Even though not a single “Father Emperor” escaped Qu Dubian’s lips—and even though one of those jujubes ended up given away to a eunuch—Emperor Chongzhao held onto that lone jujube with an inexplicable feeling inside. It felt as if something soft yet prickly had brushed against his heart—leaving behind both discomfort and heaviness.
It dawned on him that Qu Dubian hadn’t thrown away those bamboo sticks out of spite but rather because he didn’t want those precious jujubes wasted. He couldn’t imagine what kind of life this child must have lived before if even one winter jujube could be treated like such treasure.
Lost in thought for a while longer, Emperor Chongzhao soon heard sounds of fussing from where Qu Dubian lay on the bed. He walked over and said: “Let me handle this.”
As soon as Qu Dubian landed in his arms on the bed, all fussing ceased immediately.
In a low voice, Emperor Chongzhao murmured: “When I hold you—I’m your Father Emperor; when I don’t—I’m Your Majesty… Do you even know I stayed by your side all night yesterday? You’re so tiny yet already so temperamental.”
He reached out to feel the child’s forehead; the boy was still burning hot. He must have been feeling unwell, but unlike most children who would cry and fuss endlessly, the little one was merely clingy—a sign of maturity, in a way.
But that faintly revealed stubborn streak…
He waved his hand.
Head Eunuch Yu, perceptive as always, pulled Ye Xiaoyuan out to the outer chamber.
Ye Xiaoyuan, still worried, glanced back. Head Eunuch Yu softly reassured him: “His Majesty knows what’s important. The imperial physicians are waiting outside, and we’ll go in to stand guard later. You needn’t worry. His Majesty hasn’t spent much time with His Highness over the past three years—this is also a chance to strengthen their father-son bond.”
Ye Xiaoyuan nodded.
He understood that right now, His Highness had no one else to rely on in the palace but His Majesty.
Head Eunuch Yu glanced at the winter jujube tightly clutched in Ye Xiaoyuan’s hand and said meaningfully: “Take good care of the young prince. Better days are ahead.”
As they stepped out of the hall, Ye Xiaoyuan murmured softly: “If His Highness is well, so am I.”
—
Inside the hall.
Qu Dubian kept Emperor Chongzhao busy until midnight. Once he felt it was enough and had some fun with his simulator, he finally decided to sleep.
With the child quiet at last, Emperor Chongzhao let out a sigh of relief.
The leader of the shadow guards seized the moment and appeared silently in the hall like a ghostly shadow.
“Your Majesty, this subordinate has something to report.”
Emperor Chongzhao: “Keep your voice down. What is it?”
“Yi Shi’er appeared in public without authorization. The new evaluation results are out—his secrecy index has exceeded the danger threshold. According to shadow regulations, he must either be executed or have his martial arts abolished and be imprisoned. This subordinate seeks your instructions on how to handle him.”
Technically, he could have dealt with it directly himself, but Yi Shi’er had revealed himself while saving the young prince. Reporting this matter might just save Yi Shi’er’s life.
Emperor Chongzhao felt indifferent toward these names; countless shadow guards named Yi Shi’er had died anonymously throughout history during various reigns.
He frowned and said: “Follow protocol. Give him two days to make his choice, then deal with him accordingly. There’s no need to report such matters.”
The child in his arms had just fallen asleep—it wouldn’t do to wake him up now.
The shadow guard leader bowed his head. “Understood.” He disappeared as silently as he had come.
Emperor Chongzhao also lay down to rest. Tomorrow’s morning court promised a stormy session; he needed his energy to handle those troublesome ministers.
—
The name “Yi Shi’er” suddenly echoed in Qu Dubian’s ears.
He remembered it vividly. So far, there were only three people who could provide long-term goodwill points that translated into extra lifespan: Wen Xiaochun, Deputy Head Zhang Chansi of the Astrology Bureau, and Yi Shi’er, who secretly observed him.
Qu Dubian valued these three individuals greatly.
He opened his simulator for a quick check. Wen Xiaochun’s goodwill score had already risen to 45—it seemed that progress slowed as it increased. No rush; slow and steady wins the race.
As for Deputy Head Zhang… her goodwill score remained unchanged.
It had been 7 from the start and was still 7 now.
She worked at the Astrology Bureau. Last time she approached him on her own initiative and cryptically said, “This matter begins with fire and will end with fire.” Not long after that, a fire broke out at the Astrology Bureau… It was hard not to suspect her involvement somehow.
Unable to figure out her intentions yet, Qu Dubian decided not to interact with her for now.
As for Yi Shi’er, his goodwill score was still at 0.
