The bankside streets buzzed with noise as boats passed endlessly back and forth on the river.
Qin Hu turned his gaze toward the river.
“… Have you heard? The court is going to adopt a clansman to inherit the throne.”
“… It was proposed by the Empress herself…”
“… How bold of her! Isn’t she afraid of being criticized behind her back?”
“… Exactly! Take my third uncle’s sisterinlaw’s second elder – he couldn’t have children, and his wife sold everything to buy him concubines one after another, but he never dared suggest adopting an heir…”
“… Adoption? To just hand over a lifetime’s hardearned family wealth to an outsider? Nothing comes that cheap. Who would ever agree?”
The clamor of surrounding discussions drew Qin Hu’s gaze back.
Indeed, how could such a thing be so easily done? It wasn’t as if His Majesty had no children or that his line was cut off – how dare they?
How could they be so shameless!
Weren’t they just taking advantage of the Emperor’s grave illness, his inability to speak, unable to reprimand or curse them?
To commit such a treasonous, deceitful act so brazenly – did they think all loyal ministers at court were dead and gone?
Qin Hu raised his hand and struck the tea table heavily.
The sound startled the shopkeeper once again.
“Tea,” Qin Hu said.
The shopkeeper hurriedly nodded, fetched the cleanest tea set to pour the tea, and then quickly stepped away.
The aroma of tea drifted up, and Qin Hu’s gaze turned back to the river.
Where did the Empress find such courage? Did she not know the consequences of this move? At home, one should think of filial duty; serving the sovereign, one should think of loyalty. Yet she openly defied the Empress Dowager’s decree, openly ignored that the Emperor has heirs, and braved the condemnation of disloyalty and unfiliality to propose this adoption – where did her confidence come from?
Was it because Zhang Chun supported her?
Zhang Chun…
Qin Hu rested his hand on the tea bowl. Zhang Chun was not the kind of man to involve himself in matters of imperial succession, much less have any connection with the Empress.
How could he?
“…Actually, the Empress has her reasons for doing this…”
Reasons?
Qin Hu looked to the side. Four or five people seated at a nearby table were still murmuring in low voices. One of them leaned against a flagpole, from which fluttered a banner with four bold characters: “Ironclad Fortunetelling.”
Qin Hu frowned, and the others also looked toward the fortune-teller.
“What reasons? No reason justifies handing over a husband’s family estate to an outsider.”
“What do you all understand? The imperial family’s affairs are nothing like the broken-down home of your so-called ‘second uncle.’ This is a matter decreed by the Mandate of Heaven.”
The Mandate of Heaven?
“Do any of you know who the Empress met before this? Lady Cheng! The divine disciple, Lady Cheng! And do you know about the ‘Taibai Star Crossing the Sky’ omen? It already foretold the Crown Prince’s peril – meaning the succession of the imperial house is due to change. Lady Cheng, as a disciple of the immortals, surely knows who the true Son of Heaven is…”
With a sharp smack, the conversation was cut short. The crowd turned in alarm to see a young man glaring at them with a face ashen with rage.
The tea house fell silent. Then, the fortune-teller grabbed his bamboo pole and banner and fled without looking back.
Discussing court politics and imperial succession at a time like this – if truly investigated, it would mean beheading!
Once, a mere imperial clansman was convicted of rebellion just for reading a book on celestial signs. And here they were, a whole group daring to debate who the true Son of Heaven was. Had they grown tired of living?
Watching the fortune-teller bolt away, the rest of the crowd snapped back to their senses and scattered in a sudden flurry. The poor tea-house owner didn’t even dare chase after them for payment. He looked at the young man, nearly in tears.
“Young master, this has nothing to do with me. I didn’t hear anything,” he said, trembling as he clasped his hands in a shaky bow.
Qin Hu let out a heavy sigh.
So that was it. This was exactly what those people intended to exploit.
No wonder the Empress had summoned her to the palace at this very moment – and then proposed the adoption. They were leveraging her reputation, using the Mandate of Heaven to bewilder the common people and build momentum.
The Taibai Star crossing the heavens!
He had said it all along – Duke Jin’an was using her. He had warned her! And now, they were truly using her.
She met the Empress, and immediately afterward, the Empress proposed the adoption. Who could avoid speculating about what was said between them? If she could speak of the Crown Prince’s peril, then naturally she could also name who should be Crown Prince…
Qin An, who had returned looking somewhat weary, nodded at Qin Hu’s words.
“Indeed, many have already begun to suspect her involvement,” he said. “Given the timing of the Empress’s proposal, it’s impossible for people not to make the connection.”
“So this was all planned by the Empress and Duke Jin’an,” Qin Hu said. “They’ve been scheming since the omen of the Taibai Star crossing the sky.”
Qin An fell silent for a moment.
“Then does Lady Cheng truly know nothing of this?” he asked.
“She knows nothing,” Qin Hu replied immediately. “She is the kind of person who is straightforward and never feigns. If you dare ask her, she dares to answer – but as for why they asked or what they intend to do with her words, she doesn’t care and doesn’t pay attention. She only speaks what she knows. The speaker may have no intent, but the listener has designs; the doer may act without thought, but the observer sees purpose.”
As he spoke, his hands clenched tight once more.
“Duke Jin’an is precisely exploiting this about her.”
Qin An looked at Qin Hu.
“Shi’san, do you think this way out of personal bias?” he suddenly asked.
Qin Hu was taken aback for a moment, then smiled bitterly.
“Father, to reward those one loves and punish those one hates all based on personal feelings – is that how I appear to you, a man so lacking in virtue?”
Qin An chuckled.
“What I mean is, when people are driven by personal bias, they inevitably lose impartiality,” he said.
