After much anticipation, the Eighth Prince finally arrived in the capital, travel-worn and weary. The old emperor and his son, who hadn't seen each other for nearly fifteen years, embraced with immediate affection and without the slightest estrangement. The father, with trembling arms, expressed concern for his son's hardships while governing the remote frontier of Shu. The son, with tear-filled eyes, repeatedly insisted that his father's tireless governance and resulting ailments were the true hardship. Standing beside them was the utterly flustered and somewhat out-of-place Empress Li, who despite her age seemed completely disconnected from the moment—a truly auspicious family reunion.
The assembled civil and military officials perfectly complemented the atmosphere, each dabbing their sleeves to wipe away tears, moved by the profound bond between the imperial father and son. No wonder the empire enjoys peace, prosperity, and favorable conditions in all affairs—it's all thanks to such exemplary conduct! After the emotional reunion, the old emperor, still holding his son's hand, shakily introduced the court officials. "Come, come," he said, "this is the Chief Grand Secretary who narrowly escaped death, that one is the esteemed Grand Secretary of the Wenyuan Pavilion, those over there are the five chief grand councilors, and behind them are..." There were too many names, and Minglan couldn't remember any of them.
"Father, what does the Eighth Prince look like?" Rulan blurted out straightforwardly, voicing the curiosity of all the ladies present.
Sheng Hong, with an expression of utmost loyalty and patriotism, declared proudly, "His Highness naturally possesses the piercing eyes of a dragon and the majestic gaze of a phoenix, excelling in both civil and military virtues, with an extraordinary demeanor."
The ladies readily believed this, thinking it preferable for the next national leader to be handsome. Changbai, however, stole a glance at his father and remained silent, his face impassive. In truth, the Eighth Prince had a broad forehead and large ears, at best considered decent-looking. It was said that even the founding emperor, a heroic figure from a turbulent era, was notoriously ugly. The tenacious genes of his plain appearance had persisted through generations, despite efforts to refine them with beauties. Still, it was often remarked that a ruler's appearance ought to be reassuringly unremarkable.
The old emperor was evidently at his limit, so the considerate Director of the Imperial Observatory promptly calculated the nearest auspicious date for the crown prince investiture ceremony. The officials then submitted their congratulatory memorials, and the long-prepared officials from the Ministry of Rites and the Court of Imperial Sacrifices seized their moment to shine. On the chosen day, before dawn, the Sheng father and sons left home in the dark to attend the ceremony at the Fengtian Hall. They knelt and rose repeatedly, standing and bowing throughout the entire day until the crown prince finally received the imperial seal, paid respects to the empress in the central palace, and then worshipped at the ancestral temple to inform the ancestors, completing the rites. Even so, Sheng Hong remarked that due to the previous year's turmoil and the old emperor's exhaustion, the ceremony had been significantly simplified.
The capital's residents, highly aware of the occasion, joyfully celebrated the imperial family's happiness. That evening, fireworks lit up the sky, and wealthy families even sponsored Buddhist ceremonies to distribute alms to the poor, symbolizing universal rejoicing. Young Changdong was also delighted because the crown prince investiture granted his school several days off. Upon returning home on the first day of the holiday, he secretly told Minglan that he had overheard beggars receiving rice and porridge saying, "This is the second time in a few months. If only they'd crown a new crown prince every day!" Minglan couldn't help but smile.
Changdong was now eleven, his childlike frame gradually stretching taller. While he remained reverent and obedient in front of his father and elder brothers, he was still mischievous around Minglan. She encouraged him to show his praised essays to Sheng Hong, who commended him a few times. This motivated Changdong to study even more diligently, burning the midnight oil with such intensity that he often appeared dazed when speaking to others.Minglan feared he might study himself into a fool and often counseled him not to be too obsessive: "One learns civil and martial arts to serve the emperor. Nine and a half out of ten scholars aim for official posts; but does academic excellence guarantee good governance? Your studies are already solid—even without a top rank, you’ll surely pass the exams. What matters is to learn more about principles and worldly affairs, so you can harmoniously interact with mentors and colleagues. If you become an official, you’ll benefit the people. Don’t let studying turn your brain rigid." After all, Changdong wasn’t as naturally gifted as Changbai; he relied solely on stubborn diligence.
