TGPSAC – Chapter 87

The pacifying pills needed to be taken two days in advance; otherwise, pheromones would leak out during the first two days of the Rain and Dew Period. It wouldn’t be much, unnoticeable unless one was close.

Typically, a Kun Ze would rest at home on the first day of their Rain and Dew Period to prevent any issues.

No, that wasn’t right. Yu Jiuzhou hadn’t forgone medication; she had used a suppression patch.

Curiously, Chi Wan lifted Yu Jiuzhou’s hair and indeed saw a suppression patch behind her ear.

“Your Highness, the pills I developed have no side effects.”

She truly didn’t understand why Yu Jiuzhou would use a suppression patch when there were better pills available. After all, the patches were only effective for a limited time, unlike the pacifying pills, which could last for a long while.

Yu Jiuzhou shot her a look. “I trust your medicine.”

“Then why doesn’t Your Highness use it?”

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”

Yu Jiuzhou huffed lightly. This person was getting bolder, even daring to lift her hair to look. Didn’t she know that a female Kun Ze’s hair shouldn’t be touched carelessly, and that the back of the neck was a place to be covered with a ribbon?

Chi Wan obediently withdrew her hand. “Fine, I won’t ask. But Your Highness can’t be cross with me.”

She scooted closer to Yu Jiuzhou, who was amused by her coquettish and endearing behavior.

Who would have thought that the same Chi Wan who had acted like a brute in the Xuanzheng Hall could be so adept at acting cute and coy in private?

Some of her recklessness was for show, but her obedient, charming side was real.

Yu Jiuzhou’s heart softened, and she reached out to ruffle Chi Wan’s hair. “Fool.”

“Your Highness, have you ever seen a fool as clever as me?”

“That’s hard to say.”

After all, some people who were brilliant in their careers were slow in other matters. A clever fool wasn’t an impossible description.

Chi Wan grumbled, “Your Highness, we’re in for some trouble now.”

What came next was that Prince Bao’an would try every means possible to scheme for the position of Imperial Heir. If that failed, he might even plot for the throne itself.

Yu Jiuzhou pondered for a moment. “In our last life, Prince Bao’an outlived me. That is his advantage. But he returned later than I did.”

If Prince Bao’an had returned earlier, he wouldn’t have married a male consort from the Dong family instead of Dong Zhilan.

However, a Prince Bao’an who knew the future and had been an emperor for many years would certainly be more cunning and calculating.

But as things stood, aside from rebellion or forcing the Emperor to abdicate, Prince Bao’an had almost no other options.

“Prince Bao’an is very good at pretending. But having returned so suddenly, a man accustomed to being emperor will likely not tolerate defiance from others. And the Duke of Xin wants to be a powerful minister, one whom even the emperor must obey. In my last life, I kept him in check, so the Duke of Xin never got his way. He truly believes the Duke of Xin is an obedient man.”

In this life, without her, could Yu Yichen and the Duke of Xin still get along?

Moreover, with Dong Zhilan in the Princess’s Residence, the Duke of Xin had another option. Would he still serve Prince Bao’an with all his heart?

In this life, everything had changed. One step behind meant always being a step behind.

Chi Wan hardly thought about the original novel’s plot anymore. By now, the story had completely diverged, and their foreknowledge was no longer an advantage.

But they had used that foreknowledge to build a significant lead. If they still lost, one could only say it was the will of Heaven.

But fate was not immutable. She believed more in the idea that man could conquer destiny.

“Your Highness, Prince Bao’an is a hypocrite. Such a person is far more terrifying than a true villain.”

Chi Wan felt that Prince Bao’an would not be easy to deal with.

Yu Jiuzhou knew that, of course. She just smiled. “If not Prince Bao’an, it would be someone else. This path was always meant to be paved with bones.”

“True.” Chi Wan smiled along with her. “In any case, whatever Your Highness wishes to do, I will be there with you.”

Yu Jiuzhou couldn’t help but turn to look at her smiling face, her heart filled with joy. “Then I will certainly not disappoint you.”

“Does that mean Your Highness will give me anything I ask for?”

“It’s not impossible.”

Yu Jiuzhou’s reply was full of regal confidence. What if she asked for the moon and stars? Or what if she wanted to leave?

Although she no longer had any intention of leaving, who could say for sure what the future held?

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Inside Prince Bao’an’s Residence.

