Chapter 253: Filial Piety (Part 2)

Chapter 253: Filial Piety (Part 2)

At midnight, the Fifth Prince's residence was brightly lit, with candles blazing and lamps burning bright as day, making the plaque inscribed with "By Imperial Decree: Prince Hui's Mansion [Prince Hui]" gleam with a dazzling, iridescent sheen.

Whenever a grown prince took on official assignments, he had to enter the palace on the first and fifteenth of each month to report on his work.

On the night before, Xiang Zhiyun was always sleepless and restless with anxiety.

Take now, for instance.

His advisor Pan Yang [Pan Yang] saw that he had stayed up so long his eyes were bloodshot and could not help but urge, "Your Highness, please rest early."

"Only the file of Scholar Tian [Scholar Tian] of Zhangde Prefecture remains," Xiang Zhiyun looked up and said. "The Court of Judicial Review has already reviewed it—why hasn't the Censorate gotten back to us yet?"

"Set your mind at ease, Your Highness. This matter is being handled by that Wen Ren [Wen Ren] Yue, but he has been ill at home these past two days, which has caused the delay," Pan Yang reassured him. "Besides, for tomorrow's report, this kind of minor case just needs to be tacked on at the end with a brief mention. When His Majesty approves executions, he only signs off on death sentences anyway."

That was true.

This case only required the Three Judicial Offices to determine whether Scholar Tian's act of "killing his son in public" counted as egregious conduct warranting an additional sentence of exile—it indeed did not require His Majesty's decision.

Hearing this, Xiang Zhiyun breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

As long as he's just sick, that's fine.

Wen Ren Yue was well-versed in criminal law and litigation. Such a simple case, yet he was dragging his feet and refusing to handle it—which kept making Xiang Zhiyun worry there might be some problem with the case.

He was truly afraid of his father's reprimands, so he had gone over the case again and again until his eyes went blurry, yet he still couldn't spot any inconsistencies.

Xiang Zhiyun leaned back against his chair and gave a wry smile. "I've been too cautious."

Then he asked again, "How did he fall ill? Not used to the local climate?"

Pan Yang pressed his lips together, clearly stifling a laugh.

Xiang Zhiyun looked at him. "What is it?"

"This matter is a bit crude, and I was afraid it might sully Your Highness's ears. But a few days ago, Censor-in-Chief Wang hosted a small dinner party at his home..."

The Fifth Prince had not shown such keen interest in others' affairs in a long time. To lift his master's spirits, Pan Yang adopted a joking tone and spun a colorful tale of how Wang Su [Wang Su] had forced Wen Ren Yue to drink, only to have the drunken Wen Ren Yue rip off his wig.

"It must have been Father's doing," Xiang Zhiyun forced a quick smile, his face tightening again. "That man can hold his liquor. I hear Wen Ren Yue is not skilled at it—Father probably doesn't believe that and wanted to test the waters."

His voice grew hesitant here. "A man like Father... does he really believe in spirits after death?"

Pan Yang didn't dare to speak recklessly about His Majesty. He withdrew his smile and mumbled submissively, "Your Highness..."

"If Father really could find a way to resurrect someone, he'd definitely use it to bring Eldest Brother back first."

With that, Xiang Zhiyun managed a wan smile. "Eldest Brother was the one Father truly wanted as heir."

Pan Yang blurted out, "If the Late Crown Prince [Late Crown Prince] were alive, his position might not be any better than yours!"

The instant the words were out, Pan Yang knew he'd misspoken.

His heart sinking with regret, he quickly poured a cup of soothing tea and said softly, trying to walk it back, "Your Highness, have a sip to wet your throat. You are too tense."

Xiang Zhiyun didn't take the cup.

"Father's been cold to me ever since the Zhang Yue [Zhang Yue] affair," Xiang Zhiyun said, a trace of self-mocking grief in his eyes. "What can I do? What should I do?"

Over the years, he had served his father with utmost diligence, walking on eggshells.

Every memorial had to be weighed word by word, every task had to be carried out with utmost effort.

