#182: Holding a Candle (2)

The Han family was not only an aristocratic clan but also one that held military power. The current patriarch, Han Shousong, was a reasonable man, but the same couldn’t be said for others in the family—no patriarch of any aristocratic family could truly restrain their relatives entirely. Shen Qian couldn’t do it in the past, and later, neither could Qi Zhang or Qi Ying. So how could anyone else achieve such control?

It was impossible.

Greed was human nature—no one could resist it forever. Perhaps someone could refuse it once, twice, three times, or even four times, but could they resist it their entire life?

Even if one person could resist for a lifetime, could an entire family do so?

It was nothing short of a fairy tale.

Since they were destined to fail at restraining themselves, external forces would have to step in. For the emperor, the only way to ensure his own safety was to reclaim the power he had reluctantly handed over to the aristocratic families after the Southern Migration.

But how could he strip away the military authority held by Han Shouye?

Han Shouye was different from Shen Qian and Qi Ying. He lacked their strategic thinking and broad-mindedness; he was simply a reckless brute who acted impulsively. Yet it was precisely such men—who relied on straightforward tactics rather than cunning—that made things difficult for an emperor accustomed to scheming. Han Shouye didn’t consider balance, nor did he care about the nation or its people. He had no real attachments or weaknesses. What leverage could the emperor possibly use against him?

Moreover, behind the Han family stood the Empress Dowager—the emperor’s mother.

She was foolish, always believing her natal family would never harm her. She constantly nagged him to grant titles and favors to the Han family’s relatives, which only irritated him further. With the Empress Dowager’s protection, it became even harder for him to move against the Hans. If he pushed too hard, Han Shouye might rebel, and everything would spiral out of control.

Xiao Ziteng knew he couldn’t personally act against his maternal relatives. Otherwise, if Han Shouye raised an army in rebellion, the consequences would be catastrophic.

If action must be taken, it had to come from someone else.

The Fu family seemed like a viable option—they were experts at pursuing profit and now relied on the emperor for survival, making them his most obedient hounds. However, they also harbored their own selfish ambitions, which left Xiao Ziteng dissatisfied. After toppling the Qi family, the Fus began subtly demanding rewards. Though Xiao Ziteng had ascended the throne as emperor, he still couldn’t completely ignore the constraints placed upon him by his ministers. He had to make compromises, allowing the Fus to divide the remnants of the Qi family’s influence while loosening restrictions on land transactions, something they coveted deeply.

The Fu family was insatiable. Especially after Qi Yun’s dismissal, the Ministry of Ceremonial Affairs almost entirely fell under their control. They quickly halted and abolished newly implemented policies, particularly the reforms related to land taxes and labor levies, rendering all the hard-won achievements of Qi Yun and Qi Ying meaningless overnight.

But the shifting dynamics extended far beyond this.

Though the Han and Fu families competed with each other and their relationship wasn’t harmonious, they were united on one issue: consolidating the power of the aristocracy and excluding officials from commoner backgrounds.

Within just half a year of the Qi family’s collapse, commoner officials began disappearing from court. At the time, Qi Ying was far away on the battlefield and not in Jiankang. Without his protection, many commoner officials were demoted, exiled, or even executed by the Hans and Fus. A prime example was Zhang Deci, the third-place graduate of the Qinghua Seventeenth Year imperial examinations. He was falsely accused of crimes fabricated by powerful elites, destroying his lifelong reputation and ultimately leading to his death in the dungeons of the Imperial Censorate.

With Zhang Deci’s fate as a precedent, commoner officials couldn’t help but feel uneasy. They knew that Lord Qi, who had once protected them, was now fighting a losing battle. To survive, they had to seek new patrons. Thus, without needing the aristocratic families to take drastic measures, opportunistic minor officials began defecting to new masters. For instance, Zheng Xi, the second-place graduate of the Qinghua Seventeenth Year exams and Zhang Deci’s peer, now served as Fu Zhuo’s right-hand man.

