The room fell silent.
The person in his embrace was soft and breathed evenly.
Duke Jin’an couldn’t help but lift himself slightly. Had she fallen asleep again?
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, turning her head to look at him with a smile.
Duke Jin’an couldn’t help but smile too. When he lay back down, his body felt somewhat stiff.
Reaching out to pull her closer earlier had been an instinctive gesture. Now, should he let go or…
“I don’t know whether it’s right or wrong either,” Cheng Jiao-niang’s voice sounded from within his embrace.
Her voice, usually so composed as to seem almost wooden, carried a gentle softness in the quiet of the night.
“I suppose, as long as there are no regrets in the end, it must be right.”
No regrets.
Duke Jin’an held the person in his arms a little tighter, pressing close to her soft, fragrant hair.
Word came from the palace that the Crown Prince had grown much heavier, that he was no longer even allowed out of the Empress Dowager’s palace gates, and that the sounds of his clamor had dwindled significantly.
To keep him quiet and still, they had been giving him medicinal brews.
“The attendants who followed from Prince Qing’s residence have all been sent away.”
“Yesterday, someone secretly peeked into the Crown Prince’s quarters and said he was sitting inside, completely motionless.”
The body holding her trembled faintly. Cheng Jiao-niang reached out and took hold of the hand resting around her waist, and that hand turned to grasp hers in return.
“You know how it is – Liu Ge’er could never sit quietly like that…”
The voice buried in the crook of her neck choked with emotion.
“How much of that medicine have they been giving him…”
“Cheng Fang, what should I do?”
Cheng Jiao-niang closed her eyes and hummed softly in response.
“I don’t know what you should do,” she said. “Because I’m not you.”
At times, the way she spoke almost sounded like a child sulking.
Duke Jin’an couldn’t help but smile again, though he wasn’t sure why.
Like a child? Well, children often speak the truth too.
“You,” he said, tightening his arm around her again. Her slender, delicate body seemed almost impossible to hold fully. His tone held a hint of playful reproach, “You’re just afraid of trouble. Say whatever you want to say – whether it sounds good or not, I’ll listen.”
“Whether it’s good or not, you already know in your heart. Why should I have to say it?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
That made Duke Jin’an chuckle even more.
“But still,” he whispered with a low laugh, his breath warming his own face as it brushed against Cheng Jiao-niang’s neck, making his voice sound a bit odd. “I want to hear you say it.”
Right before the tip of his nose was her small earlobe, glowing softly in the darkness against her jet-black hair.
Duke Jin’an suddenly felt his throat grow dry and his breath quicken.
His arm tightened, and he leaned his head closer.
The person in his embrace tilted her head away.
“Do you really want to hear me say it?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked, half-rising and slipping free from his embrace.
Was she deliberately avoiding it?
Duke Jin’an was taken aback. His heart raced a little, and his emotions grew tangled.
“Even though, in the end, every decision is made by oneself, people always like to find excuses – lenient with themselves, harsh with others.”
Cheng Jiao-niang’s voice continued.
Duke Jin’an collected his thoughts, withdrew his hand, and propped himself up on one elbow, smiling faintly.
“If it were someone else, perhaps I would,” he said. “But with you, I wouldn’t. Others judge right and wrong from their own perspectives, but you – you judge from the perspective of others.”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled.
“No need to praise me. Since I’ve chosen to speak, I’ll speak. As for whether others resent me or thank me – do you think I care?” she said.
Her tone carried a hint of pride.
Duke Jin’an looked at her. Perhaps it was the veil of night, but before him, the girl’s brows and eyes seemed slightly lifted, radiating an energy he had never seen before.
For a moment, he was stunned – it was as though she had become someone else, vivid, bright, dazzling in her brilliance.
But then, in the blink of an eye, the person before him returned to her usual self.
“Please speak, my lady,” said Duke Jin’an, sitting up straight and formal.
“Are you trying to protect Liu Ge’er, or are you trying to protect Liu Ge’er’s realm?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Were the two truly distinct?
