The Child Emperor

Han Ruzi got dressed and waited to depart. Feeling bored, he asked Yang Feng, “Why do people refuse to do things that clearly have many benefits?”

Yang Feng stood by the bookshelf, turning around with a cup of wine in hand. “Because drawbacks always appear alongside benefits. Tell me what you’re thinking of.”

“There are many displaced people across the land. I suggested to the Grand General that we recruit them, support them with official provisions – this would both quell internal unrest and strengthen our forces. But Prince Donghai told me the Grand General fears trouble and is only paying lip service to the idea – he’ll never actually do it.”

“Prince Donghai is right. The Grand General won’t recruit the refugees, but not because he fears trouble – he fears suspicion.”

“Suspicion?”

“The people’s hearts are like a precious sword. The owner can play with it freely, a child might touch it and merely get scolded, but if others touch it, they’ll inevitably face suspicion. If it’s a common person, people might laugh at their presumption. But if it’s a skilled martial artist who merely looks at it twice, people will assume they have ulterior motives.”

“So because the people’s hearts are precious, the Grand General’s high position actually makes him more afraid to act, more afraid to ‘touch’ the people’s hearts?”

Yang Feng nodded.

“Heh, the Great Chu dynasty is in turmoil, the Han clan faces imminent danger. He dares to gather imperial clansmen to oppose the Champion Marquis, but doesn’t dare recruit refugees?”

“Opposing the Champion Marquis is done in secret, but recruiting refugees must be done openly. To use the sword analogy again – the Grand General crafts a precious sword, but hopes others will use it to kill, not for his own use.”

“So he found Prince Donghai, who then found me.” Han Ruzi gave a cold laugh, having long understood this logic. “After I swing the sword to ‘kill,’ they’ll take it back.”

“Regardless, let’s get the sword first,” Yang Feng said plainly. The Grand General’s support was necessary – even if he had ulterior motives, the Weary Marquis had to accept it, at least temporarily.

The manor clerk entered with a trembling voice: “Weary Marquis, someone from the palace is here…”

“I know, I’ll go out right away.”

The manor clerk withdrew, silently praying he wouldn’t be implicated.

Han Ruzi stood up, took a bamboo bookmark from the desk and put it in his sleeve. He walked out of the study with Yang Feng following. Du Chuanyun came forward asking, “Are you sure you don’t need an escort?”

“Guards aren’t allowed when entering the palace,” Han Ruzi said.

“This would be a good opportunity to catch all of you in one net,” Du Chuanyun said bluntly, referring to the Han clan descendants vying for the throne.

Han Ruzi just smiled and kept walking.

Two sedan chairs waited outside. Han Ruzi preferred horseback riding, but sedan chairs weren’t bad – he could sit inside and think alone.

Several eunuchs and over ten palace guards escorted the sedan chairs toward the palace. The refugees hadn’t yet affected the Capital – the streets were crowded with people and New Year’s decorations still remained, though the festive spirit was gone, replaced by post-celebration weariness.

The meeting location wasn’t in the inner palace, but in one of the duty rooms near the Hall of Diligent Administration where court officials sometimes stayed overnight when unable to leave the palace.

The room was small and empty, without even furniture or chairs. Everyone had to stand, which solved the minor problem of arranging seating by rank – now everyone was equal.

Prince Donghai had already arrived. Though he claimed not to trust fate seers, he still brought Lin Kunshan as his “strategist.” The prince nodded to Ruzi without speaking, but Lin Kunshan came forward and bowed respectfully, saying softly, “Please forgive my sudden departure from Shattered Iron City.”

“You followed circumstances as needed – what is there to forgive?” Han Ruzi smiled. Lin Kunshan smiled back and returned to Prince Donghai’s side.

The Champion Marquis arrived soon after with just one companion. He immediately bowed to Han Ruzi and Prince Donghai, greeting them with a broad smile showing no hostility – this was the magnanimity of someone confident in victory.

Han Ruzi returned the greeting normally, but Prince Donghai pretended not to see him, unable to forget how the Champion Marquis had once conspired with Grand Tutor Cui to eliminate him.

The Champion Marquis’s advisor was also a fate seer. Yang Feng had previously told Han Ruzi about him – his name was Lu Congxin. Like other fate seers, his exact age was hard to determine – he could have been anywhere over thirty. The only distinction was his serious expression, unlike the easygoing manner of Lin Kunshan and others.

“The guests are all here, but where’s the host?” Prince Donghai called out.

The door opened and two more people entered – a child of seven or eight, and an elderly man with white hair and beard.

The chubby-faced child didn’t greet anyone, but ran around before stopping in a corner to look up at all the adults.

The old man bowed to everyone and smiled, “Pardon my lateness.”

“Who are you?” Prince Donghai asked in surprise.

“I am Yuan Zifan, a fellow disciple with Masters Lin and Lu under Master Chunyu.”

Another fate seer. Han Ruzi, Prince Donghai and the Champion Marquis all looked at the unfamiliar child in the corner.

The fate seer Yuan Zifan walked to the child’s side and introduced him: “This is the Martial Emperor’s youngest son, Prince Ying, named Han Ying.”

All three were stunned – Prince Ying, this child was actually their uncle.

Han Ying stood against the wall silently, though he didn’t seem particularly afraid.

“He also wants to compete for the throne?” the Champion Marquis couldn’t help asking.

“As a son of the Martial Emperor, shouldn’t he qualify?” Yuan Zifan smiled.