News of Prince Bao’an’s confinement had reached the residence, and his concubines were in a panic. Some of his less loyal followers were already considering whether to leave.

Another group had been drawn to Prince Bao’an because of his reputation for treating worthy men with respect and honoring his advisors. But after his recent outburst, where he had even struck several advisors, some hearts were no longer so steadfast.

Prince Bao’an returned to his residence with a dark expression. Although the incident at the Autumn Water Pavilion hadn’t led to greater consequences, he found his confinement unbearable.

No matter what, he was a dignified emperor. It had been too many years since he had tasted such humiliation.

Fortunately, Prince Ying was finished. He was dragged to the grand prison without even a chance to beg for mercy. Once inside, there was no getting out. It wouldn’t be long before the Grand Secretariat condemned him, and his entire household would be slaughtered.

Thinking of Prince Ying’s fate, a sense of sorrow washed over him. The fight for the throne was perilous; for the loser, there was only death. He had won in his past life. In this one, he had only half-won.

As it stood, there was no one left to contend with him for the throne. Even if the Emperor propped up another member of the imperial clan, Emperor Shengyuan didn’t have long to live. When the time came, what right would a clan member with no power base have to challenge him?

Unless, of course, Grand Princess Yu Jiuzhou backed that clan member. Otherwise, on what grounds could they compete with him?

That was it. That must be Emperor Shengyuan’s plan. A new member of the imperial clan would soon be brought onto the stage to oppose him.

Just as Prince Bao’an was wondering who would be put up against him, he returned to his residence to find his people looking unsettled. He knew at once that the imperial edict for his confinement had arrived. This bunch—they ate his food and used his resources, yet such a small setback was already making them have second thoughts.

Very well. He would use this period of confinement, when he had nothing else to do, to properly discipline the people in his residence.

The Duke of Xin had told him that he would have to wait, at most, until the foreign envoys arrived in the capital. The Emperor would need an adult prince to receive them.

The Beining delegation included their Great King, and the Nanyue delegation had a Royal Princess. Emperor Shengyuan would have to send someone of equivalent rank.

To show the importance Great Zhou placed on the visit, they certainly couldn’t send someone of a lower rank and slight their guests.

Prince Bao’an had already figured out how he would pass the time.

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Meanwhile, the Duke of Xin and Grand Secretary Gao Zheng each had their own plans.

During the court session today, the Duke of Xin had hesitated to speak. But things had come to this point; Prince Ying had to be eliminated for his son-in-law, Prince Bao’an, to become the biggest winner. Seeing that the evidence was conclusive and Grand Princess Yu Jiuzhou remained silent, he assumed she wanted to protect Prince Ying. Just then, Gao Zheng spoke up, and he followed suit.

In truth, neither Prince Ying nor Prince Bao’an had much influence in the military; both were inferior to Prince Zhongshan. Though Prince Zhongshan’s plan had been reckless, his boldness and his knowledge of how to cultivate military power were good qualities.

No matter the era, having troops meant having power.

Why had he, Dong Xiaoqi, become the head of the military officials upon his return to the capital? Because he held military authority.

The Prince of Lingnan, the Duke of Xu, and that little brat, the Marquis of Pingliang—did they really think they could be his equals just because they inherited their family titles and were trusted by His Majesty with a hundred thousand troops?

The Prince of Lingnan was one thing. His lineage had guarded Lingnan for generations. Emperors had come and gone, but they remained in Lingnan, never meddling in the capital’s affairs, only guarding their territory.

As for the Duke of Xu, his family had led armies for generations. The troops stationed at the East Sea were even known as the Xu Family Army. If the Duke of Xu were to return, he would have to stand behind him.

Therefore, the Duke of Xu and the Marquis of Pingliang had to either die or be sidelined in the capital.

He couldn’t achieve that right now, because Emperor Shengyuan was too suspicious. He didn’t trust the Duke of Xu, and he certainly wouldn’t trust him.

In fact, the Emperor probably trusted the Duke of Xu more. After all, the Emperor merely disliked the Xu family’s influence in the military; he wouldn’t believe they would betray him.

As for the Marquis of Pingliang, she was a cub the Emperor had raised himself. How could he not trust her?

So, among all of them, he was likely the one the Emperor trusted the least.

Therefore, he had no chance during the Shengyuan reign. His opportunity lay in the merit of backing a new emperor.

As it was, he was hedging his bets. Whether Prince Bao’an became emperor or the Grand Princess became regent, he would have a place.

