Chapter 22 Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor, Father Emperor…

Going to school is work; negotiating is life.

Nothing is more miserable than spending a sleepless night in fear only to find yourself having to get up at six in the morning for class.

He now gets up at 6:40 AM every morning for breakfast. He arrives at Zishan Hall promptly at 5:15 AM. After lunch at Kunning Palace, he finishes his studies for the day at 3:00 PM.

I study for exactly eight hours a day, and of course there are no weekends off. I can only rest for specific holidays and events.

Oh, right, Fusu remembered something sad. Because of yesterday's changes, all the previous negotiations were null and void. The Ministry of Rites will have to restart its overtime work mode again.

In other words, he would have to study under Sima Guang for a long time before Song Qi returned.

Fusu: "..."

The sky has fallen.

Tired, let's destroy it.

Fusu expressionlessly stuffed his breakfast into his mouth, chewing with his cheeks puffing out like an emotionless eating machine. Even the most delicious Seven Treasures Vegetarian Porridge, Plum Blossom Soup Cake, and Poria Cocos Sugar Cake tasted like a life-sustaining meal to him, enough to make the kitchen staff weep.

Two of the palace servants from Kunning Palace had accompanied Fusu to the Xiangguo Temple. They had both been quietly inquired about by those around them regarding what had happened the previous day that caused Prince Cheng's noticeably low spirits. Even they were completely baffled.

Moreover, although His Highness Prince Cheng's face was wrinkled, he ate every bite of his breakfast, never scolded the servants, never smashed anything, and didn't throw a tantrum when he was taken to Zishan Hall to study.

The palace servants were unsure whether they should report the situation. What if it turned out to be a false alarm, and the Emperor and Empress thought they were making a mountain out of a molehill?

Fusu, oblivious to the palace servants' moods, arrived at Zishan Hall in a sedan chair. As he walked through a long corridor, the sound of his classmates reciting their lessons echoed in his ears, and his negative emotions reached their peak.

He walked into the classroom with a normal expression and joined the morning reading group, reciting the Analects, which he could recite from memory, over and over again. Suddenly, he felt extremely absurd.

If he didn't want to be the crown prince, there were a million ways. For example, right now, he could have torn up the book on the spot and cursed Confucius for being unworthy of being a sage. Or he could have deliberately concealed his shortcomings, making sure he couldn't memorize the first line of the Thousand Character Classic even after being taught ten times, and he wouldn't be in this situation today.

It was his own arrogance that led him to this predicament. He was unwilling to let his talents go to waste and be treated like a fool. He was also unwilling to accept that his fate would be at the mercy of others after leaving that position. Ultimately, he deserved it all.

Mr. Sima's lectures were as boring as ever. Like unmarinated white meat, they were full of dry ingredients, and you could eat a bite and your mouth would be greasy, but you just couldn't swallow them. Today he was lecturing on the Analects, specifically the "Advanced" chapter.

Confucius discussed his ambitions with his disciples Zilu, Zeng Xi, Ran You, Gongxi Hua, and others.

Zilu wants to govern a state with a thousand chariots, and within three years the people will be brave and knowledgeable in etiquette. Ran You wants to govern a small state, and within three years the people will be prosperous. As for rites and music, they will need to find other experts. Gongxi Hua is willing to serve as the master of ceremonies in the ancestral temple sacrifices.

The students were all familiar faces to Confucius during his discussions, but this time Confucius unusually smiled at their aspirations and remained silent. The last one, Zeng Dian, put down his musical instrument and said: "In late spring, when the spring clothes are ready, five or six adults and six or seven children go to bathe in the Yi River, enjoy the breeze at the Dance Altar, and sing as they return."

In late spring, dressed in spring clothes, we bathed in the Yi River with six or seven adults and six or seven children, enjoyed the breeze on the Wu Yu Terrace, and sang songs on our way home.

This time, Confucius spoke up: "I agree with Zeng Dian's idea."

On the stage, Mr. Sima continued to speak with great effort: Confucius's attitude in this passage may seem "mediocre," but in fact it is very "active." It is precisely because Zeng Dian was depicting the ultimate picture after the enlightenment of rites and music, the Confucian goal of universal harmony, that he exclaimed with such emotion.

