Chapter 242: Suspicion (Part 1)

Chapter 242: Suspicion (Part 1)

In the Shouren Hall.

Incense mist breathed from the mouth of the goose-shaped censer, and moonlight sifted through the ruyi-patterned brocade window lattice, casting staggered, uneven shadows across the desk.

Xiang Zheng held a crystal monocle in one hand while reviewing memorials, while Xue Jie, holding silver scissors, roamed the hall trimming candle wicks.

Xiang Zheng glanced at him from the corner of his eye: "Are these trivial matters worth your personal attention? Are the Twelve Directorates, Four Offices, and Eight Bureaus all out of people?"

Xue Jie smiled: "Those little monkey brats have no sense of how heavy their hands are. If they all came swarming in like a hive of bees, they'd inevitably disturb Your Majesty's important work. Better that this servant handles it alone and wins Your Majesty a bit of peace and quiet."

"If I'd known it would come to this, I should have kept Ru Feng by my side," Xiang Zheng said.

"It's a burden on Your Majesty to always think of him."

"Mm." Xiang Zheng nodded approvingly. "That boy is a sharp one—everything he touches turns to gold."

Xue Jie just kept smiling, nothing more.

Candlelight cast uneven shadows across his face.

To be honest, Xue Jie hadn't been a close personal servant who'd attended Xiang Zheng since childhood.

When Xiang Zheng married, Xue Jie was a wedding slave the late emperor sent as an extra gift to the Eastern Palace, specifically assigned to attend to Crown Princess Rong.

The eunuch Qi, who had truly accompanied Xiang Zheng through his youth, had been executed by waist-cutting in the fifth year of the emperor's reign for colluding with outside officials, his bones long since turned to earth in some unknown patch of soil.

Only after that had Xue Jie been transferred to his side.

Xue Jie still remembered the anxiety he felt the day the emperor personally requested his transfer: "Your Majesty, this servant is dull-witted and fears I can't do the job well and might ruin Your Majesty's great plans."

"No matter," Xiang Zheng said. "I don't need you to stand out or stick your neck out. I only require you to behave properly and avoid major mistakes."

With that, he turned to Empress Rong: "What does the Empress think?"

When the emperor asked for someone, how could the empress possibly refuse?

Empress Rong had been very kind and easygoing even as Crown Princess, and after becoming empress, she grew even more dignified and proper, though a faint melancholy had settled between her brows—a bodhisattva's face that grieved for the world, pitied the people, and mourned all living beings.

Empress Rong said softly: "Though Xue Jie isn't quick-witted, he's never made a single slip-up."

With things as they were, Xue Jie had no choice but to go.

He knelt to thank Her Majesty the Empress for her kind words, then thanked His Majesty for his favor.

As he knocked his head loudly on the ground, Xue Jie was still thinking: Her Majesty's medicine was still simmering, only about fifty or sixty percent done—hope it doesn't get ruined and lose its medicinal potency.

But whether it was heaven's will or not, once this Xue Jie who had "never made a single slip-up" left, the Empress's fortune took a turn for the worse.

The year after Xue Jie left, the Empress's only son, Crown Prince Xiang Zhi, died of a sudden, violent illness.

Three months later, Empress Rong passed away from grief and melancholy.

It was as if when her wedding slave left, her good luck left with him.

Xue Jie was like a lump of old cotton with a tepid temperament. When his old master died, he wept a few times, dried his tears, and tidied himself up, then dutifully went back to serving the emperor.

After decades of living together day and night, Xue Jie knew the emperor's unspoken meanings like the back of his hand.

As Ru Feng put it, his adoptive father was the one person in the world who understood the emperor best—he knew what the emperor was going to do the moment he lifted his ass.

As the emperor had said, Ru Feng was indeed the sharpest little apprentice Xue Jie had ever trained—otherwise, Xue Jie wouldn't have doted on him like a son, even going so far as to break precedent and adopt him.

But he was full of odd quips and could never hold them in, which made him truly unfit to serve in the palace.