At the time, Xiao Ziteng’s focus was entirely on the war effort, leaving him unable to intervene in the intricate web of factional struggles. By the time he finally managed to free himself from the demands of warfare, the political landscape of the court had already undergone a complete transformation.

Such was the difficulty of being an emperor… Your loyal hounds could tear apart your enemies, but they might also bite you in return.

As Xiao Ziteng gazed down at Qi Ying kneeling beneath his throne, his expression shifted slightly.

What if… he didn’t kill him?

There were no permanent allies or enemies in this world. Once, he and Qi Ying had been friends, but their interests drove them apart. Why couldn’t they form a new alliance based on mutual benefit now?

The Qi family was finished—there was no chance of resurgence. Compared to a complete family like the Fus, the weakened Qi Ying would be far easier to control. Now, Qi Ying’s survival depended entirely on the emperor’s mercy, meaning he would have to remain loyal to him.

What kind of man was Qi Ying? Even in the most perilous and disadvantageous situations, he always emerged unscathed. The current state of the Liang dynasty was dire—externally, they had to contend with the Wei kingdom, and internally, they had to wrest military power from the Hans and fight the Fus for bureaucratic reform. Who other than Qi Jingchen, renowned throughout the realm, could shoulder such immense responsibility?

Xiao Ziteng’s gaze deepened.

He had long desired to see Qi Jingchen fall into ruin, but above all else, what mattered most to him was the stability of his dynasty.

Why not let Qi Ying become his attack dog? Let him fight the Wei, let him clash with the Hans, let him contend with the Fus. Let him become a thoroughly isolated minister, a target for everyone, until he bled every last drop for the dynasty—and then died with nothing left.

This, then, would be the way he atoned for his family.

The new emperor, having made up his mind, said to Qi Ying, who was kneeling below: “Since your father has already stepped down from his position as Left Chancellor, this post cannot remain vacant for too long. I shall promote you to become the most powerful minister of the Liang dynasty. What do you say?”

Qi Ying raised his eyes and met the emperor’s gaze for a fleeting moment, immediately understanding the true meaning behind his words.

He hadn’t misjudged Xiao Ziteng—he was a pragmatic man. Though he harbored deep hatred for the Qi family and for Qi Ying personally, what he valued above all else was the stability of his reign. His desire for power had reached an almost obsessive level. Both the Han and Fu families had now become thorns in his side; as long as he sat on the throne, he would relentlessly crush the aristocratic clans without mercy.

And now, he wanted Qi Ying to become his weapon.

Qi Ying lowered his eyelids and bowed deeply to the emperor once more. He did not engage in empty flattery with Xiao Ziteng but replied respectfully: “Your servant humbly thanks Your Majesty for your grace.”

The emperor laughed with satisfaction, his laughter ringing out freely, and his peach-blossom eyes gleamed even brighter.

He personally descended from the dais, helped the newly appointed Left Chancellor to his feet, and spoke a few grandiose words about imperial favor. Then, his expression shifted as he said, “I know your character—you are not one to speak sweetly while harboring ill intentions. However, as the emperor, I must act with caution.”

He looked at Qi Ying, his eyes filled with scrutiny, and continued, “I have brought your family to ruin. How can I be sure you won’t harbor resentment and betray me someday?”

This was a moment where words were useless.

Everyone knew that no matter how obedient or eloquent Qi Ying’s response might be, it could never fully dispel the emperor’s suspicions. The only thing he could say was: “I leave everything to Your Majesty’s discretion.”

Whatever sacrifice Xiao Ziteng demanded of him at this moment, Qi Ying had to agree to without hesitation. Only by doing so could he secure the slimmest chance of survival.

Hearing this, Xiao Ziteng fell silent for a moment, seemingly pondering what exactly he wanted Qi Ying to do. For a long time, he said nothing until memories of the past surfaced.

Memories of his father, the late emperor.

In his youth, the former emperor had been full of ambition, dreaming of leading armies northward to reclaim the Central Plains. But later, he was constrained by the aristocratic families, reduced to being manipulated like a helpless child, unable to make even the simplest decisions for himself.