It would be best if Prince Bao’an became emperor. The Grand Princess had too many people she could rely on—the Marquis of Pingliang, with whom she grew up, and her maternal relatives, the Xu family. But Prince Bao’an could only rely on him.

After weighing all the options, the Duke of Xin still felt it was best to support Prince Bao’an with ninety percent of his family’s strength, leaving the remaining ten percent as a fallback for the Dong family.

If he wanted the Dong family to become like the Xu family, he couldn’t be afraid to lose.

If he won the gamble, he would be the most powerful minister in Great Zhou, and perhaps even usurp the throne later on.

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“The Duke of Xin is an ambitious man. Forcing him to acknowledge a master is inviting a backlash.” Gao Zheng stood in the most luxurious courtyard in the capital, aside from the Imperial Palace and the Grand Princess’s Residence, watching the fish in the pond scramble for the food he scattered.

Suddenly, a paw shot out, and a fish was slapped onto the bank. Just as the fish flopped, trying to get back into the water, a shadow pounced, pinning it down again and biting through its neck with a single crunch.

Gao Zheng glanced over, his tone resigned. “Xiao Hei, you’re catching my fish again. Is the kitchen not feeding you enough?”

The only response he received was a “meow.”

The black cat trotted off with the fish in its mouth, leaving Gao Zheng alone. “You… in this whole residence, you’re the only one who stirs up a bit of life from time to time. Otherwise, it’s deathly still.”

He had spoken up in court today because he had seen that the Emperor, the Grand Princess, and Prince Bao’an all wanted Prince Ying dead. That was why he had spoken first.

At the same time, he had also discerned what the Duke of Xin was truly after.

Indeed, when one was in the middle of a whirlpool, it was impossible to see anything clearly. Ever since his son’s incident, which had left the Gao family a hollow shell and him with only one path forward, he could see everything with perfect clarity.

He stirred the pond with his fishing rod, muddying the water. “Your Highness, the water is murky now, but it will clear soon enough. What are your plans, I wonder?”

After the water became turbid, many fish hid at the bottom of the pond. When it gradually cleared, they emerged again to fight for the food.

This was just like the great clans. When the realm was in chaos, they would hide away, writing books and cultivating their reputations so that no one would dare kill them. Once the realm was pacified, they would emerge again to help the emperor govern, though in reality, they were just carving up the benefits.

He, Gao Zheng, had truly risen from the bottom. His family was from a small village. To have been able to study, pass the exams, and rise to the position of Grand Secretary—what had he relied on?

In his life, Gao Zheng had known hardship before twenty and stagnation before thirty. Then he began to grasp the art of officialdom, and for twenty years, he had climbed step by step to the position of Grand Secretary.

No background, no resources, he had risen on his own, treading on thin ice his entire life.

If not for his son’s foolish cleverness, he, Gao Zheng, would not be in his current predicament. But that was the only child his late wife had left him.

It was for this reason that Gao Zheng was willing to preside over the reforms.

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Hearing Gao Zheng’s life story for the first time, Chi Wan was deeply moved. “To rise from a peasant boy to the position of Grand Secretary, and a Grand Secretary not yet sixty… if he doesn’t make a mistake, he still has a long road ahead of him.”

Unfortunately, he had a son who dragged him down. Otherwise, he could have presided over Great Zhou’s government for at least another ten years.

Yu Jiuzhou glanced at Chun Gui, signaling her to add more water to the foot basin, then said, “In his youth, Gao Zheng said that to be a good official is to serve the people. Whether an act is right or wrong should be judged by the common folk, not by high officials.”

Chi Wan raised an eyebrow. “That makes sense. Some high officials value moral character, others value profit. Every person’s definition of a good official is different.”

But the people’s judgment was uniform: whoever could fill their bellies and stand up for them was a good official.

Yu Jiuzhou lifted her feet out of the water, and Chi Wan took the towel and began to dry them for her.

Watching Chi Wan’s lowered head and focused expression, a hint of joy colored her eyes. “In the world of officialdom, one must blend in. Otherwise, you become an outcast.”

You would be ostracized and suppressed by everyone. That was why Gao Zheng had been severely pushed aside when he first became an official.

“It’s difficult, not being able to go with the flow, yet not being able to be a complete maverick either.”

Chi Wan knew that in the Great Zhou court, one couldn’t get promoted without blending in. But to do the same things as them would weigh on her conscience.

