Having just been covered in dust by the Crown Prince’s horse, Su Yan gloomily wiped his face. He had no intention of chasing after him and instead strolled slowly forward.
Not long after, he saw a rider approaching in a cloud of dust—it was Zhu Helin returning.
Zhu Helin reined in his horse next to him, still wearing a sullen expression. Su Yan forced a dry laugh. “Young Master, still angry with me? I spoke out of turn and overstepped my bounds. I apologize.”
Zhu Helin lightly smacked Su Yan’s thigh with his riding whip. As Su Yan hissed in pain, Zhu Helin’s expression eased a little and he grumbled, “You didn’t just speak out of turn. You were testing me. When something like this happens, the first person you suspect is me—I know why.”
He had always been quick-witted. After riding away in anger, the wind cleared his head, and he quickly decided to turn back and make things clear to Su Yan.
Su Yan also dropped his forced smile and said seriously, “Because if word of this spreads, it could easily become a prophecy that directly targets the Second Prince. The common people are highly superstitious—even those who aren’t, often take a ‘better safe than sorry’ attitude. If left unchecked, this would severely damage the Second Prince’s reputation and could even cause unrest throughout the court and the nation. Surely, Your Highness understands this.”
Zhu Helin nodded but added indignantly, “It really wasn’t me.”
Su Yan said, “But who would believe Your Highness’s explanation? You’re the first person who would benefit from this. Whenever something happens, the one who stands to gain the most is always the first suspect. It’s human nature. Even I, as close as I am to you, my first thought was: ‘Could it be that the Young Master, recently neglected by the Emperor and disheartened, was inspired by the Red Lotus nursery rhyme and decided to use underhanded methods he shouldn’t?’”
“I am disheartened,” Zhu Helin said flatly, “and I have no intention of yielding to my second brother. But even if this method worked, I wouldn’t stoop to using it.”
“Why not?” Su Yan asked.
Zhu Helin, struggling to find the words, finally blurted, “Schemes involving superstition and omens—they’re like cold, slimy snakes. Disgusting.”
He had always loved furry animals, especially the tigers, leopards, and hunting dogs kept in the imperial gardens, but he loathed reptiles like snakes and lizards. For him to use this metaphor showed his utter revulsion.
Su Yan laughed heartily and then cupped his hands in a formal salute. “I sincerely apologize to Your Highness for my suspicion and testing.”
Though Zhu Helin had already let it go, he still kept a stern face and warned, “This better not happen again. If you ever suspect me again—even just a little—I’ll beat you with this.” He lifted his riding whip. “Remember that?”
Su Yan smiled fearlessly, “I remember, I remember.”
Only then did Zhu Helin finally relax and laugh. He turned his horse and continued riding alongside Su Yan.
But Su Yan didn’t intend to let the matter drop. He was still analyzing: since the stone pillar prophecy wasn’t orchestrated by the Crown Prince, there were two possibilities left. First, it was done by the Wei family’s political enemies—supporters of the Crown Prince—who had been inspired by the Void Sect and were now using their own tactics against them. Second… it was the Void Sect’s own doing, intending to frame the Crown Prince and cast him into disfavor. If it was the latter, then it seemed that in their eyes, the Second Prince was nothing more than a disposable pawn.
In either case, the most crucial point was getting the Emperor to believe that the Crown Prince had nothing to do with it.
If this had happened before the great fire in Kunning Palace, Su Yan would have been certain the Emperor would defend the Crown Prince. But now… it seemed a rift had grown between father and son. The Emperor’s reaction—Su Yan could no longer predict it.
Su Yan sighed silently.
Zhu Helin seemed to guess what was on his mind and instead tried to comfort him, “Don’t worry. I’ll report everything to Royal Father honestly. If I am innocent, he will believe me.”
—
When they returned to the palace, the Crown Prince ordered the guards to park the carriage carrying the stone pillar outside the outer court and went together with Su Yan to the imperial study to see the Emperor.
