PTCQT Chapter 29

The young man collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at him. Just as Shen Chun was about to turn and leave, he grabbed the hem of his robe and pleaded, “Your Highness, please don’t send Zhuqing back. I beg you.”

Tears streamed down his face, clearly showing how terrified he was at the thought of being sent back.

Shen Chun halted, lowered his gaze to the hand clutching his robe, and asked, “What will happen if I do?”

His gaze lingered. Liu Zhuqing quickly let go of the corner of the robe, but then, as if afraid he would leave, gently tugged at it again. His voice trembled slightly: “I’ll be sent to Lord Chang.”

There was no shortage of illicit affairs in Yong Dynasty society, most involving romantic entanglements between men and women. But in pursuit of novelty, it wasn’t uncommon for high-ranking officials and nobles to take a liking to men as well. Still, such matters were rarely spoken of openly, few were as notoriously known for their preference as Lord Chang.

Even so, as long as it didn’t involve state affairs, indulgence in male companionship was considered nothing more than a topic for idle gossip and laughter.

Lord Chang may have had no involvement in court affairs, but he was a rotund man dressed in luxurious robes, bearing a strong resemblance to a wealthy village landlord. He was forty-five this year.

Though he held little real power and never forcibly took men from respectable households, he kept company with those from entertainment houses or young male courtesans groomed by other officials. Such arrangements were typical under the current system, and naturally, Shen Chun had no reason to rashly stir up trouble over it.

“You find him ugly?” Shen Chun smoothed his robes and sat down as he asked.

Liu Zhuqing’s fingers trembled as he lowered his head and said, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“You wouldn’t dare…” Shen Chun looked at him and asked, “Who sent you here? What’s your background?”

“Zhuqing was chosen by Minister Li from the Nanfeng House… I was sold into it as a child.” Liu Zhuqing looked up at him, but the moment their eyes met, he quickly looked away. “Zhuqing is still clean, I’ve never served anyone.”

In places of pleasure and entertainment, the buying and selling of people was all too common, and for many different reasons. Some were abducted and sold off by traffickers; others were given up by parents with too many mouths to feed and a desperate need for silver. There were also those who had simply reached the end of their rope and saw no other way to survive.

For the children sold into such places, there was no choice to be made. Once inside, any trace of pride or defiance would be beaten out of them.

“What a pitiful soul,” Shen Chun said with a smile as he rose to his feet. “I don’t keep anyone by my side, but I can point you toward a better path. Since you come from a courtesan’s house, the capital won’t be a safe place for you. Would you consider going to Jiangnan? I have a villa there. You seem literate, how about working as a study attendant, helping manage the book collection?”

Zhuqing had long given up hope, but now, it felt like light had broken through the darkness. He held back his tears, stepped down from the bed, and knelt to the floor in a deep bow. “Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you.”

“Liang Wendong, come in,” Shen Chun called toward the door.

“Coming, Marshal!” Liang Wendong hurried in, head bowed so low it was nearly touching his chest, clearly terrified of seeing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Sending someone away wasn’t a difficult matter, a single carriage and two guards would suffice.

Once the carriage departed, Liang Wendong stood before Shen Chun with his head lowered, not daring to utter a word.

“The time was so short,” Shen Chun said, watching his expression closely. “Is something wrong with Marshal’s body?”

“How did you…” know?!

Liang Wendong suddenly looked up, but upon meeting Shen Chun’s subtle expression, he quickly lowered his head again and admitted his fault. “This subordinate wouldn’t dare make such assumptions.”

“You wouldn’t dare?” Shen Chun let out a soft laugh. “Forget it. You only need to remember that I once promised someone something, that I would not get close to anyone else. From now on, regardless of man or woman, reject them all.”

“Yes, I understand. I was wrong,” Liang Wendong replied.

So the Marshal has someone in his heart! If word got out, wouldn’t people start to misunderstand? This was all his fault, handling things so carelessly. But still, he couldn’t help wondering: what kind of person could the Marshal’s beloved be, to make him stay so true to his promise?

“Investigate the human trafficking situation in the entertainment quarters as well,” Shen Chun ordered.

The buying and selling of people was commonplace in the Yong Dynasty. Palace staff, servants for high-ranking officials, street performers, even martial arts troupes, most came from such backgrounds. Those who rose through the ranks could become people of status, while those who didn’t were left to suffer. Shen Chun knew he couldn’t completely abolish such a system; doing so would shake the entire foundation of society. What he could address, however, was the issue of kidnappers. Household registration and related matters also required stricter oversight, but that would need to be discussed with the ministers.

“Yes, I understand,” Liang Wendong replied, accepting the order.

“Mm. And have someone replace everything in this room,” Shen Chun said, his gaze sweeping over the bed.

He disliked others touching his belongings, especially when they left behind such a strong, cloying fragrance.

“Yes, sir,” Liang Wendong replied with his head lowered.

…

In the past, many beauties had been sent to Prince Yi’s residence, yet no matter how stunning they were, all were returned exactly as they came, never even catching a glimpse of Prince Yi himself. That was why Shen Chun choosing to keep someone for the first time sparked a wave of speculation throughout the court.

The person had been sent by Minister Li, but when it came to gift-giving, it wasn’t about rank or title, it was about who was being sent. And this time, it was a man. No matter how beautiful or what background he had, he was still a man.

