The Emperor no longer brought up the Crown Prince’s deposition.
Apart from those opportunistic that had wanted to use this to snatch wealth, everyone else sighed in relief.
The Crown Prince had been established at the East Palace at five years old, and it had now been over a full ten years. He had received all the educated that a Crown Prince ought to receive, knew everything that a Crown Prince should and should not do, was humble and courteous, never used his power to harass others, highly respected his teachers, and was magnanimous to his subjects. In many people’s minds and eyes, he was the most ideal future monarch of wisdom.
He might be as great of a strategist as the Great Ancestor, nor did he have the ambition to expand the borders, but that was no issue. The empire, at its current development, had long had a perfected and matured system, from the Cabinet Viziers to all local officials. It was disrespectful to say, but even if the Emperor issued no orders, the Great Ming would be able to operate the same as ever — and, therefore, the best role the Emperor could have was to do absolutely nothing.
The ancients once said: The sacred Son of Heaven should rule with effortlessness. Those were wise words.
Before, when the Emperor insisted upon deposing the Crown Prince, not many people said so, but they had clearly not approved of this on the inside. The Prince of Xing had never been reared for the role of successor since the beginning — the education he had been able to receive differed from the Crown Prince’s. His birth mother being close to Consort Wan had also put everyone on-edge. However, the Emperor acting on his own will and the celestial phenomena to back it up had made it useless for everyone to oppose it.
It was good, now; even the Heavens were unhappy with the Emperor’s mucking around. With the earthquake at Mount Tai as a warning, the Emperor couldn’t overlook it. Circumstances had taken an abrupt turn, causing one to wonder if the Mandate of Heavens truly belonged to the Crown Prince, since several tribulations hadn’t been able to shake his position.
Following the dust settling of the fight for the Crown Prince’s deposition, Liu Jian, Tang Fan, and the rest of them hoped from the bottoms of their hearts that this would end here. If they could have, they would have itched to run up to the Emperor and say: Your Majesty you keep causing trouble, and then some. Can we have a few days of peace, or what?
However, if the current Emperor didn’t keep causing trouble, that just wouldn’t be like him. A few days later, he played the same old song of leaving the palace to pray for fortune at the Longevity Palace once it was completed.
As soon as that was said, the Court officials objected to it in a flurry. Not only did they all believe that the Emperor making this trip would be a waste of money and manpower, but, most importantly, his health wasn’t any sort of good right now. Were some unexpected mishap to occur, there would inevitably come trouble, so, on the principle of saving themselves the headache where they could, they opposed it to the end.
This time around, the Emperor wasn’t unyielding, instead taking a step back, expressing, ‘You lot not letting me go out of the palace myself is fine, but at the very least, you have to let the Crown Prince go out to pray on my behalf.’ There had come frequently-appearing comets in quick succession, plus the earthquake; since the Heavens had given a warning, setting itself on the Crown Prince, if he could leave to pray for fortune for his father, maybe the Heavens would notice his sincerity and help him recover.
Even though Tang Fan and the rest thought this overly absurd, now that the Emperor had already taken a few steps back, everyone worried that forcing him too hard would have the reverse effect, and he might do something that would stupefy everyone. They were obliged to not object any longer.
On the second day, first month in the twenty-third year of Chenghua, the Crown Prince went to the Longevity Palace for prayer.
It was the first time he had ever left the palace in his life. Everyone was on high alert, from the Cabinet to the Six Ministries, and the Ministry of Rites in particular racked it brains, worrying over the slightest mishap that could happen during travel. The squadron departing the palace was majestic, the carriage specifically designed for outbound travel especially so. Big and spacious, the Crown Prince being able to sit in it went without saying; even laying down and rolling around a few times wouldn’t be an issue.
When riding a horse, about a shichen was needed to go from the palace to the Longevity Palace. A carriage would take even longer, as there would be many palace-goers keeping pace behind it, a portion the ceremonial guard. As this was prayer and not an escape from calamity, the palace-goers’ pace and mannerisms were mainly slow and graceful, so that the commoners all along the road could revere divine prestige.
Out of consideration for that, the carriage needed to be as spacious and comfortable as it could be, so that the Crown Prince wouldn’t be exhausted from making a nearly four-shichen-long round trip.
Tang Fan’s group, meanwhile, was considering even more things. They were on alert towards the Wan party’s sudden compromising silence. Upon learning that the Crown Prince was going out to pray, many were liable to think by association that the Wan party, backed into a corner, might use this opportunity to assassinate the Prince.
In reality, that was impossible, because the very second the Prince got off the carriage, he would be escorted by layers of imperial bodyguards, who were prepared to give their lives to protect him, anytime, anywhere. Sui Zhou and Wang Zhi were already regarded as martial experts of the present world, but even they would find the formidable task of assassinating the Prince impossible to accomplish. It was much more likely that before their weapons could come before the Prince, all of their energy would be used up on the successive waves of guards, after which they would die of overexertion.
Following the Ming Dynasty, no Emperor or successor had died by assassination precisely because it was much too difficult. Were someone to want to assassinate either, that would doubtlessly be an exceptionally stupid action.