Fusu, however, was already lost in thought: he too longed to bathe in the Yi River and enjoy the breeze at the Dance Altar. A thorough bath followed by natural air drying—Zeng Dian certainly knew how to enjoy life! By the way, this Zeng Dian was also Zengzi's father, the very same Zengzi who personally slaughtered a pig to keep his promise to his son. I wonder if Zengzi ever saw Zeng Dian slaughtering a pig when he was a child…

"Why is it so complicated? Couldn't Confucius have simply wanted to take a bath?"

Suddenly, a very subtle remark, like a tiny insect, burrowed into Fusu's ear, snapping him back to reality. He quietly turned his head to glance around, his gaze meeting Yan Jidao's wandering eyes.

We recognized each other by our eyes; we both wanted to take a shower.

After class, the two naturally sat together.

Yan Ji said, "Alas."

Fusu: "Sigh."

As for what they were sighing about, neither of them asked nor said anything; everything was left unsaid.

However, Fusu could probably guess a little. Apart from himself, who had a knack for history, Yan Jidao was the best student in Zishan Hall, even surpassing Zhao Zongshi, who was several years older. He grasped everything he learned instantly, without needing much explanation.

Song Qi was alright, but Sima Guang's teaching style wasn't one to grasp things instantly. Looking at their later development, one became famous for writing romantic poetry, while the other was a renowned conservative defender of the Way; their personalities were diametrically opposed. It would be strange if Yan Jidao had been happy studying under Sima Guang.

...No, no, no, even I couldn't stand it.

Yan Jidao glanced at Fusu quietly, then suddenly slumped onto the table. The purpose of a tutor was to maintain proper posture as a prince; if his teacher saw him sitting so improperly, he would certainly be severely reprimanded.

But he remained lying there like a boneless man: "Your Highness, I don't want to study at Zishan Hall anymore."

Fusu: "...?"

Yan Ji said, "I'm not joking."

He lowered his eyes, seemingly lost in thought: "Your Highness, as you can see, this place... is not what I wanted."

Besides the teacher with whom he had a natural incompatibility, there was also pressure from his family. His father would occasionally ask him what kind of person Prince Cheng was, and whether he was truly a child prodigy as rumored. His mother, brothers, sisters, and servants would be more blunt and explicit: Prince Cheng is your future ladder to success; once you climb up to him, you'll never have to worry about anything again.

Some even made sarcastic remarks, saying things like if they were a few years younger, they might have been elected themselves. They thought he didn't understand and got angry after he retorted, throwing a tantrum.

Yan Jidao disliked and even felt disgusted by all of the above.

His classmates were all good people, and His Highness Prince Cheng was especially beautiful, cute, and interesting. But he didn't like the feeling of them being talked about or weighed like food.

As Yan Jidao pondered this, he subconsciously tightened his sleeve, only to see Fusu gently shake his head.

Just when Yan Jidao thought he would refuse or even scold him, he heard him ask, "Does your father know about this?"

Yan Ji said, "I will tell him. I will tell Father when I return to the manor tonight."

Although his father was very likely to be furious and berate him for being ungrateful, he still wanted to voice his thoughts. The worst outcome would be that he would be abandoned by the family, but at least they would still provide him with food. That would be enough, better than living a life worse than death every day.

Fusu smiled and said, "Then go ahead, I agree."

He even envied Yan Jidao's decisiveness. He knew in his heart what he wanted and what he didn't want.

And what about me?

Fusu recalled the words he hadn't uttered, "I don't want to be the crown prince," and realized with a start that his words had indeed become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He had missed such a good opportunity, and now it was too late to say it. The Emperor already knew he was clever and intentionally concealing his abilities; what would he think?

—What I treasure so dearly, you discard like trash, even going so far as to defile yourself to get rid of it?

"………………"

"...Your Highness?"

"Your Highness!"

Fu Su was jolted back to reality when Yan Jidao gently patted his shoulder, realizing that his thoughts had drifted off again. Sure enough, the matter that had troubled him all night was still a dead end.

Yan Jidao hesitated: "Your Highness... are you alright?"

Um?

Fusu was caught daydreaming by the person in question, and her face flushed red with embarrassment: "I was thinking, if you succeed, I will miss you."

Yan Jidao looked at him with a complicated expression.

Let's make something better.

Fusu got anxious: "I'm serious!"

On the way back to Kunning Palace, the name Yan Jidao still echoed in Fusu's mind. Yan Jidao often reminded him of another person. This person, decades later, would also study at Zishan Hall, and would also directly lead to the downfall of the Northern Song Dynasty.

