PM - 77

“The emperor intends to abdicate, establishing Wei Marquis Yuan Yangzheng as the new emperor.”

The weather in the northern frontier was bitterly cold. By December, heavy snow blanketed the land, and travel had nearly ceased. In the central military tent near the newly established commandery, a large warming stove burned continuously to fend off the freezing temperatures outside.

With poor weather, darkness fell early by late afternoon. The Chancellor adjusted the reclining sheep-shaped lamp on his desk, leaned slightly to catch the light, and reread the small characters on the silk parchment. He sighed deeply: “She is still too young… her judgment of people remains flawed…”

Standing beside him, Lian Zheng reached out and took the parchment. “Her handwriting hasn’t improved—crooked and messy. Only you can decipher it. As I said before, once you left, she would lose her composure. Despite her good governance over the past half year, her heart has always been preoccupied.” Smiling, he added, “Now it’s clear—she’s willing to give up being emperor for you. Are you still afraid she doesn’t genuinely care for you?”

The Chancellor shot him a glare. “Will you die if you stop spouting nonsense? When have I ever doubted her sincerity?”

Lian Zheng smirked. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you tell her the real reason for your departure from the capital? Isn’t it all about testing her?! Leaving behind a keepsake to tug at her heartstrings—Yan Xiangru, you may look dignified, but who knew you were such a hypocrite. You’re so cunning—it’s pitiful that the young emperor is just a child. Meeting you must be her misfortune through eight lifetimes.”

The Chancellor grew increasingly uncomfortable with Lian Zheng’s words and kicked him hard. “Is your sole pleasure in life to belittle me? Not telling her was because the turmoil had just subsided. Without concrete evidence to deal with the Wei Marquis, rumors might spread that the emperor was using this as an excuse to eliminate members of the imperial clan. When King Jing rebelled, I already harbored doubts—an honest man wouldn’t devise such a plot. What surprised me was the Wei Marquis. I used to think he was just a brute, but it turns out he’s quite strategic—truly remarkable.”

Lian Zheng immediately puffed out his chest, chuckling. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in the dark. So what if I occasionally take a few pieces of clothing? At crucial moments, I’m a great help.”

The Chancellor helplessly averted his gaze. Indeed, all the credit this time belonged to him. Man’s plans are no match for heaven’s will. The Wei Marquis probably never expected that the woman he sent would talk in her sleep. He remembered warning Lian Zheng not to let women stay overnight, fearing he might leak secrets in his sleep. But this fellow hadn’t followed instructions. After a night of exertion, he heard the Wei woman mutter something about “master” and “palace seizure.” Startled awake, he rushed straight to the Chancellor’s residence.

Unfortunately, he forgot to restrain the Wei woman beforehand. By the time he returned, she had hanged herself. With no witness left, the case became unsolvable. The Chancellor was determined to investigate thoroughly, especially since he couldn’t escape his guilt. Separating for a while seemed beneficial. Thus, he requested to leave the capital. Jincheng Commandery was only a hundred li from the Wei Marquis’s fiefdom. Stationing here allowed him full control over the northern territories. At least during his lifetime, the person in the capital wouldn’t need to worry about northern military affairs. Everything had been under control until now—then she suddenly decided to abdicate, choosing the Wei Marquis’s son as successor. This made him restless.

He rose and paced inside the tent. Lian Zheng sat at the desk watching him. After a while, the spinning made him dizzy.

Lian Zheng pressed his temple. “Why not return to the capital now?”

The Chancellor shook his head. “Even if we leave immediately in this icy weather, we won’t catch up with the speed of the court’s announcement.” He sighed deeply. “This Ayin—I’ve paved the way for her, yet she chooses to abandon it.”

“Perhaps she’s trying to force you back,” Lian Zheng grinned. “You two are evenly matched—both as slippery as lotus roots. You have your stratagems, and she has her ladder over the wall.”

The Chancellor frowned at him, unsure how to retort, then turned away with a snort, expressing his disdain.

“Stop scoffing and think of a solution,” Lian Zheng lifted the thick felt covering the door and peeked outside. Snow mixed with biting winds swept in ferociously, and he quickly retreated back inside.

The Chancellor’s pacing slowed. Suddenly, he turned and exited the tent. Lian Zheng, intending to follow, hesitated due to the cold, staying by the door. Soon, the Chancellor returned, holding a yellow-eyed carrier pigeon. This bird was well-known in the emperor’s presence; flying thousands of miles from the north to the capital was effortless.

Lian Zheng hesitated. “In this blizzard, can it even fly out of Jincheng?”

The Chancellor stroked the pigeon’s head gently. “There’s no other way. Before leaving, I left her a troop deployment map. Now the second one is complete. Sending it via pigeon—if she’s sharp, she should notice the changes in troop positions. Even if it fails to deliver, the map falling into others’ hands won’t matter. After her abdication, she can safely leave the capital. For now, the Wei Marquis won’t dare harm her.”

