WK Chapter 26.2

“Zhang Fanming, Chief of the Astrology Bureau, for concealing information, deemed as deceiving the emperor, is awarded 100 strokes of the cane and granted to walk ten steps on a nail path.”

 

Zhang Fanming knew that after 100 strokes and walking ten steps on nails, this “award” and “grant” would likely cripple his legs permanently. He closed his eyes deeply.

 

“This minister thanks Your Majesty for the gracious award.”

 

After he was dragged away for punishment, Emperor Chongzhao didn’t want to stay in the blood-scented hall.

 

Head Eunuch Yu asked: “Your Majesty, do we still need to investigate the cause of the Astrology Bureau fire?”

 

“I just tricked him earlier, you should have seen through it,” Emperor Chongzhao said.

 

“Your Majesty didn’t intend to kill Minister Zhang.”

 

Emperor Chongzhao shook his head and asked instead, “How’s the investigation at the Imperial Hospital going?”

 

“There are leads, still investigating.”

 

“News spreads too quickly inside and outside the palace,” Emperor Chongzhao said. “Clear out a batch. Also, issue orders to strengthen patrols in all palaces. If there are any more mishaps like these past few days, I’ll have their heads.”

 

“Yes.” Head Eunuch Yu slowly grasped the meaning.

 

He realized he had been wrong earlier. His Majesty clearly did want to kill Minister Zhang, but Zhang Fanming’s resolute, life-risking action in the face of His Majesty’s suspicion had actually carved out a path for his survival. If he had shown even a moment’s hesitation, it likely wouldn’t have been as simple as just losing half his life.

 

Throwing the knife to the ground was also His Majesty reminding Minister Zhang not to forget that the Astrology Bureau’s power comes from the emperor.

 

What His Majesty can give, he can also take away.

 

–

 

Astrology Bureau.

 

Zhang Fanming lay on a bamboo board, his lower body covered in blood, his feet pierced with small bloody holes from the nail path. Red blood dripped through the cracks of the bamboo board.

 

Reaching the Astrology Bureau’s stone tablet, he hoarsely called out: “Stop.”

 

The two eunuchs carrying the bamboo board stopped. Zhang Fanming raised his head to look at the stone tablet. The ancestral teachings carved in stone had been burned black, the inscribed characters barely visible upon close inspection.

 

“Uncle doesn’t look too well.”

 

Zhang Chansi approached, looking down at the miserable state of her blood relative.

 

She gestured for the two young eunuchs to put Zhang Fanming down. After they left and no outsiders remained, she crouched down and sighed: “The Zhang family’s ancestral teachings, how many times must uncle read them to remember thoroughly?”

 

Zhang Fanming coughed up blood, his tone self-mocking and sneering.

 

“You think the good days the Astrology Bureau has had these past few years came from whom? Without me, the Astrology Bureau would still be a dispensable existence in the imperial palace. Respect? Hah… Who would respect us? What kind of officials are we if we don’t even qualify to attend court?”

 

“The Astrology family enjoys hereditary official positions, but descendants can’t take the imperial exams or climb higher. How is this different from a cage? We’re just birds kept by the royal nobility for amusement. The emperor can kill us at will, and even if one of us dies inexplicably, the previous dynasty wouldn’t react. They might not even know.”

 

He had gambled half his life to survive this time.

 

Zhang Fanming was betting.

 

In that moment of crisis, he cleverly fabricated a second solution to the emperor about posthumously conferring the title of Empress on Consort Yun, and that he hadn’t avoided the new officials when divining.

 

This information could potentially reach the ears of interested parties.

 

If the posthumous conferral succeeds, the Seventh Prince would become half-legitimate in terms of ritual law. According to the inherited rituals from the previous dynasty, with the current Empress having no offspring, he would naturally have a superior status.

 

Many people absolutely wouldn’t want to see this happen.

 

Thus, regarding the three recent fires and recent events, His Majesty would, to some extent, associate them with power struggles.

 

Zhang Fanming now recalled with lingering fear.

 

His Majesty had actually had people watch him for two years before fully trusting him. When he heard those words earlier, it was like being bitten in the neck by a fierce tiger, his hair standing on end. Fortunately… otherwise, he might not have had the chance to live until now.

 

He grabbed Zhang Chansi’s robe.

 

“Good niece, have someone carry your uncle inside. Once your uncle recovers, the Astrology Bureau’s good days will continue.”

 

Zhang Chansi’s pale blue robe now bore bloody fingerprints. Her faint gaze held a hint of pity, “Since uncle is ill, you should rest well. I remember there’s an empty room at home, most suitable for recuperation. Uncle staying there for a while will surely recover.”

 

Zhang Fanming couldn’t believe it, “You… you want to confine me?”

 

“No, you want to take my place!”

 

Though his lower body was numb, he felt as if he’d fallen into an ice pit. Staring at his niece’s cold, indifferent face, Zhang Fanming suddenly felt incredibly absurd.

 

Escaping from the tiger’s mouth at Zichen Palace, only to be stabbed in the back by his own family.

 

Zhang Chansi: “Uncle taught me that people should climb higher. There’s nothing wrong with climbing higher or wanting power, but uncle took the wrong path. Your move is extremely dangerous. Taking this chance to withdraw might still leave a glimmer of hope. If you continue down this path, sooner or later it will lead to the family’s destruction.”

