Chapter 75 Political Upheaval

Chapter 75: A Shift in Court Politics

As dusk deepened, within the bedchamber.

Jing Su reclined on the bed, a half-open scroll in his hand, his brow betraying not a hint of weariness.

Duan Lingwen entered, carrying a black lacquered medicine tray. He gently placed the bowl of dark brown medicinal broth on the small table beside the bed, then settled onto the bed's edge.

Seeing this, Jing Su set down his scroll and instinctively reached for the medicine bowl, preparing to drink it all in one gulp, as he had done in the days prior.

However, Duan Lingwen’s hand moved first, subtly shifting the bowl out of reach.

Jing Su’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. He withdrew his hand as if nothing were amiss and inquired, “What’s wrong?”

A moment of silence hung in the air.

Duan Lingwen’s gaze returned to the bowl of dark broth, his eyes swirling with complex emotions. Then, he picked up the bowl, and with a turn of his wrist, brought the rim to his own lips.

Jing Su’s expression shifted. He firmly grasped Duan Lingwen’s wrist, his grip so strong that the medicine in the bowl sloshed, though fortunately, none spilled.

“This medicine is not to be trifled with,” Jing Su stated, taking the bowl from him and setting it aside.

From his expression, Duan Lingwen knew his conjecture was correct. A faint curve touched his lips as he asked, “You can drink it, so why can’t I?”

Jing Su chuckled. “You weren’t exposed to the Northern Barbarians’ poison smoke. Why would you drink this medicine recklessly?”

“Then what about you?” Duan Lingwen leaned closer, retorting, “Were you truly poisoned?”

Hearing this, Jing Su’s smile remained. He tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely pondering this peculiar question. “Naturally, it’s true.”

Duan Lingwen said nothing more. He simply gazed quietly into Jing Su’s smiling eyes. Then, he slowly buried his face in Jing Su’s chest, his voice muffled as he spoke: “…I understand.”

It was as if he was confirming Jing Su’s words, or perhaps he had realized what this so-called “poison” truly was.

From beginning to end, Jing Su had never been poisoned. Duan Lingwen could only fault himself for being too slow-witted. Such a momentous affair, and even he had been kept in the dark. By all rights, he should have been angry. Yet, at this moment, not a shred of resentment stirred within him.

For he understood all too well that Jing Su had painstakingly orchestrated this scheme for no other reason than to pave the way for him. Under the guise of “recuperating from poisoning,” Jing Su had allowed him to gradually ascend the court and seize control.

Jing Su’s arm naturally encircled Duan Lingwen’s waist, his warm palm resting against the small of his back. His other hand gently caressed the back of Duan Lingwen’s head, tenderly pressing a kiss into his hair.

Then, the arm around Duan Lingwen’s waist tightened abruptly. In the next instant, with a slight exertion, he lifted Duan Lingwen entirely, maintaining the embrace, before swiftly turning and pinning him to the bed.

Sinking into the brocade quilts, Duan Lingwen’s eyes widened slightly as he looked up at Jing Su’s face, now so close above him. There was no trace of illness in those eyes—only a scorching, almost consuming intensity.

Jing Su let out a low laugh, his warm breath caressing Duan Lingwen’s ear. He leaned down, intimately nuzzling Duan Lingwen’s flushed neck with the tip of his nose.

The silk curtains fell, and the candlelight flickered gently. Dark hair spilled across the pillow, and amidst the flowing robes, a pale wrist subtly appeared, trembling faintly, stirring a ripple in the heart.

A large hand clasped that wrist, calloused fingertips gently stroking the slightly prominent bone before slowly shifting, firmly holding the hand that instinctively tried to curl away. Palms pressed tightly together, fingers interlacing until they were fully entwined.

Jing Su held him close, gazing intently at his sleeping face in the dim candlelight. He reached out, gently brushing aside a damp strand of hair clinging to Duan Lingwen’s cheek.

In his drowsiness, Duan Lingwen unconsciously nuzzled against Jing Su’s neck, letting out a soft murmur, as if lightly calling Jing Su’s name.

“Hmm,” Jing Su responded softly.

He always felt… it wasn’t enough.

He owed Duan Lingwen too much—protection, authority—yet it never seemed sufficient.

He knew all too well that the mindsets of the Jing Army’s old guard, the surrendered officials of the former dynasty, and the scholars of the realm could not be changed overnight.

But this time, they had ample time.

The third year of Qiming.

In the third year since the new dynasty’s establishment, undercurrents of political change surged. Under the pretext of “recuperating from poisoning,” Jing Su allowed Duan Lingwen to openly stand in court and govern on the emperor’s behalf.

He promoted scholars from humble backgrounds, breaking old systems to establish new imperial examinations. He abolished restrictions based on family status and gender, allowing men, women, and even shuang'er—those with true talent and learning—to take the exams, selecting officials based on merit alone.

This shattered rules upheld for over a thousand years, striking at the very foundations of the scholar-official class.

The new policy shook the realm. Some praised it, but more condemned it as “disrupting the natural order.” The old families, who had relied on hereditary privilege for generations, reacted most fiercely, submitting joint memorials that nearly piled up over the imperial desk.

Yet Duan Lingwen remained steadfast in the administrative hall, wielding thunderous authority. Under the guise of evaluating performance, he dismissed several of the most vocal yet incompetent old-family officials from the capital.