There had long been quiet whispers in court regarding Shen Chun’s preferences. Now, with this incident, the rumors of Prince Yi’s fondness for men were all but confirmed.

“It might not necessarily mean he only likes men. It’s just that, if one were to engage with women, it could lead to complications, especially if a child is conceived before the official wife enters the household. That would be unsightly. With a man, there’s no such concern.”

“That’s true. Minister Li certainly knows how to choose the right person.”

“Still, who would’ve thought that someone as elegant and distinguished as Prince Yi would actually like men?”

“You haven’t heard the gossip? Someone like Prince Yi, even men would want to get close to him.”

“In that case, it’s hard to say who’s really taking advantage of whom.”

After this incident, even more people began sending beauties to Prince Yi’s residence. But this time, every single one was sent back again, without exception.

Rumors of his exclusive favor for one person began to spread like wildfire.

Shen Chun cared little for the court’s speculation. If, one day, he truly did meet someone in this world who piqued his interest, he could always offer an explanation. If not, then there was no need to say anything at all. After all, whether he acted or not, the rumors and gossip would never cease.

Court affairs were numerous and demanding, and by the time most matters were handled, it was already March, the season when peach blossoms bloomed in full.

Though the imperial garden within the palace wasn’t especially large, the flowering trees were meticulously tended. Blossoms burst into bloom, filling the air with crimson and sweet fragrance.

Unlike the emperor, Shen Chun didn’t travel with loud fanfare or an entourage. At most, he brought two or three guards, or sometimes went alone.

This kind of casualness hadn’t gone unnoticed, there were indeed those who had harbored ill intentions. Assassins from all sides had been sent his way, but not a single one managed to harm him. On the contrary, they lost their own men, and in the aftermath, Shen Chun followed the trail and uncovered even more, leading to the downfall of two vassal princes, whose power was stripped and who were thrown into prison.

After that, assassination attempts became rare. People were reminded that aside from being the Prince Regent, Shen Chun had once been the formidable Marshal who commanded the Northwest Army. The splendor of the capital had not dulled his ferocity in the slightest.

With the emperor still a child, and no consorts in the palace aside from the Empress Dowager, the women in the inner court were limited to palace maids tasked with cleaning and upkeep. This made it all the easier for Shen Chun to stroll through the imperial garden and enjoy the scenery whenever he had free time.

After all, matters of state among nobles and ministers still had to be discussed within the palace. Even with power firmly in his grasp, Shen Chun could not openly summon officials to his own residence for deliberation.

The winding path curved like a coiled serpent, twisting through peach blossoms and green willows. From deep within this vivid spring scene came faint sounds of laughter and chatter, making the season feel especially lively.

Shen Chun paused mid-step. Peering through the branches, he saw a small pavilion not far off, where a petite archery target stood. A few palace attendants were stationed nearby, and the young emperor, dressed in simple everyday robes, was aiming his bow at the target.

The bow was small, the arrows light, and though the force behind them wasn’t strong, each shot landed with impressive accuracy.

“Feibai shoots wonderfully!” praised the Empress Dowager from where she sat in the pavilion.

“Mother is too kind,” the young emperor replied, a faint blush rising to his cheeks from the praise. Still, he reached into the quiver for another arrow, his expression now even more focused than before.

He loosed three arrows in a row, each one striking the bullseye. The Empress Dowager praised him again and again, then pulled him close to gently wipe away the thin sheen of sweat brought on by the sun with her handkerchief.

“Huaizhi, it’s your turn now,” Feng Feibai said, glancing at the boy waiting by his side. “If you can’t win, I’ll have to punish you.”

“I certainly won’t lose,” the boy replied, weighing the bow in his hands.

This was Jian Huaizhi, the legitimate grandson of Grand Prime Minister Jian. He had once served as a study companion to the Sixteenth Prince, Feng Feibai. After the new emperor ascended the throne, Jian Huaizhi continued to stay by his side. Though only around ten years old, he already stood more than half a head taller than the young emperor, and the promise of striking handsomeness was already beginning to show in his features.

The boy raised the bow, nocked an arrow, and fired in one swift motion. His movements were quick and sure, each arrow hit the bullseye, just like the emperor’s.

“Huaizhi, your archery is quite impressive,” the Empress Dowager praised as well.

Though both had hit the bullseye, there was a subtle difference between them. A hint of defiance showed on the young emperor’s fair little face as he declared, “This is a tie. Huaizhi must compete again.”

“If you want a rematch, then let’s have one,” Jian Huaizhi replied, tilting his chin slightly with confidence.

Having grown up together, and with the new emperor still young and unburdened by the airs of adulthood, their interactions were far more casual than formal.

Shen Chun had seen enough and had no intention of interrupting further. He turned and walked a few steps away, only to come face-to-face with a palace maid hurrying toward him, carrying a tray of fruit.

Though the distance had been considerable, they had already spotted each other, and there was no avoiding it now.

“Greetings to Prince Yi,” the three palace maids said as they approached, bowing respectfully with the fruit trays in hand. Their expressions were cautious and respectful, clearly, they were from the Empress Dowager’s quarters.

“You may rise,” Shen Chun said, lifting a hand. He turned back toward the pavilion, where the archery match had already come to a halt.

