Chapter 29: Interlude – Heart’s Blood
At the age of five, the Crown Prince finally understood that in the year of his birth, the princes outside the palace suspected an internal upheaval in the court—that the Emperor had died under suspicious circumstances, and his own ascension as Crown Prince was equally dubious. Yet he was innocent in this. The Empress, having no children of her own, had simply plucked the youngest available and made him the heir.
This was his fate—a stroke of luck, handed to him.
By five, he had already grasped this truth.
No contention, no struggle, no ambition, no desire.
If the Empress Dowager commanded him to move, he moved. If she ordered him to halt, he halted.
The Crown Prince was sickly, having consumed more medicine than food since childhood. Once, when the Empress Dowager reprimanded him, he stood holding a bowl of medicine at the palace gates for an entire day and night, not daring to move, unable to move. He was only seven years old then. If he loved a bird, the bird would die. If he longed to watch fish swim, from the age of seven to sixteen, he never saw another fish again. The power of life and death—even the life of this insignificant child—rested in the hands of the woman who called herself the Empress Dowager.
Gradually, he ceased to yearn for anything that lived.
Until he saw her portrait.
The daughter of the Qinghe Cui family—Shi Yi.
Delicate features, but nothing more than that. Two eunuchs at his side bowed and whispered, "Your Highness, this is to be your future Crown Princess." He gazed at the girl in the painting, no older than ten, holding a brush as she painted.
She was the only thing ever bestowed upon him.
He was overjoyed, but dared not show it.
From that day onward, he received her portraits and records of her daily life every month. She could not speak, but loved reading and painting. The books she read were eccentric and fascinating. As for her paintings—she would only paint lotuses. Lotuses? What was so special about lotuses? Perhaps it was a girlish fancy, something he neither understood nor needed to understand.
Yet, those lotuses were truly well-painted.
No matter how often he tried to copy them, he could never capture their essence.
Shi Yi, the eleventh disciple.
Among the disciples of the Prince of Nan Chen’s household, she was merely the eleventh. At seven, she had entered the household and been bullied, unable to speak, enduring everything in silence. Later, she often hid in the library, disappearing for entire days. Was she, like him, unwilling to open her heart to others? It didn’t matter. One day, she would be the most honored woman in the palace. If she did not wish to confide in others, then it would be just the two of them. He would never bully her.
Years passed, and as she grew older, she became doted upon by her senior brothers and sisters, cherished above all by the Prince of Nan Chen.
Collecting the finest teas from across the land, gathering lost musical scores from past dynasties.
Between the Prince of Nan Chen and the Crown Princess-to-be, the rumors were murky and unclear.
On the Empress Dowager’s birthday, someone submitted a memorial accusing the Prince of Nan Chen of treason.
Such memorials appeared every year, only to be suppressed each time. But this year, there was an additional rumor involving the Crown Princess. The Empress Dowager scowled in court, throwing the memorial aside and demanding sharply: "Who submitted this? Step forward. If you can bring down the Prince of Nan Chen, his tens of thousands of retainers shall be yours."
No one dared to respond. Silence reigned.
A joke—the Prince of Nan Chen had led armies since youth, never tasting defeat.
When the Crown Prince in the Eastern Palace heard of this, he did not speak.
This puppet, having occupied his position for ten years, had always been the mute Crown Prince. Who didn’t know this?
Yet the Empress Dowager was not without fear. The rebellion of the princes years ago had been sparked by a single remark from the Prince of Nan Chen:
"Suspect turmoil in the palace."
If he desired the empire, it would have to be handed to him without resistance—what did a mere Crown Princess matter? So the Empress Dowager confided to her eunuchs. In this world, roles were merely a matter of mutual face-saving. She would relinquish the northwestern territories without a second thought, asking only for a peaceful life, so that the Prince of Nan Chen might spare the imperial court and allow her, a woman past her prime, to enjoy her wealth in comfort.
