The Marquis of Yin Nan was indeed heading straight for Prince Qin’s carriage.
He stopped two steps away and bowed according to protocol. “This official greets Prince Qin… and the consort.”
The carriage curtain shifted. Chu Zhao got out, mounted his horse, and looked down from above. “Marquis of Yin Nan, what business do you have?”
The curtain fell, and there was no other movement inside. The Marquis of Yin Nan gritted his teeth. “May I speak privately with the consort?”
“Privately.” Chu Zhao repeated the word with amusement, tapping his riding crop in his hand. “The consort is family with me now. What ‘family matters’ do you have to discuss with the Marquis of Yin Nan?”
Chu Zhao’s words were half mockery, half genuine good mood. That simple phrase from Shen Ziqin earlier-“come home for dinner”-was enough to make him forgive a lot of foolishness and foolish people today.
Hei Ying couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Chu Zhao.
Why did it sound like the prince was showing off just now? Was it his imagination?
At this moment, a muffled voice came from inside the carriage: “Your Highness, go on to the barracks first. Don’t waste time on people who aren’t worth it.”
Chu Zhao turned his horse, rode up to the carriage window, and leaned in to say through the curtain, “Alright, don’t bother with him. Rest is more important.”
With that, Chu Zhao tugged the reins. “Let’s go!”
His guards followed, leaving fewer people by the Prince Qin’s carriage, but the pressure on the Marquis of Yin Nan didn’t lessen at all.
After all, there were still other guards around-all strong and imposing, except for that white-haired youth.
But even the white hair was eye-catching enough.
The Marquis of Yin Nan looked toward the carriage, his feelings complicated.
He’d thought the time was right-the emperor’s favor toward Prince Qin after the wedding should be fading, so he’d planned to submit a memorial about replacing the heir of the marquisate.
But as luck would have it, Shen Ziqin had come to court.
Not only that, but he’d attended court while ill, earning praise from the emperor and everyone else. If the marquis raised the issue now, he’d just be putting himself on the spot.
How had he never realized the sickly heir actually had such talent for officialdom?
If the Marquis of Yin Nan had any sense, he’d be feeling wary, or even regretful by now-maybe even shameless enough to try currying favor with Shen Ziqin.
But clearly, that wasn’t the case.
Not only was he shortsighted, but he still saw himself as the elder, believing his son was his property-a classic case of not seeing others as people, though he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.
From inside the carriage, Shen Ziqin only cracked the window a sliver. “There’s nothing for us to talk about. If you really want to say something, go burn incense for your late wife. You let her down, and you let her son down too.”
The Marquis of Yin Nan frowned. “We’re still father and son by blood. A father is a son’s guide. Don’t think a few words of praise from the emperor mean you can speak to your father like this. You’re an official now-aren’t you afraid of being called unfilial?”
Shen Ziqin laughed.
“I’d talk to you this way even without the emperor’s praise. Is this the first day you’ve met me?”
Did he still think Shen Ziqin was the powerless heir trapped in the back courtyard, bullied at will?
“And don’t use filial piety to pressure me. Others might be afraid, but I’m not.” Filial or not, it depends on the person. With a father like the Marquis of Yin Nan, maybe a traditional son would suffer in silence, but unfortunately for him, Shen Ziqin wasn’t going to put up with it.
Shen Ziqin raised his hand and closed the last sliver of the carriage window tight.
He yawned, sounding ready to sleep again inside the carriage: “Let’s go.”
The Marquis of Yin Nan hurried forward: “Wait!”
“Marquis, please stop!” The armed guards stepped up and forced him back. “Since the consort isn’t receiving you, please come another day. Don’t make things difficult for us.”
Bai Xiao’s hand was already on his sword. Though he was just a boy, his voice was clear and bright: “If my brothers are troubled, I’ll handle it. My job is to protect my master-nothing else matters.”
The Marquis of Yin Nan recoiled in shock: “You, you all-”
Taking advantage of his retreat, the guards whistled, and the coachman snapped the reins, driving the carriage away, leaving the Marquis of Yin Nan standing there, face ashen.
Other officials leaving court witnessed the scene, whispering among themselves. The Marquis of Yin Nan snapped out of it, his face alternating red and white, and he stormed off in embarrassment.
Inside the carriage, Shen Ziqin closed his eyes. Before falling asleep, he thought blandly: In a few days, the marquisate will change hands. He’d hoped to just ignore the Marquis, but the man insisted on coming to be scolded.
Wonderful.
Since he’d come all this way, not giving him a tongue-lashing would be poor hospitality.
The Prince Qin’s carriage carried its lightly napping consort peacefully back to the residence.
For several days in a row, Shen Ziqin diligently attended court. The first time was novel; after a day or two, everyone got used to it and ignored him, treating him as just another official.
That was exactly the effect Shen Ziqin wanted. This way, when the Court of Judicial Review and the Three Ministries made their move, no one would suspect him.
No longer the center of attention and undisturbed, Shen Ziqin could comfortably rest his eyes and nap through court, occasionally waking up just enough to catch any useful words amid the endless nonsense.
