Chapter 156

Chapter 156

After returning from commemorating Deng Chong, Emperor Xingwu was once again confined to his bed, frail and listless.

At fifty-eight, he could be considered old, yet not excessively so. Zhang Jie, Duke of Wei, only a year his junior, still boasted a full head of black hair. And the sixty-six-year-old Yan Xizheng, though his hair had whitened, remained remarkably robust; while many officials succumbed to colds this autumn and winter, Yan Xizheng was completely unaffected.

While ordinary citizens rarely saw the Emperor, the court officials knew that Emperor Xingwu had visibly aged since Deng Chong’s death. As the imperial physicians explained, this was due to excessive worry and pent-up grief. An unresolved emotional burden was like a hidden ailment within the body—seemingly innocuous at first glance, but once a physical malady like a headache or fever struck, both physical and emotional afflictions would erupt simultaneously, bringing him down like a collapsing mountain.

Looking back at the two years since Deng Chong’s passing, from the northern campaign against the East Hu to the dethroning of the Crown Prince and the enthronement of the Crown Princess, each event had profoundly taxed Emperor Xingwu’s mind and spirit. Beyond these major affairs, he also had to review stacks of memorials daily and manage the “minor matters” in the capital and various prefectures that directly impacted the livelihoods of the populace. His physical and mental burden far surpassed that of the two chancellors in the Secretariat. After all, if the northern campaign failed, the people would condemn the Emperor for his poor judgment in selecting generals; if disaster relief was delayed in the provinces, the people would still blame the Emperor.

Accumulated exhaustion had led to illness. By this winter, Emperor Xingwu’s health had withered like a decaying tree, beyond the reach of medicine. The imperial physicians could only strive to slow his decline and prescribe calming and pain-relieving remedies.

After taking his medicine, Emperor Xingwu drifted back to sleep, with Consort Li remaining steadfastly by his bedside.

Qingyang glanced at her father’s weary sleeping face, then led her imperial uncle, elder sister, and three imperial brothers out of the chamber.

Upon reaching the outer hall, Prince Yong couldn’t help but chide his young niece: “Yesterday was a day of rest, and none of us were in the palace. We didn’t know the Emperor was leaving the city. But you, Ling’er, you live in the palace—how could you not have known? The Emperor’s health has never fully recovered, and he listens to your advice most. Why didn’t you stop him?”

Forget titles like Crown Princess or matters of hierarchy; this was a family affair, and as her uncle, he felt entitled to reprimand his niece for her perceived oversight.

Qingyang could have told her uncle that early yesterday morning, her father had sent her to the Secretariat to review memorials, so she had no idea when he left the palace.

She could also have told him that she indeed remembered Deng Chong’s death anniversary. The moment her father spoke, she guessed he intended to pay his respects. Yet, she knew she couldn’t change his mind once he had made a decision, which was why she hadn’t offered any superfluous advice.

But why should she explain herself to an uncle who had immediately shown her such disrespect?

Qingyang paused, then turned around.

Prince Yong, who had been standing closest to deliver his reprimand, was forced to stop. Yong Kang and her three siblings, who had been lagging behind, also halted.

Just as Qin Hong was about to intercede for his sister, Qingyang’s voice cut through the air, cold and clear: “Father is ill, but he is not confused. He knows what he is doing. Anyone who uses concern as a pretext to obstruct him will only add to his mental burden.”

The Crown Princess did not directly call Prince Yong presumptuous, but her tone and icy gaze clearly conveyed that she regarded him as foolish.

Prince Yong’s chest swelled with anger. He opened his mouth, but before he could utter a sound, Qingyang fixed her gaze on him and added, “Whether to leave the palace is Father’s decision to make. I will not presume upon his favor to dictate his actions, and I ask you, Imperial Uncle, to remember your place.”

Prince Yong was left speechless, his face flushing crimson with pent-up fury!

Qin Hong, who had wanted to mediate but found no opportunity to speak, was left in silence.

Qin Ren reacted swiftly. He stepped forward, took his uncle’s arm, and gently guided him away, reasoning as he did so: “We all know you’re concerned about Father, Imperial Uncle. But think about it—Father dotes on Ling’er the most. If he’s ill, she’s surely the most heartbroken. She’s already upset, and you scolded her—how could she not be angry? If I wronged you like that, Imperial Uncle, you’d probably hit me outright.”

“Get lost!”