Over time, his ambitions turned to ashes. Year after year, consumed by bitterness and pain, he gradually descended into depravity, eventually becoming addicted to the Five-Stone Powder. Day and night, he indulged in debauchery until his body rotted away, ending his life in a pitiful state of madness.

If not for those damned aristocratic families pressing him relentlessly, how could his father have ended up like this?

They had driven him to his doom!

Xiao Ziteng’s resolve hardened—he now knew what he wanted Qi Ying to do.

Qi Ying was far too dangerous a man. Though he was indeed a sharp blade capable of standing against the two powerful families—the Hans and the Fus—his very existence was unsettling. What if he seized this lifeline and turned the tables? Xiao Ziteng was unwilling to take such a risk.

Instead, he would destroy Qi Ying’s body.

He would force him to consume the substance that ruined bodies and shattered minds, letting him taste the suffering his ancestors had inflicted upon his father. Let him become addicted, let him live a shortened life.

The idea was perfect. Xiao Ziteng realized this move could also extinguish Xiao Ziyu’s lingering hopes. He could tell her that it was because of her obsession that he had forced Qi Ying to take the Five-Stone Powder. If she persisted, next time he might simply kill Qi Ying.

How reasonable it all sounded.

Xiao Ziteng smiled and casually patted Qi Ying on the shoulder before saying nonchalantly, “A few days ago, the empress mentioned to me that her younger half-brother enjoys the Five-Stone Powder. Recently, they’ve concocted a particularly pure batch—it’s said to taste exquisite. Minister Qi, would you care to try it?”

How could Qi Ying fail to understand Xiao Ziteng’s meaning?

Since entering the political arena, he had always been bound by the imperial family. The former emperor had trapped him with marriage and family ties, and now this emperor intended to ensnare him with the Five-Stone Powder.

Not even the slightest chance of survival would be spared.

Qi Ying understood perfectly, yet his expression grew even calmer and more respectful. He even showed a hint of gratitude toward the emperor, bowing deeply and replying, “I humbly obey Your Majesty’s command.”

That day, Qi Ying feasted with the new emperor, and the empress was also present, smiling and ordering Su Ping to bring the Five-Stone Powder and wine to Qi Ying’s table.

Qi Ying had long suffered from gastric and heart pain, which made drinking alcohol—and especially consuming the Five-Stone Powder—extremely harmful. Yet that night, he seemed to forget all these precautions. Whenever the palace attendants poured him wine, he drank it fully, and consumed the Five-Stone Powder as well, reveling with the emperor and empress until late into the night before departing the palace.

That night, his body felt as though it were being gnawed by insects. The Five-Stone Powder exacerbated his internal heat, making him feel as if his insides were burning. Coupled with excruciating pain in his stomach and heart, he nearly passed out, leaving Qingzhu and Baisong panic-stricken.

He should have returned home immediately to call a doctor, but he couldn’t bear for his mother to see him in such a state. Instead, summoning every ounce of strength, he instructed Baisong to drive him back to Fenghe Garden.

His and her Fenghe Garden.

In truth, since Shen Xiling’s departure, he had hardly returned there. Beyond the demands of his official duties, deep down, he feared going back.

Every corner of that place held her shadow, every trace bore her mark—whether it was Wangyuan, Wangshi, Huaijin Courtyard, or Woyu Courtyard. Even the seemingly unrelated flowers and trees in the garden were enough to remind him of her. He knew it was somewhat irrational.

Yet that night, he was so desperate to return to Fenghe Garden.

To return to a place where she had once been.

Even though he knew that returning wouldn’t allow him to see her.

Even though he knew he would regret tonight’s impulsiveness tomorrow.

Even though he knew that in his current wretched state, he didn’t deserve to return to the place they had once shared.

...And yet, he still went back.

As he stood alone in Wangyuan, gazing at the completely withered lotus in the pond, he couldn’t help but look northward amid the extreme torment of his body, thinking of the person he had lost.

He felt sorrow that she wasn’t by his side at this moment, but simultaneously, he felt relief.

Thankfully… you didn’t see me in such a pitiful state.