Chapter 298 Silver-Tongued

Chapter 298: Smooth Talker

With one order from Emperor Jingping, several eunuchs approached the osmanthus tree.

The Crown Prince jolted, as if recalling something. He dashed over to the tree and dropped to his knees. “Dad, this osmanthus tree was planted by Mother back then. I—”

The Emperor cut him off in fury. “You dare try to stop the digging?”

Guilty—that little bastard knows he's guilty!

Shaking with fury, the Emperor barked, “Get the Crown Prince out of there! Start digging!”

The Crown Prince was forcibly dragged aside, staring blankly at his father.

The Emperor didn't even look at him, his eyes glued to the osmanthus tree.

Several eunuchs swung their spades, digging fiercely around the tree. Further away, armored guards stood expressionless, watching every leaf in the Eastern Palace.

No one spoke. All waited silently for a result that could turn everything upside down.

Xue Quan quietly wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, his gaze flickering toward Master Miaoqing.

Master Miaoqing stood with his wide sleeves fluttering in the wind, his face completely emotionless.

Xue Quan’s heart dropped.

The Crown Prince’s calamity would be hard to escape.

Though not well-read, he knew that witchcraft disasters in history often implicated many and ended in bloody tragedy.

Ah, Han’er, my boy... looks like neither of us is getting a good ending. The Xue family line won’t continue.

If only—if only Qiu Heng had really been carrying Han’er’s child back then!

That damn girl—how could she lie like that!

Xue Quan wished Qiu Heng were present, just so he could jump up and slap her.

Ling Yun stood right beside Master Miaoqing. After discreetly observing the master, Xue Quan’s eyes naturally moved to Ling Yun.

His expression was much like Master Miaoqing’s—detached, out-of-this-world.

Xue Quan curled his lips.

No wonder this Prince Kang’s heir had caught Master Miaoqing’s eye. They’re cut from the same cloth.

Han’er figured Master Miaoqing might be in Prince Fu’s pocket. Though he couldn’t fathom how that conclusion was reached, Prince Kang had been growing close to Prince Fu lately. That the Heir of Prince Kang had become Master Miaoqing’s lay disciple and constant companion likely wasn’t simply because the master just liked the guy.

Suddenly, a cry rang out. “We—we dug something up!”

Emperor Jingping stepped forward sharply. “Present it!”

All hope left Xue Quan; his face turned deathly pale.

The eunuch knelt down and pulled out what had been unearthed: a square sandalwood box.

All eyes locked onto the box.

The eunuch brushed the dirt off the box with his sleeve, then bent low, holding the box high as he walked over. He stopped at a distance from the Emperor, standing respectfully, waiting for someone to take it.

Such a critical object, at such a perilous moment—only Xue Quan was qualified to receive it.

Xue Quan took a quiet breath, walked step by step to the eunuch, and accepted the wooden box with both hands.

Emperor Jingping’s low, tense voice sounded. “Open it.”

Xue Quan held the box in one hand, placed the other on the lid, and gritted his teeth and flipped the lid open.

The soft click of the lid was deafening in the dead silence.

Xue Quan stared at what was inside, eyes going blank.

The Emperor got impatient. “Xue Quan?”

Xue Quan snapped back to reality, holding the box forward. “Your Majesty, please take a look.”

The Emperor peered inside, his eyes widening. “What—what is this?”

He had braced himself for something evil—a doll, hair, that kind of thing. But this gaudy thing in the box—what was it?

Black bottom, multicolored, weird shape—

Standing beside the Emperor, Master Miaoqing’s pupils constricted when he saw the contents. His calm, carefree mask instantly cracked.

“What is this?” The Emperor whirled around, demanding from the kneeling Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince seemed still lost in grief, like he didn’t even hear the Emperor’s question.

Fearing the Emperor might grow even more displeased, Xue Quan interjected. “Your Majesty, if I may, this looks like a clay dog.”

“A clay dog?” The Emperor looked blankly at the box in Xue Quan’s hands.

Inside, the garish clay dog stared back with big, innocent eyes, looking clueless.

“Your Majesty, if I may, these clay dogs are commonly sold at temple fairs among the people. Folk buy them for children to ward off bad luck and bring good fortune,” Xue Quan explained.

The Emperor slowly turned to the Crown Prince. “I ask you: why is a clay dog buried beneath this osmanthus tree?”

Though it wasn’t a cursed effigy or the like, the thought of burying stuff carelessly in the palace still bothered him.

The Crown Prince’s eyes were rimmed with red, tears glistening. “I had a dream recently, Dad. In it, Mother missed me. After waking, the memory pained me greatly, so I took this clay dog—the one Mother bought for me at a fair that year—and buried it beneath the osmanthus tree she planted with her own hands, to comfort her spirit up in heaven…”

As the Crown Prince wept, the Emperor recalled: for a time, the late Empress had indeed liked sending people to the markets to buy cheap but charming little trinkets for the Crown Prince.

He hadn’t paid much attention to which ones, happy that mother and son were having fun.

He was never truly in love with his first wife, but he respected her. And the Crown Prince was his only son at the time, so naturally he doted on him and treasured him.

Thus, when he now recalled those days, though the details were dim, the warmth and peace still stayed in his memory.

Seeing the Crown Prince’s reddened eyes, the Emperor softened his tone. “You have filial piety toward your mother. In the future, burn incense for her, burn paper money on memorial days—don’t bury random things around the grounds.”

“I was wrong, Dad.”

“Reflect properly.” The Emperor glanced once more at the slightly faded clay dog in the box, then turned to leave.

Master Miaoqing shot a deep look at the Crown Prince, then silently followed the Emperor.

“I see Father off with respect,” the Crown Prince said, his voice choked with tears.

Xue Quan hesitated for a moment, then handed the box to the Crown Prince: "Your Highness, please keep it somewhere safe."

"Thank you, Eunuch Xue."

In the blink of an eye, everyone had cleared out. The Crown Prince, still kneeling, clutched the wooden box containing the clay toy dog tightly, and as he stared at the osmanthus tree that had been dug up in a mess, big tears streamed down his face.

The aged clay toy dog was washed by the tears; though its colors had faded, it still seemed vivid in the Crown Prince's eyes.

Emperor Jingping did not return to his bedchamber but instead went back to the Hall of Eternal Life.

With fewer people around, Emperor Jingping wearily pinched the bridge of his nose and asked Master Miaoqing, "True Man, that clay toy dog buried under the osmanthus tree—it's not connected to any evil or resentment, right?"

Although no evil object had been found, the sudden discomfort in his body was still real, and this matter could not simply be let go.

Having personally witnessed that the tongwood puppet, which should have been buried under the osmanthus tree, had turned into a clay toy dog meant for warding off disasters and seeking blessings, Master Miaoqing's emotions surged like a mountain range, yet still kept up the air of a detached sage.

"It is both unrelated and related."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The clay toy dog itself is not an evil object, but it was a gift from the late Empress to the Crown Prince. This old object has carried the Crown Prince's longing for his mother over many years and already took on a spirit of its own. Buried under the osmanthus tree planted by the late Empress herself, it connected with the late Empress's lingering bitterness..."