Since he had already been noticed, it would have been improper not to approach.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Shen Chun walked toward the pavilion. The laughter and cheer from before had completely vanished. The palace maids dropped to their knees in greeting, and even the Empress Dowager, who had been seated, rose to her feet. Though her expression remained composed, the tension in her eyes was hard to conceal.

“Greetings to Your Majesty. Greetings to the Empress Dowager,” Shen Chun said as he approached, offering a respectful bow.

“Rise, beloved minister. There’s no need for such formality,” the Empress Dowager replied. Feng Feibai’s grip on his small bow tightened slightly, though he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting repeatedly toward Shen Chun.

“Prince Yi, no need for such formality,” the Empress Dowager said as she stepped out of the pavilion. Her wide sleeves subtly shielded the small bow still held in Feng Feibai’s hands. “What brings Your Highness to the imperial garden today?”

Though she held the title of Empress Dowager, her position was far from secure. Her husband was gone, and the glory of a mother now depended entirely on the strength of her son. But the emperor was still a child, lacking the power to protect even himself. One misstep, and her fall from power could come in an instant.

She was indeed grateful to Shen Chun for saving them, twice, no less, but what she felt even more keenly was fear. Fear of his strength, his control, and the unpredictability that came with both.

Prince Yi rarely set foot in the imperial garden due to the burdens of court affairs. The Empress Dowager had merely chosen today for its pleasant weather and the chance to let her son enjoy himself with a bit of archery practice. She hadn’t expected such poor luck, encountering him here of all days.

“Just taking a break to clear my mind,” Shen Chun replied with a faint smile, reading the expressions of mother and son as he stepped into the pavilion and sat down. He reached for a teacup, and a cautious palace maid quickly stepped forward to serve him tea. With the cup in hand, Shen Chun idly turned it between his fingers, then let his gaze drift toward the archery target. “His Majesty’s archery is quite impressive.”

The emperor had not yet taken a seat, yet the minister had already done so, a breach of etiquette in any dynasty. But no one present dared to speak against it. Only Jian Huaizhi looked as though he wanted to say something, his lips parting, yet in the end, he swallowed the words back down.

At present, Prince Yi’s power in court was nearly equal to that of the emperor himself. The military, the court, and even the hearts of the people were firmly in his grasp. Even His Majesty had no choice but to yield before him.

The Empress Dowager forced a smile at his words and replied, “Prince Yi flatters us. It’s merely a child’s plaything.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Shen Chun looked at the fair-faced young emperor and smiled. “Just now, His Majesty said it was a tie, and that if Huaizhi lost, there would be a punishment. What sort of punishment?”

At that, the Empress Dowager immediately understood, he hadn’t just arrived, but had been watching from the shadows for quite some time.

Feng Feibai knew this was overstepping bounds, yet he also knew that resistance would be useless. He glanced at his mother, but seeing no hint or signal from her, he opened his mouth and replied, “If Huaizhi lost, then he would have to help me copy the passages National Teacher assigned.”

A faint flush colored his cheeks, clearly, he felt a little embarrassed by the admission.

“I see,” Shen Chun said with a light chuckle. “Since it was a tie, then let there be another round.”

He made no move to leave, clearly intending to stay and watch. The Empress Dowager’s face paled slightly. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she merely placed a hand gently on Feng Feibai’s shoulder and quietly took her seat once more in the pavilion.

Though it was still only March and the weather remained crisp, especially here in the open-air pavilion, where there was little movement to warm the body, the Empress Dowager felt a faint, clammy sweat beginning to gather across her back.

Feng Feibai touched his shoulder lightly, then tightened his grip on the small bow, lips pressed into a thin line. His mother had always told him to lie low and bide his time, so there was only one choice now: to lose.

“How many times did the National Teacher say His Majesty should copy it?” Shen Chun asked just as the young emperor raised his bow.

“Three times,” Feng Feibai replied.

The texts assigned by the National Teacher were all notoriously long and demanding, no matter which one it was, copying it even once required considerable time and effort. No wonder the young emperor had tried to twist the rules and suggest a punishment.

“An archery match should be fair,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “His Majesty can’t be the only one giving out punishments. If Huai Zhi loses, then he’ll copy the text on Your Majesty’s behalf. But if Your Majesty loses…”

He deliberately drew out the words, watching as the young emperor’s eyes widened in alarm. “Then His Majesty will copy both his own and Huaizhi’s.”

Feng Feibai froze mid-motion as he was about to nock the arrow. The shaft slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. He hurried to pick it up, but inside, he was already a tangled mess of nerves and frustration.

Just one round of copying already took a full hour to complete, six rounds would take six hours. That meant an entire day spent doing nothing but transcribing texts.

“What does the Empress Dowager think?” Shen Chun asked, his tone calm.

The Empress Dowager felt deeply uneasy. She knew Prince Yi was skilled at reading people, but she hadn’t expected him to grasp even a child’s thoughts so precisely.

Children were not like adults, their emotions were far harder to conceal. And when it came to copying texts, it was something her son especially disliked, a fact she was all too aware of.

Though she had often advised her son to keep a low profile and hide his talents, the emperor still struggled to grasp the delicate balance such restraint required. Instead, he was repeatedly disarmed by Shen Chun’s deceptively gentle appearance, letting his guard down time and again.

