After returning to the capital from Shaanxi, having spent half a month braving fierce winds, snow, and rugged mountains, Su Yan was utterly exhausted. As soon as he arrived back in the capital, he immediately rushed to the palace to check on the Emperor’s health. Worn out beyond measure, he collapsed onto the soft and comfortable bed in a side hall of the Eastern Palace — and ended up sleeping straight through until daylight.
Cr*p!
He had overslept — and he was supposed to report at the morning court session today!
He threw off the brocade quilt and hurriedly got out of bed, only to see Zhu Helin walk in with a cheerful grin and say, “Awake? It’s cold today — why not sleep a little longer?”
“We don’t have morning court today?” Su Yan asked, puzzled. He remembered that at the beginning of the year, the Emperor had ordered the Crown Prince to attend court sessions. At this hour, Zhu Helin shouldn’t still be hanging around the Eastern Palace.
Zhu Helin plopped down casually on the edge of his bed and said, “It’s already the twenty-second day of the twelfth lunar month. In two more days, it’ll be the Kitchen God Festival. Who still has the heart to work now? This year, Royal Father granted two extra days of spring holiday — starting today, we’re off all the way until the Lantern Festival on the eighteenth of the first month. That’s a full twenty-seven days off! I heard that all the government offices are holding sealing ceremonies today, locking away their official seals, and won’t handle any business during the holiday.”
Nearly a whole month off for New Year’s…
The civil servants of Great Ming had it so good!
Su Yan thought about the miserable seven-day Spring Festival break in his previous life and was practically moved to tears. He asked, “So what do people do during these twenty-seven days?”
“Eat, drink, play, and have fun, of course.” Zhu Helin handed Su Yan his official robe from the clothes rack as he got up to dress. He even tried to help him put it on.
The Crown Prince’s personal service was not something Su Yan could accept! Last time, when he had a cold, Zhu Helin had forcibly fed him hot porridge, nearly scalding his throat—better not risk that again. Su Yan quickly sidestepped, putting on his everyday attire himself. Zhu Helin clicked his tongue in disappointment and called in a palace maid to style his hair.
Once he was properly dressed and had finished breakfast, Su Yan prepared to leave the palace, saying he needed to return home to make preparations for the New Year.
Although Zhu Helin was reluctant to let him go, he had no reason to stop him. “I’ll escort you out of the palace, then. Let’s leave through the Meridian Gate.”
The mere mention of the Meridian Gate made Su Yan uneasy—he had been subjected to a court flogging there before. “Why not take the Donghua Gate? It’s closer.”
Zhu Helin grinned. “Because I want to show you something interesting. They’re building Ao Mountain outside the Meridian Gate in preparation for the Lantern Festival. It’s a grand sight—you have to see it.” He pulled Su Yan into a sedan chair and ordered the guards to head to the Meridian Gate.
As the sedan chair passed the Zuoye Gate, a gust of wind lifted the curtain slightly, allowing Su Yan to glimpse an imperial procession escorting a phoenix carriage exiting through the Youye Gate. He guessed it belonged to a consort but wasn’t sure which one.
Zhu Helin noticed his curiosity, lifted the curtain for a better look, and said, “That’s Wei.”
“Imperial Consort Wei? What’s she doing leaving the palace?” Su Yan asked. Imperial consorts and concubines were generally not permitted to leave the palace at will.
Zhu Helin smirked, as if enjoying a joke. “She’s been making a fuss lately. First, she claimed to be ill. Then, she said the Second Prince was sick, luring my Royal Father to visit several times. She even sent over some enchanting palace maids to serve him, which only irritated him further. Now, he won’t even see her. Lately, she’s been pleading for an audience again, saying her mother is ill and she needs to visit her family. Who knows if it’s true? My Royal Father couldn’t be bothered to argue with her, so he approved her request.”
“What about the Second Prince?” Su Yan asked.
