“Your Majesty.”
Several palace eunuchs entered with bowed heads, their gaze fixed on the Empress seated beside the emperor’s sickbed.
On that day in the court, the Empress Dowager had pointed at her and denounced her as lacking virtue, demanding that she leave the Emperor’s bedchamber. Yet the Empress, who hadn’t uttered a word in rebuttal to the accusations, firmly and resolutely refused.
“I am the Empress, officially invested by His Majesty the Emperor. Unless I am deposed, no one can make me leave the Emperor’s side.”
Depose the Empress?
The Empress Dowager would have loved to depose her immediately, but the decision to depose an empress wasn’t hers alone to make. True to form, the Dowager summoned court officials to deliberate. However, of the five officials she called, three refused to enter the inner palace. The two who did enter avoided the issue entirely, saying that the pressing matter now was establishing the crown prince.
“We can’t be bothered with the messy affairs of you women in the inner palace,” they seemed to imply. Especially now, when everyone knew the Empress Dowager and the Empress were at loggerheads and had torn off all pretenses. How could anyone take seriously the words and actions of women who had openly turned against each other? Even when they weren’t at odds, their words and deeds were often biased. If court officials were to involve themselves in such disputes, they’d only become a laughingstock.
The Empress Dowager was furious but helpless.
“Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager has summoned the court council again,” the eunuch reported.
The Empress smiled faintly, with a touch of indifference.
“Go and listen. See what they are discussing this time,” she said.
Following the previous incident, the Empress had regained partial control within the palace. Watching the eunuch bow and depart, Consort An, who was wiping the Emperor’s hands nearby, looked up.
“Your Majesty, what if the Empress Dowager insists that the court officials depose you?” she asked.
“Unless the Emperor awakens and agrees to it,” the Empress replied, her gaze fixed on the unconscious Emperor before her.
Consort An also turned to look.
“Your Majesty, if His Majesty wakes up and learns what we have done, he will surely depose you,” she whispered, leaning closer to the Empress’s ear.
The Empress smiled.
“He won’t wake up,” she said calmly.
Consort An turned to look at her, startled.
“Your Majesty, do you mean…” she whispered, lowering her voice as she gestured with her hand across her neck in a cutting motion.
The Empress scoffed.
“Even if I were to die before you, I’d still know how you’d meet your end!” she snapped.
Consort An was taken aback for a moment, then a hint of curiosity crept into her expression.
“Your Majesty, how would I die, then?”
“From sheer stupidity!”
“But, Your Majesty, I truly don’t understand. Didn’t the imperial doctors say His Majesty’s condition hasn’t worsened?”
“They said it hasn’t worsened, not that he’ll wake up. Besides, if His Majesty were still capable of waking, that Lady Cheng would never have entered the palace.”
To the surprise of the court officials, the Empress Dowager did not raise the matter of appointing an heir this time. Instead, she proposed posthumous honors for Prince Ping.
Naturally, some officials once again raised the issue of appointing a crown prince, but the Empress Dowager remained composed. She neither scolded nor wept but instead adopted the demeanor and tone of an elderly woman who had lost a loved one yet endured with quiet strength, gently refusing the request.
“He’s my grandson. The departed deserves the greatest respect. Please allow this old one to first lay my eldest grandson to rest before discussing other matters, is that acceptable?”
Putting themselves in her position, how could anyone persist in troubling an elder in such a state? For once, the court proceedings proceeded smoothly. While there was minor debate over the posthumous title for Prince Ping – largely due to the manner of his death – the more negative epithets were ultimately rejected, particularly since Lady Cheng had publicly demonstrated the ability to summon lightning. On this point, the court officials did not press the issue unduly.
In the end, Prince Ping was posthumously honored with the title “Huaihui” (怀惠), and the court suspended its activities for three days as a gesture of mourning.
In a tearoom, Chen Shao stepped inside. Someone was already seated there, sipping tea.
“Given the current turmoil in state affairs, I won’t stand on ceremony with you,” Gao Lingjun said, setting down his teacup. “You, Minister Chen, were entrusted by His Majesty and are devoted to repaying his grace and ushering in a prosperous era. How could I not share the same sentiment?”
Chen Shao chuckled dismissively and took a seat without responding.
“My commission, however, was entrusted by the late emperor,” Gao Lingjun added, his brows furrowing sternly.
“So, does that give you the right to turn the court into your own family’s domain?” Chen Shao retorted, his own brows knitting together in anger.