“Prince Yi speaks most reasonably,” the Empress Dowager finally replied, though she had no choice. Her gaze flicked anxiously to Feng Feibai, hoping her son would understand the unspoken warning in her eyes.

“With that,” Shen Chun said with a faint smile, “I’d say this is fair and just for all.”

Feng Feibai raised his small bow, nocked the arrow, and stared at the target ahead. He knew full well that his mother wanted him to miss on purpose. But if he lost, he’d be stuck copying six rounds of text, an unbearable thought. Torn between the two, his fingers loosened, and the arrow flew just outside the bullseye.

Instinctively, Feng Feibai glanced at Shen Chun, but when he found no trace of approval or praise in that expression, a subtle frustration welled up in his chest.

Seeing this, the Empress Dowager quietly let out a breath of relief.

The archery match followed turns, with three arrows deciding the victor. After Feng Feibai gave up his advantage, Jian Huaizhi stepped forward and raised his bow. Though only ten years old, he had been thoroughly trained by his family, and he remembered well: at critical moments, he must always protect His Majesty.

The arrow flew straight and true, piercing the bullseye.

“Huaizhi’s shot is excellent,” Shen Chun remarked. “It’s clear you’ve put in real effort.”

In all of Great Yong, when it came to archery, if the Prince Regent claimed second place, none would dare claim first. His legendary shot, an arrow fired clean through a window, was still spoken of with admiration. Even Jian Huaizhi’s martial instructor had never received such praise from Shen Chun.

Hearing these words, Jian Huaizhi gripped his bow tightly, silently repeating his family’s teachings to steady his heart. But the joy in his chest was impossible to suppress. “Thank you for the praise, Prince Yi,” he said earnestly.

Jian Huaizhi pressed his lips together, working to contain his excitement, but Feng Feibai was filled with frustration. He knew he wasn’t any worse than Huai Zhi, yet he had to pretend to be worse. Not only did he miss out on praise, he now had to copy texts too!

The young emperor couldn’t hide his displeasure. His cheeks, still round with baby fat, puffed out in irritation, his whole face brimming with barely contained anger.

Noticing this, Shen Chun’s gaze turned subtly amused. He let out a soft chuckle and said, “Your Majesty, it’s your turn.”

They were both children, when one received praise and the other didn’t, it was only natural for resentment to arise.

‘Lying low and biding one’s time?’ Shen Chun thought to himself. Still far from it. This child has much to learn.

“Your Majesty,” the Empress Dowager softly reminded him.

But Feng Feibai remained sulky, his mood clearly dampened. As he raised his bow and nocked the arrow, he let out a quiet sigh. When he released it, the arrow struck the very outer edge of the target.

That arrow pleased the Empress Dowager, but left Feng Feibai wide-eyed with disbelief. He’d meant that shot to be serious! Why, then, had it landed so far off?

Before he could gather his thoughts, it was already Jian Huaizhi’s turn again. His arrow flew with practiced ease, once more striking the bullseye.

Shen Chun smiled. “As expected of General Jian’s son, his reputation is well-earned. Once he comes of age, he will surely become one of Great Yong’s mighty generals.”

Jian Huaizhi took a deep breath, barely able to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Prince Yi flatters me.”

But in his heart, he was thrilled. His lifelong aspiration was to become a mighty general like his father, and to receive praise from Prince Yi himself, surely, this meant he was on the right path. 

Feng Feibai watched their polite exchange, bitterness welling up inside him. When he raised his bow again, his lips were already pressed tightly together in frustration. But as a child still learning, the more desperate he was to prove himself, the more impatient he became, making mistakes all the more likely. When the arrow skimmed just past the bullseye, his eyes began to sting with tears. Yet years of etiquette and imperial upbringing forbade him from throwing a tantrum or demanding a redo.

Then Jian Huaizhi hit the bullseye once again.

“This round goes to Huaizhi. Come here,” Shen Chun said.

Jian Huaizhi stepped forward, replying respectfully, “Prince Yi, your command?”

Shen Chun reached out and ran his hand along the boy’s arm and wrist, lightly gauging his build. “You have talent with the bow, and your bone structure is quite good. This bow’s draw strength is already too light for you. I have one at my residence, it’s the one I used in my youth to hunt wild geese. I’ll give it to you. Train well.”

Wild geese fly high, making them notoriously difficult to shoot. For someone to have drawn a bow powerful enough to hit one as a child, it had to be a fine bow indeed.

“Many thanks, Prince Yi,” Jian Huaizhi said, unable to hide his joy as he cupped his fists in gratitude.

Winning over a child like him was hardly difficult for Shen Chun. Yet as the two spoke with ease and laughter, the young emperor stood silently to the side, clutching his bow tightly. His vision blurred slightly, he could shoot well too. He wanted that bow, the one that had shot wild geese.

A faint sniffle broke the air, drawing Shen Chun’s gaze. His eyes fell upon the young emperor standing beneath the sun, jaw clenched tightly, tears brimming in his eyes. And yet he stubbornly held them back, refusing to let them fall.

The Empress Dowager was already alarmed and opened her mouth to speak, only to see Shen Chun rise and take a few steps toward her son. Her heart leapt into her throat.