A bitter smile crossed Changdong’s young face. "I just want my concubine mother to live better," he said.
Minglan watched him for a moment, then sighed softly and patted his head.
After the enthronement ceremony, the old emperor intended to hand over state affairs to the crown prince and focus on recuperating. However, the crown prince, devoted to filial piety, ignored all petitions from court officials and trivial receptions, dedicating himself entirely to the old emperor. By day, he personally served medicine, tasting each dose first; by night, he slept lightly on a couch in the old emperor’s bedchamber. He persisted day after day without rest, and within ten days, the newly appointed crown prince had visibly thinned, his loose robes hanging limply.
The old emperor sighed, "Your filial piety moves me deeply, my son. But as the crown prince, you must prioritize state affairs."
The crown prince wept, "Any of my brothers could be crown prince, but I have only one father."
The old emperor, moved to tears, embraced his son as they wept together. Court officials, hearing of this, sighed in admiration.
Bo Tianzhou, the elderly Right Grand Commander of the Five Military Commissions, had been convalescing at home since the previous year. He remarked, "Have you not heard that a child may wish to care for parents who are no longer there? The crown prince is truly virtuous and filial." Later, he was summoned to the palace at night to surrender his military tally to the crown prince.
Hearing this news from Changdong, Minglan’s lips curved slightly.
Half a month later, deep one night, the capital’s funeral bells tolled loudly, and cloud boards clapped. Minglan counted carefully—four strikes. Then, chaotic footsteps erupted outside, and soon Danju entered to report, "The emperor has passed away."
Minglan lacked sufficient enlightenment to feel profound grief. The old emperor’s death was like the second shoe dropping from upstairs—everyone had been gritting their teeth in anticipation, yet its delay had caused anxiety and cost many casualties.
With all preparations long complete, the new emperor ascended the throne the next day and issued a general pardon.
The Late Emperor’s funeral rites proceeded orderly. The palace decreed that all titled families and officials of the sixth rank or above must abstain from feasting and entertainment for one year, and from marriages for one year; commoners were to mourn for six months. Those with imperial mandates were to observe mourning according to court ranks. The officials were also busy: besides regular lamentations, they proposed "Benevolent" as the Late Emperor’s posthumous title.
Subsequently, the new emperor held enthronement ceremonies, appointing Empress Li as Holy Peace Empress Dowager, and the imperial noble consort as Holy Virtue Empress Dowager. Other palace consorts were rewarded according to their ranks, while Crown Princess Consort Shen was enthroned as empress, modeling maternal grace for the realm. The entire nation immersed itself in mourning.
A minor incident occurred during this period: The Left Assistant Minister of the Court of the Imperial Stud, noting the new emperor’s sparse harem with few beauties, speculated on the imperial will and submitted a memorial urging the emperor to widely select talented women to enrich the inner palace and ensure the royal lineage’s continuity. The new emperor rebuked him harshly, stripping him of his official hat. The emperor solemnly declared, "I already have an heir. I shall observe three years of mourning for the Late Emperor!"With the issuance of this decree, some households rejoiced while others lamented. Many powerful official families in the capital had long awaited the opportunity to send their daughters into the imperial harem, but now they would have to wait three years, causing many young ladies to miss their prime marriageable age. Yet there were also many who felt relieved—Minglan breathed a huge sigh of relief, thinking she would surely be married in three years.
The Late Emperor’s funeral rites lasted over half a month before the coffin was finally interred in the imperial mausoleum, marking the end of the transition from old to new.
Rulan hastily shed the plain mourning garments she had worn for many days and eagerly dug out her favorite brightly colored dresses to adorn herself. Molan continued composing her melancholic "elegy-style" poems, occasionally shedding a few tears. The matrons in Madam Wang’s quarters secretly mocked Molan’s demeanor, saying, "One would think she’d lost her husband." Minglan, meanwhile, persisted in her "Brokeback Mountain" series of embroidery works. Truth be told, she wasn’t a fujoshi, but in this constrained world, she had no other way to vent her increasingly twisted emotions.