The northern troop deployment map, drawn on plain silk, rolled up to the thickness of chopsticks. Placed inside a reed tube and tied to the pigeon’s leg, he personally carried the bird to the tent entrance, whispering: “Others can fly in, so naturally, you can fly out too. Success or failure depends on you. When I return to court, I’ll drape you in red and arrange a grand wedding for you.”

This time, it was Lian Zheng’s turn to sneer. “Using seduction—does that work on birds?”

He thought it should. Whether human or bird, those reaching marriageable age without a mate would be willing to try if there’s hope.

The pigeon flew into the snowstorm. He turned back and said: “We need two plans. Initially, I intended to openly investigate the Wei Marquis. Now, with the urgency of the situation, there’s no time to hesitate. Once the edict is issued, the Wei Marquis’s son becomes the new emperor—untouchable…”

Lian Zheng, his friend since childhood, understood his thoughts with just a glance.

“Then eliminate the Wei Marquis’s son before the edict is issued. If the new emperor dies, the edict becomes void.”

The Chancellor’s eyes gleamed under the lamp, conveying a smile with a nod. “That’s precisely my intention.”

Lian Zheng agreed, stepping out immediately. “The vanguard troops have been waiting impatiently. An army nurtured for a thousand days is used in a single moment. I’ll issue the orders right away.”

He disappeared into the deep night, leaving the Chancellor alone in the tent. The thick felt hung high on the door; behind him was warmth and tranquility, while ahead lay a blizzard. Occasionally, snowflakes drifted in, landing on his face—he didn’t feel the cold. He recalled the night after her wedding banquet with Lingjun, when he braved the wind and illness to support her in the Thousand-Year Hall. That evening, the first snow came suddenly, and they stood side by side on the elevated walkway. Reflecting now, it filled him with sorrow.

He and she were inseparable entities. From the time the late emperor entrusted her to him, she was tied to his waist. He expanded territories for her, cleared obstacles, and used her identity to fulfill his dream of unification. She used his power to ascend to the throne, towering above all. Unfortunately, later upheavals caused clashes between imperial and chancellor powers—requiring one side to compromise. Believing he loved her more, he willingly exiled himself, returning everything to her. He never imagined someone so self-important would abandon everything for freedom.

Lian Zheng said she was forcing him back, but he knew better. Her nature had extreme aspects—she could disregard everything for power and for love.

To be honest, when he left, he never intended to return. No position in politics is eternally reserved for anyone. A month’s sick leave could render one obsolete upon return—how much more so his departure for half a year?

True, his influence was deeply rooted throughout the court, but neglecting maintenance was risky. Everyone knew the saying: “When a person leaves, their tea grows cold.” Initially, he struggled here, often drunk. Lian Zheng had picked him up countless times. He thought the pain would pass, but hearing about her abdication made him anxious. Power was only secure in one’s own hands; transferring it invited backlash—didn’t she know that?

Claiming deafness to retire—her hearing was worsening, and it seemed he had to return to be her ears. He gazed into the pitch-black night, habitually lifting the wine flask. Just as he was about to drink, he remembered something, flung it far out of the tent.

The northern lands were disorienting, but Yucheng was manageable. For those unfamiliar with the north, the howling winds were harsh enough.

Fawei dreaded the cold. After handling state affairs, she often moved to the eaves to bask in the sun. Today’s weather was pleasant, the sunlight warm. She closed her eyes, listening to Buhai recount amusing tales from the court and countryside. Gradually, she felt drowsy.

A faint flutter of wings sounded in the air. She opened her eyes to see two eunuchs running onto the moon terrace, arms raised to drive away a pigeon. Unafraid, the bird lingered, refusing to leave. Recognizing it, Fawei immediately stood up.

The next day’s court session was particularly solemn, given the emperor’s earlier hints of retirement. Many ministers felt uneasy—an era ending, another beginning. Many couldn’t withstand such drastic changes. The new emperor’s ascension meant elder statesmen faced numerous tests. Unsure of the new emperor’s reform intensity, how many would retain their posts? Thus, few supported Emperor Xihe’s abdication; most preferred maintaining the status quo for at least thirty years.

The emperor, leaning on the armrest, explained her new plan: “Divide Da Yin into thirteen provinces, each overseen by an inspector to monitor local affairs. Inspectors will be the voice between me and the people, reporting to the throne and conveying the populace’s concerns. They’ll examine six matters: one concerning powerful clans and five regarding prefects, military officers, and kingdom administrators. After careful consideration, this system is stricter than the Qin dynasty’s and facilitates better governance. What do you all think?”

Naturally, the ministers voiced unanimous approval. Though young, the emperor’s political acumen was rare among emperors of past dynasties. Despite her youth, she wasn’t autocratic, always concluding with “What do you all think?” paired with a gentle smile. Abdicating now was truly regrettable.