 

She slowly pulled back her robe.

 

“I’m helping you, uncle.”

 

Zhang Fanming’s hand reluctantly struck the cold ground, under the cold gaze of the bureau’s stone tablet inscribed with teachings, smearing the ashes from the fire.

 

–

 

Zichen Palace.

 

Qu Dubian woke up around nine o’clock.

 

Ye Xiaoyuan had been watching over him, occasionally feeling his forehead to check his temperature.

 

Qu Dubian’s fever was simulated, so even after taking medicine, it would quickly rise again. He raised his hand to touch the cooling cotton cloth wrapped with ice on his head, “Ye Banban.”

 

His voice was hoarse and small.

 

Qu Dubian was relieved; at least it didn’t sound like a little crow’s voice anymore, it had improved a bit.

 

Remembering Physician Yang’s words and worried his young prince might become simple-minded from the fever, Ye Xiaoyuan anxiously asked when he saw him awake: “Your Highness, is there anywhere you feel uncomfortable?”

 

Qu Dubian pointed to his head, then his throat, and finally his stomach, then giggled, “Hungry!” He sat up, wrapping his arms around Ye Xiaoyuan’s neck, hanging onto him, “Eat.”

 

He wasn’t uncomfortable, just a little weak from the body’s effects. He acted lively to avoid worrying Ye Banban.

 

Ye Xiaoyuan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and called for someone to prepare some food.

 

“Banban, where is this?” Qu Dubian knew he was in Zichen Palace, but others didn’t know he knew. He looked around, showing a child’s curiosity.

 

“It’s so big, much bigger than Ju’an Hall.”

 

He touched the blanket, bed curtains, and bed posts with fascination.

 

Eunuch Bao brought the food prepared by the palace servants. These were dishes Ye Xiaoyuan had requested last night, knowing Qu Dubian’s tastes.

 

“Young Prince, this is where His Majesty lives, of course it’s big.” Eunuch Bao smiled as he placed the wooden tray of dishes on the kang table by the window, patting the embroidered cushion on top, “Xiaoyuan Gonggong, bring the prince here.”

 

The hall wasn’t cold, with the floor heating working well. Qu Dubian wore a thin jacket as Ye Xiaoyuan carried him over.

 

There was also a vase of yellow plums on the small kang table, giving off a fragrant aroma.

 

Qu Dubian took a small bowl himself. His hands were too small to use chopsticks easily, so he often used a small spoon to eat. Ye Xiaoyuan only occasionally helped him pick up some food.

 

“Where’s Xiaochun?”

 

“At the imperial kitchen. They’re investigating the arson incident there.” He watched the young prince’s emotions, noticing no significant reaction when hearing “this is where His Majesty lives.”

 

He silently took note.

 

The young prince had left a note while sick, disappeared for an afternoon just to see His Majesty once, yet now he seemed so calm.

 

Qu Dubian also thought of the Astrology Bureau fire. He bit into a small steamed bun and said: “Xiaochun is so obedient, it’s clear he has nothing to do with it. Ye Banban, tell him to come back soon.” His throat was still swollen, making it a bit difficult to swallow.

 

Ye Xiaoyuan replied calmly: “Yes, Your Highness is right.”

 

Master and servant occasionally exchanged a few words, appearing quite harmonious.

 

Emperor Chongzhao stopped behind the screen, lost in thought for a moment, not entering.

 

It was Eunuch Bao who noticed him, snapping out of his fascination with how adorable the young prince looked while eating. He hurried to greet him, “Your Majesty.”

 

Emperor Chongzhao paused, then stepped in, his gaze falling directly on Qu Dubian eating by the window.

 

The child’s cheeks were puffed out, still chewing. His eyes were clean and bright, nine-tenths similar to his mother’s. His small face was thin, sitting there like an underdeveloped, deflated bun.

 

There was no trace of how clingy he had been when sick last night, unable to be separated from him at all.

 

Emperor Chongzhao thought to himself that when the child came to cling to him again later, he’d have to say something. How could the relationship between an imperial father and son be the same as that of common people?

 

Qu Dubian still held a crystal bun in his hand, his chewing slowing down.

 

Ye Xiaoyuan bowed: “Greetings to Your Majesty.”

 

Emperor Chongzhao cleared his throat: “Mm.”

 

The young child at the table finally moved. He swallowed the food in his mouth, his clear eyes showing a glimpse of the intelligence Grand Tutor Fang had mentioned.

 

Qu Dubian looked at him for several seconds like this.

 

Then he spoke: “Greetings to Your Majesty.”

 

It was “Your Majesty,” not “Father Emperor.”

 

Just like the “Father” he didn’t say out loud that night when he reached out for a hug, he would no longer say it easily. There was none of the hope and expectation from their first meeting, only quiet stillness.

 

Qu Dubian gently hid the hand holding the crystal bun behind his back.

 

Even his sitting posture became somewhat careful, as if in a stranger’s home. He quietly explained: “I was hungry, that’s why I’m eating here. I won’t…”

 

The child paused slightly, his voice lowering.

 

“I won’t… leave anything bad here.”

 

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