Until the day the real drama was about to begin.
That morning, Shen Ziqin skipped his tonic and had them bring a cup of invigorating tea instead.
Xiao Zhen was distressed: “Shizi, the doctor said the tonic must be taken three times a day, you can’t miss a dose.”
“Missing once doesn’t matter, and I really am much better.” Shen Ziqin truly felt his health had improved; he could sense the change clearly. At his next checkup, even the doctor would be surprised.
In a little while, he’d be able to stay up late and get up early with no trouble, but for now, mornings were still a challenge, and his head wasn’t clear.
“There’s important business today,” Shen Ziqin said, resolute. “Go on.”
Xiao Zhen sighed inwardly. He didn’t understand the big picture, but even the servants in the prince’s residence knew how treacherous court politics were under Emperor Cheng’an. Shizi had been preparing for something-he could only bring the tea as instructed.
One cup down, and the coolness jolted Shen Ziqin wide awake.
…It worked wonders, like a bunch of menthol crystals throwing a dance party in his head.
Shen Ziqin got up, the hem of his crimson court robe fluttering in the wind, as the sun began to break through the clouds.
Chu Zhao was waiting at Mingyue Pavilion’s door, and when he saw Shen Ziqin walking steadily toward him, he was stunned: “Why are you so energetic today?”
There wasn’t even a transition period.
Shen Ziqin: “I drank invigorating tea.”
Chu Zhao frowned: “Didn’t that mean you skipped your medicine?”
“Missing one dose is fine. I’ll have the doctor check me later-I really do feel much better.” The morning breeze was a bit chilly, so Shen Ziqin raised his hand and breathed on it to warm up. “Besides, today’s court session will be too exciting to sleep through. I might as well be awake for the whole show.”
Chu Zhao saw him rubbing his hands: “Get in the carriage, it’s cold outside.”
The tea was already drunk, so there was no switching back to medicine now. He could only go along with it and have the doctor check him later.
Chu Zhao helped Shen Ziqin into the carriage. In the past, he would support him by the wrist or arm, but today, perhaps because he’d just seen Shen Ziqin warming his hands, Chu Zhao naturally took his hand instead.
The first thing Chu Zhao noticed was how cold it was.
The second thing he realized was what he’d just done.
But Shen Ziqin, used to being helped by Chu Zhao, didn’t notice anything. His cold hand, touching a warm one, instinctively tightened its grip.
Chu Zhao: …
Once Shen Ziqin was seated, he noticed Chu Zhao’s expression was odd, as if he’d knocked over a dozen spice jars.
Shen Ziqin: “Is Your Highness worried about what’s to come?”
Chu Zhao looked at him, hard to read: “…A little.”
Not at all.
His mind was just replaying that small gesture of yours over and over.
Shen Ziqin, every inch the strategist, said confidently, “No need to worry. We’re fully prepared-we’ll win for sure.”
Chu Zhao could still feel the touch in his hand, so he just grunted and changed the subject: “Are your hands still cold? If they are, wear a cloak next time and only take it off when the sun’s out.”
“It’s not cold in the carriage.” Shen Ziqin steered the conversation back to business. “The prince’s guards are so capable-the intelligence is solid, the evidence irrefutable. No matter how they argue, it won’t help them…”
Thinking Chu Zhao was genuinely worried, Shen Ziqin explained everything in detail. Chu Zhao wasn’t worried, but he didn’t interrupt-he just listened quietly.
Shen Ziqin’s sickly look made people want to protect him, but he was at his most attractive when healthy, with a bit of color in his cheeks, calm and confident as he spoke.
After finishing, Shen Ziqin took a sip of water to moisten his throat and found Chu Zhao staring at him, unblinking. He asked, “Your Highness?”
Chu Zhao smiled: “Nothing, you’re right.”
The words were ordinary praise, but the smile in his eyes was so deep that it made Shen Ziqin’s ears inexplicably heat up, and he felt a bit shy at such a simple compliment.
Strange, he hadn’t realized his skin was so thin, Shen Ziqin thought, holding his cup.
Fortunately, they soon arrived. Once out of the enclosed space, the private atmosphere faded, and that bit of embarrassment was gone with the wind.
In the court, Chu Zhao stood by the second prince’s wheelchair, the two brothers composed as usual. Shen Ziqin stood beside Bai Junxing, the two exchanging glances and nodding.
Bai Junxing: “The consort looks very well today.”
“Not at all, I’m not sleepy today,” Shen Ziqin nodded. “My health is improving.”
Shen Ziqin looked ahead. The Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review had officially retired two days ago, and the second prince had taken over. The emperor thought Chu Zhaoyu was just occupying a seat and would still follow his orders, but he didn’t realize that the Right Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review had long been one of the prince’s people, hidden for a long time. Within the court, the second prince was far from just a figurehead.
As soon as morning court began, the Right Vice Minister waited for a few officials to finish their routine bickering before speaking in an orderly manner: “Your Majesty, I have a memorial to present!”