The two men faced each other with furrowed brows for a moment.
“Today is not the day to discuss this with you,” Gao Lingjun said, setting down his teacup and pushing a piece of paper toward him.
Chen Shao frowned.
“What is this?” he asked.
“I absolutely cannot stand by and watch His Majesty’s imperial lineage fall into the wrong hands. Let us end our dispute,” Gao Lingjun said. “I will resign from court and return to my hometown with my family. These people on the list – they are all my associates. You can transfer them to remote posts and appoint capable individuals in their stead. But you must ensure that Prince Qing ascends to the throne.”
Chen Shao frowned as he unfolded the paper, his expression shifting from surprise to anger.
He never imagined Gao Lingjun had placed so many people in key positions! Among them were several he had long considered his own allies.
“Everyone talks as though acting this way would stir public resentment and plunge the people into hardship, speaking as if it were an absolute truth. But has it actually happened? They rant with righteous indignation, yet at heart, it’s all for themselves. Whoever ascends to the throne, it will still be people like you and me who handle affairs. If our intentions remain upright and unbiased, and we devote ourselves wholeheartedly, how could a situation like the era of the two Emperors Sima arise? How could the people suffer? Similar circumstances and individuals exist everywhere, but must the outcomes always be the same? Even when the same people do the same things, the results can differ.”
Gao Lingjun spoke with solemnity.
“People claim this choice is good and that one is bad, but in truth, there is no inherently correct choice in this world. What determines correctness is how people act after making their choice.”
“Whether one becomes a clear-minded minister or a manipulator of power, governs with clarity or chaos – it all depends on the people involved.”
“As officials, rather than speaking for the people, we often exploit public sentiment to speak for ourselves. It’s merely a matter of each adhering to their own principles – all just theories. Who can guarantee whose is right?”
“Bringing up the people at a time like this – rather than fearing hardship for them, isn’t it more about fearing that we ourselves won’t gain advantages or secure favorable positions in this situation?”
Chen Shao’s expression darkened.
“That is merely your own perspective,” he said coldly.
Gao Lingjun laughed heartily and nodded.
“That’s right. This is my view – and my aim is to ensure that the Gao family remains forever as imperial in-laws to the emperor!” he declared, rising to his feet. “Minister Chen, I take my leave.”
With that, he said nothing more and strode away.
The tearoom fell silent. Chen Shao held the piece of paper in his hand, pondering for a moment, then finally tucked it away.
He had barely returned home and taken a seat when he received another summons from the Empress Dowager in the palace. This time, Chen Shao hesitated briefly before accepting the summons.
The Empress Dowager received Chen Shao in the Emperor’s bedchamber.
“Empress, you may step back for now,” the Empress Dowager said.
The Empress bowed formally without another word and turned to leave.
“Minister Chen, take a look at His Majesty,” the Empress Dowager said, seated by the Emperor’s bedside.
Chen Shao stepped forward, his eyes reddening as he gazed at the man lying quietly on the bed.
“You are well aware of how deeply His Majesty cared for having an heir, aren’t you?”
The Empress Dowager continued, her voice trembling.
Chen Shao nodded.
Yes, there had even been a time when His Majesty broke down in tears before him, saying he did not want to die without descendants.
“Not wanting to leave no descendants, not wanting to receive offerings from others in the future – what he desired was his own offspring, his own sons and grandsons, those who carry his own blood and bones.”
“Minister Chen, everyone says Prince Qing is unfit to be emperor, and that adopting an heir is the most suitable, the best option.”
“Minister Chen, this old woman fails to understand. Who exactly do they believe this so-called ‘best option’ is truly best for? Minister Chen, search your heart and answer this: if His Majesty were conscious right now, would he agree to an adoption?”
Of course, he would not…
Chen Shao remained silent, gazing at the Emperor on the bed before covering his face with his sleeve.
Seeing Chen Shao’s reaction, the Empress Dowager let out a quiet sigh. Now was the moment to deliver the most crucial point.
“And one more thing, Minister Chen,” she continued, softening her tone. “When they clamor for adopting an heir from the imperial clan, have they ever considered how Prince Qing’s own descendants will find their place in the future?”
Prince Qing’s descendants?
Chen Shao abruptly turned his gaze toward her.
“Prince Qing was not born a fool – has everyone forgotten? In his childhood, he was extraordinarily bright, even surpassing Prince Ping,” the Empress Dowager said, tears welling in her eyes as she spoke.