However, just because the path of assassination was bound to be impossible to actualize didn’t mean that there were no other methods. Since the construction of the Longevity Palace had been done by the Wan party from start to end, Tang Fan and the rest feared that it would use the time the Crown Prince entered the monastery to secretly perform some trickery, their hearts in their throats. Wang Zhi even brought up keeping the Prince company the instant he entered the temple, which the Emperor later agreed to.
Having Wang Zhi’s protection, there would naturally be no danger to the Prince, but there might still be some subtle loopholes therein.
For example, according to established processes, there was nearly a shichen in the midst of this where the Prince would be required to remain alone inside a repose room, praying to the Heavens for the Emperor’s health and realm’s peace. This process could not have anyone else’s interference. Even Wang Zhi and the other major officials could only wait outside the room.
For that shichen, no one would know what was happening inside.
Liu Jian and them really wanted to exclude that step, asking for the Prince to pay respects and burn incense under everyone’s watch, then returned straight to the palace. However, the Emperor felt that he had stepped back too much already, and stubbornly refused to pare back the procedures.
As his son, the Crown Prince couldn’t object, instead taking it upon himself to send a memorial expressing that he was willing to go pray for fortune for his father.
It was deadlocked for a very long time. Everyone conceded a step by changing the one shichen to a stick of incense’s time, which was all the Prince needed to stay in the repose room. Also, before the Crown Prince entered the temple, the Brocade Guard would investigate the temple inside and out to ensure that no one suspect was stalking about or hidden.
Thus, with all this preparation to go to war, they managed to arrive the day of, on the second day of the first month.
Because the Prince was going to pray and sacrifice to the gods for his father, all officials of third-rank and bove were to accompany him, Tang Fan included. However, the officials were separated from the Crown Prince’s carriage by a long procession of palace-goers, and the two sides would only be meeting up until they reached the temple and the ceremony was officially underway.
All along the road, many citizens heard that the Crown Prince was coming himself, and specially came out to kowtow in respect. The imperial guards had constructed a human wall to separate them from the road so that they could only observe from afar, yet the citizens were still awed by this ceremonial majesty. Infected by the ambience, they had to shout, “Long live the Emperor” and “Long live the Crown Prince” while tears filled their eyes out of excitement, and they found it hard to control themselves. It was an exceptionally lively scene.
This was doubtlessly a scene any monarch would be happy to enjoy. Human nature innately held an inclination towards power, obeisance, and adoration, which was why the Dragon Throne had been fought over since ancient times. What a shame it was that Chenghua hadn’t made this trip under the officials’ opposition — had he witnessed such a scene, he likely would have wanted to come here once every month from now on.
The Crown Prince’s performance was quite satisfactory through the whole process. Had he been a typical teenager, he likely wouldn’t have been able to resist poking his head out of the carriage to see the crowd at this point. He ultimately wasn’t an ordinary young lad, saddled with the future fate of the entire country, and having experienced such a difficult, rough early childhood, that it had made him exceptionally collected. His manners were not the slightest bit lacking, his diction was never inappropriate, and, compared to the present Son of Heaven’s unreliability, he immediately evoked a type of hope for the nation’s future in people.
Unlike the pleasant surprise of officials that normally didn’t interact with the Crown Prince much, Liu Jian, Tang Fan, and the rest of them all had their hearts aloft through the whole process, fearing that some unpredictable mishap would happen.
Contrary to nearly everyone’s expectations, the worship procedure went along pretty smoothly, no chaotic situation that everyone had imagined coming up. The sole incident was what, as the Crown Prince was leaving, it began to lightly rain in patters, drenching everyone’s clothes. Added on with the cold weather, the feeling of it was difficult to describe, and many officials fell ill after coming home, Tang Fan included. He was forced to take leave to be at home, stared at by Sui Zhou as he drank medicine every day, his suffering therein not for words to describe, or for others to know of.
“I’ve gotten better, really, and don’t need to take any medicine. Look at my complexion — isn’t it a lot different from the past few days?” he said, face full of bitterness, wrapped in a thick fur coat, as forced onto him by Sui Zhou.
Few people had the ability to combine expressions of difficulty, pain, grieving, pleading, and innocence all into one, yet he had done so. Unfortunately, the one he was speaking to remained unmoved. “I can feed it to you?”
Feed it to him how? Not with a spoon, of course.
Mister Tang’s fang was dyed red.
This play had been put on countless times every day, ending repeatedly with Tang Fan’s defeat. However, he couldn’t be blamed; the medicine truly was bitter. If Sui Zhou had to drink it, he would probably refuse to, too, but he was physically sturdy. He had also been drenched, yet he was just fine, not sick at all.
In contrast, the civil officials were a little worse for wear, the Cabinet especially so. Apart from Tang Fan, almost all of them were over forty, and now — excluding Vice Vizier Liu Ji and Xu Pu, who still resolutely guarded the Cabinet and handled business — everyone else had been laid low by the rain. Not even Head Vizier Wan An was an exception, purportedly laying in bed without rise.
Tang Fan was doing fairly well. He only requested for one day of leave, and without mishaps, he would return to work tomorrow. If he didn’t, Liu Ji and Xu Pu wouldn’t be able to hold out, as affairs that should have been handled by seven were now being piled up onto two. Liu Ji had even just sent someone over at noon to ask whether Tang Fan could return to the Cabinet in the afternoon to help.