The memorial from the Court of Judicial Review mentioned the Ministry of Justice and Ministry of Personnel officials involved in the land dispute case. The Grand Secretary and Deputy Grand Secretary remained unmoved; everyone knew this was just a routine matter-according to the law, it would be handled, just a few small fry, nothing unusual.
But they didn’t expect that the Right Vice Minister wasn’t finished.
“I also wish to impeach the Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works for seizing good farmland from the people, disregarding the law, causing deaths through collusion with officials, accepting bribes, and committing crimes worthy of death!”
Crash-the entire court erupted!
Even Emperor Cheng’an’s drooping eyelids shot open, his gaze sharp as lightning.
The Left Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review hurriedly glanced at the Right Vice Minister-he had no idea about this!
The Deputy Grand Secretary’s eyes shifted, but he didn’t speak up: The Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works was one of the Grand Secretary’s people.
Grand Secretary Wei Changhai, old and steady, asked, “The crimes the Right Vice Minister mentioned are grave. Is there solid evidence?”
The Right Vice Minister replied, “Of course!”
As he produced piece after piece of evidence, not only the Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works but also others implicated began to panic-including the Marquis of Yin Nan, who had been watching from the sidelines.
The Marquis of Yin Nan never imagined the fire would reach him, exposing his own bribery and corruption.
Shen Ziqin glanced at the ashen-faced Marquis, his own expression unchanged.
Some of the lines the Right Vice Minister recited today had been polished by Shen Ziqin, designed to strike right at Emperor Cheng’an’s heart.
The emperor hated when his officials acted outside his expectations. One line-“the people kneel beneath the vice minister’s power, their cries unheard beneath the sun”-hit his sore spot perfectly.
“All relevant witnesses have already been interrogated, and their written testimonies are signed and sealed, every word is true. Your Majesty, such vermin must not be tolerated!”
Emperor Cheng’an slammed his armrest: “I had no idea the Left Vice Minister was so capable! And the rest of you-bribery, collusion, serving him instead of your sovereign-whose officials are you, who is your lord!”
His words were so harsh that the officials all fell to their knees: “Your Majesty, please calm your anger!”
The emperor was well aware of factionalism, but when he called it out, it meant it was time to settle accounts.
When the scales come out, if you’re too heavy, you’ll have to pay with money, office, or even your life.
The Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works began to weep and beg, and the Marquis of Yin Nan followed suit: “This is slander, Your Majesty!”
The Right Vice Minister retorted sternly: “The evidence is in black and white, the witnesses are all present-how can you deny it with just your words!”
Grand Secretary Wei Changhai bowed: “This case involves many people. It should be tried by all three courts. If, as the Right Vice Minister says, there is both material and testimonial evidence, let all the ministers examine it, so Your Majesty can be reassured.”
Emperor Cheng’an fixed his gaze on Wei Changhai, who kept his head down. The air between ruler and minister was tense, and no one dared breathe.
At that moment, a small sound broke the silence.
It was Shen Ziqin softly murmuring.
Emperor Cheng’an immediately looked up at him.
Shen Ziqin, embarrassed, bowed his head: “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I’m not feeling well and couldn’t hold back a cry of pain.”
The emperor looked at him, pressed his prayer beads, and suddenly spoke: “Scholar Shen, what’s your view on this matter?”
Shen Ziqin seemed surprised to be addressed, but after a moment of thought, as if he’d considered it carefully, he said, “I think Grand Secretary Wei makes sense.”
Wei Changhai paused.
Emperor Cheng’an leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes: “Oh?”
A newly appointed official, not eager to stand with the emperor, but instead siding with the Grand Secretary?
But Shen Ziqin seemed completely oblivious to the danger, his tone sincere as he continued: “Human life is paramount, and this involves several officials. By law, it should go before all three courts. The Court of Judicial Review’s evidence is clear, and I think a second review will only make things clearer for everyone.”
Shen Ziqin added, “Your Majesty could also have the Embroidered Uniform Guard supervise, to ensure fairness.”
At this, Emperor Cheng’an was momentarily stunned, and the dangerous look in his eyes vanished.
Shen Ziqin wasn’t siding with the Grand Secretary at all-he really was impartial?
The commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, suddenly drawn into the matter, was also stunned.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard was established late in the previous emperor’s reign, its system incomplete. The famous southern and northern branches hadn’t even been set up yet, and their numbers were small. Since Emperor Cheng’an took the throne, he’d favored eunuchs and neglected the Embroidered Uniform Guard, even considering abolishing them.
Thus, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had little power and an awkward position at court.
But given the chance, their commander wouldn’t let it slip by.
He immediately knelt: “If Your Majesty needs it, I will do my utmost to serve you!”
Even Emperor Cheng’an hadn’t expected the Embroidered Uniform Guard to be involved, and he fell silent in thought.
Shen Ziqin, having spoken, said no more and stood quietly with his eyes down.
Whether or not the suggestion was accepted, after today, the Embroidered Uniform Guard would remember him.
For the sake of Chu Zhao’s life, Shen Ziqin wanted to get his hands on this rusty blade-abandoned by Emperor Cheng’an-ahead of time.
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