Indeed… Chen Shao felt a pang of melancholy, as if the image of that young prince were reappearing before him.
How long had it been? The memory of that once-adorable little prince had grown faint, yet the refined manners and the clever, spirited way he responded to His Majesty’s questions now vividly resurfaced in his mind.
“It was only due to a later injury that he became this way. So, why would the children he fathers necessarily be born with such impairments?” the Empress Dowager continued.
“Your Majesty, are you suggesting that Prince Qing could still…” he asked in astonishment.
The Empress Dowager nodded and called out for the imperial doctor. A doctor quickly entered with his head bowed.
“Prince Qing is now eleven years old,” the doctor said, keeping his gaze lowered. “We have examined him and confirmed that he is capable of fathering children.”
Capable of fathering children!
Chen Shao’s expression shifted with surprise and contemplation.
In a side chamber, the Empress’s expression darkened as she watched the eunuch standing before her with his head bowed.
Capable of fathering children…
…
“…This is troubling… Prince Qing may still father sons…”
“…Who says he will necessarily have sons? What if he has daughters instead…”
With a loud thud, the door was slammed open, and the laughter and chatter inside the room came to an abrupt halt.
“Who’s there?” several students inside angrily turned to look. When they saw who stood at the doorway, their faces instantly paled with horror.
Young Master Gao stood with his arms crossed at the entrance, looking at them with a tilted brow and narrowed eyes. His attendants flanked him, glaring fiercely and clenching their fists, ready for action.
“What were you talking about, laughing so heartily?” Young Master Gao said slowly. “Why not share it so everyone can have a laugh?”
The faces of the students in the room turned ashen. With anyone else, it might have been different, but mocking Prince Qing right in front of the Gao family – that was inviting disaster.
“N-nothing,” one student stammered, his legs visibly trembling.
“A bunch of cowards!”
Young Master Gao sneered, then turned and walked away.
“You know, I actually have some admiration for that kid from the Cheng family. Annoying as he is, at least he’s got a bit of guts.”
“Young Master is truly magnanimous,” his attendants chimed in unison, praising him.
As soon as Young Master Gao left, the students in the room immediately crowded toward the door.
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
“Still, if Young Master Gao dares to stroll around Desheng Pavilion now, it means this matter is probably settled.”
They whispered among themselves, hurriedly making their exit.
“Sister.”
Chun Ling suddenly stopped in her tracks.
“I forgot to bring the sheet music.”
“Chun Ling, how could you be so careless?” another maid complained.
Lady Zhu, who was walking ahead, paused and turned around.
“Go get it,” she said.
Chun Ling nodded and immediately turned to run back. Meanwhile, Lady Zhu continued walking, but she had barely taken a few steps when she heard Chun Ling’s cry from behind.
“…Are you fucking blind? Watch where you’re going!”
The leading attendant cursed, not satisfied with just slapping her, and raised his foot to kick Chun Ling, who had fallen to her knees.
Chun Ling cried out, begging for mercy but not daring to dodge. She shut her eyes, her face pale, bracing for the kick.
“Please show mercy, Young Master Gao.”
Lady Zhu called out.
Hearing her voice, Young Master Gao, who had been growing impatient, frowned and looked over to see a woman approaching him hurriedly.
The attendant’s foot had already struck Chun Ling, who cried out as she fell to the ground.
“Young Master Gao,” Lady Zhu quickly stepped forward, positioning herself beside Chun Ling, and curtsied in apology. “I beg your forgiveness.”
Young Master Gao looked at her, narrowing his eyes as a smile curled on his lips.
“So it’s Lady Zhu,” he drawled slowly. “This apology of yours, I dare not accept. If anything, it should be me apologizing to you. Please put in a good word for me in front of your patron, so the thunder doesn’t strike me down.”
Before Lady Zhu could reply, a nearby door swung open.
“Gao Shi’si, what nonsense are you spouting?”
Qin Hu stood by the doorway, his brows drawn together sternly.
Young Master Gao looked at him, taken aback.
“Well, isn’t this a coincidence, Qin Shi’san? You’re here too?” he asked, his gaze shifting past Qin Hu to the seven or eight young men scattered inside the room. He raised an eyebrow. “I wonder, what happy topics are you all discussing in there?”
Qin Hu’s expression was grave.
“Care to come in and listen?” he said.
Young Master Gao stared at him for a moment, then gave a low chuckle.
“I knew it, Qin Shi’san. You’ve always been a man with wits.”