Accumulating five days of petitions, all matters big and small required her attention. Sometimes she would dig her ears, still able to hear clearly, sometimes not. A court session lasted about two hours, with incense burning in the corner to mark time. Ministers occasionally glanced at it. The Grand Tutor and Minister of Imperial Clan Affairs were especially tense, like criminals awaiting judgment, anticipating the final edict.

Finally, the Minister of Agriculture finished reporting winter’s military expenses. The emperor extended her wide sleeves and spoke softly: “I have a decree to proclaim to the world.”

Instantly, the ministers tensed, rising and bowing deeply with their tablets. The Grand Tutor almost felt despair, trembling hands tightly closing his eyes.

The emperor paced beneath the canopy, strangely not ordering the attendant to read the edict but instead reciting it herself, word by word: “The Chancellor has been absent from court for a long time, and myriad state affairs urgently need coordination. I hereby appoint Tang Yu, the Director of Judicial Affairs, as Chancellor, to assist in managing state affairs and share my burdens. Additionally, I promote Yan Xiangru to Grand Commandant and Generalissimo, establishing an office to manage affairs and lead the inner court while participating in governance. The nation’s military forces are divided into northern and southern commands, with the southern forces under the Grand Marshal and the northern forces led by the Generalissimo. The tiger tally is split into four: one each for the Grand Marshal and the Generalissimo, and the remaining two under my personal control. My decision is final, and I will not consult further with you. An urgent order is issued for the Generalissimo to return to court and assume his duties.”

The position of Grand Commandant and Generalissimo ranked above the Chancellor. For the officials in court, Yan Xiangru had always been a brilliant figure. As long as he wasn’t appointed Crown Prince, any high rank was acceptable.

As for the Grand Tutor and three other close ministers, their shock was immense—this plan clearly differed from what had been decided just days ago… However, regardless, the emperor hadn’t abdicated, and this turn of events was enough to make them weep with relief. The Grand Tutor let out a deep sigh, realizing at this moment that Yan Xiangru was indeed a fortunate general. Even if his relationship with the emperor was unconventional, he wouldn’t oppose it anymore. A sixteen-year-old youth ruling the world wasn’t simple! The young emperor needed a reliable shoulder to lean on; others couldn’t be trusted, only the Grand Commandant and Generalissimo, whose relationship was special, would serve wholeheartedly. But reflecting again, this man was shameless beyond measure—how could he act against a child he had watched grow up? Tsk, tsk, tsk!

The court session ended, and the edict proclaiming the Wei Marquis’s son as emperor was never issued. The Grand Tutor, along with the Minister of Imperial Clan Affairs and others, hurried joyfully to the private chambers. They found the young emperor standing before the warming stove, calmly watching the pale blue flames consume the edict. The woven silk gradually twisted, first the characters, then the imperial seal, until it turned into a blaze and disappeared.

Seeing the edict reduced to ashes, the three ministers finally relaxed. They questioned the young emperor: “Why did Your Majesty suddenly change your mind?”

She picked up a fine piece of silk from the desk and handed it over. “At some point, the Wei Marquis’s fiefdom expanded. I remember Jing’s lands were already public fields—why did the Wei Marquis claim a large portion and station fifty thousand troops on the border?”

The Grand Tutor was shocked. “This is treachery!”

“Clearly, I underestimated the Wei Marquis. I always thought he and the Generalissimo were close friends. On that day in the Thousand-Year Hall, he strongly defended me, leading me to believe he was different from the other royal uncles—but who knew…” Fawei gave a bitter smile. “Fortunately, I learned in time. If that edict had been issued, it would have been irreversible. It’s better to pull back from the brink while there’s still time.”

The Grand Tutor held the plain silk in his hands. “Did the Generalissimo send this back?”

She nodded. “Though the Generalissimo is in the north, his heart remains in the court.”

Though the Grand Tutor inwardly criticized him for loving power, he was grateful this time for his presence. If the Wei Marquis wasn’t as upright as imagined, the future of the empire aside, the young emperor’s safety would have been jeopardized. This situation was preferable—the young emperor, overwhelmed, could rely on him. If he attempted to seize power, the emperor wasn’t merely a figurehead. Such mutual checks allowed optimal use of talents—neither wasting the young emperor nor neglecting Yan Xiangru’s abilities.

Fawei began awaiting his return. Having entrusted him with important duties and explicitly issued a recall order, if he dared not return, she would send people to bring him back. She waited anxiously for over half a month, and news arrived in court that the Wei Marquis’s family had successively died. Reportedly, a sudden outbreak of “transmitted corpses” occurred in the north, and the Wei Marquis’s family contracted a deadly illness. The Generalissimo investigated, and no one survived. He submitted a report to inform the court.