The fourth year of Qiming.

The new policy had been in effect for over a year. In the court, the presence of humble scholars, female officials, and shuang'er officials gradually increased. Though they still faced peculiar gazes, they had begun to stand firm and demonstrate their abilities. However, millennia-old entrenched flaws could not be eradicated in a day, and resistance in the shadows never ceased.

Among them, one influential family, dissatisfied with shuang'er in power, openly fanned the flames, submitting a lengthy joint memorial spanning ten thousand words.

The memorial did not discuss the pros and cons of the new policy but instead extensively elaborated on “heavenly principles and human ethics” and “the natural order of things,” citing classics to imply that women and shuang'er participating in governance defied heaven’s will and would bring divine retribution, calamity upon the nation.

At the end, the memorial pointedly suggested that the source of such chaos lay with Duan Lingwen.

This memorial was highly inflammatory, not only stirring the old families into action again but also causing some originally neutral officials to harbor doubts.

Rumors began to spread through the streets and alleys, even weaving absurd tales of “sorcery” and enchantment.

Duan Lingwen ordered a thorough investigation into that influential family. Within ten days, ironclad evidence of the family’s crimes—land seizures, allowing servants to commit violence, bribing officials, and even several unresolved murder cases—was compiled and presented before the emperor.

In the end, the family head was thrown into the imperial prison, and his clansmen were implicated and investigated.

The court fell into stunned silence.

By autumn of the fourth year of Qiming, the political turmoil sparked by the ten-thousand-word memorial gradually subsided, but it allowed certain lurking forces to glimpse an opportunity.

If Duan Lingwen’s power was rooted in the emperor’s favor, then if that favor could be divided or even seized, wouldn’t the tides turn?

And the emperor was in his prime, the central palace empty, with only one person by his side for so long…

Winter of the fourth year of Qiming.

Inside the imperial study, the charcoal fire burned brightly, dispelling the cold from outside the window.

Jing Su lounged on a soft couch, a few recently submitted memorials piled beside him. He picked one up casually and began reading. As he read, the corners of his lips curled upward uncontrollably, and he even let out a soft chuckle.

Duan Lingwen, sitting beside him, turned at the sound and asked curiously, “What is it?”

Jing Su pushed the memorial toward him casually, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Why don’t you read it yourself?”

Hearing this, Duan Lingwen picked up the memorial with curiosity, his eyes scanning the contents. It was an earnest admonition, first citing classics to expound on the importance of the emperor expanding the harem and ensuring numerous heirs, then shifting tone to imply that the imperial household’s exclusive favor toward one person was detrimental to the stability of the nation.

Its meaning was already clear.

He flipped through several others, their contents largely similar, only differing in the recommended candidates—some were carefully groomed daughters of certain noble families, others were young men reputed for their peerless beauty from certain scholar clans.

Duan Lingwen gently placed the memorial back on the desk, his face expressionless, and fell silent.

Seeing this, Jing Su's smile gradually faded. He had expected Duan Lingwen to not care or even toss the memorial aside, but not this silence.

"Wenwen," he called out tentatively, softening his tone.

Duan Lingwen slowly turned his head. His usually clear and calm eyes now seemed dim.

Jing Su let out a soft sigh and reached out to gently pull him into his arms, resting his chin on top of his head. "Do you remember what I said?" he whispered.

"What..." Duan Lingwen hadn't caught on yet.

Jing Su replied, "I've already spoken with Uncle. After next spring, I will name Jing Ji as the crown prince."

Duan Lingwen froze for a moment.

Jing Ji was indeed exceptionally bright, enough to silence the gossiping masses.

But.

"This isn't the same..." His eyes gradually misted over, tinged with a hint of hurt. "Jing Su... this isn't the same."

He wrapped his arms around Jing Su's neck, as if mustering all his strength to voice a long-held, unspoken wish: "I want a child—our child."

Sometimes he wondered if he had been ungrateful in a past life, and this was heaven's punishment. Over the years, he knew the hope was slim, yet he clung to it time and again, only to be disappointed each time.

The darkness in Jing Su's eyes instantly clouded over with emotion, and his arm tightened subconsciously around Duan Lingwen.

Their child... had once been with them.

This was a pain both carried deep in their hearts.

At this moment, all words of comfort felt hollow. He held the person in his arms even tighter, as if trying to press him into his very being. "Alright," he said solemnly.

Jing Su said nothing more. He leaned down, slipped one arm under Duan Lingwen's knees, and lifted him up. He walked swiftly, circled around the screen, heading straight for the inner chamber.

The candlelight in the inner room was dimmer than outside, and the air carried a faint scent of sandalwood. Jing Su gently laid him on the daybed, then leaned over him, casting a shadow.

"Jing Su..." Duan Lingwen called softly, his voice trembling slightly.

"Hmm," Jing Su responded quietly before lowering his head to cover his lips. This kiss was unlike their usual tender ones—it held a nearly fierce, predatory intensity, as if trying to devour all his grievances, unease, and sorrow, making him forget everything except this moment.

Their clothes were soon discarded, scattered on the floor. The cool air brushed against their skin, causing a shiver, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Jing Su's body, gradually warming him.

Jing Su kissed his brow, eyelids, the tip of his nose, then his lips again, trailing downward—his neck, collarbone, and across his entire body, leaving his mark.