In the sleeping hall of the Zichen Palace, a filigree enamel incense burner burned with calming fragrance. Wisps of blue smoke coiled upward, unable to mask the bitter stench of medicine or the faint odor of decay from the Emperor’s sick body.
Emperor Zhaoning leaned against a sapphire-blue brocade pillow. Despite daily acupuncture and medicine, his mouth still drooped, one eye askew, his body unmoving.
Chief Eunuch Feng An knelt at his side, massaging his limbs.
Pei Xia sat not far from the bed, reading aloud that day’s memorials.
His voice was clear and even, smooth as jade striking silk—possessing both a young man’s vitality and a calm gravity beyond his years.
The Emperor liked hearing Pei Xia read. His unhurried tone and steady rhythm gave the illusion that everything remained under control.
When the reading was done, a young eunuch stepped forward with tea. “Attendant Pei, your tea.”
“Thank you.” Pei Xia accepted it and took two small sips.
The Emperor tilted his head slightly, eyes opening after a long silence. His aged voice trembled, “No matter what’s said, it’s still the same thing. I’m not dead yet, and already they’re clawing at each other for power… heh heh.”
Pei Xia replied evenly, “It’s all because of last month’s witchcraft scandal, Your Majesty. The court and the people alike are uneasy. With instability in every heart and state affairs piling up, perhaps it’s time Your Majesty made a decision.”
Since the Emperor’s stroke, ministers had been urging him to name a prince to act as regent but Pei Xia had remained silent on the matter.
Now, even he had spoken.
The Emperor frowned, displeased. His skewed eyes glinted sideways. “And which prince do you think I should choose?”
Pei Xia paused a moment, then lowered his gaze. “Your servant believes the Second Prince.”
The Emperor let out a cold laugh. “I’m not surprised.”
“Yes,” Pei Xia said calmly. “Apart from the Crown Prince, the Second Prince is both virtuous and mature. His conduct is steady, his rule lenient, and he enjoys a fine reputation among officials and the public. Compared to the others, he is best suited to steady hearts.”
Sitting upright, voice even and composed, Pei Xia continued, “The year’s plans begin in spring and now it’s already April. The land renews, life stirs. The people of the Central Plains are busy sowing their fields; coastal folk set sail for trade; in the north, the snows melt and commerce thrives again. Yet in the Central Plains there are floods and bandits, on the coasts pirates and raiders, and in the northern grasslands, tribes watch us like tigers eyeing their prey. When the grass grows thick, they’ll strike our borders again. If no one governs the realm for long, such chaos will only embolden them further.”
“Your Majesty, you are not only the father of your sons, but also the ruler of all under heaven. I beg Your Majesty to consider for the sake of the realm, for the people, and for the everlasting peace of Great Liang.”
Emperor Zhaoning remained silent.
It was said that loyal words often sound unpleasant. In the past, when Chancellor Shen offered his counsel, every word was loyal yet grating to the ear.
But Pei Xia was different. He had a way of speaking about righteousness that still made one feel convinced and receptive.
“The second prince is indeed more capable than the third,” Emperor Zhaoning murmured, though his tone still carried hesitation.
Pei Xia glanced at the emperor lying weakly on the dragon bed, slowly set down his cup, and said calmly, “Your Majesty, no matter how much Consort Shu resembles the one from the past, she is not that same person.”
The emperor’s gaze suddenly turned sharp.
Seeing this, Pei Xia rose and bowed deeply. “This humble minister knows I have spoken out of turn. But Your Majesty is first and foremost the ruler of the realm, only after that the husband of the harem, the father of your sons. To delay when one should decide is to invite disaster. This humble minister dares to plead: please make your decision soon, to stabilize the nation’s foundation and ensure the unbroken peace of the imperial line.”
Emperor Zhaoning gazed long at the elegant young minister before him, dressed in a crimson round-collared robe, and after a long silence, sighed as if with regret. “It’s a pity the crown prince is so disappointing.”
Still in his bowing posture, Pei Xia’s downcast eyes flickered with a trace of irony.
Mother lost in childhood, a father’s disdain, his maternal clan annihilated in Jing Wang’s rebellion and now his wife’s clan exterminated to the ninth degree.
