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The heavy palace doors had been closed all night. When they opened the next morning, the faint scent of osmanthus still lingered in the air.

Qin Song was the Eunuch Director in charge of imperial affairs at Quefei Hall. He was familiar with this fragrance. The emperor loved incense and would not preside over court without the presence of osmanthus. Over the years, the hall had been steeped in its aroma, so much so that every table and chair seemed to exude its subtle perfume. Unlike the solemnity of the Western Palace or the extravagance of the Northern Palace, the Southern Palace was perhaps the most pleasant place in the entire imperial city—though only before the ministers arrived in their grand procession.

He had overseen matters here for many years, from Emperor Wen to the young Emperor, from the Huangjian era to the Yuanyou era. Preparing for court sessions had always been second nature to him. Standing by the side corridors, he directed operations with mere gestures, ensuring absolute silence. The eunuchs on duty were efficient, knowing exactly how to arrange the cushions and lamp stands without needing explicit instructions. Climbing the steps, Qin Song approached the center where the young emperor’s throne awaited. This task required his personal attention. He fluffed the bolster and removed the copper wedges from the footrest’s corners—recently, His Majesty had grown taller, his feet now firmly planted on the ground without needing support.

Turning to survey the hall, everything was in perfect order. All that remained was to await the appointed hour to welcome the ministers.

One of the middle-ranking eunuchs nudged toward the gilded chair beside the imperial throne, whispering discreetly, “Director, shall we remove the Marquis’s seat today?”

Court officials habitually referred to the regent as “Marquis.” In truth, the title of Changce Marquis dated back to Emperor Wen’s reign during the Huangjian era. Later, he rose to become Chancellor and Commander of the Capital Garrison. Appointed as regent by the late emperor, and upon the ascension of the young emperor, he was bestowed the titles of Grand Tutor and Prime Minister, governing the state as regent.

Perhaps due to the emperor’s increasing age, the Prime Minister intended to relinquish power, no longer sitting alongside the sovereign but instead occupying a simple seat among the ministers. Two eunuchs carried away the heavy armchair, and instantly the hall felt brighter and more spacious. Each item returned to its rightful place—it was as it should be.

The officers responsible for security within the hall had taken their positions. Qin Song stepped out of the hall to report to the Chief Attendant. On Tian Street, the sound of horns rippled like waves, spreading outward into the distance. Soon, the Zhanghua Gate swung open, and the sky gradually brightened. In the morning light, civil and military officials appeared, walking slowly along the corridors—it was another magnificent day.

Qin Song retreated into the hall to greet the young emperor’s arrival. The imperial palanquin was draped with swallows in flight, obscuring His Majesty’s face. Only a sharp jawline and tightly pressed lips were visible.

Lowering his gaze, Qin Song stepped forward, bowing deeply and extending his arms to assist the emperor’s descent. Wearing the celestial crown and clad in crimson robes, the young emperor alighted gracefully. Once seated on the throne, the Chief Attendant’s voice rang out sharply: “Kneel!” Like a forest of trees felled at once, the officials dropped to their knees. Another command followed: “Bow!” Beards and brows touched the ground as they prostrated themselves, sinking into the dust.

Yet among them, one man stood apart, hands tucked into his sleeves, refusing to kneel. Bathed in the morning light, his embroidered collar shimmered with gold and silver threads, accentuating a visage that gleamed like lightning. Between his brows, an aura of authority burned bright. “To see the emperor without kneeling, to address him without naming oneself, to ascend the hall with sword and shoes”—these were privileges granted by the late emperor. Not only was he exempt from bowing, but even the young emperor addressed him respectfully as “Father Regent.”

After the ceremony concluded and the ministers resumed their seats, the young emperor finally spoke: “Father Regent, your resignation from the seat grieves me deeply. Please reconsider and return to your former position.”

The Prime Minister bowed deeply. “Your Majesty honors me greatly, but I cannot share the same seat as my sovereign. When Your Majesty was young, I accepted the sacred duty to assist you, trembling with caution every day. Now that Your Majesty has matured, from this day forth, I shall remain below while you reign above. Proper etiquette must not be neglected.”