“A wager is a wager. Your Majesty was, indeed, outmatched,” Shen Chun said gently, looking at the tiny droplets clinging to the young emperor’s eyelashes.

Truly, with such a delicate face, he was easy to like.

Shen Chun usually had no patience for crying children, they rarely listened to reason. But the young emperor, trying so hard not to cry, his little nose and cheeks flushed red, and those black grape-like eyes shimmering with unshed tears… that kind of effort, that kind of stubborn dignity, it was hard to dislike.

“I’m not—” Feng Feibai began, his voice tight with emotion. The rebuke had only made him feel worse. He wanted to wipe his tears away quickly, hide his embarrassment, and not look so pathetic, but before he could, something tightened around his waist.

In the next moment, he had already been lifted into the air. His small bow fell to the ground, and his hands reflexively clutched Shen Chun’s shoulders. As he blinked in surprise, the tears he had tried so hard to hold back finally slipped down his cheeks.

Shen Chun, holding the young emperor in his arms, sat back down and asked a nearby maid for a handkerchief. With practiced ease, he reached up and gently wiped the red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face. “Don’t cry, Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “You were simply outmatched today, just train well, and you’ll improve.”

His arm was strong and steady, holding the young emperor effortlessly in place. Sitting on Shen Chun’s lap, supported with just one hand, the faint scent of sandalwood and cool herbs lingered around Feng Feibai’s nose, leaving him dazed, he’d already forgotten what had made him so upset just moments ago.

Shen Chun’s unexpected action stunned everyone. The young emperor was surprised, but not nearly as much as Jian Huaizhi, whose eyes had widened. As for the Empress Dowager, she nearly jumped from her seat. Seeing her son sitting so obediently in Shen Chun’s arms was like watching a fragile bird hopping inside a crocodile’s open jaws, her heart seized, every breath tight in her chest.

“Prince Yi, His Majesty… has broken into a sweat,” the Empress Dowager said, her voice carefully veiled, the words a subtle plea.

“I’ll train properly from now on,” the young emperor said, eyes fixed intently on Shen Chun’s face.

He had sat before the Prince Regent before, watching him review memorials, but never like this. Even his own father had rarely held him this way. If only Father were still here, he thought wistfully.

Shen Chun, of course, heard the Empress Dowager’s careful hint and understood exactly what she meant. But it had been they who schemed against him, and they who now watched him with such guarded wariness. Why should they get all the benefits, yet still treat him as a threat? No. Let them be the ones to feel uneasy.

Not only did Shen Chun make no move to let the boy down, instead, he gently pinched the young emperor’s cheek and said with a soft smile, “Your Majesty’s archery skills are lacking, it must be your instructor’s failing. I am of little talent myself, but archery is one skill I still manage. If Your Majesty doesn’t mind, shall I teach you personally from now on?”

His tone was the picture of humility, but the meaning behind it sent a surge of joy through Feng Feibai. In that instant, he completely forgot everything his mother had warned him. All he could think about was formally becoming Shen Chun’s student. “Really?” he asked, eyes shining.

“Truly,” Shen Chun replied.

The Empress Dowager felt her heart drop. Panic gripped her. “This sort of minor matter,” she said quickly, forcing a calm tone, “should not trouble Prince Yi. It would be best not to delay more important affairs.”

“Matters concerning His Majesty are state affairs,” Shen Chun replied with a smile as he looked toward the Empress Dowager. “Unless, of course, the Empress Dowager wishes to find a more suitable instructor for His Majesty. If I am not equal to the task, I naturally would not dare offer further guidance.”

With those words, the Empress Dowager could say no more. She could only watch her son, his face lit with joy, as anxiety churned in her chest and darkness crept into the edges of her vision.

Shen Chun truly is a master strategist… If the young emperor one day came to trust him completely, to harbor no suspicion or caution, then wouldn’t the entire empire be his for the taking?

That afternoon, with Shen Chun personally instructing him, Feng Feibai struck the bullseye arrow after arrow. By the time he returned to the palace, he was still brimming with excitement.

The Empress Dowager dismissed the palace servants. Once they were alone, she looked at her still-excited son and let out a long sigh. “Your Majesty,” she said quietly.

Her tone was heavy, and the joy in Feng Feibai’s heart quickly dimmed. The smile on his face faded, and his brows furrowed. “Mother, did I do something wrong?” he asked.

He had been so caught up in his happiness that he’d forgotten to restrain himself, to hide his brilliance.

As a mother, how could she not wish for her child to be joyful every day? But a parent who truly loves their child must always plan far ahead. If a fleeting moment of happiness might one day cost him his life… then perhaps it would be better never to have known that joy at all.

This was the sorrow of a child born in the palace, such was the tragedy of royalty. And yet, in times like these, there could be no carelessness, no moment of true ease.

“You must listen to Prince Yi, yes,” the Empress Dowager said, gently taking his hand, “but you must never reveal too much of your own brilliance. Feibai, for the sake of Great Yong’s throne, for your mother… for our clan, you must learn to endure your joys and sorrows in silence. If the realm ever falls into someone else’s hands, you and I will not survive. Do you understand?”

“…But Prince Yi saved us,” Feng Feibai murmured, his voice uncertain.

He couldn’t imagine that man, the one who had held him so gently, wiped his tears, would one day be the one to end their lives. He just didn’t believe it.

