Chapter 9: The Unfilial Son

Chapter 9: The Unruly Son

"Your Majesty—"

Duke Wang just started to speak.

Then Duke Zhenguo strode forward, and as he bowed, he happened to catch him with an elbow, shoving him aside.

Duke Wang staggered several steps before steadying himself, but that shameless old Duke Zhenguo had already spoken first.

"Your Majesty, please be clear. You, with your sacred word, have graciously arranged a marriage for my grandson. I am deeply grateful and would never dream of disobeying."

"My grandson is also filled with gratitude toward Your Majesty, so much so that he has already had his mother prepare the betrothal arrangements. We shall soon be visiting Lord Shen's residence to propose."

Shen Yunhe: "?"

Now what's this got to do with me?

Cheng Pohu didn't breathe a word about the fact that his defiant grandson had tried to defy the imperial decree and had been flogged until his skin was split open for it.

Everyone thought the Old Duke was a sly old fox.

It was clearly his grandson who had lost a bet and had no choice but to marry, yet he made it sound like he was eager to.

Little did they know, when Cheng Pohu had learned of this matter, he had quickly caught on to his grandson's plan.

The Shen boy was clearly the one his grandson wanted to marry all along. He'd been racking his brain over how to handle the Emperor, unaware that his grandson had long devised a plan—and such a brilliant one at that.

The Old Duke was both thrilled and taken aback.

The Cheng family had finally gotten another one with a brain.

Otherwise, a family of pig-headed brutes would be done for sooner or later.

That was why he couldn't sleep a wink all night from excitement.

He'd run through this scene in his head a hundred times, and now that he had finally spoken the words, he could hardly contain his excitement and had to fight to keep it in check.

That was why his face was red from holding it in, and he was trembling slightly.

In his excitement, he still remembered to take jabs at Duke Wang.

"As for certain people, they treat Your Majesty's sacred word as a joke and gamble with it freely. Anyone would think they could sway Your Majesty's decisions."

Everyone could see the dark rings under Duke Zhenguo's eyes, his face now beet red, and the way he spoke through gritted teeth.

It was said that the late Emperor had bestowed upon Duke Zhenguo an iron certificate of immunity. If the Old Duke were to offer up that iron certificate, he could easily get the Emperor to take back the order.

Given how much Duke Zhenguo spoiled his grandson, he'd totally do it.

Yet now the Cheng family could only resign themselves to marrying that omega nobody in the capital wanted.

Every generation of the Cheng family had been tough as nails—when had they ever been so choked with frustration?

Tsk tsk, the Old Duke must be about to choke on his frustration.

Given how straightforward and upright the Old Duke is, he must be furious right now, so it made perfect sense for him to take digs at Duke Wang, didn't it?

"You old rat, Cheng! That's slander!"

Duke Wang stomped his feet in rage.

"Your Majesty, my grandson—"

"Enough!"

Emperor Zhaojing did not want to hear any more of their nonsense.

Thinking of how the iron certificate that was almost his had been snatched away by the grandson this old man kept going on about, his gaze toward Duke Wang became more and more irritated.

"A sovereign's word is final. In my view, both of your precious grandsons need a good thrashing. How about twenty strokes each?"

The two men were horrified at that.

"Your Majesty—"

Thump!

Before Duke Wang could even finish his sentence, Cheng Pohu had already dropped to his knees.

He had been beaten to it again.

He felt like he'd swallowed a mouthful of blood that was stuck in his throat.

Cheng Pohu wiped away crocodile tears.

"Your Majesty, I beg you. Please consider that my grandson has just returned from the freezing wastelands of the Northern Frontier. Give him a few days before you have him beaten."

"Poor child, he spent a year at the border, fought in dozens of battles large and small, went hungry and cold. And the wounds on his back—they're enough to make your blood run cold. Even I couldn't help but weep at the sight..."

Blah blah blah.

"After finally returning victorious, he got a sound beating from me. His wounds are still raw and bloody. And last night, it was only because those decadent, dissolute types slandered his uncle that he recklessly made that bet. And then—woe is me—my poor grandson..."

"Enough, enough!"

Emperor Zhaojing rubbed his brow in headache.