Were returning to the Cabinet to make it so that he didn’t have to take medicine, Tang Fan would have been more than glad, but if he actually did do that, he would probably suffer a full degree of torment.
After drinking down the medicine in one gulp, Tang Fan felt that bitterness coated his entire mouth, his face wrinkled up like a chrysanthemum.
“Is there any candy around here?” he asked Sui Zhou.
“What kind do you want?”
“…Whatever. Osmanthus candy, malt candy, all’s fine.”
The other man’s answer was to stop him from continuing with a deep kiss, and tightly holding on to his waist so that he couldn’t draw back. It wasn’t until Tang Fan was almost out of breath that he let go, saying, “I just ate malt candy. Is that enough?”
“…”
The second he said as much, Tang Fan tasted the faint flavor of malt candy in his mouth.
But, the method…
He blushed.
Sui Zhou observed his reaction with relish. Fair skin had turned bright red, and a misty layer floated over his eyes from the recent suffocation, looking like he had become humiliated into anger yet wasn’t sure how to resist.
No matter how many times he saw this, he would never tire of it.
“I saw this in a romance story you wrote. Weren’t the descriptions in it pretty straightforward? Why are you always getting shy so easily, hm?”
He hooked the other’s chin and brought his head over, speaking while nearly pressed against the corner of Mister Tang’s lips.
The fragrance of plums flowed beneath the veranda. They were very close together. With Sui Zhou having practically hauled him over, they were face-to-face, with Tang Fan’s legs apart as he sat on his lap.
In broad daylight, facing the courtyard, this sitting posture was…
…enough to make traditionalists condemn them, both in writing and speech!
Mister Tang wanted to struggle, but putting his current sickness aside, even in his usual state, he wouldn’t be able to wrest free of Count Sui’s grip.
“It’s warmer like this. I’ll help you block out the wind,” Count Sui said, like it was natural.
“…”
Tang Fan couldn’t take this anymore. “Why did you get so indolent the second I went on leave?”
“I went on leave, too,” Sui Zhou explained very earnestly.
The other raised his brows. “You’re sick?”
“No. It was to take care of my sick family member.
“…”
You’re so shameless!
While they idly sparred with words, a knock came from outside. “Is this Solon Tang’s Estate? Is anyone here?”
Tang Fan used this opportunity to break away from Sui Zhou’s hold, go over to the door, and open it.
Standing outside was a middle-aged man that looked like an attendant. Seeing Tang Fan, he quickly cupped his hands and bowed. “Sir, this lowly one came from Solon Liu’s home.”
Tang Fan recognized him; he was Liu Jian’s servant. “Your Master is looking for me for something?”
“Yes, he’s at the mouth of the alley. Please step out to speak with him.”
Tang fan was a bit surprised. Liu Jian had also stayed home on sick leave today — why had he run over here?
Once he explained to Sui Zhou, he followed the man out, and, sure enough, saw Liu Jian wrapped in a thick fur coat as he stood on the corner, stomping his feet and rubbing his hands to keep warm. It didn’t look like he was sick at all.
“Mr. Hui’an?” Tang Fan greeted, walking over. “Since you’re already here, how about you come inside and sit down?”
“No.” Liu Jian pulled Tang Fan a little closer, whispering, “If you’re not doing anything right now, you should come with me into the palace to go visit the Crown Prince?”
Seeing how he was acting secretive, Tang Fan couldn’t help but ask, “What’s going on with him?”
“You are aware of him falling ill after returning from the worship?”
Tang Fan nodded. He knew about it because many people had done so because of the rain, the Crown Prince being one of them. When he had returned, in spite of having a carriage and not needed to walk back in the rain like everyone else had, there was a long, tall section of white jade steps from the carriage to the temple, a portion of the travel that required walking. Even though Wang Zhi had removed his outer robe to cover the Prince’s overhead with, the latter getting his hair and clothes drenched had been hard to avoid; after returning to the palace, he, like many others, had caught windchill.
However, as the rain hadn’t been heavy, even if he had ridden a horse like Tang Fan and gotten rained on all the while, he would need to take two bowls of medicine, at most. Many had taken their outer robes off to cover their heads, as well; in general, even if they fell ill, the illness wouldn’t be that great.
And this time around, no one could blame the Wan party. No matter how much they wanted the Crown Prince to be deposed, it would have been impossible for them to have predicted the rain. Even if they had anticipated it, they might not have predicted that he would inevitably get sick from the rain. Claiming that they had wanted to get rid of him using this method would be much too laughable.
The Crown Prince had been ill for two days. Tang Fan had inquired yesterday, and it didn’t sound to be too serious, the imperial doctors only having him recuperate. For that reason, once Liu Jian said this, his heard promptly jumped, a really bad premonition arising within him. “It couldn’t be that he…?”
Liu Jian knew that he had misunderstood. “No, I merely heard that he was ill, and wanted to see that he’s fine with my own eyes so that I can be at ease. I specifically asked for leave today. When I heard you were at home, too, I came over by the by to meet up with you.”
Prior to entering the Cabinet, Liu Jian had served as a lecturer in the East Palace for many years. His relationship with the Crown Prince was different. It wasn’t shocking that he was more concerned about the Prince’s health than others were.
