As the last dust settled in the imperial court and the stench of blood in the capital was dispelled by the early winter wind, a brand new power structure was rapidly established on the ruins.
All of the regent's cronies have been purged, and those once-powerful mansions are now deserted, sealed off with cold seals. Meanwhile, those newly promoted from humble backgrounds, brimming with unstoppable vigor, quickly filled the power vacuum and began to clumsily but resolutely implement the new policies in their respective positions.
The entire empire, like a huge machine that had been rusting for a long time, finally began to run slowly but powerfully again after replacing countless rotten parts, accompanied by a "creaking" sound.
It was already late at night when all the backlog of official business was dealt with.
Xiao Che did not return to Kunning Palace. Instead, he walked out of the brightly lit palace alone, carrying a solitary lamp, and stepped into the deep darkness.
The place he was going to was the Heavenly Prison.
Deep within the imperial prison, where members of the royal family were imprisoned, lies a cold, damp place filled with a lingering musty smell and an atmosphere of despair.
Xiao Che dismissed all the guards and jailers who followed him and walked alone to the innermost cell.
Under the dim light of an oil lamp, a figure huddled in a corner covered with straw, resembling a withered stone statue.
Upon hearing footsteps, the figure stirred slightly and slowly raised its head.
That was a face that had once inspired fear in countless people and filled Xiao Che with loathing for countless days and nights. Yet now, that face no longer held the power and strategic brilliance of its former self. In just a few days, Regent Xiao Yuan seemed to have aged twenty years. His once well-maintained face was now covered with deep wrinkles, his once black hair had turned completely white, and he was emaciated, his eyes filled with a deathly desolation.
He looked at the tall, imposing young emperor outside the prison cell, carrying a solitary lamp. A complex emotion flashed in his cloudy eyes—resentment, bitterness, but more than anything, a sense of bewilderment at the impending doom.
He lost, utterly and completely, without even a sliver of a chance to turn the tide.
"What? Are you here to laugh at me?" Xiao Yuan's voice was hoarse, like two pieces of sand rubbing together, full of self-mockery. He thought that what awaited him was the most biting and humiliating insult of the victor, the inevitable humiliation that the victor must bear after the defeat.
However, Xiao Che showed no smugness on his face. He simply looked at him calmly, as if he were looking at a complete stranger.
The jailer had already set up a small table outside the cell, with a pot of wine and two cups on it.
Xiao Che didn't speak, but simply opened the cell door, went inside, and sat down at the small table.
This action surprised Xiao Yuan slightly.
He no longer referred to himself as "朕" (the imperial "I"), but instead spoke in a more subdued tone: "I have already secretly sent your family out of the capital."
Xiao Yuan suddenly raised his head, a look of disbelief flashing in his eyes as he stared intently at Xiao Che.
"What do you mean?" His voice became shrill with excitement.
“It means,” Xiao Che picked up the wine pot and slowly filled both wine cups with wine. The wine was clear and gleamed faintly in the dim light, “that they have all been demoted to commoners and are never allowed to return to the capital. But their lives are not in danger.”
Xiao Yuan was completely stunned. He had imagined countless possible outcomes: the execution of his entire family, the exile of his clansmen, and his female relatives being forced into prostitution... These were the inevitable fates of those who failed in their rebellion. He had never imagined that his own family would actually survive.
"Why...why did you do this?" he asked hoarsely, his voice filled with incomprehension. Releasing a tiger back into the mountains, failing to eradicate the root of the problem—this is not the behavior of a competent emperor.
Xiao Che pushed one of the cups of wine in front of him, his gaze fixed on the flickering lamplight, his voice devoid of emotion: "Between you and me, it is a struggle between ruler and subject, between a traitor and the emperor, a fight to the death. But they are, after all, of the Xiao family bloodline, my father's family. I promised the Empress that this purge would not extend to women and children."
Upon hearing the word "Empress," a flicker of realization crossed Xiao Yuan's lifeless eyes. He recalled the woman who had debated with the scholars at the birthday banquet and outwitted the Empress Dowager in the court, and the Empress who had transformed Kunning Palace into a war fortress on the night of the palace coup.
He had always believed that he had lost to Xiao Che's cunning and forbearance hidden beneath layers of disguise. Only now did he vaguely realize that perhaps from the very beginning, he had lost to that unconventional emperor and empress.
He lost to their tacit understanding, to their cooperation, and even more so to their so-called "modern" code of conduct, which he could not understand at all.
"Heh...hehe..." Xiao Yuan let out a low and strange laugh. As he laughed, two streams of turbid tears flowed from his eyes.
He didn't utter another word of pleading or cursing. He knew that when Xiao Che made this decision, all the grudges between them would end with this final period.
With trembling hands, he picked up the glass of wine in front of him.
Xiao Che also picked up his wine glass, but only held it with his fingertips, without drinking. He looked at Xiao Yuan in front of him, the one who had been his deepest nightmare in his childhood, the mountain he had to look up to in his youth, and the huge shadow that had oppressed him after he ascended the throne, making it hard for him to breathe.
He spoke calmly, as if he were merely stating a trivial matter.
"Uncle, I can let you die with dignity."
"This is the last thing I, as your nephew, can do for you."
The distinction between ruler and subject has been resolved; now, only the final title of uncle and nephew remains.
These calm words were more powerful than any humiliation. They completely shattered the last bit of resentment and unwillingness in Xiao Yuan's heart.
He did not die from conspiracy or torture, but was granted a dignified end befitting the royal family. This nephew, whom he had always looked down upon and thought he could manipulate at will, showed him unexpected kindness and respect in the final moments of his life.
This is the art of imperial rule. It combines kindness and severity, killing not only the body but also the spirit.
Xiao Yuan stared at the poisoned wine in the cup, his aged and disheveled face reflected in the clear liquid. He smiled bitterly, laughing at himself for his life's relentless pursuit, only to find it all a mirage, a fleeting illusion, and utterly empty.
“Good, good…decent,” he muttered to himself.
He raised his head and took one last look at the young emperor outside the cell. The lamplight cast a long, imposing shadow behind him, which completely enveloped the entire prison.
Xiao Yuan knew that an era that belonged to him had come to a complete end. And an era that belonged to Xiao Che had just begun.
Without further hesitation, he drank the poisoned wine in the cup in one gulp.
The spicy liquor slid down my throat, followed by excruciating pain in my internal organs, as if they were being burned by fire.
Xiao Yuan's body convulsed violently, black blood foam spilling from his mouth, but he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a single painful groan. This was the last bit of dignity he, as the former regent, retained for himself.
He collapsed onto the cold straw, his body gradually stiffening, and his eyes, once filled with lust and ambition, ultimately lost their luster forever.
Xiao Che watched him quietly until he fell completely silent.
He slowly stood up and gently poured his untouched glass of wine onto the ground.
"Uncle, I'm seeing you off on your final journey."
After saying that, he turned and walked out of the cell.
He didn't look back, walking steadily and firmly, step by step.
As he walked, the lights in the cell flickered in the wind before finally settling back into silence.
He knew that from this moment on, the enormous shadow that had loomed over him for years, keeping him awake at night and forcing him to pretend to be sickly, had finally and completely vanished.
From then on, the sky was high and the sea was wide, and there were no more constraints.
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