“They were in the past, but not anymore,” Cheng Jiao-niang added, as if only then realizing she had misspoken.
Yet Duke Jin’an’s expression dimmed.
Indeed, there was no distinction now. To protect Liu Ge’er, he must protect his realm. Without his realm, Liu Ge’er would lose his life…
“In that case,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, “how do you plan to protect his realm? Can you do so while trapped in this cage of the capital?”
Duke Jin’an looked up at her.
“You mean… leave?” he asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang did not answer his question.
“Fang Bocong,” she said, “do you know what the realm truly is?”
What is the realm?
Duke Jin’an looked at her.
“The realm is not the throne itself but everything beyond the throne,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “Have you ever truly seen the realm?”
Duke Jin’an nodded.
“I have seen it,” he replied, smiling faintly.
He had seen the towering mountains, the towns large and small, the people striving to live, the bustling streets, the barren or fertile fields, and the rivers flowing endlessly, crisscrossing like a vast network.
“You have seen it, but you have not yet stepped beyond it,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “The capability you speak of is not merely about protecting one person but about guarding the realm for that person. Even without me saying it, you understand deep down: if someone like him ascends the throne, the court will inevitably be plagued by strife, and the realm will inevitably be thrown into turmoil. What you must do – what you should do – is to suppress that turmoil, to intimidate the cunning and the ambitious on his behalf, to pacify the people on his behalf. Only when the land and its people are stable can the realm be stable, and only then can his rule be secure.”
“You must become strong yourself, but this strength is not for the sake of one person -it is for the sake of many.”
“This strength requires resources, people, and ability, but above all, it requires a stage on which to act.”
“The capital is not your stage.”
…
When Master Gu and the others entered, the sky had just begun to brighten. Yet Duke Jin’an was already in the room.
So early?
Master Gu paused in surprise.
“He’s been here since before dawn,” whispered Eunuch Jing in a low voice.
Before dawn?
“Has he had another disagreement with the Princess Consort?” Master Gu raised an eyebrow and whispered back.
Eunuch Jing pursed his lips.
“As if he’d dare upset her,” he said.
The two exchanged a few more hushed words, watching as Duke Jin’an remained fixed before a screen without moving.
Hanging there was a map.
“Your Highness?” Master Gu approached and said.
Duke Jin’an extended a finger and pointed to a spot.
“Is Songping located here?” he asked.
Songping? Master Gu was taken aback for a moment, then nodded with a slight smile.
“Yes, that is indeed its location,” he replied.
Duke Jin’an then used his hand to measure the distance on the map.
“From here to here…” His finger paused over the capital, and he smiled faintly. “It doesn’t seem too far, after all.”
Master Gu’s brow twitched slightly.
“Sometimes,” he said, “the distance that matters is not measured in miles.”
What lies far away is opportunity.
Duke Jin’an turned around.
“Make the necessary preparations. We are leaving the capital,” he announced.
“Leaving?”
Master Gu and the others stared at Duke Jin’an in astonishment, wondering if they had misheard.
They had been summoned here so early in the morning, assuming it was to continue arranging matters for their entry into the capital. Never had they expected it would be for leaving it.
“It’s just me leaving the capital,” Duke Jin’an said. “The others still need to enter. Precisely because I am departing, we must leave even more people in the capital – and crucial personnel at that, especially for the city’s defense.”
Defense of the capital had always been a top priority, much like guarding the throat of the imperial city.
Master Gu nodded, though for now, that wasn’t the main point.
“But why leave at all?” Eunuch Jing urged anxiously. “Leaving aside whether they will even let us go, the journey itself will be fraught with peril.”
Leaving the capital meant traversing a long and treacherous road, where encountering an “accident” was all too common.
“There’s no particular reason. It’s simply time to go,” Duke Jin’an replied with a faint smile. “Isn’t that right, Ah-Jing? We should have left four years ago.”
“But…” Eunuch Jing frowned.
