Chapter Thirty-Two: The Mystery of Yongzhou
Yongzhou is located in the central part of Zhenguo, at the confluence of the Yellow River and the Jing River. It is an important county in the central region and the hometown of Prime Minister Lu. For over a month since their journey south from the capital, they have endured wind and rain, their footprints covering the countryside. Together, they observed the arduous labor of farmers in the fields, discussing the hardships of ordinary people's lives; in roadside taverns and teahouses, they listened to merchants discussing market gossip, experiencing the myriad aspects of life; and while resting in the wilderness, they identified the birds and beasts along the way, discussing their habits, as if returning to their carefree youthful days of exploring nature. This place was the hardest hit by the Yellow River's breach, and it was precisely for this reason that the Lu family was in charge of Yongzhou's water conservancy projects and the allocation of disaster relief supplies. Huairou, feeling dizzy in the carriage, was unaware that she was heading towards the territory of the Binghui family.
Outside Yongzhou City, unlike before, the carriage stopped at a quiet and elegant courtyard. Huairou followed Jiancheng inside to rest. The pleasant environment instantly relieved Huairou's fatigue from the journey. Unlike the grandeur of the imperial palace, this place was exquisitely crafted. Seeing that there was no one else around, it didn't seem like an ordinary inn. Huairou asked, "Jiancheng, whose residence is this?" Jiancheng shook his head and smiled, saying, "It's mine." Huairou smiled apologetically and said, "Excuse me." In her heart, she sighed, thinking how wonderful it was to be a wealthy person, even though she was now the daughter of a military family.
More importantly, during this journey far removed from the court's intrigues, they naturally shared their anxieties and visions for the future of their nation during casual conversations. Their initial restraint and tentativeness had long since faded, replaced by warmth and sincerity, like old friends who had known each other for many years.
Huairou increasingly felt that Yunji's "Imperial Uncle" was truly an extraordinary individual. Born into royalty and raised in the inner palace, he wielded power, yet seemed unconstrained by his noble status. He did not despise the thoughts of anyone of low status, whether they were country bumpkins or commoners; he listened patiently to all. He was not greedy for what others possessed, showing little interest in gold, silver, jewels, or rare treasures. He was more like a calm and tolerant observer and recorder of history, detached yet insightful.
He never sat stiffly or kept people at arm's length. If a woman tried to approach him, her affection would vanish like a breeze across water, leaving no trace. It was as if love was merely an external thing to him, neither lingering in his heart nor binding him with emotion. He drank wine, appreciating its rich flavor, yet never overindulging. He drank tea, skillfully guiding the conversation amidst its fragrant aroma, ensuring the atmosphere never became dull. He seemed to understand everyone's perspective and hardships, forgiving the rationality of every existence. That magnanimity allowed Huairou to vaguely perceive a "vast and all-encompassing spirit," broad, profound, and captivating.
"Huairou, what are you thinking about?" Jiancheng's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Huairou snapped back to reality, only to find herself staring blankly at Jiancheng's profile, a faint smile playing on her lips, one she herself hadn't even noticed. Alarm bells rang in her mind; lately, she seemed unable to control her thoughts, easily falling into this inexplicable daze whenever she was near him.
"N-nothing," she hurriedly tried to cover up her embarrassment, almost subconsciously and incoherently replying, "I was just looking at the scenery!" After saying that, she realized how clumsy her words were, her face flushed slightly, and she quickly lowered her head, walking almost awkwardly towards the small courtyard assigned to her, as if something was chasing her from behind.
Behind him, Jiancheng's voice, seemingly in a good mood, rang out, clear and resonant throughout the courtyard: "Don't forget to have your meal in the central courtyard!"
"Secret report, for your perusal, young master." A servant dressed in gray, moving silently, appeared quietly and presented Jiancheng with a series of letters sealed with sealing wax.
At that moment, Huairou was playing chess with Jiancheng in the waterside pavilion. Along the way, they had frequently encountered these elusive bodyguards delivering messages, and Huairou had long since grown accustomed to Jiancheng's unique way of handling government affairs. She would usually instinctively try to avoid them, lest her presence interfere with his business or reveal secrets she shouldn't know.