“I would be willing to go with you on a trip, Mr. Hui’an, but I’m suffering from windchill right now. If fail in etiquette before the Prince, or pass my illness to him, it won’t be pretty,” Tang Fan answered.
Liu Jian thought about it, and agreed. “Fine, I’ll go ahead alone. We’ll speak in the Cabinet tomorrow.”
Quick-acting by nature, he said goodbye to Tang Fan, hurrying off. Out of politeness, Tang Fan stood there, seeing off the other’s carriage until it went far away. Cold wind blew, raising the edges of his robes, his slender figure standing there giving an indescribable elegance.
Sadly… his windchill had not yet gone away, so he couldn’t help but snivel, sucking the snot that was about to drip back into his nose.
Then, he turned around.
Tang Fan: “…”
Sui Zhou: “…”
I’ve been discovered! My elegance is gone forevermore!
Mister Tang howled on the inside, suddenly having the urge to weep.
Sui Zhou held in his laughter. “Come back. It’s cold out here.”
Tang Fan lightly coughed. “I didn’t bring a kerchief when I left.”
“So, you should come back with me and drink your medicine. If you disgrace yourself in front of your colleagues in the Cabinet tomorrow, won’t you lose face?”
He shouldn’t have said anything. As soon as he did, Tang Fan couldn’t help but imagine himself arguing with the Wan party over something tomorrow. He would be speaking sharply and self-assuredly, yet would suddenly feel his nose drip, then couldn’t resist snorting it all back… all of his grandeur completely gone to waste.
“…”
Seeing his face suddenly flash green and white, Sui Zhou was a bit mystified. After thinking about it, he felt that there shouldn’t have been any issues with his wording.
Before he could get to understand, he heard Tang Fan say mournfully, “I’m taking another day off tomorrow.”
That wish could never come true, naturally. Liu Ji and Xu Pu had nearly been driven mad working in the Cabinet for one day, even being forced to have dinner there, not able to leave until late at night. Were Tang Fan to request another day of leave, they would likely send people to urge him otherwise. He was obliged to haul his still-ailing body to the Cabinet for duty, three brand-new handkerchiefs in his pocket in case of emergency.
The others had come as well, including Wan An. There was no conference today, so there was no requirement for everyone to meet, each going to their respective workrooms after roll call.
Being in the same room as Liu Jian, Tang Fan happened to ask about yesterday. “Did you meet with the Crown Prince, Mr. Hui’an?”
Liu Jian creased his brow, wanted to speak, yet stopping.
“Did he refuse to see you?”
“It wasn’t that, but he appeared to be quite ill. Supposedly, he had been in bedrest, and only got up after he heard I arrived.”
Tang Fan jumped in fright. “It’s that bad?”
“An imperial physician happened to be around, thankfully, and said that windchill can come in all degrees. He told the Prince to rest well, and for no guard to be lowered.”
Tang Fan nodded. “So that’s why.”
However, Liu Jian then spoke out about the dissatisfaction in his heart. “But I heard that after the Prince fell ill, His Majesty never went to visit him himself!”
As long as he gave one thought to the melancholy on the Crown Prince’s face, Liu Jian would feel bad for him.
Tang Fan sighed, too. It was hard for outsiders to judge on something like this — as subjects, it was even more impossible for them to comment wantonly on it. From an outsider’s point of view, the Crown Prince might be pitiful, but the Emperor might feel that he had already given the Prince the best things in the world: the future throne. What did it matter, if the Prince suffered some grievances? Moreover, the father acted, the son followed; the monarch acted, the subject followed. They were both father and son, as well as monarch and subject. There was no basis of a father neglecting his son, and the son resenting his father.
For that reason, this was destined to be a debt not clearly accounted for, a dispute to last half a lifetime, a complicated tangle. Even Consort Wan might think herself to be quite pitiful; clearly, she was the woman the Emperor regarded the highest, yet that had ended with her not having a son that could inherit the throne, instead getting that thieved by an insignificant son from a sidewoman.
After ascending, if the Crown Prince could hold fast to his mindset, not getting tangled up in grievances and forgetting his duty of ruling the country, that would be amazing. Countless people reached out a helping hand, or even risking their lives to protect him when he had been down and out would not have been in vain.
Liu Jian clearly understood that much, so he merely complained about this to Tang Fan in private, then cast it away, never to speak of it again. They hadn’t come for a whole day, leaving much business from the Office of Transmissions and Six Ministries waiting for them. They buried their heads in it, worked until they were dizzy, and didn’t get the greater half of it done until it hit nighttime.
“From now on, even if I die on duty, I’ll never take leave again,” Liu Jian joked, shaking his head. “Coming back from leave means you work yourself to death even worse than usual!”
Tang Fan couldn’t stifle a puff of laugher. Tragically realizing that his snot was about to drip again, he quickly fished out a kerchief to hold it back, which made his voice sound a bit stuffy. “Mr. Hui’an, please don’t make me laugh…”
Liu Jian clearly noticed his sorry state, laughing without any sympathy in the slightest.
