The Crown Prince had no answer.
The echo of Su Yan’s shout still trembled through the hall. That single cry, torn from the depths of his exhaustion, seemed to drain the last of his strength. He slumped back against the chair, utterly spent.
A moment of silence followed. The hall fell deathly still, only the faint clinks of porcelain fragments being pulled from flesh and dropping onto stone broke the quiet.
Shen Qi finished tending the wound and sprinkled hemostatic powder. Zhu Helin tore a strip from his undershirt and bound Su Yan’s palm carefully.
Su Yan exhaled a long breath. His voice was low: “It was unbecoming of me to lose composure… This isn’t the time for private grievances. Your Highness must depart for the capital immediately, every moment’s delay could lead to irreparable consequences.”
Zhu Helin’s chest felt tight. Thoughts surged through him: his Royal Father, possibly gravely ill, his condition uncertain; the hidden intrigues festering in the shadowed palace and turbulent court; the ruthless struggle surrounding that supreme dragon throne; the uncertain, storm-tossed future, his own, and that of the Great Ming.
He didn’t know how much he could truly accomplish, but one thing he knew with piercing clarity, he could not die, Su Yan could not die, and the people who supported and trusted him with their lives, must not die.
“I’m returning to the capital, at once!” Zhu Helin declared with finality. “We’ll travel day and night, with all speed!”
Then, turning to Su Yan: “Qinghe, come with me.”
Su Yan hesitated. “I am the Left Shilang of Rites in Nanjing. If I leave my post without imperial decree…”
Before he could finish, his uninjured hand was taken firmly in another’s grasp.
“You’re the one who always says, ‘In an emergency, act with flexibility,’” Shen Qi said quietly, half-kneeling before him, his hand firm over Su Yan’s. “But the choice is yours. If you stay, I’ll stay with you. The troops outside the imperial tomb are enough to see the Crown Prince safely back.”
Su Yan looked down at that hand, its nails rimmed with dried blood, proof of the battle just fought, and his throat tightened. He turned his palm over and gripped Shen Qi’s hand tightly in return.
“…I’ll go too,” he said, resolute now. “At this point, our fates are already bound to His Highness. If the Crown Prince falls, we will not escape either. So if we live, we live together. If we die, we die together.”
Even weighed down by dread, Zhu Helin couldn’t help snorting and muttering, “Who wants to die with him… No, wait, we’ll both be fine. As for him, he can go to h*ll for all I care!”
Even now, he still couldn’t put aside his pride and work together for the greater good! Su Yan sighed helplessly. “Please summon Commander Mei. The four of us need to plan the fastest route back to the capital.”
Mei Changxi entered with a map, spreading it open on the table. The four of them bent over it, discussing in low voices.
“The fastest way is by canal.”
“There’s a problem. With the continuous heavy rain, the water level’s risen dangerously, ships are at risk.”
“And there aren’t enough transport barges for three thousand imperial guards. We won’t have time to requisition more.”
“Then we take the land route. Pack dry rations, abandon excess baggage, ride hard, eight hundred li a day if we can! Meizi, are your men up for it?”
“They are! Farmers by duty maybe, but never slack in training!”
“Another thing,” said Shen Qi. “Those Qingzhou soldiers may have retreated, but reinforcements could come at any time. We must stay on guard, ready for combat at every moment.”
“Agreed,” said Su Yan. “Still, we should also send a force down the canal, divide our troops to confuse the enemy. Diversionary tactics.” He added, “Your Highness, prepare several extra sets of prince’s robes. In an emergency, they may serve as a decoy.”
“Here, this area, I know it well. There’s a shortcut…”
—
Meanwhile, inside the Cining Palace, the Empress Dowager sat in long silence, holding two imperial edicts in her hands.
The Emperor now slept nearly six or seven hours of every day. When awake, pain stabbed through his head, yet he endured it with grim strength. Even Chen Shiyu, who had long since grown numb to life and death, could hardly bear to watch; he preferred His Majesty to remain asleep.