However, Jiancheng acted extremely naturally. He never deliberately dismissed her; he would simply take the letter, quickly glance at it, or whisper a few instructions, or write a brief reply before dismissing his subordinates. The whole process was as open and normal as if her presence was the most natural thing in the world.
This unconditional trust made Huairou, while grateful, also made the loneliness she felt deep inside, belonging to "Ji Moli," even clearer.
In this era, Huairou is truly alone. She doesn't know how to return home, nor what the future holds. Her life revolves entirely around Yunji. Her brother and father trust her, but as a non-military person, she rarely concern herself with politics. Her mother trusts her, but this trust is an expectation, a mandate, a thoughtful gesture that ensures she doesn't have to worry about anything at home. Binghui trusts her, but he's in love with the person he studied with for three years, the daughter of a general. Clearly, they all love "Guo Huairou," not "Ji Moli." As "Ji Moli," Yunji trusts her, but even with her boundless tenderness and longing for her son, he will never know why she's devoted to him; one-sided devotion is always lonely. In the years she's known Jiancheng, she's always been trusted without question, valued unconditionally, and tolerated without reason. It's as if they're childhood sweethearts, or as if they're inseparable, like-minded old friends.
In the years since she met Jiancheng, especially during this trip together, she felt enveloped in a strange atmosphere. He trusted her without asking why; he valued her insights unconditionally; he tolerated her occasional out-of-touch remarks and her occasional quirks, seemingly without reason. Being with him was sometimes like that of childhood sweethearts, relaxed and comfortable; at other times, it was like that of an inseparable, like-minded old friend, with hearts in perfect harmony.
But this just doesn't make sense, it just doesn't make sense... Under these layers of identity barriers, where does this indescribable closeness and understanding come from? Huairou thought with some resentment, and finally decided to give up this endless self-analysis and attack.
“Once a move is made, there’s no going back, Huairou.” Jiancheng’s voice carried a hint of barely perceptible teasing as he lightly flicked her forehead with his long fingers, pulling her thoughts back to the chessboard. He then casually asked, “In your opinion, what is Lu Binghui, the son of Prime Minister Lu, like?”
Huairou regained her composure and quickly rearranged the chess pieces she had almost knocked over due to her distraction. She deliberately slowed her movements to buy herself time to think, her tone intentionally distant: "You mean... Governor Lu, Lord Lu? Lord Jiancheng knows him too?"
“Hmm, I’ve heard a little about him.” Jian Cheng picked up a black piece, his gaze falling on the chessboard, his tone noncommittal. “I’ve heard that this person is well-versed in literature, meticulous in thought, and has a perfect grasp of human relationships. Among the younger generation, he is considered one of the best.”
Huairou hesitated, unsure of Jiancheng Jun's intention in asking this question. She carefully replied, "This humble woman... truly does not know." Although she had feelings for Jiancheng Jun, she knew her limits. There were often complex and intricate conflicts of interest between men, so it was inconvenient for her to say more.
Jiancheng, however, seemed unwilling to let the matter rest. His tone remained gentle, yet tinged with inquiry: "You were classmates with him for three years, practically childhood sweethearts. I've heard that your families had a prior marriage agreement. How could you know nothing about him?"
"I..." Huairou was momentarily speechless at his question, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what he wanted to know from her. Was he testing her attitude towards the Lu family? Or her opinion on the marriage? She couldn't reveal any flaws, much less let anyone realize that her inner self had already changed. In her haste, she could only explain firmly, "The Guo and Lu families are old friends. Most of the children of noble families in the capital studied together. Binghui and I are about the same age, so it's not unusual for us to have studied together. As for the marriage, it was a promise made by my father and Prime Minister Lu when we were children. We, as the younger generation, only need to follow our parents' arrangements. As for Binghui's anecdotes about his official career, I, a mere woman, know nothing about them and have no way to judge them." She paused, trying to make her tone sound more natural, "Besides, words between friends are often casual remarks when happy, or confided when troubled. The true meaning behind them is naturally difficult to express."
Hearing her answer, which was flushed and eager to distance herself from the situation, Jiancheng's lips curved upwards almost imperceptibly. Finally, he smiled and readily agreed, "What you say is absolutely right, Miss."
The topic seemed to have been moved on, and the two refocused their attention on the game of chess.