Barely managing to pull through dealing with important business, Tang Fan hurried out of the palace to head home. Before he would be fully recovered, he prepared to shoot down all invites to parties and would not be going to meet anyone if they called for him, so as to not lose further face if he showed up in front of anyone.
Unfortunately, the calculations of humans were inferior to those of the Heavens — someone cut him off partway through his walk.
The Emperor no longer brought up the Crown Prince’s deposition.
Apart from those opportunistic that had wanted to use this to snatch wealth, everyone else sighed in relief.
The Crown Prince had been established at the East Palace at five years old, and it had now been over a full ten years. He had received all the educated that a Crown Prince ought to receive, knew everything that a Crown Prince should and should not do, was humble and courteous, never used his power to harass others, highly respected his teachers, and was magnanimous to his subjects. In many people’s minds and eyes, he was the most ideal future monarch of wisdom.
He might be as great of a strategist as the Great Ancestor, nor did he have the ambition to expand the borders, but that was no issue. The empire, at its current development, had long had a perfected and matured system, from the Cabinet Viziers to all local officials. It was disrespectful to say, but even if the Emperor issued no orders, the Great Ming would be able to operate the same as ever — and, therefore, the best role the Emperor could have was to do absolutely nothing.
The ancients once said: The sacred Son of Heaven should rule with effortlessness. Those were wise words.
Before, when the Emperor insisted upon deposing the Crown Prince, not many people said so, but they had clearly not approved of this on the inside. The Prince of Xing had never been reared for the role of successor since the beginning — the education he had been able to receive differed from the Crown Prince’s. His birth mother being close to Consort Wan had also put everyone on-edge. However, the Emperor acting on his own will and the celestial phenomena to back it up had made it useless for everyone to oppose it.
It was good, now; even the Heavens were unhappy with the Emperor’s mucking around. With the earthquake at Mount Tai as a warning, the Emperor couldn’t overlook it. Circumstances had taken an abrupt turn, causing one to wonder if the Mandate of Heavens truly belonged to the Crown Prince, since several tribulations hadn’t been able to shake his position.
Following the dust settling of the fight for the Crown Prince’s deposition, Liu Jian, Tang Fan, and the rest of them hoped from the bottoms of their hearts that this would end here. If they could have, they would have itched to run up to the Emperor and say: Your Majesty you keep causing trouble, and then some. Can we have a few days of peace, or what?
However, if the current Emperor didn’t keep causing trouble, that just wouldn’t be like him. A few days later, he played the same old song of leaving the palace to pray for fortune at the Longevity Palace once it was completed.
As soon as that was said, the Court officials objected to it in a flurry. Not only did they all believe that the Emperor making this trip would be a waste of money and manpower, but, most importantly, his health wasn’t any sort of good right now. Were some unexpected mishap to occur, there would inevitably come trouble, so, on the principle of saving themselves the headache where they could, they opposed it to the end.
This time around, the Emperor wasn’t unyielding, instead taking a step back, expressing, ‘You lot not letting me go out of the palace myself is fine, but at the very least, you have to let the Crown Prince go out to pray on my behalf.’ There had come frequently-appearing comets in quick succession, plus the earthquake; since the Heavens had given a warning, setting itself on the Crown Prince, if he could leave to pray for fortune for his father, maybe the Heavens would notice his sincerity and help him recover.
Even though Tang Fan and the rest thought this overly absurd, now that the Emperor had already taken a few steps back, everyone worried that forcing him too hard would have the reverse effect, and he might do something that would stupefy everyone. They were obliged to not object any longer.
On the second day, first month in the twenty-third year of Chenghua, the Crown Prince went to the Longevity Palace for prayer.
It was the first time he had ever left the palace in his life. Everyone was on high alert, from the Cabinet to the Six Ministries, and the Ministry of Rites in particular racked it brains, worrying over the slightest mishap that could happen during travel. The squadron departing the palace was majestic, the carriage specifically designed for outbound travel especially so. Big and spacious, the Crown Prince being able to sit in it went without saying; even laying down and rolling around a few times wouldn’t be an issue.
When riding a horse, about a shichen was needed to go from the palace to the Longevity Palace. A carriage would take even longer, as there would be many palace-goers keeping pace behind it, a portion the ceremonial guard. As this was prayer and not an escape from calamity, the palace-goers’ pace and mannerisms were mainly slow and graceful, so that the commoners all along the road could revere divine prestige.
Out of consideration for that, the carriage needed to be as spacious and comfortable as it could be, so that the Crown Prince wouldn’t be exhausted from making a nearly four-shichen-long round trip.
Tang Fan’s group, meanwhile, was considering even more things. They were on alert towards the Wan party’s sudden compromising silence. Upon learning that the Crown Prince was going out to pray, many were liable to think by association that the Wan party, backed into a corner, might use this opportunity to assassinate the Prince.
In reality, that was impossible, because the very second the Prince got off the carriage, he would be escorted by layers of imperial bodyguards, who were prepared to give their lives to protect him, anytime, anywhere. Sui Zhou and Wang Zhi were already regarded as martial experts of the present world, but even they would find the formidable task of assassinating the Prince impossible to accomplish. It was much more likely that before their weapons could come before the Prince, all of their energy would be used up on the successive waves of guards, after which they would die of overexertion.
