Extra Chapter 1: Shen Qingyan: Orchid Weeps in the Dew
The spring of the twenty-fifth year of Taichu came a little late.
Outside the Shen Mansion's study, a few old magnolias had just sprouted tender buds, timidly stretching out in the slightly cool air.
Shen Qingyan sat under the window with a well-read volume of "Tongdian" at his side, but his eyes were fixed on the pine and cypress tree in the courtyard that he had planted with his own hands.
Fifty-four years old.
If his life were recorded in history, it would be a brilliant chapter.
At the age of nineteen, he passed the imperial examination and became famous in the capital. Before he reached the age of twenty, he was awarded the fifth rank Mingzhou Beijia, assisting Ning Lingyi, who was still Princess Mingzhu at the time, in her humble career. At the age of twenty-three, he was promoted to the second assistant minister, and at the age of twenty-nine, he was ranked the first assistant minister, and since then he has been in charge of the central government for twenty years.
His students and old friends are all over the world, and his policies affect the lives of hundreds of millions of people.
This should have been a life without regrets.
If it weren’t for the incident in the tenth year of Taichu.
Thoughts are like a spider web blown by the wind, inevitably entangled back to that node.
Nong Zishi...that stubborn and stubborn Nong Huzi who always opposed him.
He still doesn't think he was wrong.
The methods Nong Zishi promoted touched upon the millennia-old foundation of the gentry, the underlying veins that maintained the dynasty's functioning. Such drastic measures, such relentless action, were like adding fuel to a fire – how could one avoid death?
He was just... going with the flow, and didn't even make that move himself.
He simply acquiesced to the tightening of the net.
But why was she so furious?
Shen Qingyan picked up the tea that had already gone cold, took a sip, and the bitterness spread from the tip of his tongue to the bottom of his heart.
He was her first subject.
From the end of the Xuanxi reign, when they first met in the Eastern Palace, she was still a somewhat childish yet budding princess; to the Guangqi reign, when the court was in turmoil, he followed her to Mingzhou, raising money and food for her during the turbulent times, and stabilizing the rear; to the Jinghe and Zhaoxi reigns...
He watched her rise step by step from a poor princess to a regent princess, and finally rule the world and become the Taichu Emperor.
Thirty-five years.
How many thirty-five years can a person have in their life? He had walked the longest road with her and overcome the most difficult challenges. From youth to old age, he had believed that he was her sharpest sword, her strongest shield, and the loyal and devoted minister whom she could rely on the most.
But ten years after Taichu, everything changed.
That invisible door separated him and her.
He was still in the court and still the prime minister, but he could no longer feel that trust and respect.
He still remembers every night of those three years, from the tenth to the thirteenth year of Taichu.
In the secret room of the imperial palace, the lights were always on. Nong Zishi's spirit tablet stood coldly behind the incense table. He knelt on the cushion, his knees going from tingling to numbness.
At first, he was resentful. Why should he, Shen Qingyan, the Prime Minister, the third place winner in the imperial examination, the leader of the literati, kneel to a cruel official who was the enemy of the literati at every turn? He even felt a little happy in his heart. After all, Nong Zishi died, died on the path he insisted on.
But when her disappointed eyes appeared in his mind, the resentment melted like ice and snow.
He began to kneel down willingly. Perhaps, her anger and determination proved that she cared. She cared about Nong Zishi's death, and she also cared that he, Shen Qingyan, had become one of the driving forces behind this outcome.
Every night he spent kneeling made him more awake than ever before.
He had savored the taste of power and navigated the vortex of party struggles with ease, but when she looked at him with such cold eyes, he was shocked to realize that he might have already strayed from the original intention of the young man who was determined to assist the wise ruler and save the world when he was the deputy governor of Mingzhou.
He began to tone down his edge, no longer obsessed with factional disputes, and no longer deliberately obstructed those new policies that he once considered "radical".
He learned to be a steady bridge like Wang Jingzhi, connecting the imperial power with the civil service group, and reconciling the conflicts so that her policies could be implemented more smoothly. He became more sophisticated and thorough in handling government affairs, and truly had the bearing of a "prime minister with a broad mind".
He thought that if this continued, time would dilute everything.
She would see his changes and his still indispensable value, and some of their old friendship would be restored, even if it was just the appearance of a monarch and his subject getting along well.
But, there is nothing.
Every time she made a concerted effort thereafter, she was impartial and spoke in a calm tone, without a single unnecessary word.
She even stopped scolding him for their political differences; her completely businesslike attitude frightened him more than any thunderous rage.
She no longer regarded him as one of her own who needed to be disciplined, but placed him purely in the position of a "subject."
Is Nongzi Stone really that important to you?
Is it so important that it can completely erase the relationship we've had for over thirty years? He asked himself many a late night, facing the cold moonlight.
