Chapter 14: Inheriting the Title

Chapter 14: Succession to the Title

Succession to the Title—

What familiar words.

Zhou Ziheng had spent the first half of his life scheming and pretending for these very words, only to reveal his true self at death's door. The moment he heard them, all he could think of was his tumultuous life.

He had deceived others every single moment, living in perpetual dread that Qin Chanyue would discover the truth. Now, as he lay dying, he could finally be himself for once.

Fang Qingqing knelt silently by his bedside, tears falling silently. She whispered, "You always said your elder brother bullied you, making your life miserable. If a second son like you suffered so much, what will become of our son in the future? After you're gone, how will Qin Chanyue treat me? You must give us something to lean on."

Yes, he had to give his son recompense.

Looking at Fang Qingqing’s tear-streaked face, Zhou Ziheng recalled all the hardships she had endured over the years. He remembered how many times he had hurt her just to please Qin Chanyue.

He owed Fang Qingqing and their son recompense. As for Qin Chanyue... She had lived a life of ease, never knowing true hardship. She was a noblewoman, with everything she could ever want. Her sons would have the Qin family and the Prince of Southern Pacification to look after them. Why should she cling to his title?

Half-delirious, Zhou Ziheng mumbled, "Yes... the best things should be left to our son."

His entire life had been a haze of striving for the title, forcing himself into acts he loathed. Now, on the brink of death, he couldn’t let his son suffer the same fate.

He wanted to give his son the best.

"Go—fetch Lady Qin at once," Zhou Ziheng muttered weakly.

Fang Qingqing quickly sent someone to fetch Qin Chanyue.

When Qin Chanyue arrived, Zhou Ziheng ordered everyone out and struggled to sit up. Grasping her hand, he spoke weakly.

He seemed barely lucid, his illness having wasted him away to little more than skin and bones. It seemed as though his last breath could leave him at any moment.

Yet, when he took Qin Chanyue’s hand, sincere tears brimmed in his dimming eyes.

"I still remember the first time I saw you," he said. "You stood in the pavilion, wearing a vibrant pomegranate-red skirt—'How I envy the peach trees by the Jade Pool, their rosy cheeks aglow for a thousand years.' I thought to myself, how wonderful it would be if such a woman married me."

Hearing him reminisce, even the hardest heart would soften.

He continued, "I’ve failed you. You married me and endured much hardship. Now that I’m dying, there’s one final plea I must make."

Who could refuse a dying man’s plea?

Qin Chanyue’s eyes shimmered with tears as she held his hand. "If I can, I will."

"Of our three sons, the first two have disappointed me greatly. Their nature makes them unfit heirs. Only Zhou Wenshan, who has just returned, has a good nature. Though he isn’t your blood, he’ll surely honor you as his true mother. I wish to pass my title to him, so that in the future, he may take care of you in my stead. Will you agree?"

When Qin Chanyue heard this, she raised her eyes and studied Zhou Ziheng’s face carefully.

He was still handsome, his elegance untouched by time.

As he spoke these words, Qin Chanyue thought to herself that his sudden illness had left him no time for subtler machinations.

Had it been the Zhou Ziheng of old, if he wanted Zhou Wenshan to inherit his title, he would have first found ways to suppress his other two sons, cultivated Zhou Wenshan’s standing and rank, and then devised a way to subdue Qin Chanyue herself. But now, with no time left, all he could do was clutch her hand and beg her compliance.

Who would concede? Who would willingly surrender their wealth and power to another?

The Qin Chanyue of old never would.

Yet now, instead of immediate refusal, her first response was hesitant: "Can I trust him to revere me as his mother?"

"Of course!" A flush of color rose on Zhou Ziheng's face as he turned to call out, "Bring Zhou Wenshan here!"

In mere moments, Zhou Wenshan entered with bowed head from the side chamber.

He was but a youth, taught underhanded tricks by Fang Qingqing which he regarded as treasures. Upon entering, he knelt and kowtowed to Qin Chanyue, repeatedly declaring, "This son will serve his rightful mother dutifully in the future."

Qin Chanyue observed Zhou Wenshan's features, so similar to Zhou Ziheng's, then nodded slowly and said, "This child—he seems filial indeed. Since my husband favors him, then so be it."

He'd won!

Zhou Ziheng hadn't expected everything to go so smoothly. Gripping his wife's hand, he trembled and said, "You are truly a good wife. In the future, Wenshan will surely honor you."

Looking at his sickly, hunched form, Qin Chanyue suddenly felt reluctant to let him die.

She really ought to let him live, to witness the fate of this mother and son.

——

News of Zhou Ziheng's intention to pass his title to the illegitimate son Zhou Wenshan spread instantly through the entire Marquis's estate.