Following the Ming Dynasty, no Emperor or successor had died by assassination precisely because it was much too difficult. Were someone to want to assassinate either, that would doubtlessly be an exceptionally stupid action.
However, just because the path of assassination was bound to be impossible to actualize didn’t mean that there were no other methods. Since the construction of the Longevity Palace had been done by the Wan party from start to end, Tang Fan and the rest feared that it would use the time the Crown Prince entered the monastery to secretly perform some trickery, their hearts in their throats. Wang Zhi even brought up keeping the Prince company the instant he entered the temple, which the Emperor later agreed to.
Having Wang Zhi’s protection, there would naturally be no danger to the Prince, but there might still be some subtle loopholes therein.
For example, according to established processes, there was nearly a shichen in the midst of this where the Prince would be required to remain alone inside a repose room, praying to the Heavens for the Emperor’s health and realm’s peace. This process could not have anyone else’s interference. Even Wang Zhi and the other major officials could only wait outside the room.
For that shichen, no one would know what was happening inside.
Liu Jian and them really wanted to exclude that step, asking for the Prince to pay respects and burn incense under everyone’s watch, then returned straight to the palace. However, the Emperor felt that he had stepped back too much already, and stubbornly refused to pare back the procedures.
As his son, the Crown Prince couldn’t object, instead taking it upon himself to send a memorial expressing that he was willing to go pray for fortune for his father.
It was deadlocked for a very long time. Everyone conceded a step by changing the one shichen to a stick of incense’s time, which was all the Prince needed to stay in the repose room. Also, before the Crown Prince entered the temple, the Brocade Guard would investigate the temple inside and out to ensure that no one suspect was stalking about or hidden.
Thus, with all this preparation to go to war, they managed to arrive the day of, on the second day of the first month.
Because the Prince was going to pray and sacrifice to the gods for his father, all officials of third-rank and bove were to accompany him, Tang Fan included. However, the officials were separated from the Crown Prince’s carriage by a long procession of palace-goers, and the two sides would only be meeting up until they reached the temple and the ceremony was officially underway.
All along the road, many citizens heard that the Crown Prince was coming himself, and specially came out to kowtow in respect. The imperial guards had constructed a human wall to separate them from the road so that they could only observe from afar, yet the citizens were still awed by this ceremonial majesty. Infected by the ambience, they had to shout, “Long live the Emperor” and “Long live the Crown Prince” while tears filled their eyes out of excitement, and they found it hard to control themselves. It was an exceptionally lively scene.
This was doubtlessly a scene any monarch would be happy to enjoy. Human nature innately held an inclination towards power, obeisance, and adoration, which was why the Dragon Throne had been fought over since ancient times. What a shame it was that Chenghua hadn’t made this trip under the officials’ opposition — had he witnessed such a scene, he likely would have wanted to come here once every month from now on.
The Crown Prince’s performance was quite satisfactory through the whole process. Had he been a typical teenager, he likely wouldn’t have been able to resist poking his head out of the carriage to see the crowd at this point. He ultimately wasn’t an ordinary young lad, saddled with the future fate of the entire country, and having experienced such a difficult, rough early childhood, that it had made him exceptionally collected. His manners were not the slightest bit lacking, his diction was never inappropriate, and, compared to the present Son of Heaven’s unreliability, he immediately evoked a type of hope for the nation’s future in people.
Unlike the pleasant surprise of officials that normally didn’t interact with the Crown Prince much, Liu Jian, Tang Fan, and the rest of them all had their hearts aloft through the whole process, fearing that some unpredictable mishap would happen.
Contrary to nearly everyone’s expectations, the worship procedure went along pretty smoothly, no chaotic situation that everyone had imagined coming up. The sole incident was what, as the Crown Prince was leaving, it began to lightly rain in patters, drenching everyone’s clothes. Added on with the cold weather, the feeling of it was difficult to describe, and many officials fell ill after coming home, Tang Fan included. He was forced to take leave to be at home, stared at by Sui Zhou as he drank medicine every day, his suffering therein not for words to describe, or for others to know of.
“I’ve gotten better, really, and don’t need to take any medicine. Look at my complexion — isn’t it a lot different from the past few days?” he said, face full of bitterness, wrapped in a thick fur coat, as forced onto him by Sui Zhou.
Few people had the ability to combine expressions of difficulty, pain, grieving, pleading, and innocence all into one, yet he had done so. Unfortunately, the one he was speaking to remained unmoved. “I can feed it to you?”
Feed it to him how? Not with a spoon, of course.
Mister Tang’s fang was dyed red.
This play had been put on countless times every day, ending repeatedly with Tang Fan’s defeat. However, he couldn’t be blamed; the medicine truly was bitter. If Sui Zhou had to drink it, he would probably refuse to, too, but he was physically sturdy. He had also been drenched, yet he was just fine, not sick at all.
In contrast, the civil officials were a little worse for wear, the Cabinet especially so. Apart from Tang Fan, almost all of them were over forty, and now — excluding Vice Vizier Liu Ji and Xu Pu, who still resolutely guarded the Cabinet and handled business — everyone else had been laid low by the rain. Not even Head Vizier Wan An was an exception, purportedly laying in bed without rise.