“He’s fine—perfectly healthy. He’s staying with our royal grandmother now,” Zhu Helin said with a hint of bitterness. “When I went to Cining Palace to pay my respects, I saw how much she dotes on him. That chubby eight-month-old—over twenty pounds already—she carries him from morning to night without complaint. According to Cheng Sheng, back when I was a baby, she barely held me at all.”
Su Yan had heard this before. The Empress Dowager disliked the late Empress, and her resentment extended to Zhu Helin as well. He patted the Crown Prince’s arm reassuringly. “Family relationships depend on fate. At least the Emperor loves you. As for the Empress Dowager, you’ve fulfilled your duties as a grandson. The rest is beyond your control.”
Zhu Helin said proudly, “My Royal Father adores me. Even before I was born, he promised my mother that if she bore a son, he would be named Crown Prince upon birth.”
Su Yan was silent for a moment before saying, “The Emperor and the late Empress must have been deeply in love.”
Zhu Helin nodded. “I’ve heard the old palace maids say they had never seen such a devoted emperor. My Royal mother and Royal Father were always respectful and affectionate. After she passed, he mourned her for four or five years and barely favored any concubines. It wasn’t until my grandmother and the court ministers pressured him that he finally had children with Consort Shu—a pair of twin princesses. Even then, he remained mostly abstinent, dedicating himself to state affairs.”
“Then, two years ago, my Royal grandmother forced her niece, Imperial Consort Wei, into the palace. Honestly, I was surprised she managed to bear a royal heir. I don’t know what methods she used, or if it was just my Royal grandmother’s will.”
Su Yan knew that Emperor Jinglong had two sons and three daughters. The eldest, Crown Princess Rouyu, was born to Consort Xian, two years older than the Crown Prince and already married. The ten-year-old twin princesses, Roujia and Rouxi, were lively and innocent. Finally, there was the youngest prince, born to Imperial Consort Wei, who had been prematurely delivered during the Dragon Boat Festival after a fright in the Eastern Garden. Despite his early birth, he was apparently thriving—chubby and healthy.
He also knew that the Emperor deeply revered the late Empress, which was why the Empress’s seat remained vacant. His special favor toward the Crown Prince was not only due to their bond and similarities in character but also, perhaps, a reflection of his lingering affection for the late Empress.
It was a rare thing—true devotion—especially among emperors, who were known for their fickleness. Su Yan couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion. Regarding the late Empress, that woman who had “shone brightly until her final moments, leaving behind a lingering echo of grace,” he didn’t know whether to admire her or envy her…
Wait—envy? Where had that thought come from? What a ridiculous notion! He quickly banished it from his mind.
Shaking off the strange feeling, Su Yan turned back to Zhu Helin. “Do you suspect that Imperial Consort Wei’s pregnancy was orchestrated by the Empress Dowager?”
Though they were alone in the sedan chair, Zhu Helin instinctively glanced around before leaning in to whisper, “I suspect the Empress Dowager has been planning to change the heir.”
Su Yan was shocked. “What?”
Zhu Helin’s expression darkened. “I’m serious. Ever since that assassination attempt with the venomous snake, I’ve been on high alert, watching my back. I started paying more attention to Imperial Consort Wei and her family, but I also kept an eye on my Royal Father and Royal grandmother. Cheng Sheng managed to get some information from a middle-aged maid in Cining Palace, who is in a ‘companionship’ relationship with him. That’s how I found out why my grandmother dislikes my mother.”
Su Yan maintained a patient posture, waiting for him to continue.
“When my Royal grandmother was still just Qin Wangfei, she fought a bitter battle against one of my Royal grandfather’s concubines, Side Consort Mo. In the end, my Royal grandmother won. My Royal Father was named Qin Wang Shizi, and when the previous emperor passed without an heir, my Royal grandfather was named his successor, making my Royal Father the crown prince.”