Liu Yandai, blind and oblivious, saw nothing. Bai Yuning and Zhou Chiye were busy with their secret nighttime meetings, neither giving it much thought—Zhou Chiye, after all, was the second son with no expectations of becoming the Marquis. He wasn't even the designated heir, so it hardly mattered to him. In the past, when he was close to Zhou Yuanting, he might have stood up for his elder brother if the heirship was contested. But now... he couldn't care less about the heirship.

The only one in a panic was Zhou Yuanting. Even the betrayal by his younger brother and Bai Yuning was momentarily forgotten, his mind consumed by the matter of the title.

That was his title!

Zhou Yuanting had been recuperating in the Autumn Breeze Hall, adjacent to his father's chambers, separated only by an ornamental rock garden. Upon hearing that his father intended to pass the heirship to an illegitimate son, he bolted upright in shock and hurried to confront him.

He was the legitimate eldest son of the Marquis's household, the child of both the Qin and Zhou bloodlines. That illegitimate son was merely the offspring of a lowly servant—how dare he claim the title? Since ancient times, no concubine-born son had ever inherited a title. What right did Zhou Wenshan have? The entire court would mock their family, and how could the Emperor possibly approve? Father's gone senile!

It was midday, and Zhou Ziheng was resting in his chambers, being pampered by Fang Qingqing. When Zhou Yuanting arrived at the door seeking an audience, his father refused to see him.

"Send him away," Zhou Ziheng waved dismissively.

Zhou Yuanting, unwilling to yield, suppressed the pain in his chest and knelt outside the door, shouting through the door, "Father, I heard you intend to let an illegitimate son inherit the title. This defies all decency!"

Decency?

Zhou Ziheng exploded in anger. How dare this wayward son question him, his father! If not for Zhou Yuanting's misdeeds, which had driven him to his sickbed, why would he not pass the title to him?

"This title is mine to give, not yours to demand!" Through the door, Zhou Ziheng smashed a teacup and roared, "Drive this ungrateful brat out!"

Rebuffed by his own father, Zhou Yuanting, still seething, turned instead to seek an audience with Qin Chanyue.

His father had been bewitched by Fang Yiniang and Zhou Wenshan, but surely his own mother wouldn't consent? If she wouldn't scheme for her own son, why would she let an illegitimate child take the Marquis's position?

Zhou Yuanting rushed to see his mother.

Upon entering, he found her alone by the window, reviewing account books.

Sunlight poured through the window, casting a radiant glow on her striking features.

When he saw her, all his grievances came pouring out. As in the past, whenever trouble arose, he couldn't help but turn to her for help. Agitated, he said, "Father plans to give the title to that illegitimate son. Why didn't you stop him? How can you let some concubine outrank you, let an outsider rise above me?"

Seeing Zhou Yuanting arrive, Qin Chanyue, seated by the window, studied her son coolly.

In her past life, Zhou Yuanting and Zhou Wenshan had been thick as thieves.

Back then, she had lost her standing and been cast out, while her husband had welcomed this mother and son into the household. Zhou Yuanting, too, had coveted the title and swiftly acknowledged Fang Qingqing as his rightful mother and Zhou Wenshan as his brother.

At that time, they were on excellent terms—nothing like the present.

Qin Chanyue propped her chin on her hand, her expression indifferent as she spoke to Zhou Yuanting, "You made your own mistakes, and now your father dislikes you. Not even I can help you now. Look at yourself—what state are you in now? Now, look at Wenshan. That child comes to pay his respects to me every day, far more filial than you."

Zhou Yuanting was shocked. "Have you gone mad, Mother?! I am your son!"

Qin Chanyue sneered. In her past life, when she had lost power, he had disowned her. Now that he was the one losing status, he suddenly claimed to be her son.

Some son.

Qin Chanyue said coolly, "I can’t change your father’s mind. There’s no use coming to me. The matter of the title is already settled. In a few days, once your father recovers a little, he will petition to grant Wenshan the title. It cannot be changed."

Devastated, Zhou Yuanting stumbled out of the Moon-Viewing Garden and returned to his Autumn Wind Hall.

That night, he lay awake half the night, resolved not to accept this. He immediately began scheming, determined to take action.

Zhou Yuanting’s scheming did not escape Qin Chanyue’s notice. The moment he made the slightest move, she was informed.

Qin Chanyue acknowledged the news with a faint nod.

She had long anticipated this day.

In her past life, once Fang Qingqing had returned to the Marquis's estate, she had pushed for her son to inherit the title. This life was no different. And Qin Chanyue knew her son well—Zhou Yuanting, who had been the heir for so many years, would never give up his claim without a fight.

He would inevitably resist.

And Qin Chanyue, working behind the scenes, stirred the pot, letting the two of them clash quietly.

She didn’t need to lift a finger. The competing factions within the household were enough to wear each other down.

In the past, Qin Chanyue had treated them all as family, giving them her whole heart. She had never thought to use them against one another. But now that she had truly begun, it took only a few moves to have them all dancing to her tune.

Ambition and greed wove thin threads, intertwining into a net, waiting for someone to take a single misstep—and fall, leaving no trace behind.