So annoying.

"The Duke Zhenguo's family has rendered great service. Your grandson's merits will cancel out his faults."

Duke Zhenguo, who was still wiping his tears, sprang up instantly.

"Thank you for your leniency, Your Majesty! Your Majesty is wise and sagacious!"

Emperor Zhaojing sneered. Truly, the man could turn his emotions on and off at will.

"Don't let it happen again!"

"Your servant shall remember."

Everyone was dumbfounded.

Duke Zhenguo's reputation for protecting his own was truly well-deserved.

Duke Wang, however, was both furious and anxious. He quickly knelt down to plead for his own grandson.

But Emperor Zhaojing had already exhausted his patience.

"Duke Wang, your grandson, for slandering the Grand Protector of the Nation, deserves an added punishment—thirty strokes of the cane, so he learns his lesson."

That brainless fool ruined his scheme.

"Your Majesty..."

"No appeals for leniency."

Duke Wang felt his vision go dark, his face turning pale.

That damn Cheng rat! Shameless old bastard! From now on, we're sworn enemies!

But who gave a damn?

Cheng Pohu strutted out of the imperial court like a victorious rooster, with his head held high.

Meanwhile, Wang Weisheng, who was so excited he hadn't slept a wink all night and was raring to go show off at the crack of dawn, hadn't even stepped foot out of his own mansion's gate when two imperial guards grabbed him by the arms and hauled him back inside.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!"

"How dare you! Ow!!!"

His answer was thirty brutal strokes of the cane, no questions asked.

Soon, the mansion was filled with screams.

Duke Wang watched, his heart aching and his nerves frayed, but even as he desperately signaled with his eyes, nearly giving himself a twitch, the two men wielding the canes ignored his hints.

For the one administering the strokes to Wang Weisheng was none other than Cheng Yi's second elder brother.

As a deputy commander of the imperial guards, he'd fought for this assignment.

Thus, he not only deliberately ignored Duke Wang's signals but even quietly signaled his men to hit harder.

Scheming against his brother? Slandering his father?

Heh heh.

Wang Weisheng eventually blacked out, and it was over a month before he could even hobble out of bed.

But that's a story for another time. That same day, after the imperial court adjourned, Shen Yunhe returned to the Minister of Personnel's mansion with a gut full of pent-up frustration.

He was dead set on teaching that rebellious son a lesson, but the second he stepped through the mansion gates, he nearly ran into a familiar figure.

But in the next breath, that figure dodged sharply to the side, and a basin of filthy water came flying straight at his face.

Splat!

No time to dodge.

Water splashed everywhere, and a sickening sour stench clung to Shen Yunhe.

The mighty Minister of Personnel, soaked like a drowned rat at his own front door—and in sewage, no less.

The stinking water stung his eyes and blurred his vision.

Shen Yunhe nearly ground his teeth into powder to stop himself from cursing out loud.

"My lord... forgive me! I didn't mean to!"

"Father, are you okay?"

The servant who'd thrown the water was already groveling on the ground in terror, while a finely dressed young man rushed over to him in a panic.

This was his spoiled youngest son, Shen Qinglan.

After a chaotic scramble, Shen Yunhe finally got his vision back.

Shen Qinglan looked guilty and didn't dare meet his father's eyes, but then pointed angrily at someone standing nearby, watching the whole scene.

"Father, it's all Shen Yichen's fault. That water was supposed to hit him."

"He saw you coming, deliberately ran toward you, then jumped out of the way. He aimed it at you. Shen Yichen is a disrespectful brat—he just cursed me out and hit me with a willow branch. Father, punish him."

Shen Yunhe shot a dark glare in that direction and, sure enough, saw that rebellious son standing there with his arms crossed, watching the show with a smug grin.

That look never failed to make his blood boil.

For a moment, Shen Yunhe even felt like killing his own flesh and blood.

"You rebellious wretch!"

Shen Yunhe spat out through gritted teeth.

"Guards, grab him."

He was determined to beat this wretch to death today, or else this scoundrel would drive him to an early grave.

Several beefy guards immediately closed in on Shen Yichen.

But Shen Yichen let out a cold, leisurely chuckle.