Qu Dubian remembered clearly how Yi Shi’er had found him and brought him back while letting him experience what it felt like to glide over water using light-footed martial arts. Back then, Yi Shi’er had hesitated for so long before appearing—was it because of what was mentioned earlier?
Exceeding that so-called secrecy index meant death?
Staring at the goodwill score of 0, Qu Dubian thought about how he probably meant nothing more than a stranger to Yi Shi’er. Why would someone risk their life to save an unrelated child? Was it simply because he was a prince?
No way—this person couldn’t die.
From any angle, it wasn’t acceptable for Yi Shi’er to die.
—
The next day.
At court.
Many ministers sensed something unusual in the air.
Prince Ming unexpectedly attended today’s morning court session. Everyone present knew his personality well—though nominally overseeing royal kin affairs, he rarely concerned himself with court matters.
But his appearance today signaled something significant was about to happen.
The Vice Minister of Rites knew what was going on—after all, he’d been briefed by the Emperor yesterday afternoon—but he feigned ignorance for now.
When his superior asked him about it, he simply shook his head and said: “Who knows? Let’s just follow along when the time comes.”
The Minister of Rites stroked his beard and nodded: “Indeed. As long as it doesn’t concern ceremonial protocols, it has nothing to do with our ministry.”
The Vice Minister of Rites: “…Yes.”
The eunuch announced etiquette as Emperor Chongzhao entered, officially beginning morning court proceedings.
Everything proceeded smoothly until near the end of court when everyone started feeling puzzled by the lack of drama. Then Head Eunuch Yu stepped forward and read aloud an imperial decree:
“To Consort Yun of House Xu: Gentle in virtue and harmonious in conduct; graceful in demeanor and kind by nature; having borne an imperial heir and brought comfort to Our heart; though untimely departed—Our grief is profound. She shall be posthumously honored as Empress as a mark of commendation. The Ministry of Rites is hereby ordered to draft her posthumous title according to precedent and coordinate with other ministries for proper arrangements.”
A massive stone dropped into still waters!
The Minister of Rites jumped up like a startled rabbit and knelt down with a loud cry: “Your Majesty must not—!”
He knelt so forcefully that he slid forward several inches on the floor.
“Please reconsider!”
“Your Majesty must reconsider!”
A wave of ministers knelt down in unison like dominoes falling over.
Prince Ming raised an eyebrow slightly but wasn’t surprised by this scene.
After all, Emperor Chongzhao wasn’t lacking heirs—three princes were already firmly established. The maternal families of consorts were intertwined with former dynasties’ influences; some officials might have already placed their bets behind closed doors. For various reasons, none would want any changes introduced into this delicate balance.
Emperor Chongzhao quietly observed their agitated expressions without a word.
The Minister of Rites spoke passionately: “Your Majesty! The previous dynasty fell due to conflicts over succession! Emperor Yingyong posthumously honored Li Wang’s mother as Empress while declaring Li Wang as Crown Prince—the rightful heir by primogeniture! This led supporters claiming legitimacy through maternal status suppressing Fan Wang—the son born from an Empress already seated on throne! Their rivalry escalated into alliances with foreign powers—ultimately destroying Great Liang’s empire!”
At the founding of our dynasty, the Taizu Emperor established a rule: if a consort bore an imperial son, her posthumous honors must not exceed that of being posthumously titled Empress. Breaking this rule may bring about the calamity of a dynasty’s downfall, as seen in the previous dynasty. I implore Your Majesty to rescind this decree!”
The son of a consort posthumously honored as Empress naturally gains a status superior to other princes, with all the advantages that come with it.
Some officials, thinking themselves clever, took a step back and suggested: “Perhaps Consort Yun could be posthumously honored as Noble Consort or Imperial Noble Consort, but absolutely not as Empress.”
The majority of officials agreed.
It wasn’t that they opposed the Emperor honoring a deceased consort—after all, she had passed away. They didn’t care how she was honored or what title she was given. Consort Yun was the daughter of the Sword-Holding Marquis, a highly decorated veteran. No one wanted to provoke his ire by opposing her posthumous recognition.
However, directly elevating her from consort to Empress not only violated ancestral law but also risked destabilizing the foundation of the state.
This they absolutely could not accept!
Emperor Chongzhao said calmly: “Today, I am merely informing you all. This is not up for discussion.”
As soon as these words fell, the previously quiet court erupted into chaos once more.
Even the imperial clan members couldn’t remain silent. Just as they were about to speak out, Prince Ming coughed lightly and reminded them with a cheerful smile: “Gentlemen, I suggest you tread carefully. This is my royal brother’s family matter. If you overstep today, I might just bring your favorite girls from Chunfeng Tower to visit your wives and sisters-in-law tomorrow.”