Fawei understood—after all, issuing orders in the emperor’s name for mass killings brought her no benefit. Thus, when the news arrived, she merely expressed deep sorrow.

“The Wei Marquis was loyal and brave, yet heaven envied talent, causing great regret.” She gently stroked the jade pendant with coiled dragons and flying swallows, frowning. “The illness of transmitted corpses—I heard of it as a child, commonly known as consumption. Gradually debilitating, leading to death, and after death, spreading to others, resulting in entire families perishing… truly terrifying.”

Mention of the dreaded illness made everyone uneasy. No one cared about the cause of the Wei Marquis’s family’s deaths. They hastily bowed, imploring the emperor to take it seriously and prevent the disease from spreading.

Emperor Xihe nodded repeatedly. “Rest assured, I will order the provincial inspectors to strictly supervise. Fortunately, the cold weather currently helps control the spread… The bodies should be deeply buried, and the Wei Marquis’s residence sealed to prevent further tragedy.” Turning to the official in charge, she asked, “Has the Generalissimo departed from the north?”

The official replied affirmatively. “Today is the fifth day. Due to the extreme cold, travel is difficult, taking longer than usual. However, once on the Qin Straight Road, progress improves. With spring approaching, it’s estimated that he’ll arrive in the capital in about a month.”

In another month, it would be the season of blooming flowers. Perfect timing—when he entered the city, he’d see a new vibrant scene, surely more endearing than the barren north.

In the following days, she felt like a young wife eagerly awaiting her husband’s triumphant return, filled with both anxiety and anticipation. It had been a year since she last saw him. Had his mindset changed? Did he still hold a grudge over the deaths of the thirteen members of the Yan clan? At least he cared for her, clearing obstacles for her without her knowledge, showing he wasn’t entirely devoid of feelings. Now that he was returning, she regained confidence. She no longer had to sit alone in court, staring blankly at the sky outside.

With something to look forward to, she became more energetic. One day, entering the ministry hall, she discussed plans with the ministers: “Trade between Da Yin and neighboring countries is increasingly frequent. Among the wealthy merchants, there are cunning ones who hoard goods and inflate prices, harming both the court and the common people. I intend to establish government offices in major provinces to regulate prices…” Before she finished, Jianye rushed in from outside, loudly addressing her as “Master.”

She frowned displeased. “Such loud shouting—where are the rules!”

Ignoring the emperor’s rebuke, Jianye pointed outside. “The Generalissimo’s vanguard has arrived in the capital to report. The Generalissimo’s carriage has reached Fufeng.”

She stood up, her heart pounding almost suffocatingly. Unable to rejoice openly under everyone’s gaze, she restrained herself, smiling faintly. “I once promised to meet the Generalissimo ten li outside the city upon his return.”

The Grand Tutor quickly said, “I will immediately order the Grand Master of Ceremonies to prepare the imperial procession. We will accompany Your Majesty to welcome the Grand Commandant and Generalissimo.”

She waved her sleeve. “No need. The Generalissimo dislikes grand displays. I’ll go alone. Continue discussing and finalize the list of officials to be dispatched to the provinces as soon as possible.”

“Yes,” the ministers bowed to receive their orders. By the time they straightened up, the emperor had already vanished.

Fawei hadn’t run like this in a long time. She hurried through the palace corridors, lamenting that Mingguang Hall was too far from Zhangde Hall, making her chest ache. Returning to her chambers, she rummaged through boxes, finding the most beautiful dark green robe she deemed suitable, dressing and tidying herself before the mirror. Fearing her complexion wasn’t good, she lightly applied powder and dabbed on faint lip color. After publicly declaring herself inclined toward men, a little grooming wasn’t hard to understand. Though it might embarrass him, returning to face the court’s strange gazes.

Apologizing first would be best, she thought, boarding the golden-rooted carriage. The carriage, adorned with gold and jade, drawn by six horses in front and followed by five seasonal carriages, was a luxurious imperial conveyance. However, the ceremonial procession didn’t strictly follow protocol. She ordered a simplified version, accompanied by a few attendants, and hurriedly exited through Chunming Gate.

Ten li outside the city, the road was lined with blooming flowers. The fields were lush with grass, and swallows danced in the sky. Sitting in the carriage, she heard her thundering heartbeat accompanied by a slight pang—it wouldn’t stop until he came.

Clutching her hands tightly, half sweet, half sorrowful, even more nervous than during the spring outing last time. Leaning out the window, she faintly heard continuous bells in the distance. She quickly got out of the carriage, finally seeing over ten galloping steeds approaching swiftly. The leader’s fluttering cloak behind him resembled burning clouds on the horizon.

Suddenly, she burst into tears, unable to suppress her sobs. Knowing she must look terrible now, her makeup probably ruined… but what did it matter? Even if she died at this moment, she’d have no regrets.