Emperor Huizong of Song.

This is not to say that Yan Jidao was as tyrannical and detestable as Emperor Huizong of Song. The only thing they had in common was that they were both intelligent and had high artistic talent.

Although one was a writer and the other a calligrapher, it didn't stop them from learning the Analects very quickly. The idea of ​​them being good at one subject but bad at another simply didn't exist for them.

However, Emperor Huizong's problem was that he combined his artistic talent for romantic imagination with supreme ruling power, which would be a disaster and a nightmare for all the people.

Historically, Xiao Yan made no political achievements, and judging from his interactions with Fusu, he had no interest in power. His desire to leave Zishantang, seemingly unconventional and abandoning a promising future, was actually a better choice for him.

And what about me?

Fusu breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like this was the first time he had noticed this problem. Yan Jidao, at only six or seven years old, already knew what he wanted, and even with numerous obstacles, he did it without hesitation.

But he had an emperor, an emperor who knew he was deliberately hiding his talents but never asked, and an empress who was extremely kind to him and cared for him every day. He couldn't accomplish anything he wanted to say or do.

What exactly is he hesitating about?

Even during the meal, Fusu was still having a mental breakdown when he received a light tap on the center of his head: "Concentrate on your meal, or you'll choke. And you're eating fish."

Fusu shuddered, then came to his senses: "I won't do it again."

After a while, he touched his face and asked, "Is it that obvious?"

Empress Cao shrugged: Isn't it obvious? It's far too obvious. The palace maid stammered to her about it this morning, and she knew something bad was going to happen. Su'er always likes to keep things to himself, so for him to show it on his face is already quite serious.

Since the topic had been brought up, she was inclined to say a few more words, at least to ask what had happened. But seeing the dazzling array of dishes on the table, she stopped talking and then ordered the maid to add several more dishes to Su'er's bowl.

Since things have come to this, let's eat first.

Otherwise, Empress Cao would be worried. After Su'er finished speaking, she was so worried that she couldn't even eat.

Fusu couldn't refuse his mother's kindness, so once food was put in his bowl, he could only bury his head and eat. As a result, Empress Cao saw that he ate a lot, so she added more food to his bowl even more frequently.

He ate until he almost questioned his existence, and only breathed a sigh of relief after seeing Empress Cao use the clear tea to rinse her mouth. He let out a small burp, and naturally put down the jade bowl, ordered hot tea, and began rinsing his mouth with gulps.

After finishing his dinner, Fusu would normally return to his study in the rear palace to do his homework, but today was an exception. He was about to leave the small flower hall when Empress Cao stopped him. She took his hand and led him to her main hall, where she had half-finished her needlework and a candle for light.

Empress Cao casually picked up her needle and thread and began to embroider absentmindedly. At the same time, she ordered the palace servants to remove Fusu's small shoes so that he could adjust his posture and sit more comfortably.

"What's wrong?"

Empress Cao scrutinized Fusu for a few moments before gently asking, "You were looking downcast when you returned from Xiangguo Temple yesterday. Didn't they say that the Song Dynasty had overwhelmed the Western Xia? Why are you unhappy now?"

"…………" Fusu looked away.

Empress Cao seemed to have been prepared for her son's silent avoidance, and therefore did not appear angry.

She effortlessly revealed her exceptional reasoning talent.

"Let Mother guess, is it that Su'er feels suffocated and like she can't go on living when she thinks about going to Zishan Hall to study the next day?"

Fu Su glanced at her: ...I actually guessed right.

Empress Cao smiled slightly: Who hasn't been a student?

She said casually, "Tomorrow, your mother will ask Mr. Sima for leave for you. Just say you're not feeling well and need to rest at Kunning Palace for a day. It won't interfere with your studies."

"Anyway, with Su'er's intelligence, she certainly won't fall behind in her studies, right?"

Fusu: "!"

His eyes were filled with disbelief.

Empress Cao chuckled: "What's wrong? Are you so happy you forgot to thank your mother?"

Fusu wiped his face: "Thank you, Mother... I just feel like I'm in a science fiction movie."

He suddenly remembered Yan Jidao's words during the day, and a surge of courage welled up in his heart: "It's not a matter of just one or two days... Mother, I don't want to go to Zishan Hall to study."

He said something that would definitely be condemned as heresy and disrespectful to elders in public: "I... I'm not used to Mr. Sima's teaching style at all. He always makes us read aloud. But actually we've all memorized it, I don't want to read at all."