The prescriptions had changed, from medicines that stimulated blood flow and energy, to sedatives and painkillers. The acupuncture treatments had been stopped. Sometimes, Chen Shiyu felt that none of his efforts mattered at all, that what still kept the Emperor alive was sheer will and unwavering conviction.
The Empress Dowager’s heart had grown cold, resigned to the reality of losing another son.
And yet, beneath those ashes of despair, a faint, secret, burning light flickered: desperate, contradictory, and alive, coiling through her heart like a hidden flame.
Thus she refused Chen Shiyu’s request to attempt cranial surgery.
“I want absolute certainty,” she said. “If you cannot guarantee it, how can the sacred dragon body of the Son of Heaven be cut and sliced at will? You must not risk his life!”
Chen Shiyu could not guarantee it. Not even thirty percent success. And he could not bring himself to say to the Empress Dowager that it would be nothing more than “trying to save a dying horse.”
So in the end, he could only give up.
—So she intercepted the emperor’s handwritten will to the Grand Secretariat, the one written while he was still lucid.
The Empress Dowager lowered her head and stared at the line on the edict that read: “The eldest son, Crown Prince Helin, is benevolent, filial, intelligent, and virtuous by nature, and should succeed to the throne.” Her fingernails nearly tore through the silk brocade.
There was no one else in the hall. All the palace attendants had been sent away; even Qiong Gu was not allowed to enter. The Empress Dowager was wavering, struggling, making the hardest choice of her life.
Until she heard a child’s voice at the doorway: “Grandmother, I can recognize many characters now, and I can recite poems too! The teachers all praise my reading. I’ll recite one for you,
‘From the ocean’s depths of a thousand dark mountains,
I rise to mid-heaven where ten thousand nations shine.
Holding firm this will, may it last forever,
Through a hundred battles to claim peace for all under heaven.’”
No one dared stop the Second Prince. Zhu Hezhao entered the hall as he recited, small in stature but wearing a dragon robe and jade crown, his manner composed and proper.
The Empress Dowager put down the edict and beckoned him closer. “Who taught you that poem?”
“Teacher Jiao. I couldn’t memorize it before, but now I can. But Teacher Jiao isn’t here anymore,” Zhu Hezhao said.
The Empress Dowager asked gently, “Do you know whose poem that is?”
Zhu Hezhao shook his head.
“This poem was written jointly by two emperors. The first two lines, ‘From the ocean’s depths of a thousand dark mountains, I rise to mid-heaven where ten thousand nations shine’, were written by Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyin. He could not finish it. For the entire Song dynasty, no one dared add to it, saying the emperor’s spirit bled through the ink. It wasn’t until four hundred years later that our Great Ming’s founding emperor completed it with the final two lines: ‘Holding firm this will, may it last forever, through a hundred battles to claim peace for all under heaven.’ Zhao’er, do you know what this poem means?”
“Teacher Jiao said… it means to be a good emperor?”
The Empress Dowager smiled and stroked his tender, bright brow. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Zhao’er, you should thank your demoted Teacher Jiao properly.”
Zhu Hezhao thought for a moment, then turned toward the hall doors and made a solemn bow.
The Empress Dowager rose, walked to the brazier, and without hesitation threw both copies of the succession edict into the flames.
“Qiong Gu!” she called sharply.
Qiong Gu hurried in. “What are your orders, Your Majesty?”
“Go summon Lan Xi. Tell him to bring the imperial seal. If he dares voice even half a word of objection, kill him on the spot and appoint another as Chief Eunuch.” The Empress Dowager’s tone carried the chill of blood.
Qiong Gu shuddered and bowed deeply. “Yes.”
“When the new edict is written, do not send it to the Secretariat right away, no need to let time breed trouble. Wait until… until before the late emperor’s passing, then issue it.”
The words “the late emperor” made Qiong Gu’s knees weak. She bowed even lower. “Yes.”