It was like Zhang Juzheng, a man who worked for the good of the country but had to pretend to be an arrogant and extravagant person, carried in a sedan chair by thirty-two men—what a lavish Grand Secretary.

But many believed he was putting on an act, a disguise to better carry out his work. Everyone called him a great corrupt official, yet when the Wanli Emperor confiscated his property after his death, they found no silver at all.

That even a man like him had to use such a disguise showed just how difficult it was for those who truly wanted to get things done.

Yu Jiuzhou slipped her feet into fur-lined slippers. “What about you? If it were you, what would you do?”

“Me?” Chi Wan smiled. She liked practicing medicine, not being an official. But Yu Jiuzhou was surely asking what she would do in Gao Zheng’s situation. She thought for a moment. “Respect others, but do as I please.”

Those eight words were brilliant.

Yu Jiuzhou laughed, a bright, happy sound. “That’s just like you. You haven’t disappointed me.”

What a fine sentiment: respect others, but do as I please.

Chi Wan’s thinking was simple: respect others’ views and lifestyles, and they shouldn’t point fingers at hers.

Looking back, she had done quite a lot since coming to this world.

And looking at the current situation, it was actually quite clear. The next step was to ensure Prince Bao’an was completely cut off from the throne, and then find a way for Yu Jiuzhou to ascend.

Once Yu Jiuzhou’s intention to ascend the throne as a female Kun Ze was exposed, it would attract the hostility of countless people.

In any case, they absolutely could not do so without absolute power.

Next came military authority. As long as they controlled enough troops, their chances of winning would be much higher.

Chi Wan asked with a smile, “Your Highness, would you like a massage today?”

Her skills were excellent. The last time she gave Yu Jiuzhou an essential oil massage, the effect had been remarkable. She had been so flustered by a kiss that she couldn’t sleep all night, while this person had slept like a log until dawn, waking up full of energy.

Even with her internal energy, she couldn’t avoid having dark circles under her eyes.

Yu Jiuzhou waved her hand. “No need. I have something to discuss with you today.”

“What is it?” Could it be about consummating their marriage?

Chi Wan’s clear eyes darted about. She felt that Yu Jiuzhou must want to consummate their marriage today.

“Something to discuss” must mean discussing the matter of consummation.

She followed Yu Jiuzhou into the heated room of the inner chamber, only to see a massive table bearing a sand tray model.

What was this? Not consummation, but war?

Yu Jiuzhou walked forward, drew a sword from a rack of several, and from the hum it made, one could tell it was a fine blade.

She pointed the hilt at Chi Wan. “I want to command the army. What is your strategy?”

So it was about strategy. She had gotten her hopes up for nothing.

Chi Wan looked at the sand tray and immediately understood. It was a map of the capital and the thirteen provinces.

“Great Zhou claims to have 2.8 million troops, but in reality, having 2 million would be the absolute maximum, right?”

She asked this first, mainly because she wanted to know how severe the problem of empty payrolls was.

Yu Jiuzhou shook her head. “It’s worse than that. The Garrison Army is the local force, and it has never been at full strength. At most, it’s at half strength. The stationed armies are moved around constantly, so their situation is slightly better, probably at seventy percent.”

That was rather outrageous. The discrepancy was too large.

Chi Wan continued, “Take Minyue as an example. It has eight prefectures and two directly-administered subprefectures. Whether a prefecture or a subprefecture, each has a chiliarchy, which, as the name suggests, should have one thousand garrison soldiers. That means Minyue should have ten thousand garrison soldiers. But according to Your Highness, if they are only at half strength, then there are only five thousand. This means the central government is paying to support ten thousand soldiers but is only getting five thousand.”

“And the stationed armies are different. The capital has the Capital Garrison, and Minyue has the Southern Garrison. Compared to the Capital Garrison, local stationed armies only have three major camps, unless they are near the border.”

“Great Zhou claims to have 1.5 million deployable troops, but in reality, it’s only seventy percent of that. The remaining one million troops are even fewer, aren’t they? Moreover, if there’s trouble in Nanyue, you can’t deploy troops from the north. If there’s trouble in the East Sea, you can’t use troops from Lingnan. In that case, the truly deployable forces, not counting the Capital Garrison and the Dragon Guard Army, wouldn’t exceed five hundred thousand.”