Tang Fan was doing fairly well. He only requested for one day of leave, and without mishaps, he would return to work tomorrow. If he didn’t, Liu Ji and Xu Pu wouldn’t be able to hold out, as affairs that should have been handled by seven were now being piled up onto two. Liu Ji had even just sent someone over at noon to ask whether Tang Fan could return to the Cabinet in the afternoon to help.
Were returning to the Cabinet to make it so that he didn’t have to take medicine, Tang Fan would have been more than glad, but if he actually did do that, he would probably suffer a full degree of torment.
After drinking down the medicine in one gulp, Tang Fan felt that bitterness coated his entire mouth, his face wrinkled up like a chrysanthemum.
“Is there any candy around here?” he asked Sui Zhou.
“What kind do you want?”
“…Whatever. Osmanthus candy, malt candy, all’s fine.”
The other man’s answer was to stop him from continuing with a deep kiss, and tightly holding on to his waist so that he couldn’t draw back. It wasn’t until Tang Fan was almost out of breath that he let go, saying, “I just ate malt candy. Is that enough?”
“…”
The second he said as much, Tang Fan tasted the faint flavor of malt candy in his mouth.
But, the method…
He blushed.
Sui Zhou observed his reaction with relish. Fair skin had turned bright red, and a misty layer floated over his eyes from the recent suffocation, looking like he had become humiliated into anger yet wasn’t sure how to resist.
No matter how many times he saw this, he would never tire of it.
“I saw this in a romance story you wrote. Weren’t the descriptions in it pretty straightforward? Why are you always getting shy so easily, hm?”
He hooked the other’s chin and brought his head over, speaking while nearly pressed against the corner of Mister Tang’s lips.
The fragrance of plums flowed beneath the veranda. They were very close together. With Sui Zhou having practically hauled him over, they were face-to-face, with Tang Fan’s legs apart as he sat on his lap.
In broad daylight, facing the courtyard, this sitting posture was…
…enough to make traditionalists condemn them, both in writing and speech!
Mister Tang wanted to struggle, but putting his current sickness aside, even in his usual state, he wouldn’t be able to wrest free of Count Sui’s grip.
“It’s warmer like this. I’ll help you block out the wind,” Count Sui said, like it was natural.
“…”
Tang Fan couldn’t take this anymore. “Why did you get so indolent the second I went on leave?”
“I went on leave, too,” Sui Zhou explained very earnestly.
The other raised his brows. “You’re sick?”
“No. It was to take care of my sick family member.
“…”
You’re so shameless!
While they idly sparred with words, a knock came from outside. “Is this Solon Tang’s Estate? Is anyone here?”
Tang Fan used this opportunity to break away from Sui Zhou’s hold, go over to the door, and open it.
Standing outside was a middle-aged man that looked like an attendant. Seeing Tang Fan, he quickly cupped his hands and bowed. “Sir, this lowly one came from Solon Liu’s home.”
Tang Fan recognized him; he was Liu Jian’s servant. “Your Master is looking for me for something?”
“Yes, he’s at the mouth of the alley. Please step out to speak with him.”
Tang fan was a bit surprised. Liu Jian had also stayed home on sick leave today — why had he run over here?
Once he explained to Sui Zhou, he followed the man out, and, sure enough, saw Liu Jian wrapped in a thick fur coat as he stood on the corner, stomping his feet and rubbing his hands to keep warm. It didn’t look like he was sick at all.
“Mr. Hui’an?” Tang Fan greeted, walking over. “Since you’re already here, how about you come inside and sit down?”
“No.” Liu Jian pulled Tang Fan a little closer, whispering, “If you’re not doing anything right now, you should come with me into the palace to go visit the Crown Prince?”
Seeing how he was acting secretive, Tang Fan couldn’t help but ask, “What’s going on with him?”
“You are aware of him falling ill after returning from the worship?”
Tang Fan nodded. He knew about it because many people had done so because of the rain, the Crown Prince being one of them. When he had returned, in spite of having a carriage and not needed to walk back in the rain like everyone else had, there was a long, tall section of white jade steps from the carriage to the temple, a portion of the travel that required walking. Even though Wang Zhi had removed his outer robe to cover the Prince’s overhead with, the latter getting his hair and clothes drenched had been hard to avoid; after returning to the palace, he, like many others, had caught windchill.
However, as the rain hadn’t been heavy, even if he had ridden a horse like Tang Fan and gotten rained on all the while, he would need to take two bowls of medicine, at most. Many had taken their outer robes off to cover their heads, as well; in general, even if they fell ill, the illness wouldn’t be that great.
And this time around, no one could blame the Wan party. No matter how much they wanted the Crown Prince to be deposed, it would have been impossible for them to have predicted the rain. Even if they had anticipated it, they might not have predicted that he would inevitably get sick from the rain. Claiming that they had wanted to get rid of him using this method would be much too laughable.
The Crown Prince had been ill for two days. Tang Fan had inquired yesterday, and it didn’t sound to be too serious, the imperial doctors only having him recuperate. For that reason, once Liu Jian said this, his heard promptly jumped, a really bad premonition arising within him. “It couldn’t be that he…?”
