Chapter 61: This World Should Be in Your Hands, Your Majesty

Chapter 61 This Realm Should Be Held in Your Hands, Your Majesty

Upon receiving the news, Ling Yehan's brows furrowed so tightly they could have crushed a mosquito. He hung his head, lost in thought, remaining silent for a long time. Xiao Chen observed his troubled expression, as if he were suffering from an incurable illness, and chuckled softly before speaking:

"Why such a look? The ancestral rites will take no more than half a day, and binding the waist is hardly a major ordeal."

Ling Yehan felt a sharp pang in his heart. Xiao Chen's nonchalance about the binding only underscored that, in his past life, enduring such a restraint for the ancestral rites was not even a significant challenge. By the end, he had been utterly exhausted, and it wasn't just one instance of binding; he must have endured countless such hardships to reach that point.

Ling Yehan's heart ached with an unbearable sorrow. He gently reached out and touched Xiao Chen's abdomen, then wordlessly drew him into a tight embrace. Xiao Chen's body stiffened momentarily. When he lowered his eyes, he saw the look of profound concern on Ling Yehan's face. His heart warmed slightly, yet he also sighed. He recalled how Ling Yehan had been a stubborn mule as a child, but now, as an adult, he had become so soft-hearted, needing a hug at every turn. While this softer nature might seem less impressive, it was certainly better than being a stubborn mule.

At this moment, the Emperor completely forgot about the grown-up mule who had repeatedly tried to slit his own throat just days ago. Ling Yehan was now taller than him, his strong, muscular physique more evident when he extended his arms. Xiao Chen could feel the tension in his arms and the powerful heartbeat against his chest, so he relaxed and leaned into the embrace:

"Must the Heaven and Ancestral rites be held in September? Perhaps we can find a reason to postpone them this year?"

Xiao Chen opened his eyes while leaning against Ling Yehan, letting out an exasperated laugh:

"You've been in power for ten years. Can the Heaven and Ancestral rites be postponed? Even the most absurd last emperor of the previous dynasty never failed to hold these rites in September. How can I possibly postpone them?"

Ling Yehan felt frustrated. He knew very well that this was not something that could be postponed, but he couldn't bear to see Xiao Chen bind his waist for the ceremony again. He furrowed his brow in thought and suddenly spoke:

"I recall there are secret guards skilled in disguise and mimicry. Why don't we find someone to impersonate your stature for the ceremony?"

Xiao Chen fell silent for a moment. He had considered this idea before:

"Disguise and mimicry can fool those who don't know you well, but familiar people would spot the difference immediately. The ceremony involves a complex process and numerous interactions. If anything goes wrong and the news leaks, do you know what the consequences would be?"

Ling Yehan's heart sank. If someone were to impersonate the current emperor and the news leaked, it would certainly cause chaos in the court. If manipulated by someone with ulterior motives, it could even lead to a military coup or a palace rebellion. In the end, Xiao Chen would still have to step in personally, making the situation even more complicated than the ancestral rites.

A sudden sense of helplessness washed over him. Xiao Chen noticed his change in mood and raised a hand, twirling a strand of Ling Yehan's hair around his finger, pulling it gently:

"What's wrong?"

Ling Yehan hung his head:

"Even with a second chance, I'm still useless. There's nothing I can do."

Xiao Chen leaned his head on Ling Yehan's shoulder, his expression relaxing as a faint smile touched his lips:

"Is the Marquis taking himself too seriously? Even I can do nothing about this matter—what solution could you possibly have?"

Zhao Mengxian left the Zichen Hall with an almost expressionless face. He relayed the emperor's decree, instructing all the court officials who had come to plead their case to return. Only then did he head to the duty room. Upon entering the inner courtyard, he noticed that the duty room, which had been empty for a long time due to the epidemic, was quite lively today. The court officials were gathered around the very people who had just arrived in the capital the day before for the sacrificial ceremonies—his uncle, Prince Chengxuan, and the Earl of Rong'an.

Since ascending the throne, Xiao Chen had not followed the example of many founding emperors by generously enfeoffing his relatives. The only ones who had received titles were his uncle, Prince Chengxuan, and his maternal uncle, the Earl of Rong'an. Moreover, these two did not usually reside in the capital. Perhaps the emperor was concerned about the political turmoil caused by imperial relatives in previous dynasties, which was why he had not granted extensive titles. Still, as relatives sharing blood ties with the emperor, the court officials showed them considerable courtesy.