But there was no answer, she would never give him an answer.
He thought this lukewarm state would continue until the day he retired.
It was not until the twentieth year of Taichu that the unexpected yet reasonable decree came.
"The Prime Minister, Shen Qingyan, is old and frail, so I have ordered him to stay at home and take good care of himself."
With just a few words, the power he had held for twenty years was easily taken away. Before he even had the chance to leave the palace, he heard the news that Su Qingfan would take over as Prime Minister.
At that moment, he looked back at the palaces, and the setting sun dyed the glazed tiles into a sad golden red.
Are you paving the way for Ning Lingyao? Or... have you finally given up on me? His heart was chilled, and he couldn't tell which speculation was more despairing.
He didn't know what to do when he suddenly had nothing to do.
She didn't restrict his freedom, he could do whatever he wanted. But every time he woke up in the middle of the night, he would subconsciously put on his clothes and get up, as if he had some urgent government affairs to deal with, and then he would find with dismay that his desk was empty.
He still paid close attention to the political situation, like a bystander, watching her, Su Qingfan, Ning Lingyao and others implement the policies that he had openly or secretly obstructed step by step.
He witnessed with his own eyes that the dynasty grew stronger under her leadership and the people's lives improved visibly. He had to admit that she was right.
She has always been the monarch whose vision is far ahead of her time.
But when she was frustrated several times in her attempts to open a women's department, he could not help but sigh: "Your Highness, Your Highness, why do you want to use twenty years of hard work to overturn a thousand years of evil? You should... be patient and wait for the future..."
He could only say this in his heart, and it would never reach her ears.
And so it was until the twenty-fifth year of Taichu.
He was fifty-four and she was fifty-two.
We haven't seen each other for five years.
That afternoon, he was reading a book in the yard. The warm sun was so hot that he almost fell asleep.
Suddenly, a dull bell sound came from the direction of the imperial palace, penetrating the hustle and bustle of the capital.
His fingers trembled and the book fell to the ground.
Is it an obituary?
He was stunned for a moment, and subconsciously muttered: "I'm afraid... Queen Mother Yu has passed away..."
This is understandable as Empress Dowager Yu is old.
But before this thought could fade, the white cannons announcing national mourning rang out from the direction of Jingyun Gate. One after another, the sound sent panic through everyone's hearts. Then, like a tidal wave, the bells of temples across the city began to ring, continuous and mournful. That was the custom of national mourning—30,000 bell strikes!
Outside the palace, the streets began to commotion, with faint cries coming from far away and eventually converging into a sea of mourning.
"Emperor Taichu is gone!"
"My emperor collapsed!"
"Emperor Taichu! How could our emperor be gone like this!"
The teacup in his hand finally overturned completely, and the warm tea soaked his robe sleeves, but he was completely unaware. He just stood there in a daze, his ears filled with the endless ringing of bells and the weeping of the whole city.
The servants moved in a panic, hastily hanging white banners and setting up the mourning hall. In just a moment, the entire Shen Mansion, along with the world outside the window, was plunged into a glaring white mourning.
He slumped back into his chair.
After a long while, he finally ordered in a hoarse voice: "Bring... mourning clothes."
After changing into plain clothes, he sat down at the desk again. Now, he had no position or title, and he was not even qualified to enter the palace to cry.
All fame, status and position will be gone in a day, and the past will be like a dream, leaving no trace.
He poured himself a glass of wine, the clear wine reflected the white hair on his temples.
He just sat there, from the time the sun was setting to the time dusk fell, and then to the time the moon was at its zenith. His body had already become stiff, but his heart was like being placed on a low fire, slowly tormenting him.
Princess Mingzhu.
Ning Lingyi.
His Majesty.
Your Highness.
Each name rolled through her mind, finally settling on that brightly lit night in the Mingzhou government office many years ago. She pointed at the map, her eyes blazing as she said to him, "Qingyan, look, we will definitely make life better for the people."
At that time, they were both young, and he was her only subject.
He just looked at her as she walked forward step by step until she reached the top.
What were his feelings for her? He didn't know. For the past thirty-five years, he had been looking up to her, until today.
But, how did it come to this?
He raised the glass of ice-cold wine and drank it all in one gulp. The spicy liquid passed through his throat, bringing a hint of illusory warmth.
"Ning Lingyi..." He looked in the direction of the palace and spoke in a voice that only he could hear.
"Why did you leave like that?"
*
end:
According to historical records, during the Taichu Dynasty, Shen Qingyan, upon hearing of the emperor's death, took poison in the study room of the palace and died on the same day as the emperor. On the desk was spread out an unfinished volume of "Taichu Political Affairs Collection", with the ink still fresh.
The new emperor issued an edict, posthumously awarding him the title of "Wen Yi" for his contribution to formulating policies.
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