Yet fate is fickle. The Empress Dowager died suddenly within the palace walls.The Crown Prince sealed off the imperial city, unable to make a public proclamation. The first decree written in the Empress Dowager's hand ordered the Crown Princess to enter the palace for the wedding. On the same day, a secret edict summoned the Qinghe Cui clan into the palace.
That day, the Cui clan passed through layer upon layer of palace gates and knelt outside the Eastern Palace for a full two hours. Snow piled half a foot high, soaking their robes through, their knees long numb from the cold. Only at midnight were they led in by eunuchs.
The Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace, unseen by outsiders—the father and son of the Qinghe Cui clan could claim unparalleled honor.
On the bed lay a pale-faced man with ink-black eyes, wrapped in heavy fox fur, watching them silently for a full hour.
Not a word was spoken, only occasional sips of water to moisten his throat.
Near dawn, someone brought medicine. In the rising steam, his face blurred, and only then did he begin to cough.
The vast Eastern Palace was utterly silent, save for his low, intermittent coughs.
The Cui father and son hastily kowtowed, presenting their premeditated plan to use Eleven as bait to frame Xiao Nan Chen Wang. The Crown Prince listened quietly but showed displeasure: "Xiao Nan Chen Wang is, after all, the Empress's teacher. Your scheme... is too cruel. If the Empress were to find out, how could I explain?"
Though no coronation had taken place, he referred to himself as "Zhen" (the royal "We").
"Your Majesty..." The Cui father and son quickly kowtowed. "Zhou Shengchen is a great threat. If he is not removed, the realm will never be secure!"
He continued sipping his medicine, his features indistinct in the steam.
This conspiracy ultimately trapped Xiao Nan Chen Wang.
From the moment he became Crown Prince, his first meeting with this prince was in a dimly lit dungeon. He was the ruler, the other his subject. He stood before him, yet refused to kneel.
Then the Crown Prince, now the Emperor.
He could conquer the realm but could not make him kneel.
No wonder—he was already dead.
Wrapped in heavy robes, he still could not withstand the dungeon's damp chill. A decade in the palace, poisoned daily by the Empress Dowager's "favor," he now clung to life only through medicine.
All he had ever wanted was the one person bestowed upon him as his sole possession.
"That day, the imperial decree commanded you to adopt her as your goddaughter—I sought to trade the realm for beauty," he murmured coldly, mocking himself as he spoke to the dead man. "I have at most ten years left. After that, who in this world would dare take her from you?"
"The secret of your birth is known only to the Empress Dowager and me. She is dead, and I will never speak of it. It is I who wronged you." The night wind scattered the candle's smoke.
He departed, ordering an honorable burial—yet the charge of treason remained.
All of you forced my hand.
Had the Empress Dowager not sought to unite you with her, I would not have poisoned my own mother.
Had you not defied the decree, I would not have framed you. With Xiao Nan Chen Wang dead, who in the court could shoulder this realm? No one. The people suffer, the land is in chaos.
I did not wish it, nor did I will it, but I...
Emperor Dongling, confined to the Eastern Palace since childhood, never seeing daylight, later aided by the Qinghe Cui clan, captured the traitorous Xiao Nan Chen Wang and restored order. The Emperor, harboring deep hatred for Xiao Nan Chen Wang over rumors involving the Crown Princess, sentenced him to the excruciating "bone-scraping" punishment.
For three full hours, Xiao Nan Chen Wang endured the torture without a single cry of pain, refusing to repent even in death.
He was later given an honorable burial, though the charge of treason remained.
Three years into his reign, the Emperor died suddenly, leaving no heir.
Rain drizzles over the river, grass grows lush; six dynasties pass like dreams, birds cry in vain. Most heartless are the willows of Taicheng, still shrouding the ten-mile dike in mist.
The six dynasties vanish, grudges fade, yet Chang'an remains.
Could you, perhaps, let me truly see you once?
(End of Chapter)
OpenNovel