“The Martial Emperor had many sons – are they all eligible to compete?” Prince Donghai was furious. The Graceful Emperor’s legitimate status had already been broken, and now it was being trampled further.

“They should all be eligible, but as far as I know, Prince Ying is the only one interested in competing for the throne.”

“This… this…” Prince Donghai glared at Lin Kunshan, angry at him for keeping this secret. Lin Kunshan looked helpless, indicating he didn’t know either. Finally Prince Donghai thought of an objection: “The current emperor is the Martial Emperor’s grandson – his successor must be of the same generation or younger. How can we choose someone from an older generation? How would the ancestral tablets be arranged in the Ancestral Temple?”

Han Ying was a mere child, pursing his lips and blowing bubbles. Yuan Zifan stood protectively beside him and smiled, “There are precedents from previous dynasties of elders from an older generation succeeding to the throne. As for arranging the ancestral tablets, that’s a matter for much later – there will be ways to resolve it.”

Prince Donghai and Lin Kunshan, the Champion Marquis and Lu Congxin each huddled to discuss in low voices. Han Ruzi and Yang Feng exchanged glances but said nothing.

After a moment, the Champion Marquis said: “Competing for the throne is already extraordinary – if Prince Ying wants to participate, that’s acceptable. But where is Master Chunyu? Why hasn’t he appeared?”

“And what about the court officials? Why isn’t even one here?” Prince Donghai asked.

The door opened again and the old fisherman entered.

“The officials must avoid suspicion, so they won’t attend this meeting,” the fisherman smiled.

“Master Huangfu.” The Champion Marquis clearly knew him and was very polite.

“Isn’t Chunyu Xiao coming?” Prince Donghai asked.

“Chunyu Xiao was one of my former names. My real name is Huangfu Yi.”

Prince Donghai looked him over. “Don’t try to fool us. I’ve met Chunyu Xiao and he doesn’t look like you – he didn’t even have a beard.”

Before the palace coup, the Cui clan had hosted a Chunyu Xiao and his disciple Bu Hengru. Prince Donghai wouldn’t forget – that Chunyu Xiao claimed to be a eunuch and had told the scholar Luo Huanzhang he wanted to be an emperor without the burden of descendants.

Huangfu Yi smiled, “Chunyu Xiao is just a name anyone could use.”

“But there can only be one Chunyu Xiao who could be the ‘honored master’ of these fate seers right?” Prince Donghai said.

Lin Kunshan, Lu Congxin, and Yuan Zifan, standing in different positions, all bowed to Huangfu Yi at the same time: “This disciple pays respects to the honored master.”

Han Ruzi looked at Yang Feng beside him. Yang Feng remained expressionless, seemingly still not accepting this “Chunyu Xiao.”

“What about the previous Chunyu Xiao? Where did he go?” Prince Donghai persisted.

“He was also one of my disciples. He more commonly used the name Lin Qianfeng. Unfortunately, he was arrested by officials two years ago, tortured, and died in prison. He was using the name Zhang Kehong at the time.”

When Prince Qi’s rebellion failed, officials arrested fate seers everywhere. After the palace coup, they cast an even wider net – many who merely made a living as fortune tellers were arrested as fate seers, with very few surviving imprisonment.

A year later, fate seers had become honored palace guests, with the Empress Dowager heeding their every word.

Prince Donghai’s eyes darted around as he sighed, “What a pity, I had a good impression of that Chunyu Xiao. Master Lin, don’t misunderstand – even if he were still alive, I would still choose you as my advisor.”

Lin Kunshan merely smiled.

Prince Donghai, perhaps feeling the tense atmosphere, smiled at Yang Feng: “Yang Feng, didn’t you arrest many fate seers back then?”

“I rarely arrested them – most were executed on the spot,” Yang Feng said coldly. “Unfortunately, time was too short and I couldn’t eliminate them all.”

After leaving the palace, Yang Feng had lost the authority and manpower to pursue fate seers. It was after that when fate seers gradually reemerged.

The four fate seers in the room showed no anger, either smiling or remaining impassive. Huangfu Yi said, “All things in heaven and earth follow the flow. When the flow changes, things wither. The flow Yang Feng relied on is gone – there’s no need for regret.”

Yang Feng fell silent, looking away, deciding to listen only.

Prince Donghai muttered softly: “Talking about ‘flow’ in front of a eunuch, hehe…”

Huangfu Yi began speaking: “Now that everyone is here…”

“Wait.” Han Ruzi interrupted the fate seer, looking around. “Not everyone is here, right? Where is the current emperor? Where is the Empress Dowager? Without them, everything we say here is meaningless.”

“Exactly,” Prince Donghai agreed. “Surely you fate seers aren’t deciding who gets the throne?”

Huangfu Yi smiled, “My mistake.” He clapped his hands twice.

The door opened once more and a line of palace maids entered, standing in a row in the middle. There were six of them, each carrying a tray with two imperial seals.

“His Majesty is unwell, and the Empress Dowager is caring for him attentively, so they cannot come. They have specially sent these twelve imperial seals to show their intentions. Do you find this acceptable?”

The four throne contenders came forward to look. Prince Ying was short, so Yuan Zifan held him up. When he reached for the seals, Yuan Zifan stopped him.

The emperor had twelve seals, each for different purposes. Han Ruzi recognized only one – the most important one used for issuing imperial edicts.

He saw it there on one of the palace maid’s trays.

He looked at Yang Feng again, feeling certain the real Chunyu Xiao must be one of these four fate seers.

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