A phoenix with broken wings, barely surviving the storm yet the one who broke its wings laments that it cannot soar.
Truly, the house of emperors knows no sentiment.
After another long silence, Emperor Zhaoning finally spoke: “Feng An, grind the ink for Minister Pei.”
The chief eunuch’s expression shifted slightly, and he answered softly, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Pei Xia rose and stepped aside. “Much obliged.”
—
The next morning at court, Feng An announced the emperor’s decree: the second prince, Sima Jin, was to act as regent.
The month-long dispute finally reached a conclusion, some were satisfied, others not.
A few days later, rumors began to spread, no one knew from where, that Emperor Zhaoning intended to depose the crown prince and had already sealed a secret edict naming his successor.
The hearts of officials, barely settled, were once again thrown into turmoil.
That afternoon, the third prince returned from Zichen Palace after being refused an audience, filled with restless frustration.
He paced around the room with his hands clasped behind his back for a long while, before finally summoning Xie Wuling and ordering sternly, “Tomorrow, take my secret letter to Longxi. Tell Lu Songbai that when the mid-autumn flowers bloom in August, all others shall wither.”
Xie Wuling, who had gained some learning over the past two years, furrowed his brows at these words. Thinking of what he had seen in Longxi last year, he couldn’t help but frown. “Your Highness, isn’t this too hasty? Though the second prince now holds the regency, the Imperial Seal remains with His Majesty. And since the crown prince has not yet been officially deposed, it means His Majesty has not made a final decision on succession… must we really go that far?”
“What do you know?”
The third prince had always been hot-tempered. Recently stifled and humiliated, and after being turned away by Emperor Zhaoning today, his anger was already at its limit. Hearing Xie Wuling’s dissent only irritated him further. “These days, Royal Father is always accompanied by that Pei Shouzhen. If there truly is a secret decree, it must be in Pei’s hand. You haven’t seen that face of his in court, so smug, so self-assured! If I don’t act now, once Sima Jin replaces the entire court with his own men and Pei Shouzhen announces the decree, he’ll ascend the throne in glory and universal acclaim. What place will there be for me then?”
Upon hearing this, Xie Wuling wanted to say that Pei Shouzhen’s face was always insufferably smug, whether or not there was a secret decree.
But seeing how anxious and uneasy the third prince was, he swallowed the thought and instead spoke in a low voice, “The Art of War says: the best strategy is to attack by stratagem, next by diplomacy, then by battle, and the worst by siege. Siege warfare is a last resort. This is no small matter, Your Highness, please think twice. Or perhaps… let Consort Shu probe for news again? His Majesty has always favored her and Your Highness. If you act rashly, it will be a point of no return.”
The ferocity in the third prince’s eyes softened for a moment.
Indeed, his Royal father greatly cherished his Royal mother, and had always shown him particular favor among all the princes.
If given a choice, he too wished for a father’s love and a son’s filial devotion, to serve his father dutifully.
But his Royal father had granted the regency to Sima Jin and refused even to see him.
Was it that he did not wish to see him? Or that guilt weighed too heavily?
After thinking for a moment longer, the third prince looked at Xie Wuling. “Then I’ll see my Royal mother tomorrow before deciding.”
Xie Wuling raised his hand. “Your Highness is wise.”
He was not a learned man, but he knew that to take the throne through unrighteous means was to be condemned for generations.
If possible, he too wished to serve under a virtuous ruler, to be remembered as a loyal minister for the ages.
His own reputation mattered little but if Jiaojiao were to be with him, and her family of honorable scholars were dragged down by his actions, that would be unforgivable.
Thinking of Shen Yujiao, that night Xie Wuling returned to his newly rented small courtyard and held Ping’an in his arms for a long time.
At moments like these, he felt an even deeper jealousy toward Pei Shouzhen.
That man, however detestable, had a child with Jiaojiao.
A child born of her blood, nurtured in her womb… it made him mad with envy.
If only Ping’an were truly his and Jiaojiao’s child…
He would have cherished that child with all his being, poured his life into ensuring it grew up safe and joyful.
“Jiaojiao…”
Xie Wuling gazed at the sleeping child in his arms. His mind once again replayed, like a lantern carousel, every memory he had of Shen Yujiao.
Through one long, sleepless night after another, only those memories kept him going.
