming Yu was there simply for the entertainment, finding the poets’ performances quite interesting. At least it was something fun to watch.

The Eldest Princess, still thinking about Ming Yu’s future, decided to ask if there had been any progress in his romantic matters. Even if there hadn’t been any developments, it was no big deal—she could always host more events like this and invite Ming Yu to attend. Surely something would come of it in the end.

“Fourteenth, I saw you playing pitch-pot game just now. You were impressive. No one in the capital could match your skill, could they?” the Eldest Princess started the conversation.

She had already heard about Ming Yu’s performance with pitch-pot game, and recalling how he had inquired about the girl, Shangguan Ling, she couldn’t help but think that Ming Yu must be interested in her. Otherwise, why would he display such a skill, impressing everyone’s attention? Men, after all, were always eager to show off in front of the women they liked.

Ming Yu had already forgotten about what happened with Xie Yixiu. But when the topic came up, he was reminded of how Xie Yixiu had personally taught him how to throw the wine cups, how close their interaction had been.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it, but now reflecting on it, combined with Xie Yixiu’s recent confession, Ming Yu finally realized that Xie Yixiu had been plotting this all along. They had been so close that they could smell each other’s scent. He glared at Xie Yixiu, who was sitting nearby, but at the same time, he wanted to crawl into a hole to hide, his face turning red once more without control.

The Eldest Princess, seeing this, thought Ming Yu was blushing because of Shangguan Ling. She smiled and said, “Shangguan Ling is a fine girl. I think she’s quite good. If you like her, I can help matchmaking you two together.”

Hearing this, Xie Yixiu’s face darkened. He had already noticed the Eldest Princess’s intentions. Only someone as clueless as Ming Yu wouldn’t realize it. Fortunately, Xie Yixiu had acted first; otherwise, with Ming Yu’s personality, he might have been snatched away by someone else.

Ming Yu was sharp in many matters, but when it came to emotions, he was completely clueless—like a blank sheet of paper.

As expected, he hadn’t realized what was going on. Hearing the Eldest Princess’s words, he looked confused and asked, “Matchmaking? Matchmaking for what?”

The Eldest Princess rolled her eyes at him. Was he still pretending to be clueless? “For you and Shangguan Ling, of course! Don’t you have feelings for her? Don’t you like her? Why be so shy about it?”

“Huh?” When had he ever had feelings for Shangguan Ling? He had merely thought she would be a good match for Xie Yixiu, but now that idea had completely fallen apart.

The Eldest Princess assumed he was just too shy to admit it. “Fourteenth Brother, you don’t have to worry. I’ll personally ask Father for an imperial decree to fulfill your wish.”

Ming Yu was startled by this. He glanced at Xie Yixiu, but Xie Yixiu’s expression was unreadable—his face darkened, and a cold aura surrounded him. Oh heavens, could this situation be any more intense? He had just heard Xie Yixiu confess his feelings, and now the Eldest Princess was discussing his marriage right in front of him. This was like roasting him over an open fire!

Terrified, he hurriedly waved his hands and clarified, “No, no, there’s nothing like that! I haven’t even spoken a single sentence to Shangguan Ling, let alone had any feelings for her. Sister, please don’t say such things—you’ll ruin the young lady’s reputation.”

Ming Yu spoke so earnestly that the Eldest Princess hesitated. “Are you telling the truth? You really don’t have feelings for Shangguan Ling?”

He was one step away from swearing an oath to the heavens. “No, none at all! Really!”

“If not her, then what about other young ladies? Is there anyone you’re interested in?” the Eldest Princess asked, still doubtful.

Ming Yu nearly wanted to cry. “No, Sister, please stop worrying about me. I’ve already discussed this with Father—this is something I need to decide for myself.”

The Eldest Princess was taken aback. What did he mean by that? Did their father no longer care about his marriage?

Deciding for himself? Marriage had always been determined by parental arrangements and matchmakers. Even though she held these grand gatherings and literary events where young men and women could admire each other and express their feelings, everyone knew that their marriages were ultimately decided by their families. Behind every marriage lay family interests, and it was a responsibility they could not escape.

Yet the Emperor had granted Ming Yu the right to decide his own marriage. This meant Ming Yu was free from any political entanglements—there were no interests tying him to anyone, no family alliances to consider. He had broken free from the constraints of marriage politics, but at the same time, he had also lost the powerful backing that came with it.

For a prince, marriage was never a simple affair. A strong in-law family could serve as a critical bargaining chip, potentially elevating one to the highest position. That was why nearly every prince’s mother would start scouting for a suitable family early on, carefully selecting a bride from among them and requesting an imperial marriage decree—even if the couple had never met and held no affection for each other, the benefits of the alliance outweighed personal emotions.

Ming Yu’s decision could be either a blessing or a curse. The Eldest Princess felt a hint of regret. “You… How can Father let you be so willful? Well, never mind! Do as you please. But if you ever find someone you truly like, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Ming Yu let out a sigh of relief. Afraid that saying too much would only lead to more trouble, he quickly changed the topic to something he had been meaning to ask. “Sister, do you know someone named Song Lian?”

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