PM - 29

Everyone knew the Chancellor harbored ulterior motives, from his political maneuvers to his private suppression of the young emperor—his actions were despicable to the extreme. The young emperor, though seated in the highest position, faced many constraints. Without family support, he was akin to a lonely orphan in the common world. Being an emperor didn’t change that—he was merely a gilded beggar. His inheritance was currently sufficient for the Chancellor’s consumption, but once depleted, who knew how he’d be treated?

Shangguan Zhao was indignant, grinding his teeth audibly. “Your Majesty, give the order, and I’ll kill that treacherous chancellor.”

Fu Wei slowly shook her head, regaining composure after a while, though her face remained ashen, unwilling to speak.

Something must have gone wrong; otherwise, how could she have suffered such a humiliating defeat? Calming down, she realized her mistake lay in being too hasty. Thinking her advances would move him, she had forgotten he ascended by trampling over Cao Xuan and Li Ji’s corpses. To think mere sentiment could sway him was delusional. Yet, that belly band… it utterly disgraced her. No one knew the details, but between them, it remained a joke. Should she continue being a laughingstock? Certainly not. She straightened her spine; even in death, she wouldn’t yield to him again.

Shangguan Zhao helped her back to the inner chambers. The emperor’s quarters were magnificent and solemn, with long curtains surrounding the bed draped in rich brocade, corners weighted with amber. The young emperor climbed onto it, lying down fully clothed. Her pale face against the vibrant fabric appeared even more desolate. Eyes closed, silent, Shangguan Zhao vaguely remembered seeing her like this seven years ago. Back then, she was learning horseback riding and archery, fond of a small pony. But her unskilled control led to a fall. Upon hearing this, the Chancellor unhesitatingly ordered the horse killed.

“The sovereign’s body represents the nation; harming it is a calamity for all.” He didn’t need to report to the young emperor, acting on his own authority. The young emperor, still a child, cried and begged to keep the horse. The more she cried, the darker the Chancellor’s expression became. “A ruler must not indulge in distractions; attachment creates vulnerabilities. Please remember this, Your Majesty.” Afterwards, the young emperor didn’t utter another word, silently watching the horse being led away, her expression mirroring today’s.

“Your Majesty, do you remember what I told you?” he softly asked.

The person on the bed slightly trembled their lashes. “Crying is useless, right? Tears are the most extravagant luxury in the world—I remember.”

“If you despise someone, don’t be saddened by their offenses; rise up and crush them decisively.”

Fu Wei nodded, but he didn’t know she didn’t despise the Chancellor. It was precisely because she didn’t despise him that the pain felt sharper.

She turned to face him, opening her eyes. “Azhao, I’m disheartened. Perhaps this is how my life will remain. I want to revive Da Yin, but I’m too weak, unable to consolidate power, pacify the feudal lords, or escape being controlled in court.”

Shangguan Zhao crouched down, leveling with the bed. “Then does Your Majesty fear?”

She shook her head, then nodded. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to attend tomorrow’s court session.”

“Just because of Yan Xiangru, disappointing Grand Tutor, Vice Minister Wei, and Secretary Sun?” He reached out, pressing her hand. “The Your Majesty I know isn’t like this. Fear nothing; I’m by your side, ready to slay any gods or buddhas in our way.”

Fu Wei slowly warmed inside, exhaling deeply. “Thank you. Thankfully, you and Puzhao are here… two shining lights brighter than lanterns, making my path less dark.”

She smiled, and Shangguan Zhao smiled with her. Their friendship, cultivated since childhood, was stronger than anything else.

“Rest for a while,” he said gently. “Your Majesty looks very unwell; perhaps your health hasn’t fully recovered. In the future, if you’re unwell, never go to the Chancellor’s residence again. He doesn’t share Your Majesty’s heart; I fear he might harm you.”

Her lips quivered sadly. “Before he finds someone to replace me, he won’t. If I die, who will be his puppet? He holds too much power now, managing all memorials. The Chancellor leading the Secretariat shouldn’t be. Tomorrow…” She closed her eyes, murmuring, “Tomorrow in court, I’ll touch his taboo. The Secretariat can’t be left empty; otherwise, the Da Yin empire will truly belong to Yan.”