So when Xiang Zheng wanted to plant an informant in the Sixth Prince's household, Xue Jie unhesitatingly recommended Ru Feng.

Sending him to a peaceful post was also a way to keep him out of harm's way.

...But as things looked now, the Sixth Prince's household was actually another center of a whirlpool.

When the emperor brought up Ru Feng now, was he really talking about Ru Feng?

At this thought, Xue Jie said with a beaming smile: "That boy Ru Feng is blessed to have Your Majesty think of him so often. This servant will have him come to the palace another day to kowtow and thank Your Majesty."

The emperor hummed in acknowledgment, raised the memorial in his hand, and smiled lightly: "Wen Ren Yue was just promoted before noon, and by evening, memorials impeaching him were already submitted. They work fast."

Xue Jie put on a surprised look: "Oh my, how did that happen?"

Xiang Zheng laid out the memorial in his hand side by side with two others he'd picked out.

"One says: the sacred vessel has its ordained master; it is not something a minister may touch lightly. Wen Ren Yue daring to receive and hold the Imperial Seal in open court is an act of defying the emperor's majesty and shaking the very foundation of the state."

"Another says: when the seal fell to the ground, Your Majesty was still seated on the throne. Wen Ren Yue seized the seal without awaiting an imperial decree, like 'a hawk swooping on a rabbit.' In the past, Huo Guang, when assisting the government, still knew to 'hold the seal and wait for the sovereign.' Wen Ren Yue's arrogance is even worse than Huo Guang's."

"This one goes even further afield, saying Wen Ren Yue recruited private troops in Tongzhou, building personal favor among the troops and people, seizing power beyond the court, starting border disputes without authorization and launching campaigns beyond his authority—acts that aggravate border troubles..."

Xue Jie said not a word, only carefully gathering the trimmed wicks and tucking them into a pouch in his sleeve.

Xiang Zheng was quite satisfied with his reaction.

Over the years, whenever the mood struck him, he had tested Xue Jie many times, and this lump of old cotton only moved when poked—so obedient it was endearing.

He asked: "What do you think?"

The old cotton spoke slowly: "This servant doesn't understand such matters. I'm clumsy with words and fear I'd make Your Majesty laugh."

Xiang Zheng tossed his brush at him: "You old thing, you really only move when poked? I told you to speak, so speak. I pardon you."

Xue Jie caught the brush and held it to his chest, then asked cautiously: "Your Majesty, may I ask who Huo Guang is?"

Xiang Zheng laughed in spite of himself and, with rare patience, explained: "Huo Qubing—do you know of him?"

Seeing that Xue Jie wasn't completely ignorant and nodded obediently, Xiang Zheng continued: "Huo Guang was Huo Qubing's younger half-brother on the father's side, a key minister entrusted by Emperor Wu of Han with the care of his young heir. He commanded the imperial guard, monopolized power for a long time, and formed cliques for personal gain..."

Halfway through his explanation, he suddenly figured it out himself.

Wen Ren Yue has Huo Guang's talent but lacks Huo Guang's family standing.

The son of a mere merchant, with no notable family and few kin—how could he achieve anything?

Facing Xue Jie's thirsting-for-knowledge gaze, Xiang Zheng laughed: "Right. I am a wise ruler, and my ministers are able. Even if Wen Ren Yue really were Huo Guang reborn, what would I have to fear?"

Xue Jie, with a look of utter cluelessness, flattered: "Your Majesty is right."

Xiang Zheng tossed aside the memorial that had slapped the Huo Guang label on Le Wuya, and asked again: "Today, when the Imperial Seal hit the ground, what did you think of Wen Ren Yue's reaction?"

Xue Jie: "This servant couldn't have matched him."

“What do you mean?”

“If I, Lord Wenren, had run into something like this so suddenly, I would’ve been scared out of my wits. From what I saw, most of the court officials were pretty shaken up too. Lord Wenren managed to smooth things over—not perfectly, but it shows quick thinking. I kind of envy his way with words; with that gift, I could surely keep Your Majesty laughing.”