Seeing Zhao Mengxian arrive, Prince Chengxuan Xiao Jingzhou and the Earl of Rong'an Fu Wence greeted him with smiles. Zhao Mengxian also put on a cheerful expression in return:

"No wonder it’s so lively today—it turns out the Prince and the Earl have returned to the capital."

The Earl of Rong'an, Fu Wence, looked to be about forty and had a somewhat portly figure:

"Lord Zhao, have you just come from His Majesty? We were just thinking of paying our respects to the emperor today. It’s been almost a year since we last saw him. We heard that His Majesty was unwell recently and were quite concerned. May I ask if His Majesty has completely recovered?"

"His Majesty has not yet recovered from his cold. Earlier, he spoke with me from behind a curtain. However, since the two of you are His Majesty’s blood relatives, I believe seeing you will surely speed his recovery."

After saying this, he glanced at the people around him:

"Were you all discussing matters earlier?"

The Minister of Rites, Guo Huai, spoke up:

"We were discussing the matter of granting posthumous titles to His Majesty's parents."

As he spoke, his eyes accidentally flickered to Prince Chengxuan beside him, before he looked away just as naturally.

Generally, a new emperor founding a dynasty would confer honorary titles upon their parents shortly after ascending the throne. If the parents were still alive, they would be honored as Retired Emperor or Retired Empress; if deceased, they would be posthumously titled emperor or empress, with ancestral temples built and mausoleums constructed. However, when His Majesty ascended the throne, he put off granting these honors on the grounds that his father, as a former official of the previous dynasty, had been forced into rebellion out of necessity. At the time, the national treasury was depleted, and the mausoleums were not extensively renovated—a decision that won him much praise.

Prince Chengxuan Xiao Jingzhou then spoke. He looked to be in his thirties and cut a dashing figure in his princely robes:

"His Majesty is a kind and dutiful son. He understood that my elder brother had no choice in his actions, which is why he did not posthumously honor their parents immediately upon ascending the throne. However, three years have now passed, and my elder brother has fulfilled his loyalty to the previous dynasty. By submitting a memorial now, we can also help fulfill His Majesty's wishes."

Zhao Mengxian seemed to recall something, and a strange look crossed his face, but he did not raise any objections:

"The Prince is quite right. His Majesty must also be thinking about the posthumous honors for his parents. Have the titles been drafted yet?"

Marquis Chengxuan smiled and replied:

"With Minister Guo of the Ministry of Rites here, the titles have been excellently drafted."

In the Zichen Hall, Zhang Fu had the memorials from today's court session delivered to the hall. With the capital's epidemic easing up, Ling Yehan had withdrawn most of the imperial guards and physicians from the streets in recent days. Although court sessions had not officially resumed, the number of memorials submitted to the palace had increased.

Xiao Chen tugged on the hair of the person next to him:

"Time to make yourself useful, Zhang Fu. Bring half of the memorials here and send the rest to Marquis of Jingbian."

Ling Yehan finally stood up and stared at the pile of memorials, surprised:

"Why are there so many?"

Zhang Fu bowed and replied:

"Almost all the court officials were present today. When I arrived, many had submitted memorials of apology, likely because of last night's incident."

Xiao Chen reclined on the soft couch in the inner hall. Ling Yehan didn't want to read memorials out there, so he had a servant bring a small desk and a round stool, settling himself beside Xiao Chen. Xiao Chen glanced at his clingy behavior but said nothing, picking up a memorial to read.

Ling Yehan, worried he might tire himself out, said:

"Brother, don’t rush. Don’t strain yourself. I'm fast at going through these."

Zhang Fu felt a cold sweat at this casual talk, but to his surprise, His Majesty showed no sign of feeling offended. Instead, he propped himself up on his side and said:

"Hmm, I’ll treat them as storybooks."

Ling Yehan was not boasting. Having reviewed memorials for ten years, he could quickly identify useful information even in lengthy and verbose submissions. However, after reading several, he found them largely similar, as they all addressed the same matter. Without looking up, he spoke to the person beside him:

"Brother, the court officials must have coordinated today. Several memorials are about the same issue—requesting an edict to posthumously honor your parents as Emperor Yizu and Empress Wende. They likely proposed this because the sacrificial ceremonies are approaching, and if the honors are conferred now, there would still be time to enshrine them in the ancestral temple."