Four years ago, when they had the chance to leave, they didn’t. Now, wanting to leave wouldn’t be nearly as easy.
“I know,” said Duke Jin’an, his gaze sweeping over the people in the room. “Though it’s a bit late, it’s still not too late.”
Eunuch Jing was about to say something, but Master Gu spoke first.
“It’s not too late. There’s no such thing as late or early. As long as Your Highness wishes to act, we shall act,” he said solemnly.
“But leaving now is too dangerous,” Eunuch Jing pressed urgently.
Master Gu looked at him and shook his head.
“You’re mistaken, Eunuch Jing,” he said. “We have always been in danger.”
Since they were always in danger, there was no distinction to be made between the past and the present.
Eunuch Jing was taken aback.
“Your Highness, Your Highness.”
Someone hurried in through the door, bowing in greeting.
“Gao Lingjun has been dismissed from his post.”
What?
Everyone in the room was startled.
But soon, they all calmed down.
The removal of Gao Lingjun from the court had been a topic of discussion for a long time, yet it had never actually come to pass.
“Did Chancellor Chen say this?” Master Gu frowned. “What reason does he have now to drive out Gao Lingjun?”
In the past, it was because of consort clans overstepping their authority. But now? Chen himself had become part of such a clan.
“It wasn’t Chancellor Chen,” the messenger said, lifting his head. “It was Academician Qin.”
Academician Qin?
The people in the room were astonished once more.
“And,” the messenger continued, “it was done with an imperial decree.”
This time, even Duke Jin’an showed surprise.
An imperial decree?
…
“What utter nonsense, talking out of his ass!”
At this moment, Young Master Gao was shouting loudly, waving his hands about the room.
“What imperial decree? They’re talking rubbish with their eyes wide open! If the Emperor could issue an imperial decree, would they still be squabbling endlessly in the court?”
“Young Master, it was recorded in the imperial daily records,” a retainer explained with a pained smile. “Academician Qin presented the Emperor’s daily records.”
…
“How can the imperial daily records be considered an imperial decree?”
Inside the palace, the Empress Dowager yanked open the curtain and shouted.
“That’s nothing more than the Emperor’s casual remarks, including jokes and words spoken in anger. How can they be treated as an imperial decree?”
“Jokes?” Qin An’s expression darkened as he clutched several scrolls in his hand. “The Emperor’s words are like golden edicts. Whether in court or in private, His Majesty upheld propriety and never spoke idle words or jested lightly. The records in the imperial daily records are by no means mere casual remarks. By saying this, Your Majesty – what position are you placing the Emperor in?”
With that, he unrolled one of the scrolls.
“His Majesty once stated explicitly that once the Crown Prince’s position was secure, Gao Lingjun should step down. If Your Majesty does not believe me, I shall read the imperial daily records aloud. Let Your Majesty and everyone present listen and judge whether His Majesty’s discussions of court personnel were mere casual jokes.”
What a joke!
The faces of the court officials changed slightly. Who knew what other remarks the Emperor might have made about other ministers? If they were favorable, it would be fine, but if they were unfavorable, it could ruin a person’s reputation.
Now, with the Emperor unconscious, the Crown Prince in a state of mental incapacity, and the Empress Dowager having made several embarrassing displays of ignorance, Qin An’s possession of the imperial daily records gave his words considerable weight in comparison.
Better for others to suffer than oneself. Several court officials immediately stepped forward to support Qin An’s stance, arguing that the imperial daily records should not be taken lightly. Many more chose to remain silent.
“I do not agree,” the Empress Dowager declared angrily, glaring.
Chen Shao stood upright to the side and cupped his hands in a respectful salute.
“Since Your Majesty refuses to abide by the Emperor’s decree, then in the future, the Imperial Archives will no longer be able to follow Your Majesty’s edicts either. We can only return them all unexecuted,” he said calmly.
The Empress Dowager was left speechless with rage, pointing at Chen Shao.
You – you! Isn’t this just bullying?
Chen Shao’s expression remained wooden.
Bullying – who doesn’t know how?
