PM - 32

Such is fate; most of the time, living is a torment.

As time slowly passed, the Chancellor sat behind the lacquered desk, immovable as a mountain. He was a man who valued appearances greatly; even at home, he maintained strict decorum in his attire and appearance, let alone in an official setting like this. However, he hadn’t considered replacing the torn black robe he wore. Holding a pen in his hand, his gaze fell on the scrolls, yet he couldn’t read a single word, sitting there from midday until evening.

The scattered bamboo slips in the hall had been collected and neatly stacked again. None of his subordinates dared to bother him, except for the Chief Clerk, who cautiously reported, “Lord, Liu Shang has entered the Ministry of Personnel. The appointment order was issued by His Majesty around early afternoon.”

He grunted affirmatively, his expression calm. Without the previous mess, the Chief Clerk would have thought everything was normal.

“Inform Liu Shang to be wary of Sun Mo. If necessary, transfer him out of the ministry and send him elsewhere.”

The Chief Clerk hesitated slightly, “What about His Majesty? Sun Mo is his confidant; will His Majesty let it go?”

He raised his eyes, his pupils filled with too many turbulent emotions, almost piercing through people.

“If His Majesty disapproves, there’s still me. Let him submit a formal petition to me, and I’ll naturally find a way to deal with that Sun Mo.”

The Chief Clerk stammered in agreement and shifted his body to look outside, “It’s getting late. The steward from your residence is already waiting outside. My Lord, please return early to rest. If there’s any urgent report, I will deliver it directly to the Chancellor’s residence.”

The Chancellor nodded indifferently. Having knelt for so long, he couldn’t stand up immediately, waving his hand and said, “First, dismiss the officials on duty. No need to wait for me.”

The Chief Clerk left to convey the orders, but since the Chancellor didn’t leave, the subordinates didn’t dare to depart easily either. The Censor and Solicitor stood with their hands tucked, discussing in low voices under the eaves, “It seems they’ve had a falling out. His Majesty left in haste; what could be the reason?”

“It doesn’t look good… The relationship between monarch and minister is like that of husband and wife. A facade of harmony is still needed. Once the face is torn off, who knows what kind of contest will follow.”

The discord between the young emperor and the Chancellor was well-known to all. Previously, when they argued, although no one knew the content of their conversation, those occasional sharp tones could be faintly heard from afar. The ministers were anxious. No matter how strong the Chancellor was, the young emperor was still the emperor, and she couldn’t be underestimated just because of her youth. Later, everyone saw the young emperor leave in a hurry, and began to speculate that this time, the Chancellor might have gone too far, scaring away even the usually mild-mannered young emperor…

Let them gossip. After all, he was a treacherous minister, the Chancellor thought with self-abandonment. Everyone in Dayin knew he was keen on seizing power. He had borne the blame for so many years and was used to it. As a treacherous minister, who cared about a good reputation? Whether accused of monopolizing power or having a narrow mind, he was just like that. Who dared to object? If they did, they had to swallow it! In fact, since he entered politics, he never thought about leaving a name in history. Loyal ministers worried too much and lived a life full of委屈. Being a treacherous minister had fewer rules and didn’t care about others’ lives or deaths, at least ensuring his own satisfaction. But for some reason, recently he hadn’t felt any satisfaction at all. His heart was increasingly blocked. Where it hurt, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the loss of power that made him feel a sense of crisis.

Never mind, he could still handle a mere young emperor. He supported himself with the lacquered desk to stand up. Below his knees, he lost sensation. When he suddenly exerted force, he stumbled downward significantly. Straightening his legs, he rested briefly until he could muster the strength to walk out of the office. The setting sun slanted down from the dripping water, casting shadows on the nearby pillars. He squinted and gazed at the distant sky; it was indeed getting late.

At this moment, the subordinates were dumbfounded, not because the tense atmosphere in the air had dissipated, but because the Chancellor’s clothes were in tatters. How was this different from what they expected? It seemed the situation had taken a dramatic turn. They began to speculate again about what exactly happened in the hall earlier. With limited thinking, scholars couldn’t piece together a thrilling picture. They only knew that the young emperor and the Chancellor might have fought. Judging by the young emperor’s tidy appearance when leaving, the Chancellor was the defeated party.