The imperial clan members: “…”
Prince Ming was clearly here to support the Emperor in maintaining order. And unfortunately for them, he did hold dirt on quite a few members of the imperial clan.
This immediately silenced them.
The Minister of Rites was so agitated he nearly tripped.
The Vice Minister of Rites quickly caught him and said, “Be careful, my lord.”
The Minister of Rites: “Thank you.”
With conviction in his voice, the Vice Minister of Rites said: “You should rest for now. Allow me to take over!”
The Minister of Rites was moved to tears: “Good! You are truly one of our own in the Ministry of Rites.”
The Vice Minister of Rites helped his superior aside, then adjusted his official robes and declared righteously: “This minister supports His Majesty’s decision to posthumously honor Consort Yun as Empress!”
The Minister of Rites: “…”
He looked at his subordinate in disbelief before realizing with sudden clarity—this seemingly loyal subordinate was actually one of His Majesty’s men!
The Vice Minister of Rites had been summoned to the palace yesterday for an afternoon-long discussion. Naturally, he knew exactly when he was supposed to step forward.
He smoothly handed over the conversation to Emperor Chongzhao: “Your Majesty is wise and virtuous and will surely ensure that no calamities from the previous dynasty will repeat themselves. Honoring Consort Yun as Empress must mean Your Majesty has already devised a complete plan.”
Emperor Chongzhao replied with satisfaction: “Indeed. You understand me well.”
The Minister of Rites couldn’t help but curse inwardly.
Could you two possibly act any more obvious?
Emperor Chongzhao continued: “I have decided to abolish the ancestral rule that forbids consorts who bear imperial sons from being posthumously honored as Empress. At the same time, I will abolish the inherited precedent from the previous dynasty that grants sons of posthumously honored Empresses substantive priority in succession.”
Abolishing ancestral rules and inherited precedents.
This would fundamentally prevent a repeat of the previous dynasty’s conflict between two rival princes.
Some officials hesitated and muttered: “But… it is still an ancestral rule…”
Emperor Chongzhao responded sharply: “Taizu established this rule not because it was perfect but to pacify and consolidate support from ministers of the previous dynasty, stabilizing internal affairs and securing peace across the realm. Now that Great Zhou is stable and its people loyal, why should I not abolish this rule?”
The officials began deliberating among themselves in hushed tones.
From his dragon throne, Emperor Chongzhao’s voice suddenly deepened.
“Or are you suggesting that your loyalties still lie with the previous dynasty? That even one outdated precedent from their time cannot be abolished?”
This accusation was far too severe.
Startled, all officials bowed their heads and said in unison: “We would not dare!”
Emperor Chongzhao rose from his seat and swept his gaze over them with his sleeves billowing. He looked down at the gathered officials and said coldly: “If it does not harm our nation’s foundation—in fact, if it benefits it—why can’t old rules and precedents be changed or abolished? Do you serve your ancestors’ memorial tablets? Great Zhou? Or me?”
“What is an ancestral rule? If I change or abolish it today, then in a hundred years’ time it will *become* an ancestral rule!”
The Minister of Rites saw through this performance entirely but couldn’t help feeling sorry for himself after his earlier dramatic kneeling slide across the floor. He was first to bow deeply and declare: “Your Majesty is wise!”
Emperor Chongzhao smiled faintly and softened his stance slightly: “Since the Seventh Prince is still young, I will select another consort to raise him instead of placing him under the care of an Empress. All princes will be treated equally. Do any of you have further objections?”
He refrained from mentioning anything related to what the Astrology Bureau had said about his youngest son. Though arguing with ministers like this was troublesome, it was far better than letting rumors spread about how “His Majesty abolished ancestral rules and honored Consort Yun as Empress solely to suppress the Seventh Prince’s ominous fate,” which would only put his young son under greater scrutiny.
After such firm pressure followed by a concession on face-saving matters, there was little point in continuing opposition.
Since it did not harm national stability, these elder officials had no desire to keep fighting over this issue with their emperor.
The Minister of Rites accepted the decree. The matter of posthumously honoring Consort Yun as Empress was thus settled. What remained were formalities like selecting an auspicious date for rituals, offering incense, carving her posthumous title onto tablets, and registering it with their records.
As court dispersed, Prince Ming nodded toward the imperial clan members who had been dragged into attendance and said cheerfully: “Thank you for your hard work!”
Though mostly figureheads within court politics, their presence was necessary for such matters involving changes to ancestral rules; otherwise, His Majesty would have had to summon them later for a separate meeting—wasting even more time.
“In future cases like this,” one muttered under their breath as they left, “just notify us beforehand so we don’t have to play mascots here.”
And thus concluded another harmonious session between ruler and ministers.
Hmm, alright.