Prince Yong shoved his nephew several steps away.

Qin Ren stumbled but quickly regained his balance. He wasn’t angry, only resigned, and even considered trying to placate his uncle again.

Qin Bing flared up. He shot a sharp look at his third brother, then turned to Prince Yong, who was still glaring at their sister as if preparing to erupt. “What, Imperial Uncle? Are you planning to hit someone? Was anything our sister said wrong? You used to advise Father often enough in the past—did he ever listen to you? Is it wrong for Father to pay his respects on the second anniversary of Uncle Deng’s death?”

He Yuanjing, who had been standing hunched between them, stepped in to genuinely mediate: “Your Highnesses, please calm down. The Emperor has just fallen asleep. If he hears you arguing over him, he might not be able to rest.”

Prince Yong shot him a glare, flicked his sleeve angrily, and stormed off.

Qin Bing let out a loud snort at his uncle’s retreating back, then turned to comfort his sister, only to see his eldest brother, who had been standing behind her, quickly stepping away with tears streaming down his face, wiping them with his hand.

Qin Bing: “…Big brother, why are you crying?”

His question only made Qin Hong sob even harder, his shoulders shaking. “It’s all my fault, all my fault!”

He blamed himself for failing to be a good Crown Prince. If he had possessed his sister’s talent and resolve, their father wouldn’t have worried himself gray over the succession. If he had established his authority as the Crown Prince early on, how would their uncle dare to shout and scold a Crown Prince who commanded such respect in court? Why should his sister have to endure such disrespect?

Qin Bing and Qin Ren both went to comfort their increasingly distraught eldest brother.

Qingyang glanced at her elder sister, who had always been most concerned about their brother but now watched calmly, even coldly.

Yong Kang not only didn’t offer comfort but, meeting her sister’s gaze, curled her lips into a mocking smile. She walked over and said quietly, “He’s always been like this. I’ve seen it for over twenty years.”

Her younger brother had been this weak-willed since childhood, always obedient to whoever taught him something. Yong Kang disapproved, but she had hoped for his success—hoped he would become Crown Prince and future emperor, hoped to benefit from his status. So she had protected him, cared for him, and supported him with all her might. In the end, he resigned from the Crown Prince position himself.

Once he was no longer Crown Prince, aside from faint worries that his former status might cause trouble, Yong Kang couldn't bring herself to care anymore. His wife took care of his daily needs, and if he cried or felt wronged, his wife comforted him. Why should she bother? Her nearly thirty-year-old brother hardly needed her to wipe his tears anymore.

Qingyang could understand her sister’s disdain because she, too, had little patience for her brother’s constant self-blame and tears. At this moment, her mind was filled with concerns about her father’s illness and the memorials she had to review on his behalf in the Secretariat. She had no energy to spare for comforting her brother.

In the evening, after visiting her father and seeing him a bit more energetic than in the morning, Qingyang returned to Jiuhua Palace with Zhang Su.

After dinner, Qingyang asked Zhang Su to rest first and went to her study.

She had a dedicated cabinet for storing the little wooden figurines Zhang Su gave her as birthday gifts, and another camphorwood cabinet for her paintings.

Qingyang had started learning to paint at a very young age. She destroyed and discarded most of her practice pieces, keeping only two types: those she was very satisfied with, and those whose technique dissatisfied her but whose subjects she couldn’t bear to destroy. The latter were mostly portraits of her family—most often her mother, because in her childhood, her mother had the most free time and was willing to sit still for her. Next were her third brother and Zhang Su. In the earlier years when her studies were lighter, she loved painting the two young men studying or practicing calligraphy in her third brother’s study. Then came her father, who, though nearby, was always busy.

Even so, Qingyang had painted over thirty portraits of her father!

Each painting was mounted, with a small wooden tag tied to the silk cord, inscribed with the date it was painted.

Qingyang picked up her “practice piece” from when she was three years old. The painting depicted her father with a round head, two blurry black eyes, and robes adorned with “dragons soaring through clouds.” Her father had even inscribed it: “This is me!” To authenticate it, he had stamped it with both the imperial seal and his personal seal.

Qingyang only looked at this one painting. She didn’t dare to unroll the later ones, which increasingly resembled her father.

Outside the door, Jie Yu, who had been guarding the corridor, had retreated to the courtyard at some point, replaced by Zhang Su.

