Chapter 2: Father Will Introduce You to Someone

Chapter 2: Father Wants You to Meet Someone

Along the grain supply route from Yongzhou to Bingzhou, a long convoy of grain wagons advanced at a military pace. At the head rode a mounted man, his back straight and tall, clad in the unassuming uniform of a granary officer. Yet the horse beneath him was clearly no ordinary steed—a pure black warhorse from the Western Regions, known as Black Qilin, far beyond what any mere supply officer could afford.

The rider glanced at the setting sun and signaled behind him. A messenger dashed from the front to the rear of the convoy, calling for a halt.

The man dismounted swiftly. His complexion was slightly dark, his features sharp and striking. Days spent transporting grain through mountain trails had left him disheveled—bearded, with hair tied back simply by a wooden pin. A personal guard handed him a waterskin:

"My Lord, grain transport is grueling work. Why must you endure this hardship in person?"

This man was none other than Ling Yehan, Marquis of Jingbian.

Ling Yehan took a deep drink:

"Along the way, you’ve seen the refugees, haven’t you? We’ve encountered countless ones since leaving Yongzhou. Who knows what conditions are like in Bingzhou? This flood won’t resolve itself in ten or fifteen days. Is the Bingzhou governor completely incompetent?"

Since the emperor couldn’t come himself, Ling Yehan would go in his stead and report back to the capital.

Holding the waterskin, Ling Yehan tethered Black Qilin to a tree to graze and sat casually on a large boulder by the roadside, gazing absently toward the capital.

Suddenly, the horse swished its tail against his hand, then kicked up dirt with its hooves. Ling Yehan slapped its rump, and the horse turned, snorting loudly at him.

"Alright, enough! You've been sulking ever since we left. Is it just because you're apart from Red Date for a few days? She’s carrying your foal—she’s not going to run off and leave you. I'm taking good care of her, feeding her well. You’ll see her again when we return."

The thought annoyed him. Red Date was a Western Regions warhorse he’d acquired—pure chestnut in color, much like the "Red Steed" Xiao Chen had once ridden in battle. Last year, when he heard the Red Steed had died, he knew Xiao Chen must have been heartbroken. He’d wanted to send a fine horse to the palace, though that man might not accept it.

When he first saw Red Date, he thought she was perfect. But not long after he began caring for the beautiful mare, Black Qilin had mated with her. The memory still made his jaw tighten.

Meanwhile, the long-quiet Zichen Palace echoed with laughter—the four-year-old Crown Prince Xiao Lin had arrived. Dressed in bright yellow robes with crimson sashes, the little prince had a round face and large, dark eyes like black grapes. A closer look revealed a joy in them that had long been absent from the palace.

Xiao Chen had struggled to rise that day, his face deathly pale, the scent of medicine clinging to him. He reclined on a daybed by the window, a painting resting on the table beside him.

"Father."

The child's voice brought him back. He turned to see his son running toward him. Despite his illness, a warm smile broke through his pallor. He gently reached out, and the boy seized his hand, climbing onto the daybed. His small, plump body nestled close. Xiao Chen held him, brushing his rough fingertips over the child’s soft cheeks, his eyes filled with emotions the young prince could not yet grasp.

Xiao Lin giggled, hugged his father, and buried his face in his arms. Xiao Chen endured the pain in his chest as he held the boy tightly, closing his eyes. The empire had just stabilized; he should have left him a peaceful, prosperous realm. But there was no time. He tousled his son’s hair, speaking softly:

"Today, I want you to meet someone."

The crown prince, playing with his father’s hair, looked up:

"Who?"

Xiao Chen glanced up, and Zhang Fu immediately unrolled a scroll beside them. It depicted a young man in battle armor—sharp-featured, with bright, spirited dark eyes. On closer inspection, the child’s own eyes resembled those in the portrait. The black iron armor emphasized the youth’s heroic bearing. The prince studied the image curiously:

"Father, who is this?"

Xiao Chen gazed at the painting, silent for a long moment before replying:

"He is Father’s sworn brother, the current Marquis of Jingbian—Ling Yehan. Lin’er, remember this: no matter what happens in the future, he will never harm you. Trust him as you trust me. Believe that he will protect you."

The prince tilted his head, studying the painting, then clung tighter to his father’s arm:

"I don’t need anyone else to protect me. I have Father."

A flicker of pain crossed Xiao Chen’s eyes:

"Father must go to a distant place—one where I cannot take you. You’re a big boy now. You must be strong, so you can protect yourself and your people. Do you understand?"

Xiao Lin nodded, though only half comprehending. Xiao Chen smoothed his son’s messy hair:

"Lin’er, you already know how to write characters, don’t you?"

Snuggled in his father’s arms, the boy nodded, his soft hair brushing against Xiao Chen’s neck. Xiao Chen pulled him closer and ruffled his hair:

"Write a few for Father to see."

After a pause, the child wriggled out of his embrace. With his chubby hand, he grasped the brush, dipped it in ink, and Xiao Chen watched as several characters formed on the paper:

"Heaven, earth, dark, yellow."

It was the opening line of the *Thousand Character Classic*. Though the writing was childish—especially the awkwardly split character for "yellow"—the strokes were correct.