However, as the game entered the middle stage, with black and white pieces locked in fierce combat and a checkmate seemingly imminent for one side, Jiancheng, after making his move, did not place his piece. Instead, he raised his eyes, his gaze calmly fixed on Huairou, and spoke again, his questions becoming increasingly pointed:
"Huairou, if... Binghui and Yunji become enemies in the future, and their positions are irreconcilable, how will you handle the situation?"
Huairou's hand, holding the white piece, trembled violently, nearly slipping from her grasp. She looked up in astonishment, meeting Jiancheng's deep, unfathomable gaze, clearly caught off guard by this sudden, pointed question. A terrifying hypothesis she had never considered, nor wanted to consider, was laid bare before her.
She forced down the turmoil in her heart, her fingertips pressing firmly against the cold chess piece, and responded with feigned composure, though her voice carried a barely perceptible tension: "Lord Jiancheng, you flatter me. One is a prince of the imperial family, the other a high-ranking official of the court. Their duties are different, and they have very little interaction. Even if they have some differing stances, perhaps... it's just a difference of opinion on a single issue, and it doesn't necessarily mean they'll become enemies. Perhaps, when the time comes, there will be a way to resolve it."
Jiancheng gave her a deep look, but did not ask any further questions. He took advantage of her moment of panic and a lapse in defense to quietly place a piece, his playing style was fierce, and he instantly surrounded and captured a large group of her white pieces.
He then looked up, seeing her pursed lips and defiant expression, his tone slightly mocking, as if the heavy topic from before had never been brought up:
"Huairou, don't cry if you lose."
Beyond the waterside pavilion, the last rays of sunset were reflected in the pond, along with the silhouettes of the two figures deep in thought before the chessboard. The journey to Yongzhou had only just begun, yet the undercurrents hidden behind the floods and disaster relief efforts seemed to have already quietly spread into this tranquil courtyard.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Each Serves Their Own Master
Inside the room, the subtle fragrance of bergamot soothed the master's mind. Zhen Jiancheng stood by the window, his gaze seemingly piercing through thousands of kilometers, landing on his sons who were making moves on their respective chessboards.
The Second Prince, An Tai, relying on his maternal family's influence in the court, openly and secretly formed cliques and cultivated his own network of relationships, accumulating political capital. His underhanded actions, which he considered discreet, were in fact already under the Emperor's control. The Fourth Prince, Ying Qi's maternal grandfather, relying on his past merits and his daughter's position in the palace, engaged in corrupt practices in local government, including embezzlement and selling official positions. Although several reports of his corruption were suppressed, the stench of money was already subtly present. As for the Thirteenth Prince, Ren Heng, his maternal family actively sought to have him adopted by the Empress, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the heir apparent—their intentions were blatantly obvious.
That's...good.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of the emperor's lips, cold and knowing. All things have their destiny; ants forage, tigers hunt deer—each has its own way of survival. And he, sitting on this supreme throne, also had his own inescapable fate—to guide the situation, weigh the pros and cons, and maintain the balance and stability of this vast dynasty. This was the responsibility of a monarch, ruthless, yet necessary.
Those who crave power are checked and balanced by official positions, used to maintain the empire's strict hierarchical order, exhausting their energy in a cycle of mutual restraint. Those who love money are restrained by laws, driven to become "money bags" for the empire, profiting from their needs while preventing their abuse. Those who value family honor and a place in history are granted military power, sent to guard the frontiers, pacify the land, and set an example of loyalty and bravery for posterity, using their desire for honor to restrain their ambitions to overthrow the imperial power.
Today, he sees it clearly: Huairou was right. Those farmers, seemingly always at a disadvantage in this silent struggle, are the true cornerstone of the empire's stability. When the land is peaceful and the country is at peace, it is these ordinary people, toiling in the fields, who cultivate the empire's most fundamental asset: the land. Assets cannot be concentrated in the hands of a few; the blessings of our ancestors should not be passed down through generations. It is time for some change…
However, any change involving land policy deeply infringes upon the core interests of the aristocratic bureaucracy, and the resistance is so great that it could shake the very foundations of the state. Only by allowing these deeply entrenched forces to wrestle with each other, each seizing leverage over the others, can the emperor possibly use this situation to gradually reduce and carve out some space for power. This process inevitably involves the transfer of power, the shifting of wealth, and countless resulting, simmering struggles and infighting. To both ease peasant tensions and prevent peasant rebellions, while simultaneously guarding against powerful figures in the court and preventing aristocratic usurpation, being an emperor is truly incredibly difficult.