Ling Yehan thought this was not a major issue—merely a matter of issuing an edict, as founding emperors of all dynasties had done the same. He closed the memorial in his hands and took the opportunity to look up, only to see Xiao Chen’s displeased expression:

"Brother?"

Xiao Chen tossed aside the memorial in his hand, his voice cool:

"Coordinated? Who submitted these memorials?"

Ling Yehan sorted through the ones in his hand:

"Most were from the Ministry of Rites. Some from the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Revenue also mentioned it in their memorials."

Sensing something amiss in Xiao Chen’s attitude, he pushed the memorials aside, sat at the edge of the couch, hooked his fingers around the other’s, and gently tugged twice.

"Brother, do you not wish to grant him posthumous honors?"

Come to think of it, he actually seemed to have never heard Xiao Chen talk about his family. All he knew was that Xiao Chen’s father had been a general stationed in the northwest during the previous dynasty, and that both his parents had died—his father reportedly dying in battle. He had always assumed this was a painful subject for Xiao Chen, which was why he never brought up his family over the years. After the new dynasty was established, Xiao Chen’s attitude toward imperial relatives had been rather indifferent, not granting them excessive honors, and Ling Yehan had simply thought it was to avoid repeating the mistakes of the former court. But now, it seemed there might be more to the story.

"Brother, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your family."

As he spoke, he gave Xiao Chen’s hand a little shake. In just a moment, the expression on Xiao Chen’s face faded, replaced by his usual calm demeanor. He hooked his finger playfully, as if teasing a child:

"Want to hear a story?"

Ling Yehan immediately leaned in and nodded. Xiao Chen shifted uncomfortably as the child kept moving, making the ache in his lower back more pronounced, a dull, throbbing pain.

"Come here and massage my waist for me."

Ling Yehan compliantly climbed onto the soft couch, pulling Xiao Chen into his arms. With one hand pressed firmly against his lower back, he began to knead with just the right amount of pressure. Xiao Chen closed his eyes briefly.

"You’ve heard that my father died in battle against the former dynasty, right?"

"Yes, that’s what they say in the army."

The man at his side took a deep breath.

"That’s the story I spread later among the troops. He didn’t die in battle—he took his own life."

"What?"

Xiao Chen’s tone was heavy with irony.

"Back then, he held command over the Northwestern Army, which made the court wary. They ordered him to send his family to the capital and dispatched five military supervisors to his camp. By the time that decree arrived, the families of five border generals had already been executed in the capital. After that, the border armies were gradually divided and weakened by the supervisors. Some in the court even colluded with foreign tribes, catching the border forces off guard. In the end, none of those five generals met a good fate. But my father—he was foolishly loyal. He intended to comply."

"I couldn’t see what was left to be loyal to in such a corrupt dynasty. The Northwestern Army endured desert sands and bitter cold on the frontier, only to sacrifice themselves for a court like that. In the end, they would likely share the fate of the other border armies—betrayed, their blood staining the yellow sand. I refused to walk into that trap for the sake of his loyalty. So, I rallied the lower-ranking officers, killed the eunuch who delivered the decree, and raised the banner of rebellion. He couldn’t accept it—and took his own life."

Xiao Chen closed his eyes, his expression complex, his voice tinged with self-mocking bitterness.

"Actually, it wasn’t exactly suicide. I drove him to it. To his last breath, he was a loyal subject and fine general of the former dynasty—and I was the traitor."

He let out a low laugh.

"And now, this traitor is going to grant him a posthumous imperial title. He’d probably be turning in his grave."

Ling Yehan had never imagined it would be like this. Perhaps agitated by emotion, the man in his arms coughed softly, his body trembling slightly. Ling Yehan held him tighter and said with conviction into his ear:

"You are not a traitor. What you did was right. If you hadn’t rebelled, he would have died anyway—and many more would have perished. Your family, the soldiers of the Northwestern Army, the common people on the border—none would have escaped. Now, the court is completely transformed, and the people live far better than they ever did under the former dynasty. All of this is because of you."

He gently pressed his lips to the man’s, his voice husky and rough with emotion:

"This realm deserves to be held in your hands, Your Majesty."