He faintly heard sobbing, but Zhang Su did not deliberately listen. He stood facing the courtyard, looking up at the nearly full moon that would soon be full in a few days.

After some time, the door behind him opened.

Zhang Su turned at the sound and immediately opened his arms, embracing the Crown Princess after a moment of surprise.

He was not an imperial physician and could do nothing for the Emperor. The only thing he could do was stay by her side.

***

On the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, the seven regional Commanders—Ge Dayong of Liangzhou, Chen Sheng of Jinzhou, Guo Yanqing of Jizhou, Meng Ji of Liaozhou, Li Yu of Qingzhou, Peng Ying of Fuzhou, and Zhang Jian of Yunzhou—finally all arrived in the capital and entered the palace on the same day to report.

As in previous years, Emperor Xingwu held a report banquet in the palace. Military officials in attendance included the commanders of the Four Capital Garrisons—Prince Yong, Lü Zan, Zhang Jie, and Hou Wanzhong; Imperial Guard Commander Fan Zhong and Imperial Guard Commander Xue Ye; and the younger generation of commanders such as Zhang Su, Fu Kui, Qin Liang, Deng Kun, Deng Tai, Meng Changhe, Cheng Zhixu, Fan Huaizhong, and Xue Yanzheng. Naturally, the Crown Princess and her three siblings were also present.

The seven regional commanders returned to the capital only once every three years. At this report banquet, Emperor Xingwu primarily listened to their accounts.

Among the seven commanders, Guo Yanqing of Jizhou was the oldest at sixty-one, but he still looked robust and vigorous. Li Yu of Qingzhou and Chen Sheng of Jinzhou were both fifty-five. Ge Dayong, Meng Ji, and Peng Ying were all in their early fifties. Zhang Jian was the youngest at thirty-six.

Emperor Xingwu praised each commander, though his eyes held a hint of envy. Though the commanders could see that the Emperor might not have much time left, they dared not show their sorrow.

Both ruler and subjects deliberately avoided the topic, and the banquet proceeded in a warm atmosphere.

As the banquet neared its end, Emperor Xingwu sighed, put down his wine bowl, and said to the seven commanders, “This report banquet will likely be the last one I share with you.”

The seven commanders immediately rose from their seats and knelt in a row before the Emperor, tearfully begging him to preserve his health.

Qingyang and her three siblings, along with the other military officials, also knelt.

Emperor Xingwu smiled. “Birth, old age, sickness, and death are the way of life. I do not avoid speaking of it, and you need not try to comfort me with words of good fortune. Ling’er, come here.”

Qingyang deliberately recalled the mountains, rivers, and people she had seen during the southern tours, as well as corpses strewn across battlefields from the two northern expeditions. Only then did she compose herself and approach her father’s side.

Emperor Xingwu patted his daughter’s hand with satisfaction, signaling for her to stand beside him. He then addressed the seven generals: “After I am gone, Ling’er will succeed me as Great Qi’s new ruler. Changes in imperial power often bring some turbulence, and even more so since Ling’er will be the first female emperor in millennia. With Ling’er, my brother, and the several chief commanders in the capital, I trust there will be no unrest there. However, the stability of the borders rests entirely with you. So, I ask you this: Can you safeguard the borders for Ling’er and for Great Qi?”

The seven generals looked up, their gazes firm as they met the Emperor’s eyes: “Yes!”

Generals were not skilled in elaborate speeches; they did not need to make grand promises like civil officials. A single “yes” was enough to demonstrate their resolve.

Emperor Xingwu asked again: “After Ling’er ascends the throne, will you pledge your loyalty to her as you have to me?”

The seven generals simultaneously turned their eyes to the Crown Princess standing beside the Emperor—the Crown Princess whose posture was as straight as a sword and whose gaze was as piercing as a sword’s edge; the Crown Princess who had been clever even as a child and dearly loved by the Emperor, who had captured the King of East Hu in her very first campaign; the Crown Princess who had been designated by the Great Qi founding emperor and would rightfully inherit the throne. In unison, they declared: “We pledge our unwavering loyalty to the Crown Princess, to the female emperor of Great Qi!”

Emperor Xingwu nodded, motioning for them to rise, and then advised his daughter: “They are my great generals who guard the nation, and in the future, they will be yours as well. You must trust them as I have and continue to put your trust in them.”

Qingyang also knelt, making her promise to her father and the generals.

To those who remained loyal to her, she would never betray their trust.