They had bet wrong. No wonder; after all, the other person was the emperor. Even if the Chancellor had means, he wouldn’t dare commit regicide. Thus, they somewhat sympathized with the Chancellor. Even though he was both the regent and the royal uncle, a subordinate was still a subordinate. If the emperor wanted to beat him, he could only endure obediently.

“Chancellor…” The subordinates gathered around but didn’t know how to console him.

The Chancellor smiled indifferently, his smile still relatively strong, “All disperse. I also need to go home.”

He walked out of the main gate with his hands behind his back, the tattered cloth fluttering in the evening breeze. His tall figure appeared particularly desolate. The steward came forward, slightly startled upon seeing him, not daring to ask the reason, draped a cloak over his shoulders, and helped him into the carriage.

Leaning against the cushion, he asked, “Did the young master come today?”

The steward said no, “However, His Majesty went to Yuebanli, parking the carriage on the straight road and walking in alone.”

He turned his face aside wistfully. She was trying to bypass him now. She wouldn’t come to the office unless she was desperate. What happened after she came? If she got what she wanted, she spoke politely; if not, she resorted to harsh words and even snatched things by force. Such a wild personality, truly worthy of the Yuan family!

In truth, she must hate him now. That day, when the belly band fell in front of the courtiers, he saw her face change color. If it weren’t for the anonymous letter accusing the Yan family beforehand, perhaps he would have genuinely kept her undergarments. But she had too many schemes; he felt threatened. If he didn’t remind her to restrain herself, she would climb over his head.

Women indeed should be indulged. He could allow her to act spoiled, arrogant, and unreasonable. But once it involved politics, he wouldn’t give an inch. Perhaps his consistent tolerance had spoiled her, making her bolder and greedier. He realized he was heading down the wrong path and had to harden his heart to make a clean break. Though it hurt, it helped both sides see the reality. In their situation, neither was willing to be conquered, so it was impossible for them to talk about love like ordinary people.

When the carriage arrived at the gate, he untied his cloak and entered. Amidst the side glances of the servants, he returned to his private quarters. Looking into the bronze mirror, sure enough, this garment was beyond repair. He sighed, took off the black robe, and hung it over his arm. In the northeast corner of the bedroom, there was a large lacquered cabinet, recently added. Previously, he disliked placing such potentially concealable items in his private quarters because it wasn’t safe. Now out of necessity, unable to tidy up the mess, he decided to store everything inside to avoid suspicion.

Opening the cabinet door, inside were the bedding and undergarments she dirtied during her stay, along with the belly band she deliberately left to tease him. Almost everything in this cabinet was related to her, keeping it was ultimately troublesome. Perhaps it could be stored for a while longer; after some time, it could be burned outside, thus putting an end to it.

Today, the Grand Master of Ceremonies came to confirm the wedding process with him. Time flew by quickly; he had been busy handling cases recently, and the matter of crowning the empress had been set aside. She wanted him to preside over it, which was fine. If anything went wrong during the grand ceremony, he could be present to make timely corrections.

Lingjun was an excellent candidate. The Nie family had no one, so there was no fear of future turmoil. In the future, relying on the queen’s maternal family’s influence, appointments could be justified. The political climate changed rapidly; often, power struggles were manpower struggles. Official positions were limited, and filling more posts with trusted allies provided more security. Over the past ten years, he had monopolized power, holding the nation’s lifeline in his hands. He knew the young emperor was safe, and he would ensure she remained on the throne for a long time. But what about a different situation? If he was left with only the power to veto and oppose her policies every day, how much patience would she have to tolerate him? In some ways, they were very similar, only confident in themselves, so they fundamentally weren’t suited to be together.

Someone moved in the corridor, and he closed the cabinet door. Turning around, he saw the steward holding a portable lamp entering, stopping in the antechamber to report, “Dinner is ready, please have your meal, my lord.”

He casually responded, coming out from the inner chamber. The food on the dining table was sumptuous, with pickled sauce, boiled leeks, and sliced meat… He always ate alone and had almost forgotten what it felt like to dine with someone else.

He ate little, taking a few bites before rising to pour a spoonful of wine from the wine vessel. Holding the lacquered cup, he stepped out of the threshold, stopping below the steps to gaze up at the vast sky. A crescent moon hung high in the distance, with Antares shining brilliantly below. Mars had long departed, but unfortunately, it hadn’t happened within their expected timeframe, so the prophecy of Mars guarding Antares remained. Ultimately, it was unknown whose fate it would fulfill…

“The moonlight tonight is truly beautiful.” On the elevated walkways above the imperial city, a figure suddenly leaned out from the railing.