The Lu family, a prestigious clan that had stood firm in the court for many years and the head of all officials, naturally wouldn't be late to this grand scheme. They possessed immense power to influence the national treasury's expenditures, and their family interests were deeply entrenched. They might not truly care about the sentiments of the common people, nor would they mind creating trouble and stumbling blocks for potential rivals on their path to the pinnacle of power. Their ultimate choice was clearly the Second Prince, An Tai, whose maternal family's influence was more prominent and who seemed to have a greater chance of winning. As for the one sacrificed, it was naturally the least favored, the Seventh Prince, Yun Ji, whose maternal family was less prominent. Without the tacit approval or even encouragement of the Lu family, the memorial impeaching Yun Ji would likely not have reached his desk so smoothly.
These princes were all children he had watched grow up. They might each possess talent, but without exception, they were all too deeply bound to their maternal clans. Having suffered greatly from the interference of maternal relatives in politics, he knew its evils all too well and was determined not to let the next generation of emperors repeat his mistakes. As princes of a great dynasty, they were born noble, and even in dire circumstances, their fates wouldn't be too bad. Why must they fight to the death, endlessly vying for power? In this vast land of China, could it not accommodate a few brothers living in harmony? The lonely path of an emperor was not the only choice in life. He himself, back then, was forced onto this thorny, irreversible journey only when pursued by villains and driven to the brink of survival. History will select the emperor the world needs, depending on whose wishes are aligned and whose interests are served. But as a father, this painstakingly demanding and exhausting position—which son truly needs it—is perhaps the question he truly needs to consider deep down.
The emperor had been pondering all of this in solitude, feeling the coldness and loneliness of being an emperor amidst endless weighing and checks and balances. Until he met Huairou.
The first thing he noticed was her expression, so similar to Yunji's mother's, and her almost obsessive care and protection of Yunji. This inexplicable yet unwavering affection made him unable to stop caring.
The second thing that struck him was the woman's aloof and independent air. She wasn't like the peonies vying for attention in the imperial garden, but rather like jasmine quietly blooming alone at night, elegant and pleasing; or like the winter plum blossoms bravely exuding fragrance in the cold, standing proudly and quietly. She could soothe people's hearts in a unique way when they were most vulnerable and weary. While the world looked up to him, feared him, or tried to exploit him, she alone seemed like an observer from another era, possessing a transcendent wisdom and insight, able to resonate with him, the emperor, on a spiritual level, caring for the nation and its people. Despite being a noblewoman from a prominent family, possessing everything that others envied, he could never see through her true desires. The wealth, honor, and high status that women in the world craved seemed readily available to her, yet she never truly cared about them. Women were forbidden from holding official positions, and her family was already illustrious enough; there seemed to be no need for her to approach him for the sake of her father or brothers, and she never paid much attention to his status.
So, would Lu Binghui, or Yunji, be the one she wants to be with?
Once this thought arose, it grew like weeds, making him restless and unable to sleep, shattering the calm and self-control he had cultivated over the years.
"Zheng—"
A slightly melancholic note from the zither filled the room, interrupting the emperor's thoughts. He had somehow found himself seated before the instrument, his slender fingers unconsciously plucking the strings. The intermittent music revealed the player's inner turmoil.
As a king, possessing the entire world and with the authority to rule, he could not find a proper and legitimate reason to see her; he wanted to be with her and listen to her sometimes shocking and sometimes witty remarks, but he had no legitimate grounds to do so.
Everyone serves their own master, striving for power, profit, and family. Only she, Guo Huairou, seems to live only for her own desires, detached from the game of power.
What a troublesome girl.
The music eventually faded into silence, and the emperor sat alone in the candlelit room, his shadow stretched long and lonely. In his deep eyes, there was a mixture of imperial scheming and a trace of melancholy belonging to an ordinary man, which even he himself did not fully understand.
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