“And send men to watch Yu Wang, he is not to leave his residence. The excuse… he’s been busy lately choosing a side consort to expand his line, hasn’t he? Let him busy himself selecting beauties and virtues inside the estate, not wandering about outside.”
“Yes.”
The Empress Dowager thought for a moment, then asked, “Any news from the Qingzhou army?”
“None yet. Even if the plan succeeds, it will take half a month for word to reach the capital.”
The Empress Dowager said, “I only hope that the Zhang clan’s son knows what’s good for him, take the edict abolishing the crown prince, leave for Lingnan quietly, and live out the rest of his life in peace. After all, he carries half the Jinling bloodline. I don’t wish to drive him to extinction.”
Qiong Gu said softly, “Your Majesty is merciful.”
The Empress Dowager’s resolve was now firm. Turning back, she saw Zhu Hezhao still there, listening in innocent confusion. She smiled and asked, “Zhao’er, did you understand any of that?”
Zhu Hezhao thought, then shook his head. “No.”
“That’s all right. Grandmother will help you. You sit in front, and Grandmother will sit right behind you, to give you strength and support. Would you like that?”
Of course Zhu Hezhao liked having her by his side, and nodded. “Yes.”
The Empress Dowager smiled.
As Qiong Gu rose to leave, she suddenly remembered something and reported, “There is a military matter the two senior ministers in the Secretariat cannot decide on. They came seeking the Emperor’s opinion, but my people stopped them outside Yangxin Hall for now.”
“What military matter?” asked the Empress Dowager.
“The Tatars and the Oirats have been fighting more fiercely of late. Since the Tatar Grand Preceptor Tuo Huotai was executed for treason, no one has been able to stop the Oirat advance. The Tatar Khan’s mother sent an envoy asking our dynasty for aid. She said….”
Qiong Gu paused to recall, “Ah yes, she said they wish to ally with us against the Oirat ‘Holy Khan’ Aletan, lest he grow too strong and become a future threat to Great Ming.”
The Empress Dowager let out a cold laugh. “Tatars? They raid our borders year after year, and now they have the face to talk of alliance? Send their envoy back with this message: ‘The internal affairs of the northern tribes are beyond Great Ming’s concern.’”
Qiong Gu hesitated. “Should we perhaps… wait until His Majesty wakes and seek his will? After all, military affairs have always been…”
The Empress Dowager slammed the table, furious. “The Emperor is this ill, and you still want to trouble him with state business? ‘Ally with Oirat to resist the Tatars’, hasn’t that always been the Emperor’s strategy toward the northern steppe? I’m merely following his established policy. How could that be wrong?”
Qiong Gu fell to her knees and begged forgiveness, cursing herself for overstepping.
Before summoning Lan Xi with the imperial seal to Cining Palace, she first conveyed the Empress Dowager’s rejection of the Tatar alliance to the Secretariat, disguised as a “vermilion-ink instruction” written by the Emperor himself, for the Empress Dowager did not want the ministers to know that the Emperor was no longer capable of ruling, and that she was now the one truly making the decisions.
Lan Xi, upon hearing this, was shocked. “But… when I attended His Majesty reviewing memorials not long ago, I heard him say that times have changed, he now intends to ally with the Tatar ‘Lioness Khatun’—”
Qiong Gu cut him off sharply. “Lan Gonggong! Are you saying the Empress Dowager is muddle-headed and mistaken in her decision? Or that His Majesty is muddle-headed and fickle in his decrees?”
Lan Xi, a man under the eaves, had no choice but to bow repeatedly, saying, “I wouldn’t dare.”
Qiong Gu softened her tone. “His Majesty is wise, and so is the Empress Dowager. State affairs are for the wise to decide, what do they have to do with the likes of us servants? Speak too much, and trouble will come.”
Lan Xi sighed. “That’s what I usually tell others. Now, seeing His Majesty like this… sigh, I was too anxious, spoke out of turn. You’re right, Qiong Gugu, we servants should only do servant’s work and obey orders.”