“That’s because His Majesty has yet to threaten his interests,” the Empress Dowager said solemnly. “The glory and transformation that come with the throne are far greater than you can imagine. Before your father ascended, he too was modest and cautious, but once he sat upon the dragon throne, every word he spoke held power over life and death. Over time, even he changed.”

“Right now, Prince Yi bears you no ill will. But when you come of age, and the rightful claim to the empire returns to your hands, he may not be so willing to relinquish power. If you do not learn to restrain your brilliance, I fear we may not survive long enough to see that day.”

Her voice held the weight of lived experience, decades of survival in the deadly intricacies of palace life. Feng Feibai lowered his gaze. He wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat, and in the end, he only murmured: “…I understand.”

He was no longer the child protected under his father’s wing. He could no longer afford to be willful.

…

The longer Shen Chun held the regency, the tighter his grip became over the court. Feng Feibai had no opportunity to interfere, nor did he dare to.

“Though Prince Yi commands many capable generals, this minister’s investigation uncovered troubling reports,” one court official stepped forward during morning court. “General Lu Ke, who commands ten thousand troops, is suspected of falsifying payroll records, deceiving superiors and subordinates alike. It’s said he even melted down military weapons to sell privately for personal gain. What does Prince Yi propose should be done?”

Though the court appeared stable, there remained elder ministers who refused to yield completely. They made it their mission to seek out any crack, any flaw, especially in the ranks of Shen Chun’s loyalists. This was a deliberate test, probing for signs of favoritism or weakness.

In Great Yong, censors were not to be silenced, even Shen Chun, though now the arbiter of nearly all state affairs, understood this well. At times, there were indeed oversights among his own men, and having these watchful officials saved him considerable trouble.

Instead of answering the accusation directly, Shen Chun turned his gaze to the throne. “What does Your Majesty think?” 

Five years had passed, long enough for the once-young boy to grow into a youth as upright and graceful as pine and bamboo. Sitting atop the imperial dais in full ceremonial garb, the young emperor wore robes embroidered with golden clouds and coiling dragons. A jade belt cinched his waist, a high coronet bound his hair. Glistening ornaments swayed with his every breath. His features, faintly reminiscent of the Empress in her youth, had matured, his face was like polished jade, already hinting at the striking beauty he would possess as a grown man. But his demeanor had changed most, now quiet, composed, and cautious.

The young emperor spoke, his voice deepened by the voice change of adolescence, losing its former clarity but gaining a magnetic resonance: “I have read the memorial submitted. According to its contents, Lu Ke is guilty of embezzling military funds, a crime deserving death. However, Great Yong values solid evidence. It would be better to bring him back to the capital for thorough interrogation before making a final decision. What does your excellency think?”

A hush fell over the court. Shen Chun twirled his fingers thoughtfully and replied, “If the evidence is already conclusive, then executing him publicly would suffice, no need to waste further manpower or resources.”

“Prince Yi is wise,” the ministers agreed in unison.

Feng Feibai’s fingers clenched tightly beneath his flowing sleeves, yet no trace of displeasure crossed his face. Years of restraint had honed in him the art of concealing every emotion.

The older he grew, the more he observed, the more he learned, and the clearer it became what Shen Chun’s power truly meant for him. As emperor, he was little more than a figurehead, a puppet under the regent’s control.

“But if Lu Ke is executed, which general should be promoted to lead these ten thousand soldiers?” a court official asked cautiously.

The Imperial Guards of the capital numbered no more than thirty thousand, ten thousand troops was no small force. The court ministers exchanged wary glances as Feng Feibai’s eyes flickered subtly toward a corner of the hall.

“Prince Yi’s command includes General Wang Du,” the Deputy Minister of War reported. “He comes from the prince’s personal guards and currently serves as a deputy general. He is more than capable of leading ten thousand soldiers.”

“Respectfully, I disagree,” another minister interjected. “Wang Du lacks firsthand experience commanding troops in battle. I recommend General Ji Tao instead.”

“General An has previously led this very army as deputy general. In my opinion…”

The ministers’ voices rose in debate. Feng Feibai’s fingers lightly traced the fabric of his sleeve, his expression calm but thoughtful. Shen Chun listened to their arguments, then turned his gaze to the young emperor. “Your Majesty, which general do you believe is worthy of this great responsibility?”

“Commanding troops is not something I am well-versed in,” Feng Feibai admitted honestly.

“I see. Then what does Your Majesty think of General Ji Tao?” Shen Chun asked, smiling as he observed the emperor straighten his posture.

Though Shen Chun’s question seemed casual, several ministers quickly put forward their preferred generals, but only Ji Tao was truly loyal to Feng Feibai.

Feng Feibai’s mind tensed, a blankness creeping in as suspicion gnawed at him, yet he couldn’t be sure. “Ji Tao is young… I fear he may not be ready for such a heavy responsibility,” he said cautiously.

“Your Majesty’s concern is understandable,” Shen Chun replied smoothly. “I believe Wang Du is a fine choice. How about entrusting him with the command of the troops?”

“Prince Yi speaks with reason,” Feng Feibai said, his voice heavy and hesitant.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Shen Chun replied with a smile.