“My acquaintance Duke Prince Jin’an only began recently, while my views on him have long been clear to you, Father,” Qin Hu replied. “Has that changed?”
Qin An smiled and nodded.
Indeed, from the start, they – as imperial relatives – had disapproved of the Emperor keeping Duke Jin’an in the palace, especially after the duke reached adulthood.
Now it seemed their early misgivings were far from unfounded.
“Then what about Zhang Chun?” he continued, frowning. “He’s no ignorant commoner – why would he believe in such things?”
Qin Hu pressed his lips together slightly.
“Father, do you know that there exists in this world a kind of person who repays a drop of kindness with a spring’s abundance, and a moment’s aid with a lifetime of devotion?” he said.
“Such people do exist, though they are rare,” Qin An replied, smiling faintly. “It is easy to speak of, yet difficult to live by.”
Qin Hu gave a quiet smile.
“I have met one. I used to think there was only one, but now it seems… there may be two.”
…
Night fell, and the room was swallowed by darkness.
“Your Highness!”
Someone pushed the door open and hurriedly lit a lamp. The lamplight illuminated Duke Jin’an, who was seated before a low desk.
“Your Highness, have you finished writing?”
Duke Jin’an looked down at the paper on the desk. Only one character was written: Subject (臣).
“Your Highness! We can delay no longer,” the duke’s advisor urged anxiously. “If you do not write it now, you will truly become the target of everyone’s arrows!”
The Empress’s proposal for adoption swept through like a fierce gale, plunging the already tense court into even deeper turmoil. Court officials were thrown into disarray, while imperial clansmen and relatives closed their doors to visitors one after another, fearful of being accused of harboring treacherous intentions.
Among them, Duke Jin’an stood out most conspicuously.
Raised in the palace since childhood, brought up in the Emperor’s presence, granted a princely mansion akin to that of an imperial prince, trusted by the Emperor, and doted on by both the Empress Dowager and the Empress.
If there were to be an adoption – who else could it be but him?
The Empress’s proposal came far too abruptly, inevitably leading some to suspect that she was taking advantage of the Emperor’s grave illness, the tragedy that had befallen Prince Ping, and Prince Qing’s intellectual frailty to conspire with a clansman – specifically, Duke Jin’an – to seize the throne. Once such a view took hold, both scholarly opinion and public sentiment would condemn them as rebels.
In such circumstances, Duke Jin’an had no choice but to submit a memorial to clear his name and request to leave the capital, thereby demonstrating that he harbored no ambition for the throne.
“If I leave, what will become of Liu Ge’er?” Duke Jin’an said.
“Your Highness, everyone at court will protect Prince Qing. You can rest assured of that. He is already the Emperor – no one will harm him,” the advisor urged anxiously.
Duke Jin’an smiled faintly.
“Yes, he is the Emperor now. No one will harm him, but no one treats him as a person either,” he said. “Haven’t you heard what is being said from the palace? How are the Empress Dowager’s people caring for him? To keep him from crying out, they’ve started feeding him sleeping draughts! The Empress Dowager doesn’t care for him – she only wants him as a person, someone with that title. None of them see him as a human being. To them, he’s just an ornament, placed there to serve their convenience.”
The advisor lowered his gaze with a sigh.
“But what difference does it make?” he said softly, almost inaudibly. “To speak irreverently, however Prince Qing is treated… it’s all the same to him.”
Whether with tender care or neglect, to Prince Qing – who has no awareness, no feeling – it makes no difference at all.
“It’s different for me,” Duke Jin’an said, striking the table sharply. “It’s different for me. Just the thought of it makes me unable to sleep or eat!”
The advisor looked at him.
“But what can you do, Your Highness?” he said. “You can no longer stay by his side. He is no longer Prince Qing – he is the Crown Prince, the Emperor now. If you remain close to him, people will talk.”
“What others say has nothing to do with me,” Duke Jin’an replied.
The advisor was taken aback.
“Your Highness, do you mean… you will not request to leave the capital?” he asked in astonishment.
Duke Jin’an looked down at the paper on the desk.
“No,” he said. “I will not leave the capital, nor abandon Prince Qing, just to preserve my own reputation. Let them talk if they wish.”
As he spoke, he seemed to shrug off a heavy burden, his expression easing into a faint smile.
“Even if I were to leave, even if I submitted a memorial pleading to depart, even if I wept and claimed I harbored no disloyal thoughts – do you truly believe there would be no talk then?” he added with a trace of irony. “If I stay, they will say I hide treacherous intentions and plot rebellion. If I leave, they will say I am putting on an act, pretending reluctance while seeking fame. So no matter what I do, they will talk – because what they criticize is not what I do, but me as a person. Since that is the case, why should I care what they say? I know what I am doing, and my conscience is clear.”
The advisor looked at him, his expression shifting slightly for a moment.
“Then Your Highness will suffer great injustice,” he said quietly.
Duke Jin’an looked at the paper on the desk, picked it up, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it aside with an easy motion.
“Still… why did the Empress suddenly propose this? And it is said she only did so after meeting Lady Cheng…” the advisor began thoughtfully.
Duke Jin’an smiled.
“That’s easy. We’ll just ask her. Why speculate behind her back?” he said, pushing himself up from the desk as he stood.
Ask her?
The advisor glanced outside in surprise.
Now?
“Your Highness, it’s already dark,” he said.
Duke Jin’an was already walking toward the door. Hearing this, he turned back with a faint smile.
“Given my current… controversial position, would it be wise to visit her in broad daylight? That would only drown me in condemnation at once,” he said. “Though I may not care about rumors, I’ve no wish to die either.”