When he reached "store" in "autumn harvest, winter store," the prince began chewing the brush tip, then stole a glance at his father. Xiao Chen suppressed a cough, leaning against the bolster as he looked down at the page. Meeting his son’s guilty gaze, he lifted his eyes:

"Can't write it?"

The prince, who had always disliked this character, couldn’t help complaining:

"This one is ugly. It’s too hard."

Xiao Chen frowned slightly, then smiled, propping himself up. His pale, thin hand covered the small, plump one, guiding it stroke by stroke to write "store" on the paper.

"Now do you remember?"

The little head pressed against his chest, nuzzling affectionately:

"I remember, Father."

"Then shall Father teach you a few more?"

The boy nodded.

The ink-dipped brush touched the blank paper. The strokes were firm yet restrained, faintly trembling. Each line was drawn slowly, as if reluctant to end too soon. A sentence emerged. The crown prince read it haltingly:

"What with one person what the world, not with the world what one person? What does that mean, Father?"

A calm voice answered:

"Only through one person is the world governed; the world is not meant to serve one person."

The prince turned, tilting his head curiously at his father. Xiao Chen stroked his cheek and explained as simply as he could:

"Lin’er, one day you will rule all under heaven. All the people in the world will be your subjects. So you must protect them, care for them. You cannot let them suffer while you live in comfort. Do you understand?"

Xiao Lin looked at his father, then at the characters. He didn’t understand "subjects," but he understood "son"—he was his father’s son.

"Like how Father takes care of me?"

A gentle smile appeared in Xiao Chen’s eyes:

"Yes. Just as Father makes sure Lin’er is well-fed and warmly clothed."

"But... Father only takes care of me. I have to take care of so many people? Will I have many sons?"

The innocent words struck deep into Xiao Chen’s heart. He would not live to see whether this chubby little boy would ever have sons of his own:

"Father doesn’t only take care of you. Everyone you see outside—is also under Father’s care. In the future, that will be your duty. If they live well, Father will be at peace."

The Crown Prince immediately wrapped his arms around his father's neck, clinging tightly and said coaxingly:

"Then I will definitely make sure they live well and make Father happy."

Holding his son's small body close, Xiao Chen closed his eyes, suppressing the ache:

"Good, Father believes you."

In the Zichen Palace, the little prince climbed up and down, his face always bright with a smile, while the emperor in his dark dragon robe kept his gaze fixed on him, never straying.

In the outskirts of Bingzhou, the wind rustled through withered leaves. Ling Yehan marched through the night and finally entered Bingzhou city as the first rays of dawn touched the earth. Without revealing his identity, he conducted his investigations in secret.

By evening, his gyrfalcon descended from the horizon. Ling Yehan approached with a chicken, retrieved a letter from the bird, and eagerly opened it. The message had come from the capital, and after reading it, his brow furrowed deeply.

Had the Emperor still not resumed morning court? Was his illness not yet cured? Ling Yehan sat alone outside the grain storage, weighed down with worry. He knew Xiao Chen’s temperament well—he would not suspend court for so long without reason.

That night, Ling Yehan barely slept in his humble tent, his mind filled with that person’s features, his unspeakable, shameful thoughts about him, and that reckless night four years ago.

It was only when the rooster crowed outside that Ling Yehan rubbed his tired eyes and sat up. He patted his cheeks, stepped out of the tent, and made a resolution: if Xiao Chen had still not returned to court after he resolved matters in Bingzhou, he would return to the capital. Even if that person did not wish to see him, he would watch from afar.

On the first day of the tenth month, the Black Armor Guard stationed at the fortress returned to the capital by imperial decree, encamping ten *li* (about three miles) outside the city.

On the second day of the tenth month, Emperor Zhaowu issued an edict requiring both an imperial decree and the military tally for any troop movements along the borders. Violators would be charged with treason.

On the third day of the tenth month, Emperor Zhaowu issued another edict: Wei Guande, the chief minister of the Chancellery, and his clan were found guilty of hoarding military equipment, enclosing land, keeping bondservants, and colluding with the Qiang and Di tribes. His clan was to be exterminated to three degrees of kinship, while the remaining six degrees were exiled. The bondservants were granted commoner status, allotted land according to regulations, and exempted from grain taxes for one year.

As soon as the edict was issued, the Wei clan attempted to stage a military revolt. However, before their messenger pigeons could even take flight, every member of the Wei family in the capital was executed. Meanwhile, the main branch of the Wei clan in the capital and their private troops were disarmed and imprisoned by the Ye City garrison, who had received a secret edict in advance. Three degrees of kinship were executed on the spot, the rest were exiled, and the bondservants were freed.

In less than three days, the Wei clan of the capital, which had stood unshaken for nearly a century, completely crumbled from power. The capital was buzzing with shock, and the court was thrown into panic. Those seeking an audience with the Emperor formed a line stretching from the imperial study to the Qinghua Gate.

Yet the Emperor in the Zichen Palace refused to see anyone. Xiao Chen, having taken the medicine to keep up his energy, struggled to rise and summoned the Eastern Palace attendants to bring the little prince to him. The child rushed over, his young face lifted with complete trusting delight. Xiao Chen bent down to embrace him, gently stroking his cheek with a finger:

"Lin'er, didn’t you want to fly a kite before? There’s wind today—shall Father teach you how to fly a kite together?"

In the little time he had left, he wanted Lin'er to have more memories of his companionship.