"Furthermore, we are not allowed to express different interpretations of sentences, otherwise it would be contrary to the teachings of Confucius and Mencius."

Just like the phrase "bathing in the Yi River and enjoying the breeze at the Wu Yu Altar" that we learned today, he and Yan Jidao each had their own interpretations, but neither of them tacitly uttered them aloud. Because doing so would not end well, and it wasn't that they hadn't tried it before.

Fusu closed his eyes, his long, dark eyelashes sweeping across them. He wasn't sure how Empress Cao would treat him afterward. But after speaking out, a sudden weight lifted from his chest. Since that was the case, he would accept whatever the consequences.

"Anything else?"

Fusu: "Huh?"

Empress Cao sighed suddenly: "You have more than one thing you don't want to do, right? Why don't you say it all at once, so your mother can discuss it with you and see if we can help you think of a solution?"

Fusu felt as if he were enveloped in hot spring water, his whole body light and warm. He was almost dizzy, but he managed to retain a sliver of his sanity.

"No, there's nothing else."

Empress Cao: "Is this the only one?"

Fusu: "This is the only one."

How could he possibly speak of the Crown Prince? It concerned the very foundation of the nation, a matter that no one could resolve alone. He feared his mother would be hurt by his words, and he also feared that if she were to actually help him with the matter, it would further strain her relationship with the Emperor.

Empress Cao: "Alright."

She seemed certain that Fusu had something on his mind, but she had no intention of asking further. Her gaze followed the needle and thread flying in her hands, and her tone was calm and gentle: "Have you told your father, Mr. Sima, about your unwillingness to study at Zishan Hall?"

Fusu was taken aback: It sounds like what he asked during the day.

But his answer was completely different from Yan Jidao's.

Fusu lowered his head: "No."

He has many reasons to explain his inaction.

He agreed to the reading, and he was a man of his word.

Both Li Qiu and Zhao Zongshi needed a place to accompany each other while studying.

Mr. Song was awarded the purple-gold fish robe, but was inexplicably dismissed from his post. There will definitely be rumors going around.

...

…………

Empress Cao said softly, "You're worried that if you tell your father, he will be disappointed and resent you, and that a rift will form between father and son. Am I right?"

is that so.

Oh, I see...

Fusu's body suddenly trembled violently.

He suddenly became unsure whether Empress Cao was simply stating the facts or had already seen through his hidden agenda.

But her words hit the nail on the head, exposing everything he least wanted to face.

There's no such thing as so much grandstanding.

All the phrases like "reluctant to see the official heartbroken" and "unable to bear seeing him disappointed" can be translated as "reluctant to see him stop loving me."

Fusu looked down at the tips of his shoes. Suddenly, a few transparent beads rolled down onto them, spreading out in a small patch.

He always knew that he was actually very selfish. He wanted to escape the fate of his first life, but he couldn't bear to lose his father's love.

He couldn't even face the Emperor's cold, disappointed, and even stranger gaze upon him after he lost his position as Crown Prince.

Something brushed his face, and Empress Cao's sighing voice, like a veil, rang in his ears: "Su'er, whatever you do, you must remember one thing—your mother is the mother of the nation, and there is nothing you can get by compromising yourself."

Fusu covered his eyes, but he couldn't stop the broken sobs from his throat.

-

That night, Fusu had a dream in which he saw someone he hadn't seen in a long time.

Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor, Father Emperor… In short, the person whose name I didn’t know stood before me. He was still so majestic and unapproachable, just standing there, he was like a sharp blade that had been concealed for many years, and the howling north wind outside the tent could not shake him in the slightest.

He turned around and saw himself. He reached out and knocked the sword he was about to use to kill himself away, and the imperial edict he was holding in his other hand fell to the ground with a "thud".

The person's voice was both pitiful and sighing.

"My son, why have you come to this?"

But the moment Fusu saw him, he knew it was all a dream.

Because he called out countless times when he committed suicide, but that person's figure never appeared in front of him.

-----------------------

The author's note: Fusu mentioned Huhai in a nonchalant manner because PTSD was not actually his fault.

Something like, "This person killed me, oh."

The PTSD that has been running for 80,000 words in this chapter has finally arrived! Hehe, the next chapter will resolve the inner conflict and reveal the truth.

P.S. No second update today.