A faint smile finally graced the young emperor’s youthful face. He did not press further, turning his gaze to the solemn assembly of ministers and gesturing for them to take their seats. No further words were needed; the business of state naturally commenced.

The Minister of Rites rose to report: “It has been ten years since the late emperor’s passing. This year, the Di Sacrifice must be performed. Last year, the Empress Dowager ordered a fifty percent increase in offerings for the ancestral temple. Shall we follow the old rites or adhere to last year’s arrangements? We await Your Majesty’s guidance.”

Not all matters in the court were thorny border disputes. Many aspects of governance fell well within the young emperor’s capabilities. Alas, years of entrenched habits could not be undone overnight. Thus, the young emperor slightly turned his head and said, “I leave this decision to Father Regent.”

The Prime Minister’s views aligned with the emperor’s. “Since ancient times, sacrifices have followed established rites. Naturally, we should adhere to tradition. The spring and autumn sacrifices differ from the Di Sacrifice. The Empress Dowager’s sincerity before heaven and earth justifies the additional expenses.”

The Grand Herald stepped forward with his tablet. “Your Majesty’s might extends across the land, and your virtue shines in all directions. The vassal states under our dominion seek Your Majesty’s benevolence. They request the dispatch of envoys to spread our culture and forge alliances lasting ten thousand years.”

The young emperor paused thoughtfully. “This proposal is excellent…” Yet again came the familiar phrase: “I leave this decision to Father Regent.”

In truth, the princes and ministers were long accustomed to this routine. While their lips called out “Your Majesty,” their eyes invariably sought the Prime Minister. The young emperor noticed, his fists slowly tightening.

Every court session had its ups and downs. Minor issues typically preceded the storm. Sure enough, the Minister of Works rose to speak. “Regarding the case of rebellion in Wuling Prefecture, General Yan Guang, Prince Yuan Heng of Zhao, Princess Guangyi, and her husband, Colonel Shangguan Mingyue, along with their two sons, have all been brought to the capital for trial…”

The young emperor finally raised his head. “When the Grand Marshal first reported to me, he stated that only Colonel Shangguan Mingyue and his son Shangguan Jun were implicated in the Wuling rebellion. Why are there now four individuals being brought to the capital?”

The Grand Marshal quickly stepped forward to respond. “Your Majesty, before I handed the case over to the Court of Justice, this was indeed the situation.”

It was common knowledge that the young emperor had been close friends with Shangguan Zhao, the fourth son of the colonel, during his youth. The Minister of Works glanced at the Prime Minister before addressing the emperor again. “Rebellion is a grave matter. Bringing all four members of the family ensures thorough interrogation.”

The young emperor sighed, turning to the Prime Minister. “What does Father Regent think?”

The Prime Minister sat upright, holding his tablet. “Whether father and son share the same guilt requires rigorous questioning. Non-participation does not equate to ignorance. Such a heinous crime, if known yet unreported, is tantamount to treason. Your Majesty’s compassion is well-known, but mishandling this case could destabilize the empire. Please remain patient until the trial concludes, and all will become clear.”

Thus, the four were detained pending trial. Even if the young emperor wished to show favoritism, no one dared grant such leniency. In the Great Yin dynasty’s court, the emperor’s words often went unheeded—a decade of such occurrences had made it commonplace. The young emperor nodded mildly. “Father Regent speaks wisely. I await your verdict. I trust you will administer justice impartially, neither lenient nor harsh.”

Though his face betrayed no anger, the discord between his inner thoughts and outward demeanor was a common affliction among young emperors and their regents. After the session ended, the young emperor walked away with his hands clasped behind his back. The Prime Minister paid no heed, stepping out of Quefei Hall into the blinding sunlight. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, the shadow of his fingers fell across his face. Blinking in the shade, he instructed the Judicial Officer in a measured tone: “His Majesty has decreed impartial justice. Ensure that Shangguan Zhao is thoroughly interrogated.”

The repetition of “thoroughly” suggested dire prospects for Shangguan Zhao. The Prime Minister feigned nonchalance as he descended the steps, while the middle-ranking eunuch exchanged wary glances but dared not comment. Imperial matters were inscrutable—who could truly decipher them?