—
The next day, the third prince went to pay his respects to Consort Shu.
Though his mother did not shut him out, when he came out of Shuhua Palace, his face looked even worse than the day before.
Because his mother had told him: “An emperor’s affection is as thin as paper, it cannot withstand wear. Since your royal father has already made your second brother regent, whether there is a secret edict or not, you should still follow his will and stay quietly in your place. He most despises defiance. Of all who ever went against him, not one met a good end…”
“Your second brother is an honest and steady child. If he ascends the throne one day, you can still live out your life safely in your fief.”
Consort Shu saw the unwillingness in her son’s eyes, yet could only smile bitterly and persuade him: “Ze’er, perhaps this is simply our fate—yours and mine.”
A lifetime spent as someone else’s shadow.
She, too, had been a shadow of another.
Because her features bore a faint resemblance to Fang Shujing’s, the daughter of a low-ranking seventh-grade military officer became the concubine of Rui Wang, Sima Rui.
Her birth was too humble, even being a side consort was beyond her reach.
But once she entered his household, she alone enjoyed his undivided favor.
He showered her with jewels and delicacies, filled her courtyard with hibiscus flowers, took her to banquets and outings, painted her brows and adorned her hair with flowers. None of the women in the residence could compare to her radiance.
She once believed he loved her until she saw the long-ill Rui Wangfei.
The princess wore robes the color of misty clouds, her hair coiled loosely like drifting ink; though her beauty had waned and her complexion thinned, she still possessed a quiet, ethereal grace.
She was like a snow lotus blooming on a mountain peak, sacred and untouchable.
Those cool, luminous eyes turned calmly toward her, first with surprise, then with pity.
Returning to her own quarters, Consort Shu looked into the mirror and at last understood that pity in the princess’s gaze, and the ridicule hidden behind the other concubines’ envious stares.
Her features resembled the princess’s by half.
And what Rui Wang loved most were her eyes especially the tenderness within them.
That tenderness was something he could never find in the Wangfei.
For the Wangfei would never love him.
At that time, Consort Shu had been a young girl, innocent and sentimental. She pitied Rui Wang, this man who loved and could not have, and devoted herself wholly to him, hoping that one day he would turn the affection he had for Fang Shujing toward her instead.
But on the first death anniversary after Fang Shujing’s passing, she had embraced the drunken, desolate man and whispered, “Your Majesty, though the empress is gone, you still have me. I will always stay by your side.”
She never knew why those words enraged him so.
He seized her by the throat and hissed, “What are you, that you dare compare yourself to her?”
The man who had always been so gentle with her now stood before her with bloodshot eyes, veins bulging on his forehead, his face twisted with fury like a demon from h*ll, his gaze filled with naked contempt and disdain.
It was then that Consort Shu understood, she had always been merely a substitute.
How could a substitute replace the one who came before? How could she dare speak such words?
It was sheer folly.
For years afterward, the harem envied her for the emperor’s enduring favor, yet she envied Consort Xian instead.
Even though Yang Yilan was out of favor, she was at least herself. Not someone’s shadow.
Not Consort Shu—“Shu” from Fang Shujing’s name.
Not “Shu’er”—the “Shu” that Emperor Zhaoning still whispered, belonging to another woman.
Her real name was Zheng Yurong, childhood name Rongrong—nothing to do with that character “Shu.”
But now, there was no one left in the world who called her by her true name.
Consort Shu had resigned herself to being a shadow. But the third prince refused to be a stepping stone.
When he returned to his residence that day, he sought out Xie Wuling again.
No matter how Xie Wuling tried to dissuade him, the third prince’s mind was set, there was no turning back.
He gripped Xie Wuling’s shoulders tightly, his eyes blazing with unyielding ambition and resentment.
“If I don’t fight now, I’ll be nothing more than a vassal prince, and you my subordinate. I lose my kingdom, you lose your woman. We’ll both be crushed beneath Sima Jin and Pei Shouzhen, with no chance to rise again.”
“Xie Wuling, are you willing to accept that?”
“Can you truly let go of the man who stole your wife?”
“If you’re unwilling, if you can’t let it go, then gamble it all with me.”
“I swear to you, on the day I ascend the throne, will be the day of your wedding night.”
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