Every move of the young emperor was naturally under Shen Chun’s control. As the saying goes, when civil officials plot rebellion, it often fails within three years. Seeking military power was indeed a good start, though the boy’s methods still showed great immaturity.

The late emperor had dared to scheme against him, so if the young emperor wanted to gain real power, he would have to work hard himself, gradually wresting control. Though Shen Chun remained wary, he had no intention of taking the boy’s life, at least, not yet.

At the end of the court session, Shen Chun bowed deeply and left first. The ministers gradually followed, leaving only Duke Yao watching the rising emperor with a sigh. “Your Majesty, sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall beyond what ordinary men can bear¹The full idiom 卧薪尝胆 means: To endure great hardship and humiliation in order to achieve future revenge or success — to bide one’s time patiently, while preparing for a comeback. This idiom comes from a famous historical tale: Goujian, the King of Yue, was defeated and captured by Fuchai, King of Wu. After being released, Goujian slept on firewood and tasted gall daily, reminding himself of the shame of defeat. Years later, he overthrew Wu and avenged his humiliation., this is true wisdom.”

“Thank you for your guidance, Grandfather,” Feng Feibai replied.

He understood well the importance of patience and endurance. Yet lately, Shen Chun’s tightening grip caught him off guard time and again, forcing him to yield step by step. Even before taking a step forward, he had to pull back his foot, careful not to reveal the slightest hesitation or weakness.

…

“Marshal, Lu Ke has been embezzling funds. How do you plan to deal with him?” Liang Wendong asked, bowing respectfully.

“Military pay is the soldiers’ hard-earned life’s price,” Shen Chun said as he handed over the execution order. “With this evidence, beheading is too lenient. He shall be executed by slow slicing.”

“Yes, sir!” Liang Wendong lowered his head in acknowledgment.

The palace was heavily guarded, and only a eunuch hurriedly approached the emperor, lowering his head to whisper in his ear: “Your Majesty, Prince Yi has changed the decision, Lu Ke will be executed by slow slicing.”

Feng Feibai’s hand holding the brush paused, the ink on the white paper darkening in a blotch. “Is this a warning to me?”

Lu Ke’s corruption warranted execution, and slow slicing was not excessive. But to carry out such a severe punishment right after recommending Ji Tao, perhaps it was truly meant to send a chilling message.

“Your Majesty, don’t be alarmed. Although Prince Yi is ruthless when it comes to punishment, he never executes the innocent. Just look at those officials in court who constantly oppose him yet still manage to rise in rank, that alone speaks volumes,” the chief eunuch comforted.

“I am well aware,” Feng Feibai replied, putting down his brush and gazing at the ink marks on the paper.

He naturally knew that under Prince Yi’s rule, no one was ever killed without cause. As long as his clan and relatives did not oppress others, they were never held accountable. Though he and his mother were constrained by circumstances, their every need for food, clothing, and daily necessities was always fully met without hardship.

Under the rule of Prince Yi, both leniency and severity were balanced. The treasury was abundant, the realm peaceful, and the country prospered like never before, truly a new era compared to the days of the previous emperor. The common people knew only Prince Yi, unaware that it was by his achievements that Emperor Chenyuan’s reign was secured.

Feng Feibai was not even certain if, after reclaiming what was rightfully his, he could govern better than the Prince Regent. From the moment he first saw him as a child, he had admired that man, yet he also feared him. As his mother said, no matter how well the Prince Regent ruled, he was like a sword hanging over one’s head; one never knew when it might fall. Rather than live in constant fear, it was better to remove it.

After years of enduring in silence, Feng Feibai grew ever more uncertain if he could truly accomplish that.

Sometimes, he couldn’t even understand himself. Shen Chun had shown kindness to him and his mother, yet he had taken away all of that man’s pride and power, wasn’t that biting the hand that fed him?

But what he took was also rightfully his.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty…” the chief eunuch called out several times.

“What is it?” Feng Feibai looked up.

“Prince Yi has arrived,” the eunuch reminded him.

Feng Feibai pressed his lips together, sat up straight, and said, “Please, Prince Yi, come in.”

“Greetings, Your Majesty. May Your Majesty be well,” Shen Chun bowed respectfully.

Though he had seized power over the years, gradually increasing pressure on the young emperor, he had rarely made mistakes in etiquette, leaving no obvious flaws for others to exploit.

“I have said many times, you need not be so formal when you see me,” Feng Feibai said, his gaze fixed on the prince. Looking at the man’s naturally smiling eyes and graceful bow, he couldn’t help but wonder why the same gesture looked so much better on him than on others.

“Etiquette must not be neglected.” After bowing, Shen Chun turned and motioned for his attendants to come forward.

The guards brought over a thick stack of memorials, which the chief eunuch took and placed on the imperial desk. Feng Feibai glanced over them and asked, “Are these all the newly submitted memorials?”

“They’ve just been reviewed and approved,” Shen Chun replied with a smile. “Your Majesty may examine them.”

“Please grant a seat to Prince Yi,” Feng Feibai said.

A seat was placed to the left of the imperial desk. Shen Chun stepped up and took his place, saying, “Today, I shall not read the memorials aloud to Your Majesty.”

Feng Feibai suddenly looked at him and asked, “Why?”

“Does Your Majesty still have characters you cannot recognize?” Shen Chun raised an eyebrow.