Qiong Gu nodded in satisfaction.
—
The route had been decided, and all necessary supplies were quickly prepared. Under the escort of three thousand Xiaoling Guards and five hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards, the Crown Prince set out on a forced march back to the capital.
There was, however, a small problem before departure.
Su Yan had injured his right hand and could not hold the reins, he had to ride with someone else.
Zhu Helin spoke up first: “Ride with me. My riding skills are excellent.”
Su Yan was about to politely refuse, but Mei Changxi interjected seriously: “That won’t do. His Highness’s safety is our top priority. Two men on one horse would not only exhaust the animal but also reduce its agility. If anything sudden happens, it would slow down His Highness’s escape. Forgive me, but I cannot agree.”
He was right. Though unhappy, Zhu Helin had no argument.
Shen Qi said, “Qinghe will ride with me. I’ll keep him safe.”
That made Zhu Helin even more displeased. He glanced sideways at him. “Out of three thousand five hundred men, only you’re capable? I think Mei here is even better. Why don’t…”
Mei Changxi quickly cut him off. “Your Highness, I must command the guards. It’s inconvenient, and I’m not accustomed, to share a horse.”
Zhu Helin sulked, looking around for someone who was both skilled and not too handsome.
Su Yan finally lost his patience and pointed at himself. “Has anyone bothered asking me what I want? Can’t I decide who I ride with?”
The three all turned toward him.
Zhu Helin: Pick me!
Shen Qi: Pick me!
Mei Changxi: Don’t pick me!
Expressionless, Su Yan grabbed the reins with one hand and climbed onto a horse ,
Shen Qi’s horse.
Zhu Helin’s face turned dark green. He gritted his teeth and muttered to Shen Qi, “We’ll settle this when we’re back in the capital!” Then he swung onto his own mount and galloped off.
Mei Changxi led the main force close on either side.
The five hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards brought by Shen Qi guarded the rear.
They rode hard through the wind, hooves pounding the ground. The gusts lashed against them, and Su Yan, jolted by the gallop, leaned back into Shen Qi’s arms.
Shen Qi held the reins with one hand, the other circling Su Yan’s waist.
“One year and seven months…” Su Yan murmured. “Since last spring, when I left the capital for Shaanxi, we haven’t seen each other for a whole year and seven months.”
Shen Qi’s arm tightened around his waist, suppressing the fierce, scorching hunger inside him, hunger not of the flesh, but of the soul, a gnawing emptiness that had long gone unappeased. It manifested in his body, a physical ache born of yearning.
He was so consumed by it that he couldn’t even utter the word longing. He no longer wanted to ask whether Su Yan had missed him, he only wanted to ride like this to the ends of the earth, to stop in some desolate expanse beneath the low sky, and take him savagely, ruthlessly.
He lowered his head, biting into the flesh of Su Yan’s neck like a wolf, his breath hot and desperate.
Su Yan’s breathing quickened; he could feel something pressing against his tailbone, rubbing with the rhythm of the galloping horse.
The whip hung by the saddle. Shen Qi’s free hand slipped beneath Su Yan’s robe and closed around the second whip tied to the saddle.
Su Yan trembled all over, body feverish, his toes hooked tightly into the stirrups.
“Qilang… I was so worried, especially after you went to Henan,” he panted, words broken by the wind. “The more I worried, the harder it was to dream of you… This past year, you’ve appeared in my dreams only a few times…”
Shen Qi bit down at the hollow of his neck, voice low. “And those few times, what did you dream of?”
Tears he hadn’t shed in so long welled up and spilled down Su Yan’s cheeks. “I dreamed of being with you… sometimes the dream was as short as a moment, sometimes as long as a lifetime.”
Can’t wait until next week to see more? Want to show your support? Come to my Patreon where you can get 5 or more chapters of The Reincarnation of a Powerful Minister right away ! Or go donate at Paypal or Ko-fi to show your appreciation! :)