“Will Your Majesty wait until after the wedding to act?”

She fell silent, speaking only after a while. “Regardless of whether the empress is established, I’ll assume personal rule at sixteen—it’s inevitable. The empress’s position is merely symbolic, to reassure him. If not for needing him to balance the feudal lords, I’d have eliminated him long ago. If he can’t serve me, he must be eliminated… Just wait. Once I replace the Captain of the Guards and Commander of the Imperial Army, I won’t fear him anymore.” But how long would this path take? She didn’t know—perhaps ten, perhaps twenty years. Looking ahead, the way remained unclear, but hope persisted, offering chances.

Shangguan Zhao covered the young emperor with a brocade quilt and exited the inner chambers.

Below the vermilion steps, Hu Lu Puzhao was on patrol. Seeing him descend, he quickly approached. “How is His Majesty?”

“No issue,” he replied. “Just some discomfort; sleep will resolve it. Has the Chancellor left the palace?”

Hu Lu Puzhao responded, “He likely went to Mingguang Hall to draft edicts.”

Having been stationed at the triple-arched gate earlier, he wasn’t clear on what transpired in Yuecheng Hall. Only when the eunuch commander from Zhangde Hall came did he rush into the inner hall, finding a distracted young emperor and petrified attendants.

He inquired about the events with Hu Lu Puzhao, who explained: “The Chancellor’s audience proceeded normally. Several other officials were present, no disputes arose, and there were no disagreements on policy. I discreetly inquired; reportedly, the Chancellor received an anonymous accusation of collusion between the Yan clan and the Prince of Jing, presenting it directly to His Majesty. After reviewing it, His Majesty didn’t order a thorough investigation but rather rejected the Chancellor’s self-request to be detained in Zhaoyu Prison.” After pondering, he added, “There was also a humorous incident. Reportedly, when the Chancellor presented the Prince of Jing’s letter, he inadvertently dropped a belly band from his sleeve, clearly visible to everyone.”

“Belly band?” Shangguan Zhao asked in astonishment. “Women’s undergarments?”

Hu Lu nodded, embarrassment evident. “Such a basic mistake; unexpected from the Chancellor.”

Naturally, the Chancellor wouldn’t make such a basic error. Thus, this belly band was likely the true catalyst for these events.

Outside speculation about the relationship between the Chancellor and the young emperor varied wildly. Some claimed they were irreconcilable, others that the Chancellor lusted after the young emperor. There were also rumors of the young emperor pleasing the Chancellor, even intertwining the Chancellor, young emperor, and empress in bizarre ethical tragedies. Hearing too much could induce nightmares. Now, with the issue stemming from the belly band—who uses belly bands? Naturally, women. The empress, adopted by the Chancellor, was a woman… Could that beast Yan Xiangru have insulted the empress to provoke the young emperor?

Shangguan Zhao was startled by his own imagination. Though bold, unless this explanation sufficed, none better emerged. Violating the empress endangered the imperial lineage; if the young emperor didn’t collapse, when would he?

He grabbed Hu Lu Puzhao’s wrist. “What do you know about the empress?”

Startled, Hu Lu hesitated before responding. “Only that she’s the orphan of former Right Capital Auxiliary Commander Nie Yun, who perished in the Chen Pass battle. Later, the Chancellor adopted Nie’s siblings. The empress received an imperial decree to become empress, and the Chancellor petitioned to enfeoff Nie Yun as Lord Du, which the emperor approved.”

“Nie Yun…” Shangguan Zhao frowned, deep in thought. “The empress doesn’t reside in the Chancellor’s residence; Yan Xiang separately provided a residence. Isn’t that redundant?”

He didn’t elaborate further, realizing an investigation was necessary. If evidence against the treacherous chancellor could be found, it would offer the young emperor a lifeline.

Around the imperial city were many picturesque spots, like Chunshengye and Yuebanli. The Chancellor’s residence for the empress was built in Yuebanli, a place of intricate hills and valleys, dense bamboo forests shading the sky. The empress’s residence lay deepest in the bamboo grove. Night visits required traversing a long straight path, initially pitch black, with lanterns flickering faintly nearer the residence. Approaching, it suddenly opened up, high-hanging palace lamps illuminating the entrance without plaques, thresholds, or guards—a stark contrast to post-enfeoffment grandeur.