He was blamed at the slightest misstep; he lay awake day and night.

Yet even so, his distance from that position always stayed at the same frustrating distance.

No matter how hard he ran and chased, that seat of the heir apparent was like a mirage in the clouds—clearly within sight, but when he reached for it, all he grabbed was a fistful of empty void.

The Dayu [Dayu] imperial house had always valued legitimacy and seniority.

Eldest Brother, Xiang Zhiming, was born of Empress Rong [Empress Rong].

Barring any accidents, he was the surefire heir to the throne.

However, the Third Brother had died young, the Eldest Brother had passed away, and the Second and Fourth Brothers lacked the makings of a ruler—so this boundless fortune and favor had fallen upon Xiang Zhiyun instead.

At first, he had been delighted and proud, high-spirited and confident.

But gradually, that joy faded.

The Emperor's gaze upon him was not that of a father looking at a son, but rather that of one scrutinizing a younger, more inexperienced political rival.

Pressure weighed down on him from above, while brothers lurked behind him, eyeing him hungrily.

His father wasn't a father, and his brothers weren't brothers.

He was truly exhausted.

Pan Yang opened his mouth to speak.

Ever since Xiang Zhijie [Zhi Jie] had come to the fore and stolen the spotlight, Xiang Zhiyun had been in low spirits, seeming to have lost interest in everything.

Earlier, Pan Yang, as his advisor, had given the Fifth Prince bad advice, suggesting he use Zhang Yue's lost painting to attack Xiang Zhijie and drag him into the mud—which had instead gotten him a scolding.

For this, Pan Yang was filled with shame and fear, and could only stay as quiet as a mouse, standing by helplessly and saying nothing.

Xiang Zhiyun slowly pulled himself together.

He was the backbone of the Prince Hui's mansion; he couldn't afford to let slip any words of despair or discouragement.

He turned his unfocused eyes back to the case file before him, forcing himself to steady his nerves. "...Has Lin An sent back any more news?"

Pan Yang, as if pardoned from a death sentence, hurriedly reported what the spy had reported back.

Xiang Zhiyun looked up and said quietly, "Yes, County Princess of Tonglu [County Princess Tonglu], née Qi, indeed caught Father's attention because of her strict observance of filial piety."

He drifted into thought.

If his guess was correct, that woman Qi was clearly a planted spy set by Father beside Le Wuya [Le Wuya].

Such pawns were typically used up and thrown away—after Le Wuya's death, she should have immediately "dropped dead" or "killed herself to join her husband."

Yet she had managed to walk away scot-free.

...Ah, of course. This County Princess of Tonglu had long been elevated by Father as a paragon of filial piety among the common folk. If she were to die suddenly, would that not damage His Majesty's painstaking efforts to promote filial piety?

Come to think of it, ever since being rebuked by Father half a year ago, Xiang Zhiyun had not been able to grow close to him again. All their interactions were all business, no warmth—enough to make one's heart and teeth go cold.

The bond between an emperor and his son is not like that of ordinary families. After quarrels and harsh words, they still sit down to eat together, and as they eat, tempers cool, grudges melt away, and they can still be a close, loving family.

Xiang Zhiyun exhaled deeply.

This Wen Ren, who looked so strikingly like Le Wuya, had now become Xiaoliu's right-hand man.

Whether this man was a reincarnated soul or just happened to resemble that criminal, he had successfully drawn too much of the Emperor's attention to Xiaoliu.

And Wen Ren had been promoted step by step by the Emperor himself—from a clean background, skilled in both letters and arms, with a stellar record of achievements—a capable official with a bright future.

So far, aside from his face, there wasn't a single flaw to be found in him.

Xiang Zhiyun took a slow breath, pushing his churning thoughts back down.

He needed a masterstroke to win back his father's attention.

...

The next day, at the Si hour (9–11 a.m.), inside the Shouren Hall.

Xiang Zhiyun respectfully presented a memorial on Ministry of Justice matters to the throne.