As they walked through the palace, they encountered a commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. The man immediately stepped aside and saluted, “Long live the Crown Prince.” Zhu Helin asked, “You just came from the imperial study?” The man replied, “Yes.” Zhu Helin nodded and continued forward.
“Royal Father must already know everything about today’s events, probably even the fine details,” Zhu Helin said after the man had walked away. He stopped, turned to Su Yan, and asked, “Tell me, do you think Royal Father will believe me?”
Su Yan replied, “No one understands Your Highness’s nature better than the Emperor does. When he questions you later, you don’t need to hide anything to avoid suspicion—but remember, only talk about what you saw and heard. Don’t mention any guesses or assumptions.”
“Why not?”
“Well… think of words as a battlefield. If you reveal your intentions or cards too early, it’s like exposing your position to the enemy first.”
Zhu Helin gave a bitter laugh, “Lately, I find myself at a loss for words in front of Royal Father. I used to think we were simply father and son, but now I realize—before ‘father and son,’ there is ‘emperor and subject.’ Sigh, why can’t an imperial family be like a common one?”
Su Yan pondered and finally said, “There’s a Western proverb—‘If you wish to wear the crown, you must bear its weight.’”
Zhu Helin savored the words for a moment and then slowly nodded.
When they arrived at the imperial study, Emperor Jinglong did not summon them immediately, so the two of them waited outside the hall.
Before long, several Embroidered Uniform Guard guards carried the stone pillar over and set it upright on the open ground at the foot of the steps. They removed the cloth covering the pillar and then stood in formation at the edge of the grounds.
The two walked over and carefully examined the stone pillar again in the bright light. They saw that the kui-dragon thunder patterns at both ends of the pillar were covered with mottled water stains, making the characters that had been cleaned in the middle appear ancient as well.
“The aging technique is pretty skillful,” Su Yan muttered.
“Then who do you think did it?” A voice suddenly rang out behind them.
Su Yan jumped in fright and quickly turned around to see that Emperor Jinglong had unknowingly come out of the hall and was standing right behind them. He hurriedly saluted.
“I was just speaking offhand; I’m still completely in the dark,” he cautiously replied.
The emperor asked again, “If it’s not man-made, then are you saying it’s the will of heaven?”
Zhu Helin suddenly spoke, firmly saying, “Your son does not believe it’s the will of heaven!”
The emperor turned his gaze to him. “Oh? And what does the crown prince think?”
Su Yan quietly tugged at the corner of the crown prince’s robe, signaling him to stall and not state a firm position yet. But the crown prince continued, “Does Royal Father still remember the time when the Void Sect used children’s rhymes to spread rumors of rebellion everywhere? I believe this stone pillar today serves a similar purpose and is very likely the work of the same person.”
Su Yan sighed silently and stepped forward, just about to speak, but the emperor said to him, “Qinghe, go wait for me in the study.”
The crown prince was a little uneasy about this and hesitated, wanting to find an excuse to stay. But the emperor’s voice grew cold: “—Su Shaoqing.”
Su Yan knew the emperor’s mind was made up and could only cup his hands and say, “Your subject obeys.” He gave Zhu Helin a deep look and walked up the steps into the imperial study.
The emperor said to the crown prince, “Go on.”
The crown prince shifted his gaze away from Su Yan’s departing figure and said, “Today’s incident began with the swapping of the relief rice. The official involved has already drowned himself in a well, leaving no testimony. But I think we must continue to investigate. The rice allocated by the Ministry of Revenue—how many checkpoints did it pass? Who handled it at each stage? Where might there have been a lapse, or some unusual activity? What background did that official have? Who did he usually associate with? If we investigate all of this thoroughly, we will definitely uncover something.”
The emperor nodded. “Well said. You’ve indeed made progress. Continue.”
“The person who swapped the relief rice must also be connected to this stone pillar. Otherwise, why would that official commit suicide so publicly, and why choose drowning of all methods? It seems as if… it was meant to lead us to this stone pillar with his death.”
The emperor sighed. “Indeed. Why did he have to choose drowning? And knowing he would die, why did he kowtow to you before throwing himself in?”