Avoiding the light, he circled around the front gate, planning to scale the boundary wall near the side entrance. Preparing to approach the wall, he suddenly heard distant hoofbeats. A carriage approached along the straight path, copper lamps hanging from its canopy illuminating the nobleman’s face—it was the Chancellor. The carriage stopped at the gate, where the steward deeply bowed, ushering him in without question.

So familiar, indeed! The observer’s anger surged. Initially intending to scout and leave, encountering this made it imperative to investigate.

The empress’s residence wasn’t grand; scaling the wall was easy. Landing, he surveyed the surroundings, feeling only emptiness. Strangely, not a single servant moved about. How austere must the empress’s life be, even for a secluded concubine, such treatment was unacceptable!

His disdain for the Chancellor deepened, yet he hadn’t seen him, unsure of his whereabouts.

To see the truth, he needed to visit the main chamber. Though forbidden, peeping was a grave disrespect. However, for the young emperor, everything was worth it.

Scaling walls posed no challenge. Mansion layouts were similar; finding the main chamber was straightforward. The brightly lit room seemed to be it, occasionally seeing elongated shadows cast on the window paper.

No guards—perfect. He approached, pressing his back against the wall beneath the window, faintly hearing “Teacher,” followed by the Chancellor’s calm voice: “The empress wields the six seals…”

Unfortunately, it was unintelligible, muffled by buzzing, akin to children’s whistling pinwheels spinning ceaselessly.

Looking up, he gauged the distance to the windowsill and frame. Slightly turning, he concealed himself between the brick walls of two windows. The Chancellor’s voice grew clearer. Knowing the interior was brighter, those inside couldn’t see outside movements. He edged closer, ear almost touching the lattice window’s gap… Suddenly, a sharp sound like a sword slicing air; before reacting, his upper arm seared with pain. Realizing trouble, he leapt several bounds, flipping out of the residence, disappearing into the dim bamboo forest under night’s cover.

The next day’s court session saw the proposal for the Secretariat to manage affairs presented by the Secretary of the Secretariat, phrased with utmost tact, delicately stating: “Since Emperor Renxiao, all state memorials have been reviewed by the Secretariat. After the young master ascended, unable to personally oversee officials, three regents managed affairs. State affairs pressed heavily; initially, culprits Li Ji and Cao Xuan assisted. In the fifth year of Yuanyou, these two were executed, leaving the burden solely on the Chancellor for over five years.” The Secretary’s chubby face radiated respect, bowing to the Chancellor. “Prime Minister has labored excessively. Major policies require his attention; we Secretariat officials merely draft edicts, incapable of aiding above or benefiting below, occupying positions idly. Historically, many young rulers were swayed by external relatives and eunuchs. However, our young ruler is capable, free from such influences. The Secretariat wishes to alleviate the Chancellor’s burdens, humbly requesting His Majesty’s approval.”

A stone causing ripples, this overt power grab, though proposed by the Secretary, reflected the young emperor’s intent. Publicly discussed, there was no turning back.

All ministers looked towards the Chancellor, who, seated at the chief position, fixedly gazed at the young emperor, holding his tablet firmly, articulating: “I concur. However, the Secretariat lacks leadership; the Secretary General position remains vacant. I recommend Attendant Cao Liu Shang, hoping His Majesty approves my proposal.”

Thus, the ball returned. The Attendant Cao oversaw the Chancellor’s duties, intricately linked with the Three Excellencies. One retires, another replaces, circling back, the meat stays in the pot.

The young emperor atop the throne frowned, tightly pursing her lips, silent for a while. The Censor and Grand Commandant rose, bowing respectfully. “The Chancellor recommended Liu Shang, meticulous and righteous; we concur.”

Thus, the Chancellor’s faction surfaced. Fu Wei observed half the court echoing agreement, including numerous Three Excellencies and Nine Ministers. Decades of cultivation weren’t trivial. She stared at the Chancellor, eyes cold, yet cautious not to speak definitively, aware power hadn’t fully shifted, avoiding hasty mistakes again.