Xiang Zheng laughed and scolded, “You sly old fox.”

Xiang Zheng turned his gaze to the first memorial, his eyes growing cold.

The one who’d submitted this impeachment, angrily denouncing Wenren Yue for “defying imperial majesty,” had been there too, just as silent, not daring to say a single extra word. But back home, he was all eloquence and flowery prose.

These censors were becoming more impressive by the day—silent to one’s face, but chatty behind your back.

He pulled out that memorial and tossed it aside too, then turned to the third one, which accused Wenren Yue of privately recruiting garrison troops.

Before Xue Jie could weigh in, Xiang Zheng laughed out loud.

“Do they really think I’ve gone senile? Zong Wenzhi sends me a confidential report every two weeks that backs up Wenren Yue’s own reports. Where’s the overstepping? Where’s the amassing of private power? I aim to emulate the great Tang and Han emperors—how could I turn into a Song Gaozong, who killed Yue Fei and favored corrupt ministers?”

Xiang Zheng shook his head and said, “According to the ‘Interpretation of Posthumous Titles,’ ‘Gao’ means covering all with virtue, great merit, or sheltering all under heaven. That a nobody like Zhao Gou got the posthumous title ‘Gao’ is a real waste of a good name.”

Xue Jie kept looking confused, nodding along.

“These three, they all see in him a resemblance to…” Xiang Zheng paused delicately, “…and figure I’d hate him on sight. So they’ve set out to find fault with him, hoping to win my favor.”

Seeing Xue Jie with his head down, silent, Xiang Zheng pressed him to talk: “Old man, don’t play dumb. You think he looks like him too, don’t you?”

Xue Jie offered an apologetic smile: “This servant’s getting on in years, eyesight failing. Standing behind you, I couldn’t see well, but I did notice some similarity in build, and the voice was close too. But when he talks…”

He hesitated slightly: “I’ve caught bits and pieces of how Lord Yue talked with you. The things he said in court don’t sound like something Lord Yue would say.”

Xiang Zheng’s expression eased: “You’re honest, willing to tell the truth. Xiaoliu, Xiaoqi, Yuheng—even Yuan Xiaotian—have all met him, yet not one of them spoke straight with me. Really…”

Xue Jie said softly, “Your Majesty, please don’t be angry.”

“What do you think?”

“This servant thinks it’s because they value talent too much.” Xue Jie spoke softly, “As you’ve said, Lord Wenren does bear some resemblance to Lord Yue. If, when recommending him, someone added that this man looks like Lord Yue—would that be praise or criticism?”

Hearing this, Xiang Zheng’s tone softened even more: “Are you saying my ministers think I’m so petty and narrow-minded I can’t even stand a mere Wenren Yue?”

“That’s why this servant says those gentlemen were too protective of talent and overthought it. Besides, you’ve never believed in such supernatural stuff. To talk about ‘looking alike’ in front of you would be invoking ghosts and spirits—wouldn’t that just needlessly upset you?”

Xiang Zheng thought for a long while, his brow slowly relaxing: “The old man makes sense. It’s just that Xiaoliu, that kid… sigh… raised by the Lantai to be so single-minded.”

Xue Jie said respectfully, “The Sixth Prince values decorum above all and is devoted to his teachers.”

“Devoted to a fault, that one!” Xiang Zheng said. “When I ordered Le Wuya executed back then, he came to beg for mercy. I told him to kneel, and he knelt till he coughed up blood, wrecking his health. To this day, he’s still all alone…”

Everyone in Shangjing knew the Sixth Prince had a reverse curse when it came to marriage.

Specifically, he could curse himself half dead.

Over the years, whenever the emperor started arranging a princess for him, he was bound to fall seriously ill.

Faced with such a strange fate, the Imperial Observatory naturally couldn’t say the prince’s fate was weak. Instead, they claimed the prince’s fortune was too lofty, needing a heaven-blessed fated partner to balance out his odd fate.