At this time, the Marquis of Qi Manor was also removing mourning decorations. Servants quietly and efficiently took down white lanterns and silk ribbons, but the second household’s rooms were in disarray. Outside the door, Princess Pingning’s capable stewardesses and maids stood guard, allowing only the mother and son to converse.
"You wretched creature! What did you say?!" Princess Pingning trembled with rage.
Qi Heng let out a cold, mocking laugh. "I said, now that I’ve entered the Hanlin Academy, if a better marriage prospect arises in the future, will Mother change her plans again? Why settle so early?"
Slap! Qi Heng’s face jerked to the side, his fair, handsome cheek now bearing red finger marks. The princess snapped sharply, "You unfilial, insolent brat!"
Qi Heng’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his laughter tinged with sorrow. "Mother knows full well how I feel. We were so close, yet you were so cruel!"
Princess Pingning stared at her own palm, her heart aching faintly. She staggered back a few steps before steadying herself with effort, whispering, "During the banquet that day, the three of us sat together. I intended to sound out Madam Wang, but I’d barely spoken two sentences when Marquis Yongchang’s Wife cut in, declaring she’d taken a liking to Minglan. She even specified the date and candidate—what was I supposed to say? Should I have fought her for it?"
Qi Heng knew his mother was inherently proud. Under normal circumstances, he would have yielded, but today, rage surged through him. He sneered again, "...Mother has always been quick-witted. You must have immediately considered forming an indirect alliance with the Marquis of Yongchang’s household through marriage. Besides, your daughter-in-law would be a legitimate daughter—elevating us further!"
The princess was utterly speechless. She had never imagined her gentle, obedient son would behave this way. Ever since learning of the matter, he had worn a cold expression and ignored her. She exhaled heavily, struggling to say, "I was merely discussing it with Sister Wang—nothing was finalized. If you truly dislike it, forget it. But... you must never see her again."
These words stunned Qi Heng. His heart churned like tidal waves, overwhelmed with sorrow, and he could no longer hold back his tears.
Seeing her son like this, the princess also began to weep. "Don’t blame your mother for coveting power. Since childhood, you’ve been coddled and praised by everyone, never tasting the bitterness of downfall. But after the ‘Shenchen Rebellion,’ you saw those opportunistic faces yourself—some even secretly mocked us behind our backs..."Qi Heng recalled the scene from the end of last year, his face pale and his delicate brows furrowed.
The Princess Consort, heart aching, pulled her son close and said softly, "Isn't all this due to the words 'power and influence'? If you had a maternal uncle, if your father were the Heir Apparent, if we had enough strength and capability—you could marry whomever you wished. How could I not want to fulfill your desires? Even having the Sheng family send their illegitimate daughter to be your concubine wouldn't be impossible. But... Heng'er, we only appear prosperous now. After your grandfather passes, the Xiangyang Marquis estate will go to others. Da Bomu has long been at odds with our branch—we're left with no support on either side! With the new emperor ascending the throne, as the saying goes, 'a new sovereign brings new ministers.' Your father's fate remains uncertain. All these years in the salt administration, countless people have been watching with jealous eyes, waiting to find fault and bring him down. How can I not think more about our family's situation?!"
As she spoke, she began weeping mournfully.
Qi Heng's vision blurred, and in his daze, he suddenly remembered an incident from Minglan's childhood. Tiny and small, she had crouched on the ground, using a flower stem to draw two parallel lines in the soil. She called them parallel lines—though they appeared close, they would never meet.
He deliberately teased her by dropping a caterpillar onto her skirt. The little girl screamed in fright, stamping her feet repeatedly to shake it off. He laughed heartily, pointing at the two lines now smudged together by her footprints, and said, "Haven't they met now?"
The little girl, delicate as a porcelain doll, was clearly furious. A radiant flush, like lotus petals crushed to release their vivid hue, bloomed across her fair skin, making one instinctively want to reach out and touch it. He quickly bowed in apology, but the little girl wouldn't let him off easily. She picked up a clump of mud and threw it at him before turning and running away.
He wanted to chase after her but was held back by his attendant, who had hurried over upon hearing the commotion.
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