“Regarding the Secretary’s proposal, since the Prime Minister agrees, I approve. The Secretariat issuing edicts and orders grants low-ranking officials significant power; selecting capable individuals for Secretary General requires careful consideration, not haste.” Her gaze softened, smiling faintly at the Chancellor. “The Prime Minister’s recommendations will receive priority; the Three Excellencies may gather at Mingguang Hall. We’ll deliberate further then.” Turning, she asked the attendant if there were more proposals. On receiving a negative response, she lightly tapped the lacquered armrest. “Today’s session concludes; adjourn.”

Without delay, she rose towards the imperial carriage.

Finally, wresting comprehensive administrative authority felt rewarding; today wasn’t wasted. When Sun Mo proposed earlier, she was anxious, fearing the Chancellor wouldn’t relinquish power. Later, she understood his predicament. With the wedding approaching, the emperor assuming personal rule was inevitable. Without concessions, feudal lords would have excuses to attack him. This compromise was likely his maximum, making further power grabs exceedingly difficult.

Leaning against the carved dragon head, the palanquin’s canopy fluttered, shielding the midday sun. She glanced at Shangguan Zhao. “Azhao.”

Shangguan Zhao looked up, smiling. “Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

Fu Wei’s lips curved, extending her hand to lightly grasp his.

Returning to the Eastern Palace, knowing the Three Excellencies and Nine Ministers awaited her at Mingguang Hall, she chose not to appear. Let them wait; for years, she was merely a living imperial seal, summoned at their convenience. Why should she comply?

Seated in her tent, she leisurely browsed books, a rare moment of repose. Not long after, Jianye reported the Chancellor’s visit.

Still clinging to hope! She set the scroll aside, rising and smoothing her robe before exiting the chamber. Inside Leicheng Hall, he stood with his back turned, not posing to greet her. She slowed, his graceful figure evoking longing even in silhouette. Yet his indifference meant if not lovers, then mortal enemies—that was their path.

Entering the hall, she calmly asked, “Why doesn’t Father Chancellor return to the office?”

Turning, the Chancellor’s proud eyes contrasted with his elegant demeanor. “I’ve come to conclude Han Yan’s case.” From his sleeve, he produced a document, presenting it. “Han Yan has confessed, claiming he acted under Prince Yuan Heng of Zhao, implicating no others.”

Fu Wei was surprised; knowing the case wasn’t simple, his hasty conclusion surely had a purpose. But he didn’t explain, leaving her puzzled. Examining him, she noticed his gaze shifting to Shangguan Zhao behind her.

“Attendant seems unwell today,” he remarked mockingly. “May I ask, where did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Shangguan Zhao, unflinching, bowed. “I patrolled the palace till dawn before resting briefly.”

“Hmm,” he chuckled faintly. “Attendant works hard, resting at dawn and now attending His Majesty. Prolonged, your body might not endure! Fortunately, martial artists are sturdy…” As he spoke, he gripped Shangguan Zhao’s arm. “Otherwise, how could you ensure His Majesty’s safety, right?”

Despite the warm words, his grip was forceful. Shangguan Zhao knew he was a former general, once commanding capital troops, accomplished in his youth. Transitioning to governance, his status remained unapproachable, so they never clashed. Judging by his current strength, his skills hadn’t waned. The wound, under his grip, penetrated deeply, nearly debilitating him. Gritting his teeth, he endured, feeling blood flow from his sleeve, thankfully restrained by armor, preventing drips. Unable to show weakness, he forced a smile. “Prime Minister flatters me; my loyalty shines like the sun and moon. Such minor pains are inconsequential.”

The Chancellor’s smile broadened, his gaze captivating.

“Very good, I admire such iron-willed men.” Maliciously patting the spot twice, he added, “If you ever need me, my doors are always open.”

He laughed heartily, departing. Fu Wei watched, sensing the underlying tension but clueless about its origin. After he left, she furrowed her brow, puzzled. “What was his purpose?” Turning, she noticed Shangguan Zhao’s pallor, his temples drenched in cold sweat. Alarmed, she exclaimed, “What’s wrong…”

Before finishing, he collapsed, unconscious.