"Tsk, tsk, Father, are you planning to have the Duke Zhenguo mansion haul out a corpse?"

"Do you have a problem with the Duke Zhenguo mansion, or with His Majesty?"

"Father, are you disobeying the emperor's order?"

Shen Yunhe felt his blood rush to his head.

Disobeying the decree was unthinkable, and he couldn't afford to offend the Duke Zhenguo mansion either.

This bastard!

Shen Yunhe was fuming, but in the end, he could only grit his teeth and call off the guards.

Forget it.

At the very least, getting this disgraceful son out of the house was a silver lining.

"Father!"

Shen Qinglan wasn't about to let it go.

But Shen Yunhe's glare was too terrifying, so in the end, he could only shoot Shen Yichen a vicious look as a warning.

Shen Yichen just rolled his eyes at him, looking unbothered.

Shen Qinglan got even angrier.

Shen Yunhe shot him a cold, piercing glare:

"Get back to the little ancestral hall and kneel. Don't you dare come out until I say so."

He then told the steward to keep an eye on Shen Yichen and made sure nobody brought him any food.

Shen Yichen let out a scornful snort at that.

Same old song and dance.

Not waiting for the guards to drag him off, Shen Yichen turned and stalked off toward the ancestral hall.

"You ungrateful little brat!"

Shen Yunhe's chest heaved, furious.

Shen Qinglan hurried over to calm his father down.

"Father, please calm down. It's not like this is anything new. Getting worked up over him isn't worth it."

At least one of them had some sense.

Shen Yunhe felt a bit better, thinking Lan'er was finally acting like a proper young master.

He completely forgot how Shen Qinglan had just been ordering servants to dump dirty water on Shen Yichen with that vicious look on his face.

Meanwhile, the second Shen Yichen stepped into the little ancestral hall, the door slammed shut and locked behind him.

It was called a small ancestral hall, but it only held two memorial tablets—one of which Shen Yichen had snuck in there himself.

Shen Yichen knelt in front of the tablets out of habit, his whole body slumping.

The mocking look on his face faded, and those eyes that could drive people up the wall went numb in an instant.

The room went quiet, and he was soon swallowed up by the endless silence.

Shen Yichen just flopped down on the cold floor and tilted his head to look at the tablet on the altar.

This was his biological father—Shen Yunhe's first wife.

By rights, he should've been allowed into the Shen family ancestral hall after he died, but he passed away too soon, and Shen Yunhe had gone and married a formidable stepmother.

There was no room left for the first wife in the ancestral hall.

Shen Yunhe had set up this little hall as a hypocritical gesture, but aside from Shen Yichen getting locked in there every few days as punishment, nobody else even bothered to glance at it, let alone clean it or pay their respects.

So this dark, damp, cramped little hall had basically become Shen Yichen's home—the eldest son of the Shangshu mansion, living in a closet.

On normal days, Shen Yichen would usually mutter to his father's tablet about Shen Shangshu's hypocrisy or Shen Qinglan's stupidity...

But today, the little hall was eerily quiet.

At some point, the person lying on the floor had curled into a ball.

He curled up like he always did, but his eyes stared right through the tablet, lost in thought.

After a long while, a faint whisper slipped out.

"Why... why did he have to do that..."

"Father, do *you* know?"

No one answered him, just like it had been for over ten years—he'd always been alone.

So he soon curled his lips in a self-deprecating smirk. Whether this marriage went through or not, whether the other party even wanted it—none of it was his call.

The night got colder, and his empty stomach had given up growling. Shen Yichen instinctively hugged himself tighter.

He was used to it by now, but when hunger hit its worst, he still couldn't stop the dizziness or the shaking.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he couldn't help but try to pep himself up.

Just. Fall asleep.

If he fell asleep, he wouldn't feel hungry;

If he fell asleep, it wouldn't hurt as much;

If he fell asleep, the long night wouldn't be so hard to get through...

But why... why was even something as simple as falling asleep so damn hard?

He didn't know that the Shangshu mansion was in for a sleepless night—plenty of people were wide awake.

And all because of him.

==========Author's Note:==========

Duke Zhenguo: Hmph! (Smug)