Zhu Helin was stunned. At the time, in his panic, the kneeling didn’t seem out of place, so he hadn’t paid much attention to it. But now that the emperor brought it up, he vaguely remembered—it was true. That official was already prepared to die, so why the need to kneel?
“Was he expressing his resolve, or leaving a final message?” the emperor pressed.
The crown prince blankly answered, “I… I don’t know. Truly, I don’t know…”
The emperor pressed further, “What was his last message? Was he pleading: ‘The imperial command has been carried out, please do not harm my family and kin’?”
The crown prince abruptly stepped back, his face changing drastically. “Is Royal Father… interrogating me?!”
“If I were truly interrogating you, I would hand you over to the Ministry of Justice, the Censorate, and Dali Temple. If they dared not interrogate you, there’s still the Northern Surveillance Bureau of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Why would I need to question you myself?” Emperor Jinglong took a deep breath, as if suppressing the fury in his heart, his voice low and commanding. “I’m asking you because I still see you as my son! And you question me—is it because you no longer see me as your father and emperor?”
Before the assembled crowd, the little prince was sternly rebuked by the emperor like never before. All the palace attendants held their breath and bowed their heads in fear, their bodies shrinking back in terror. Even the Embroidered Uniform Guard guards showed surprise and uncertainty in their eyes.
At this point, the crown prince had no choice but to kneel and beg for forgiveness, asking his father to calm his anger.
The emperor sighed, “Helin, Helin… Since childhood, the Grand Tutors taught you the way of the sages, but you’ve never had any interest in studying. Even when you did pick up books, they were either storybooks or military texts. Now the consequences have come to light. You failed to learn ‘Do not do unto others what you would not have them do unto you,’ but you’ve thoroughly mastered ‘Use their own methods against them.’”
“…Royal Father’s words imply that you already know where those rumors of my cruelty and ruthlessness originated, don’t they? Otherwise, why mention ‘use their own methods’!” the crown prince glared in shock and anger. “Royal Father knew the truth but did not uphold justice for me. You didn’t punish those spreading the rumors according to the law and instead let them continually attack me, openly and secretly, again and again?”
The emperor bent down, grasping the prince’s chin. “Who is this ‘them’ you speak of? Your brother? He’s not even two years old, and you can’t tolerate him? ‘A knife’s edge will bring the empire to ruin’—good, you haven’t completely wasted your reading. At least you remember how the former dynasty fell—”
The previous dynasty had been tyrannical, plagued by natural disasters and suffering people. The court had forcibly conscripted laborers to repair the breach in the Yellow River. While digging, the workers uncovered a one-eyed stone figure, with an inscription: “Do not say the stone man has but one eye; it stirs the Yellow River and the empire shall rise in rebellion.” This prophecy quickly spread across the land. The people responded, and several rebel forces emerged, raising banners against the court.
Later historians verified that the stone figure was likely planted by the first rebel leaders to create the appearance of a divine omen, legitimizing their cause. The people of the empire readily believed it. Though the rebel leaders did not succeed, they became the harbingers of a regime change. Emperor Taizu of the Great Ming rose from humble origins, pacified the chaos, and eventually unified the realm.
Countless lessons from history made emperors especially sensitive to prophecies and omens. Many emperors even actively sought to create auspicious signs to prove their rule was sanctioned by heaven.
Likewise, they deeply despised any forces that stirred public sentiment through such omens—this was one of the reasons why, in the founding years of the dynasty, the Void Sect was outlawed by order of the Taizu Emperor, and its leader was eradicated by the court.
The crown prince heard the words “the fall of the previous dynasty” and immediately realized the gravity of the situation. He understood that this touched upon the emperor’s greatest point of abhorrence. Tearfully, he raised his voice: “I did not! Even though they used such sinister tricks against me, even though I was filled with indignation, I never once thought to repay evil with evil. I despise and loathe these methods just the same. Why does Royal Father not believe me?”