Shangguan Zhao had to reach out and pull her, “Your Majesty, be careful. It’s too high here; don’t lean out.”

“Are you afraid I’ll fall to my death?” Her cheeks were slightly flushed under the glow of the palace lanterns, and she hiccupped after laughing, “It’s alright. I once climbed to the outer corner to steal bird eggs, and I’m still alive and well now.”

The young emperor had drunk alcohol and seemed a bit confused. Shangguan Zhao frowned, “Your Majesty should drink less. Excessive drinking isn’t good for your health.”

“How are you just like the Chancellor!” She leaned against the pillar and sighed dejectedly, “I was quite happy before and had a few extra cups. Then I heard the words of the Princess of Dingyang, and the wine just piled up in my heart.”

One troubling matter after another, it seemed endless. The Princess of Dingyang she referred to was Wen Di’s daughter, the late emperor’s elder sister, and her aunt. Because she married the Marquis Gai, she rarely came to the capital. The Empress Dowager cherished her eldest sister-in-law and warmly received her, hosting a banquet and sending an imperial messenger to inform the emperor, inviting her to join the feast.

Fu Wei’s relationship with this aunt naturally wasn’t very close. Since childhood, she hadn’t been able to get close to the Empress Dowager, let alone her married aunt. The reason she readily agreed to attend was because of Marquis Gai. Among the twelve feudal lords of Dayin, there were relatives with the surname Yuan and marquises rewarded for their merits. Marquis Gai had rendered meritorious service in the campaign against Che Yu, and Wen Di had bestowed the princess on him. He was the only non-imperial marquis among the feudal lords who held the power to recruit soldiers, so as an insecure young emperor, it was natural to try to win him over.

Her relationship with the princess was blood-related, so there was almost no need to cultivate feelings upon meeting—it was instinctive. However, the problem lay in the fact that the princess’s visit to the palace seemed to have ulterior motives. Her words hinted at wanting to send her only daughter into the palace. Wouldn’t her aunt’s only daughter be her cousin? This troubled her. A firm refusal would surely offend the princess and Marquis Gai. If she agreed, the future troubles would be greater—how could she handle the princess and her daughter for a lifetime?

“Azhao,” she looked at Shangguan Zhao sadly, “Do you understand what Princess Dingyang meant?”

Shangguan Zhao had been guarding outside the tent during their conversation, so he naturally heard it. He deliberated and said, “The princess seemed very dissatisfied with the Chancellor’s decision to install his adopted daughter as the empress.”

Fu Wei nodded. The princess’s exact words were, “That brat is rampant, does he think our Yuan family has no one?” When the edict to crown the empress was issued, Marquis Gai and the princess were far away in their fief, unaware of the events in the capital. Now sending their daughter into the palace probably had the intention of challenging the Chancellor. A rootless empress, even if installed, wouldn’t be frightening. Given time, she could be replaced. Such occurrences were numerous throughout history. Marquis Gai’s daughter, backed by her powerful maternal family, would certainly not respect the empress.

If she were a man, she would welcome such developments, but alas, she was a woman, and only Lingjun could be her empress. So she was worried. How many times had she found herself in a dilemma? She had lost count. Her mind raced furiously at the banquet, and she naturally devised strategies, but she still needed someone to cooperate.

Shangguan Zhao didn’t understand her predicament and simply expressed his thoughts, “Your Majesty need not worry. The empress has already been crowned, and temporarily changing her position is impossible. The emperor has twenty-seven consorts. Your Majesty can bestow the title of noble consort on Princess Gai. This way, you won’t offend the Chancellor and can win over Marquis Gai, achieving two goals with one action.”

She wanted to do just that, but lacked the confidence. After considering various options, she turned her attention to him.

“Azhao,” she winked, “Do you have a girl you like?”

A girl he liked… Shangguan Zhao hesitated, “Why are you asking this?”

“To show concern for you,” she patted her chest, “Take me, for example. There’s a girl I like. Although my romantic endeavors have faced setbacks, at least I’ve tried. And you? You’re older than me. Don’t tell me you still don’t know what love is?”

He naturally knew what love was, but naming the specific girl was incredibly difficult.

The lamplight illuminated his brows and eyes. He was somewhat bashful, mumbling, “I do have someone, but I can never express it. As long as I can maintain the status quo, I am already very content.”