That number was still substantial, but if Beining and Nanyue attacked at the same time, where would those five hundred thousand troops be sent?

Yu Jiuzhou described the current situation. “There were people in the Jinwu Guard, the Imperial Guard, and the Capital Garrison who followed the rebel princes. I’ve used this opportunity to take control of the Imperial Guard and most of the Jinwu Guard, as well as three of the Five Army Camps. But as you know, if something were to happen, it could very well lead to regional commanders carving out their own territories.”

This was her greatest worry. If those stationed generals became warlords with their own armies, establishing themselves as kings in their territories, it would be incredibly difficult to handle. What hope would the people of Great Zhou have then?

The stationed armies scattered across the land were indeed a difficult problem.

But history had already provided successful examples of how to deal with such situations.

Chi Wan thought for a moment. “First, reclaim the authority to command and deploy local armies. That is, without an edict from His Majesty, local armies cannot be mobilized.”

“Second, break up the military camps into smaller units. A camp of twenty thousand should be divided into camps of five thousand. Once dispersed, they can act as checks on each other. Also, send someone to conduct ideological education in the camps. The Imperial City Division guards have learned this; they are constantly instilled with the idea of loyalty to His Majesty and the people. Most importantly, they can monitor the army. Furthermore, the people in charge of finances, troops, and promotions within a camp must not be the same person.”

“Third, internal transfers. Move southern troops to the north. Mid- to high-level commanders, except for the chief commander, should be reassigned every three years. It would be best to concentrate most of the army near the capital, reduce the size of local stationed armies, and restructure the system into three branches: the Capital Garrison, the Garrison Army, and the Border Defense Army. Abolish the stationed armies.”

At this point, Chi Wan placed the sword down next to the Capital Garrison on the map. “Your Highness, this is all I can think of for now.”

But Yu Jiuzhou’s eyes grew brighter and brighter. “You’re right. The power of promotion should be given to a Military Supervisor, the power to command troops to a Commander, and for military pay, the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of War should each send two officials to supervise each other and prevent corruption.”

“I will write a detailed memorial on this matter and present it to His Majesty in a couple of days.” She also had some of her own ideas on the subject.

Chi Wan was puzzled. “Why in a couple of days?”

Then she saw Yu Jiuzhou’s cheeks flush, a red that was rapidly deepening.

Yu Jiuzhou shot her another look, but this one was utterly bewitching. It made Chi Wan’s whole body feel weak, and a strange longing bloomed in her heart.

She took a careful sniff of the air. In just that short time, the cold, sharp fragrance in the room seemed to have grown stronger.

It was spring now. The ice and snow had long since melted, and nature had returned to life. Outside, the world was bursting with the vibrancy of spring, a sight that lifted one’s spirits.

There was no biting cold. In fact, the scent was more like waking up in the morning after a night of snowfall. The moment you opened the door, the clean, fresh scent of snow would rush to greet you, with the occasional hint of flowers—plum blossoms, perhaps, or something else—lingering on the breeze.

On the pristine snow, there were only the adorable paw prints of kittens and puppies.

Chi Wan desperately wanted to ruin this scene she had imagined, to run out and roll around in the snow, to make the cold, aloof snow turn “hot.”

The floral scent lingering at the tip of her nose grew stronger, rushing into her nostrils and flooding her body, stirring her own pheromones. Soon, another fragrance filled the room.

It was like brewing a pot of fine tea while lighting a stick of agarwood incense—a blend of two distinct scents.

The moment Yu Jiuzhou smelled that faint, elegant fragrance, she knew something was about to erupt, something that would be impossible to control.

She felt her body go weak and almost couldn’t support herself. She had to brace her hands on the table. Her long, slender, fair fingers pressed down hard on the sand tray table. Two-thirds of her nail beds were red, one-third white, a clear sign of the force she was exerting.

Chi Wan’s own long, well-defined hands also gripped the edge of the table, the veins on the back of them bulging slightly. Her veins weren’t thick, but they stood out clearly when she exerted herself.

With the table between them, they looked up at each other. Their gazes met in mid-air, and something new sparked between them.

If not for the table separating them, they might have already lost control and thrown themselves into each other’s arms.

They were both dressed in white nightclothes, which were thin due to the warmth of the room, doing little to hide their fine figures.

After a long moment, Yu Jiuzhou spoke, her voice suppressed, unable to conceal the desire within. “Chi Wan, hold me.”

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