As he spoke, the stubborn tears finally fell, landing on the emperor’s fingers. The emperor frowned, as if scalded, and withdrew his hand, his tone softening slightly: “Since you say this, I will give you a chance to clear your name — you claim this was the doing of the Void Sect, then bring me the mastermind, and we shall see the truth.”
Capture the leader of the Void Sect? The world is vast, where would they even be? After a brief moment of shock, the crown prince’s gaze turned resolute and sharp. He declared firmly: “I am willing to take on this task. I will not let Royal Father be disappointed!”
“Don’t make it sound as if I’m entrusting you with a heavy responsibility. You’ve yet to clear yourself of suspicion.” The emperor splashed cold water on him. “As for Zhao’er, to avoid suspicion, you are not to see him again. After today’s events spread, rumors detrimental to him will surely arise. You must find a way to stop them. If you let the rumors spread unchecked, I will take it as your tacit approval.”
The crown prince felt deeply aggrieved but had no choice but to accept these harsh conditions.
As the emperor turned to leave, he added, “Also, don’t drag Su Qinghe into everything. He can barely manage his own affairs; he has no time to clean up your mess.”
The emperor returned to the imperial study, but the crown prince remained kneeling at the foot of the steps. Fu Bao hurried over from where he had been hiding and quickly helped him up. “Young master, you’ve been busy since before dawn without a drop of water. I’ve had the kitchen prepare some nourishing soup. Shall we return to the palace now?”
The crown prince seemed not to have heard, his expression somewhat dazed.
After brushing the dust from his knees, Fu Bao asked worriedly, “Young master, you don’t look well. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” The crown prince looked toward the tightly shut hall doors. “Qinghe is still inside…”
“You must take care of yourself first, young master,” Fu Bao urged. “Lord Su will be out soon after he finishes speaking with His Majesty. I’ll have someone wait outside and escort him to the Eastern Palace the moment he comes out.”
The crown prince thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No need. Royal Father’s final words were clearly a warning not to drag Qinghe into this. He’s right — if this turns into a city-wide storm, I can’t involve him.”
He glanced again at the hall doors, then turned and walked a few steps, murmuring to himself, “I haven’t even presented my birthday gift, and Royal Father doesn’t seem to remember at all?”
Fu Bao’s eyes suddenly reddened. Suppressing his stinging nose, he said, “Perhaps His Majesty is just too busy now. Maybe you can go to Yangxin Hall tonight to present your gift.”
The crown prince closed his eyes briefly, then quickly opened them. He straightened his posture, resuming the impeccable bearing that even the most nitpicking elder ministers from the Ministry of Rites could not fault, and walked toward the Eastern Palace.
—
Inside the imperial study, Su Yan was peeking out through a slightly opened window, trying to eavesdrop on the courtyard. His behavior was highly improper, but he paid no heed to the looks from the palace servants.
When he saw the emperor ascending the steps, he quickly returned to his seat and sat properly, lifting his teacup to pretend calm.
As the emperor entered, Su Yan immediately put down his cup and rose to bow. The emperor told him to sit: “Continue drinking your tea.” Then he ordered the palace servants, “Bring me a cup of Songluo tea with olive.”
The servants swiftly swapped the Pu’er tea for freshly brewed Songluo. The emperor waved his sleeve, signaling for everyone to leave.
“You were peeking by the window?” the emperor asked.
Su Yan smiled awkwardly, “Nothing escapes Your Majesty.”
“I was just guessing. Knowing your nature — you worry about this person, worry about that one, can’t let anyone go — how could you possibly let go of the crown prince?”
The distance earlier was too great; he hadn’t heard clearly but only saw the prince kneeling, likely scolded by the emperor. Now, unable to read anything from the emperor’s expression, Su Yan cautiously replied, “I still hold the post of Shidu to the Eastern Palace, so of course I must do my duty for the young master. But whether as Shidu or as Shaoqing, I am first and foremost Your Majesty’s subject, so naturally I prioritize Your Majesty’s tasks.”
“Smooth talker!” the emperor chuckled, then shifted the topic, “How’s the injury on your shoulder? I heard you developed a fever after returning and were bedridden for two days.”
—