“As for Lady Mo, she was imprisoned and died in confinement. Her two sons—Xin Wang and Ning Wang—were neglected for years. After my Royal Father ascended the throne, he tried to restore their status out of brotherly affection. But Xin Wang was an ungrateful fool—he attempted rebellion. Even after his defeat, he refused to repent and was ultimately executed by my Royal Father.”
Su Yan had heard parts of this story before from Yu Wang, but he feigned curiosity and nodded along. “And what does this have to do with the late Empress?”
Zhu Helin continued, “According to that maid from Cining Palace, my mother’s appearance, voice, and mannerisms bore a striking resemblance to Lady Mo. She was even born the same year Lady Mo died. The maid once overheard my grandmother asking Monk Jiyao, ‘Is reincarnation real or not?’ to which the monk replied, ‘It is real.’”
Su Yan chuckled. “You actually believe that flowery monk Jiyao? I heard he got skinned alive by the Embroidered Uniform Guard of the Northern Surveillance Bureau at Lingguang Temple.”
“But back then, he was a highly revered monk in the palace, and he was quite skilled at playing tricks and acting mysterious. Royal Grandmother believes in both Buddhism and Daoism, so she took his words very seriously,” Zhu Helin said gloomily.
Su Yan pondered in his heart: The Empress Dowager suspected that the late Empress was the reincarnation of her old nemesis, Lady Mo, from the first half of her life. Even if this suspicion was completely unfounded and purely based on mysticism, it was enough to disturb her for the rest of her life.
Normally, when people die, all is forgotten. But the Crown Prince didn’t look much like the Emperor—probably taking after the late Empress instead—and his personality didn’t align with the Empress Dowager’s, making her dislike him even more. No wonder she had been cold toward him for over a decade and insisted that the Emperor marry her niece. She likely considered the Second Prince to be her true grandson—his bloodline doubly connected to her, making him feel even closer.
But favoritism aside, the Crown Prince had held his position for over ten years, and the Emperor cherished him. As long as he didn’t commit a major offense, his status as heir was unshakable.
The Emperor might appear gentle, but he was firm in his decisions. No matter how filial he was, the Empress Dowager’s preferences wouldn’t dictate the empire’s foundation.
Su Yan shook his head, but then a sudden thought crossed his mind—what if the Empress Dowager was determined to change the heir?
The Crown Prince might be young and playful, but he was nowhere near the level of moral corruption that could justify deposing him. However, what if the Empress Dowager and Imperial Consort Wei set a trap to force him into crossing that line?
Su Yan frowned deeply, sensing that this wasn’t an unfounded worry. The problem was, there’s a saying: “You can be a thief for a thousand days, but you can’t guard against a thief for a thousand days.” If these two women in the palace suddenly schemed against the Crown Prince, this carefree brat would be in serious trouble.
Seeing Su Yan’s brows furrow more and more, Zhu Helin couldn’t help but reach out and press his fingertips against his furrowed brow, laughing. “Why the gloomy face? Are you worrying about me? The more you worry, the happier I am.”
Su Yan brushed away the crown prince’s mischievous hand. “Stop acting so carefree all the time. Be more vigilant! And what was that about a ‘venomous snake assassination’? Why hasn’t anyone told me about it?”
Zhu Helin didn’t actually want Su Yan to worry, so he immediately changed the topic. “Oh hey, we’re here! Come down and take a look—the Ao Mountain setup is already halfway done.” He called for the sedan chair to stop and practically dragged Su Yan out, running toward the wide plaza in front of the Meridian Gate.
As they approached, Su Yan got a clear view of the so-called “Ao Mountain.” It wasn’t an actual mountain, nor did it have any turtles. Instead, craftsmen had stacked and arranged countless lanterns into a grand structure that resembled a massive old turtle—no, an old Ao, standing at the peak of honor. The ancients believed this symbolized good fortune.
The entire plaza was covered with lanterns. Judging by the framework alone, the final display would be magnificent. The lanterns came in all shapes and sizes, and once they were all lit with candles, the sight would be dazzling beyond imagination.