The emperor refused to believe it, made a list of eligible young women in Shangjing, and handed it to the Observatory to run the numbers.

The Observatory ran the numbers once and declared that no one capable of surviving the Sixth Prince had been born yet.

The emperor stayed unconvinced and never gave up over the years, wanting to find a wife for Xiaoliu. If that didn’t work, at least a Secondary Consort, to keep the bloodline going.

About a year ago, when Wenren Yue was transferred to be Prefect of Tongzhou, Xiang Zheng gave him a personal palace maid, to give him a taste of things.

But the very night she arrived at the residence, Zhi Jie had a heart palpitation attack and a high fever. The emperor rushed two imperial physicians over, barely managing to stop the fierce tide of illness.

Earlier, the emperor had suspected he was faking it, so he arranged for Xiaoqi to marry.

The two brothers were born of the same mother, with identical birth charts. If Xiaoqi could marry without problems, then Xiaoliu must be faking it—a crime of deceiving the emperor.

Unexpectedly, Xiaoqi also fell seriously ill, worse than Xiaoliu, nearly dying.

At this point, the emperor didn’t dare casually approve any marriage.

A prince’s marriage was always a tool for forging ties with ministers, but the situation with Xiaoliu and Xiaoqi was a real pickle.

How so?

Was he supposed to give a minister’s daughter the status of a widow before the wedding even happened?

Seeing the emperor deep in thought, Xue Jie smiled: “Your Majesty, you’ve taught this servant so much in one breath that you must be parched. Let me go check on your lotus seed soup.”

Xiang Zheng snapped back to attention, dipped his brush in ink, and spread out paper, planning to give a proper scolding to these three muddle-headed censors who’d flattered the wrong way: “Go on.”

Xue Jie, with the faint scent of candle wax on his palm, bowed and left Shouren Hall.

He stood on the marble steps, looking at the brightly lit palace, and let out a silent sigh.

…This was all he could do to help.

Having served Empress Rong for years, he knew she’d had only one true confidante in her lifetime: Imperial Consort Zhuang.

The Empress’s biological son had died young, and there was nothing he could do about that.

But for the adopted son of the Empress’s dear friend, he could say one more word if it might do some good.

With that thought, he tightened his sleeves. Summer had arrived, yet the weather was still so cold.

…

Inside the hall, Xiang Zheng had just set down his brush when a late-returning jackdaw outside the window let out a harsh, piercing cry, making him shudder, then he broke into a violent fit of coughing.

Xue Jie wasn’t there, and the young eunuch waiting outside hurried in to pat his back and calm him down.

He waved the attendant off.

When the coughing eased a bit, he muttered to himself, “Really getting old.”

He cleared his throat, feeling like something was stuck there—couldn’t spit it out, couldn’t swallow it down, most uncomfortable.

He looked up at the window. Outside hung a slender crescent moon, its cold, clear light shining bright in the sky. In its glow, the chiwen ornaments on the palace eaves looked almost alive.

The moon is waning…

At that thought, Xiang Zheng hunched his shoulders and coughed twice more.

...How could that be?

If there truly existed an art of resurrection in this world, then the old emperor—whom he had ridiculed his entire life as a fool—could he have been right all along?

Author's note:

Today's chapter has a heavy dose of the old emperor.

The political infighting now begins in grand earnest.

——————————————

The emperor was overjoyed, unfastening his white jade-studded belt from his waist and sending it to the courier station with a decree: "You possess extraordinary courage, having received the imperial seal with due reverence, which fully demonstrates your loyalty. You may wear this belt to signify this special honor."

Further considering that Yue had long been stationed in the borderlands and would find it difficult to secure a residence, he specially granted a top-grade residence east of Taiping Granary, covering ten mu, complete with pavilions, terraces, ponds, and gardens. Such favor and honor were unprecedented.

— *History of Yu: Annals of Emperor Gaozong*