None of these cases were contentious; Xiang Zheng approved them one by one with his vermilion brush. When he reached the end, he asked offhandedly, "Why hasn't one of these cases been closed yet?"

Xiang Zhiyun hurriedly replied, "Your Majesty, the Censorate is still looking into it. Since it doesn't involve the death penalty, there's no rush to close it out..."

Xiang Zheng asked, "Who did he kill that it doesn't warrant the death penalty?"

Xiang Zhiyun picked his words carefully: "...The person involved is a scholar from Zhangde, surnamed Tian."

Xiang Zheng kept marking the memorial, not looking up: "Oh?"

The hall went quiet.

Xiang Zhiyun gulped and went on, "He was filial to his mother. When she fell gravely ill and medicine proved futile, he went to great lengths to find doctors and cures, even going so far as to cut a piece of flesh from his own thigh to treat her..."

Driven by his own selfish agenda, Xiang Zhiyun's account was heavily slanted in Scholar Tian's favor.

After all, no matter what, Scholar Tian wasn't going to get the death penalty.

He went into detail about Scholar Tian's arduous search for a cure for his mother and her miraculous recovery, while briefly touching on the tragic scene of the Tian family's young child being smashed to death in front of the shrine—a well-balanced account.

After listening to Xiang Zhiyun's summary of the case, Xiang Zheng finally looked up, intrigued: "Zhiyun, why did you single out this case? What's your angle?"

Xiang Zhiyun replied, "Your Majesty sees clearly. The Book of Songs says, 'Alas, my parents, who labored to raise me... How can I ever repay their kindness? It is vast as the heavens.' Tian Youde served his loving mother dutifully, following in the footsteps of ancient paragons like Cui Mian and Wang Xiang. Though he strained the bond between father and son for the sake of filial devotion to his mother, his filial devotion could move heaven and earth. If Your Majesty were to hold him up as an example, it would surely correct morals and encourage filial piety."

Xiang Zheng, however, was focused on something else entirely: "Zhiyun, you're in charge of the Ministry of Justice—since when do you also handle Ministry of Rites business?"

Xiang Zhiyun's heart lurched in panic, and he quickly dropped to his knees, smoothing his robes: "Your Majesty, I wouldn't dare overstep my bounds. It's just that after reviewing this case file, I felt compelled to speak up."

Xiang Zheng put down his brush, his expression severe: "What's brought this on? If I were deathly ill and needed you to be sacrificed, offered up to the gods, would you go along with it willingly?"

This was exactly the question Xiang Zhiyun had been hoping for.

He carefully pledged his loyalty: "'A gentleman who serves his parents with filial devotion can transfer that loyalty to his ruler.' To Xiao Wu, Your Majesty is both ruler and father. The will of my ruler and father outweighs even heaven. Whatever you command, Xiao Wu will obey without question."

After delivering a lengthy speech on filial piety using Scholar Tian's case, Xiang Zhiyun prostrated himself humbly, a faint unease lingering in his heart as he wondered whether his father's anger had cooled.

After a long pause, he heard a soft sigh: "...Get up. Aren't your knees hurting from all that kneeling?"

Xiang Zhiyun brightened: "Yes!"

Xiang Zheng watched this son, who lit up at the slightest warmth, and for once felt a flicker of tenderness: "Xiao Wu, I know what's in your heart. Matters of commendation and recognition aren't your department—just do your own job well."

The subtle change in his father's attitude left Xiang Zhiyun walking on air as he left the Shouren Hall.

Even when he ran into Xiang Zhijie outside the hall, he felt none of the usual awkwardness and instead greeted him first: "Xiaoliu."

Xiang Zhijie stopped, nodding politely: "Fifth Brother."

"Here to give your report?"

"Yes."

Xiang Zhiyun said with a smile, "Then go on in—Father's waiting for you."

With that, he walked off cheerfully.

Watching his retreating back, Xiang Zhijie pressed the Taoist beads on his wrist and silently counted two: "..."

Fifth Brother is rarely this happy—it almost makes me hesitate to make my move.