Zhu Helin, brimming with excitement, introduced it enthusiastically. “Every one of these floral and firework-themed lanterns is uniquely designed, stacked layer upon layer to form thirteen tiers. It will stand several zhang high—taller than the city gate! On the night of the Lantern Festival, the Ao Mountain will shine with dazzling colors, fireworks will continuously go off, musicians will perform live, and palace maidens will dance gracefully. It will be a sight to behold.”
D*mn, this is like the Ming Dynasty version of the Spring Festival Gala. Impressive… Su Yan clicked his tongue in amazement and asked, “Is the Ao Mountain Lantern Festival open to the public, or is it just for the palace’s enjoyment?”
“It’s open to all the people of the capital. According to tradition, Royal Father will also attend with the civil and military officials, celebrating together with the common folk as a symbol of prosperity and unity.”
Su Yan watched the craftsmen bustling about in the plaza and asked, “How much silver does it take to hold such a grand festival?”
Zhu Helin had never thought about the cost before. He was stumped. “Huh? How much silver? I’m not really sure… at least tens of thousands of taels… maybe over a hundred thousand…”
Su Yan gritted his teeth. “A hundred thousand taels for a lantern festival?! What is this, the Olympic opening ceremony?”
Zhu Helin let out a dry laugh. “Is… is that expensive? But we’ve been holding it every year, and Royal Father never said it was extravagant or wasteful. Even Minister Xu Ruiqi of the Ministry of Revenue—the stingiest man in the court—never objected.”
“Xu Shangshu? That miser who even makes me take military funds in installments? I thought the imperial treasury was tight, with all the cost-cutting measures in Shaanxi. Turns out infrastructure projects take a backseat to extravagant displays?!” Su Yan was furious. He flicked his sleeves and stormed toward the Chengtian Gate, determined to walk out of the palace on foot.
Realizing he had triggered Su Yan’s temper, Zhu Helin quickly caught up, grabbed his arm, and tried to appease him. “Hey, don’t be mad! Think about it—do you know how much the people of the capital love the Ao Mountain Lantern Festival? When it happens, the entire city is empty because everyone comes to see the lights. The ruler and the people rejoicing together—what a grand spectacle of a powerful nation!”
Su Yan understood the importance of showcasing national strength and uplifting the people’s morale, but it still stung to think about how little he had received for his own projects.
Next time he requested funding for infrastructure, he was going to ask for an exorbitant amount. If he didn’t squeeze a chunk of silver out of Xu Shangshu—enough to peel a layer off that miserly old turtle—then he wasn’t Su Yan Su Qinghe!
The Crown Prince waved toward the distance. The sedan chair bearers, who had been waiting far away, quickly hurried over. Zhu Helin pulled Su Yan back into the sedan chair and said, “I’ll take you outside the Tianmen Gate and arrange a carriage for you.”
Su Yan smirked. “Want to come celebrate the New Year at my place?”
“Yes, yes!” Zhu Helin nodded enthusiastically.
“In your dreams. Stay in the palace and keep your Royal Father company. If you behave, maybe you’ll get a fat red envelope.”
Zhu Helin’s face immediately fell. “So boring! Oh, right, don’t you need to buy New Year’s goods? Want me to come with you?”
Su Yan eyed his casual attire and immediately knew what he was thinking. “Not happening. I’m not letting you sneak out disguised as a commoner again, or you’ll end up getting another court beating.”
Zhu Helin patted his chest and swore, “Royal Father won’t punish us! Last spring, I was out playing for several days. He nagged, but that was it. Even if he does punish someone, I’ll take all the blame—I’ll even take the caning for you, every single stroke!”
Su Yan still refused.
Frustrated, Zhu Helin pounced on him and started tickling him mercilessly. Su Yan laughed until he was out of breath, and the sedan chair nearly tipped over.
In the end, he still couldn’t win against the willful crown prince and ended up leaving the palace with him.