“…No,” Feng Feibai replied with a slight hint of regret in his heart. He had been on the throne for over five years, nearly six, and since the age of eight he had always listened while Shen Chun read the memorials to him.

That voice was calm and steady. Even though matters of state often required him to rack his brain, Feng Feibai had always found some enjoyment in it. Now, was that about to end?

The reading of memorials was another mystery to Feng Feibai. Shen Chun could easily deceive the court officials with trivial matters, yet he always made sure Feng Feibai reviewed the important ones. Although Feng Feibai had no decision-making power, after reading so many, he could anticipate responses to the issues raised by ministers.

Such things made Feng Feibai feel that Shen Chun was training him. Yet, whenever he entertained such thoughts, the factions he tried to rally were systematically cut off by the Prince, leaving only a few subtle remnants.

Feng Feibai’s gaze swept across the memorials but unconsciously settled on the man sitting beside him.

More than five years had passed, yet Shen Chun had changed little. He remained as leisurely and charming as ever, seemingly harmless, but everyone knew he was a beast resting, anyone daring to provoke him would meet a grisly end.

Five years had taught Feng Feibai caution and fear, yet he couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

He feared him, yet wanted to see him, torn by contradictions, troubled deep within.

“Does Your Majesty have any questions?” Shen Chun naturally noticed the young emperor’s gaze.

“None,” Feng Feibai hastily withdrew his eyes and refocused on the memorials.

There were many memorials, each followed by imperial replies. After pondering them, Feng Feibai would look again at Shen Chun’s red annotations. No matter how thoroughly he thought things through, he always found some oversight when reviewing them.

He didn’t realize it himself, but in Shen Chun’s eyes, every sigh and furrowed brow the emperor made carried meaning. Only at times like this would the young emperor reveal a glimpse of his true nature.

Though intelligent and quick-witted, already having mastered many skills and able to read people’s expressions at just fourteen years old, worthy of being called a prodigy, Shen Chun still saw him as nothing more than a child.

When it came to state affairs, he already showed the makings of a wise ruler. But in other aspects, further cultivation was needed. What Duke Yao had said about “sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall” was precisely the path he must walk.

After reading through the memorials, two full hours had passed. When Feng Feibai finally looked up and saw Shen Chun, his feelings had grown increasingly complicated, yet somehow, he also felt an odd sense of reassurance.

Though Shen Chun had seized power, he had never mistreated or framed him. Even if Feng Feibai were to reclaim that power in the future, he knew he would never take Shen Chun’s life in return.

It was just that… if he truly succeeded, perhaps this man would hate him for it.

“What is Your Majesty thinking about?” Shen Chun asked.

Feng Feibai straightened his back, gathering his thoughts before saying, “I’ve finished reading.”

“What are Your Majesty’s thoughts?” Shen Chun asked.

Feng Feibai didn’t dare reveal too much. He only touched on the more superficial points, yet every time their eyes met, he felt as though he’d been completely seen through, as if everything he tried to conceal was but a clumsy trick before Shen Chun’s eyes.

“You’ve grown up, Your Majesty,” Shen Chun said with a soft laugh. He rose, patted Feng Feibai on the shoulder, and turned to leave.

He came and went with ease, but left Feng Feibai’s heart in utter turmoil.

Time passed swiftly, another four years went by. In those years, the national treasury grew abundant, the Regent Prince repelled foreign threats and quelled rebellious vassals. No barbarian tribe dared encroach, and the vassal kings’ military powers had all been reclaimed into Shen Chun’s hands. To say that his influence was at its peak would be no exaggeration.

“Your Majesty holds command over merely ten thousand troops,” Grand Duke Yao said with a sigh. “You must plan with the utmost care.”

“I understand,” the Emperor replied, his voice low and steady. The tassels on his crown swayed slightly. Though the youthful softness had yet to fully leave his features, he was already strikingly handsome, refined, dignified, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Years of quiet scheming had taught him one thing: no matter how hard he fought, under the Prince Regent’s shadow, his efforts still resembled a child’s futile scuffle, completely outmatched.

“The Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet is the opportunity,” Grand Duke Yao said. “The barbarians will present their tribute. If we succeed, all will be well. If not, we’ll place the blame on them. Your Majesty need only to ensure your own safety.”

“I am aware,” the Emperor said coldly from his seat, “but the one we send must be chosen with care, do not harm him.”

Grand Duke Yao fell silent for a long while before finally replying, “Your servant obeys.”

If this weren’t his grandson, his own flesh and blood, he would have thrown in the towel²To give up or admit defeat, especially after trying hard to succeed. Origin: It comes from boxing, when a fighter’s team throws a towel into the ring to signal surrender, ending the fight. long ago.

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• 1
  The full idiom 卧薪尝胆 means: To endure great hardship and humiliation in order to achieve future revenge or success — to bide one’s time patiently, while preparing for a comeback. This idiom comes from a famous historical tale: Goujian, the King of Yue, was defeated and captured by Fuchai, King of Wu. After being released, Goujian slept on firewood and tasted gall daily, reminding himself of the shame of defeat. Years later, he overthrew Wu and avenged his humiliation.
• 2
  To give up or admit defeat, especially after trying hard to succeed. Origin: It comes from boxing, when a fighter’s team throws a towel into the ring to signal surrender, ending the fight.