Fu Wei began to persuade him earnestly, “As men, why can’t you speak your mind? At your age, are you afraid of such a small matter? It seems you are not as bold as I am. I boldly confessed, although I was rejected. But I have no regrets in my heart, isn’t that great?”

He seemed very surprised, “Your Majesty was rejected?”

She awkwardly acknowledged with a sound, “Victory and defeat are common in warfare.”

Shangguan Zhao looked at her gently, his eyes soft, “Your Majesty is the emperor and still faces rejection. I am just a rough man, how can I expect anything. The person I like is as bright as the moon in the sky. I know I cannot reach her in this life, so I won’t add trouble to others. I only hope she can live well. The rest depends on my fate. I will guard her for as long as I can.”

Fu Wei felt deeply sorry for her old friend’s devoted affection, “You are too honest. Why give up on a relationship that could be contended for?”

But giving up was also good. She selfishly thought that if he were too persistent, her plan would be harder to implement.

She tucked her hands and asked him in a calm tone, “I once said I would arrange a marriage for you, do you remember?”

Shangguan Zhao was astonished, seemingly realizing something, his eyes wavering, “Why does Your Majesty bring this up now?”

As rulers, they were calculating every moment, mostly targeting opponents, but sometimes, out of desperation, they also calculated those around them. Fu Wei felt ashamed, but then reasoned that this wouldn’t be too bad for him. In this world, finding a soulmate was ideal, but if not, matching social status and background became the primary criterion for choosing a spouse. Marriage and politics were inseparable; alliances were the best ties to maintain relationships—this was the imperial family. Originally, Fu Wei should have used her own marriage as leverage, but unfortunately, that path was blocked, so she had to rely on other forces.

She also found it difficult to bring up, hesitating for a while before saying, “Azhao, we grew up together. You are the person I trust the most. For you, I have never regarded you as a subject but as a brother. Now, the princess intends to send the lady into the palace. To be honest, it’s not what I desire. Just now at the banquet, the Empress Dowager seemed strongly in favor. I didn’t dare to express my stance then and planned to delay it first. After leaving the banquet, I wanted to ask for your opinion. If I arrange the marriage between you and Lady Gai, what do you think?”

Although Shangguan Zhao had anticipated the young emperor’s intentions, hearing him actually propose it still startled him. He was reluctant, murmuring softly, “Why would Your Majesty think of me? Princess Dingyang is also my aunt. Marrying my cousin… I…”

Their three-way relationship was somewhat complex, differing in being paternal cousins versus maternal cousins. The late emperor, Princess Dingyang, and Shangguan Zhao’s mother, Princess Guangyi, were all born to Emperor Wen. However, Dayin followed the Han dynasty system in bestowing titles on princesses, allowing only one princess per generation to be titled Long Princess. Unlike later periods, the Long Princess wasn’t exclusively for the emperor’s sisters but could also be bestowed on the emperor’s legitimate or eldest daughters. Princess Dingyang was granted the title while Emperor Wen was alive. Although there was a difference in status between her and Shangguan Zhao’s mother, they were indeed of the same generation.

Fu Wei scratched her scalp, “Adding kinship upon kinship is better than marrying a stranger.”

Shangguan Zhao wanted to ask: if adding kinship was good, why didn’t he want the lady to enter the palace? But he knew his limits, knowing he couldn’t be so presumptuous. So, he swallowed the words back reluctantly.

“There is a rule in Dayin that only nobles can marry princesses…” He brought up the last reason he could think of, a polite way to decline the marriage proposal.

But the young emperor seemed to have an unshakable determination, turning and saying, “You are not the eldest son and cannot succeed as a marquis, but I can find a way to grant you dual seals. At that point, you will have sufficient status to match the princess. Rest assured.”

The evening breeze rustled. The young emperor walked forward at the boundary between light and shadow, leaving no room for further objections. Shangguan Zhao stood dazed, his gaze following her retreating back. Suddenly feeling a chill, he realized the emperor’s mind was indeed unfathomably deep.

If he insisted on refusing, he thought the emperor wouldn’t press him too hard, at most redirecting Lady Gai to someone else. But today, the issue of the antidote arose. The Ministry of Personnel that he had obtained was handed over, and his rashness burdened him with a huge debt. Now was the time to repay it, leaving no room for refusal.