The relationship between the young emperor and the Prime Minister resembled that of uncle and nephew, though in truth, it was not quite so. The Prime Minister’s mother, Lady Ru, had entered the palace pregnant, and the Prime Minister bore the surname Yan, while the emperor’s family name was Yuan. However, Emperor Wen had held the Prime Minister in high regard, granting him the title of marquis when the princes were enfeoffed as kings. After Emperor Wen’s death, the late emperor ascended the throne, but fraternal strife left no trustworthy allies. The late emperor’s reign was brief, lasting only four years. On his deathbed, he hastily entrusted the young prince to three men: General Li Ji, Chancellor Cao Xuan, and Marquis Yan Xiangru. Over the past decade, Li Ji and Cao Xuan had either died in battle or been condemned, leaving only the Marquis. Naturally, he now stood alone, second only to the emperor.

“Father Regent, Father Regent”—whether the young emperor uttered these words willingly was uncertain. The young emperor was a reserved individual, concealing both joy and sorrow, keeping everyone at arm’s length. As a child, his small frame appeared frail and solitary atop the vast dragon throne. Now grown, he was tall and strikingly handsome, though still somewhat thin. With proper care, he would surely grow into a majestic figure like his predecessor.

The summer wind roared across the land, fierce and unyielding by day, yet gentle and melodious by night, like a maiden singing softly in her chamber.

The doors of Zhangde Hall were half-closed, but the windows remained open, allowing the breeze to drift through. The gauze curtains swayed gently, adding an air of elegance.

Zhangde Hall served as the eastern palace’s main hall and the emperor’s residence, built with extraordinary grandeur. Stepping inside for the first time, one might feel a palpable sense of dread, fearing that ghosts or mythical beasts lurked in unseen corners, ready to ambush unsuspecting visitors. When the young emperor first entered Zhangde Hall, he struggled to sleep through the night. A five-year-old child, who in ordinary circumstances would still be cradled in his mother’s arms, was left to sleep alone. Without attendants nearby, he relied on the dim glow of extra lamps to ease his fears. A decade had passed since then.

The chirping of crickets echoed through the vast hall, their calls rising and falling with the flickering lamplight. Lonely, the young emperor kept insects as companions, seeking solace in their lively chorus on summer nights. A junior eunuch entered silently, carrying beeswax candles. His footsteps on the tiled floor made no sound. The bronze tree lamps outside the curtains had already been refilled; next was the inner chamber. The gossamer curtains fluttered, and beyond the translucent silk, the dragon bed appeared indistinct, shrouded in shadows.

The eunuch entered cautiously, for the young emperor slept lightly and startled easily. Tiptoeing forward, he inadvertently glanced at the bed—only to find it empty. Instantly, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Your Majesty…” The eunuch’s voice trembled. Too frightened to shout, he frantically searched. “Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”

Another gust of wind swept through, causing the oil lamps to flicker and sputter. The canopy hanging from the bedpost swayed, revealing the young emperor clutching a brocade quilt, standing in the corner. His face was expressionless, his temples damp with sweat.

The eunuch swallowed hard. “What happened, Your Majesty?” Glancing around nervously, he asked, “…Did you have a nightmare?”

The young emperor seemed not to hear him, murmuring to himself with his head bowed. “Guanzhi is intelligent; passing the throne to him seems fitting. And Wei Wang’s son—I’ve always thought the Wei heir is wiser than me, more suited to be emperor…”

The eunuch, comprehending the gravity of these words, collapsed to his knees. “Your Majesty, what is wrong? My heart is about to burst from fear.”

The young emperor remained silent, exhaling deeply after a long pause. “You may go. Unless it’s urgent, do not enter.”

The eunuch hesitated before replying, “Yes,” and backed out of the chamber. Troubled by what he had witnessed, he slipped aside to observe. He saw the young emperor slump down, releasing the quilt, which fell to the floor. At its pristine white center, a vivid stain of blood was unmistakable. The young emperor glanced down once more, then closed his eyes in terror.

A thunderclap reverberated through the air. The eunuch, clutching his sleeves, fled Zhangde Hall in panic and immediately summoned others. “Quickly, quickly! Report to the Marquis at once…” Leaning close, he whispered urgently, his voice too low to discern the content of his message.