Liu Jian knew that he had misunderstood. “No, I merely heard that he was ill, and wanted to see that he’s fine with my own eyes so that I can be at ease. I specifically asked for leave today. When I heard you were at home, too, I came over by the by to meet up with you.”
Prior to entering the Cabinet, Liu Jian had served as a lecturer in the East Palace for many years. His relationship with the Crown Prince was different. It wasn’t shocking that he was more concerned about the Prince’s health than others were.
“I would be willing to go with you on a trip, Mr. Hui’an, but I’m suffering from windchill right now. If fail in etiquette before the Prince, or pass my illness to him, it won’t be pretty,” Tang Fan answered.
Liu Jian thought about it, and agreed. “Fine, I’ll go ahead alone. We’ll speak in the Cabinet tomorrow.”
Quick-acting by nature, he said goodbye to Tang Fan, hurrying off. Out of politeness, Tang Fan stood there, seeing off the other’s carriage until it went far away. Cold wind blew, raising the edges of his robes, his slender figure standing there giving an indescribable elegance.
Sadly… his windchill had not yet gone away, so he couldn’t help but snivel, sucking the snot that was about to drip back into his nose.
Then, he turned around.
Tang Fan: “…”
Sui Zhou: “…”
I’ve been discovered! My elegance is gone forevermore!
Mister Tang howled on the inside, suddenly having the urge to weep.
Sui Zhou held in his laughter. “Come back. It’s cold out here.”
Tang Fan lightly coughed. “I didn’t bring a kerchief when I left.”
“So, you should come back with me and drink your medicine. If you disgrace yourself in front of your colleagues in the Cabinet tomorrow, won’t you lose face?”
He shouldn’t have said anything. As soon as he did, Tang Fan couldn’t help but imagine himself arguing with the Wan party over something tomorrow. He would be speaking sharply and self-assuredly, yet would suddenly feel his nose drip, then couldn’t resist snorting it all back… all of his grandeur completely gone to waste.
“…”
Seeing his face suddenly flash green and white, Sui Zhou was a bit mystified. After thinking about it, he felt that there shouldn’t have been any issues with his wording.
Before he could get to understand, he heard Tang Fan say mournfully, “I’m taking another day off tomorrow.”
That wish could never come true, naturally. Liu Ji and Xu Pu had nearly been driven mad working in the Cabinet for one day, even being forced to have dinner there, not able to leave until late at night. Were Tang Fan to request another day of leave, they would likely send people to urge him otherwise. He was obliged to haul his still-ailing body to the Cabinet for duty, three brand-new handkerchiefs in his pocket in case of emergency.
The others had come as well, including Wan An. There was no conference today, so there was no requirement for everyone to meet, each going to their respective workrooms after roll call.
Being in the same room as Liu Jian, Tang Fan happened to ask about yesterday. “Did you meet with the Crown Prince, Mr. Hui’an?”
Liu Jian creased his brow, wanted to speak, yet stopping.
“Did he refuse to see you?”
“It wasn’t that, but he appeared to be quite ill. Supposedly, he had been in bedrest, and only got up after he heard I arrived.”
Tang Fan jumped in fright. “It’s that bad?”
“An imperial physician happened to be around, thankfully, and said that windchill can come in all degrees. He told the Prince to rest well, and for no guard to be lowered.”
Tang Fan nodded. “So that’s why.”
However, Liu Jian then spoke out about the dissatisfaction in his heart. “But I heard that after the Prince fell ill, His Majesty never went to visit him himself!”
As long as he gave one thought to the melancholy on the Crown Prince’s face, Liu Jian would feel bad for him.
Tang Fan sighed, too. It was hard for outsiders to judge on something like this — as subjects, it was even more impossible for them to comment wantonly on it. From an outsider’s point of view, the Crown Prince might be pitiful, but the Emperor might feel that he had already given the Prince the best things in the world: the future throne. What did it matter, if the Prince suffered some grievances? Moreover, the father acted, the son followed; the monarch acted, the subject followed. They were both father and son, as well as monarch and subject. There was no basis of a father neglecting his son, and the son resenting his father.
For that reason, this was destined to be a debt not clearly accounted for, a dispute to last half a lifetime, a complicated tangle. Even Consort Wan might think herself to be quite pitiful; clearly, she was the woman the Emperor regarded the highest, yet that had ended with her not having a son that could inherit the throne, instead getting that thieved by an insignificant son from a sidewoman.
After ascending, if the Crown Prince could hold fast to his mindset, not getting tangled up in grievances and forgetting his duty of ruling the country, that would be amazing. Countless people reached out a helping hand, or even risking their lives to protect him when he had been down and out would not have been in vain.
Liu Jian clearly understood that much, so he merely complained about this to Tang Fan in private, then cast it away, never to speak of it again. They hadn’t come for a whole day, leaving much business from the Office of Transmissions and Six Ministries waiting for them. They buried their heads in it, worked until they were dizzy, and didn’t get the greater half of it done until it hit nighttime.
“From now on, even if I die on duty, I’ll never take leave again,” Liu Jian joked, shaking his head. “Coming back from leave means you work yourself to death even worse than usual!”
Tang Fan couldn’t stifle a puff of laugher. Tragically realizing that his snot was about to drip again, he quickly fished out a kerchief to hold it back, which made his voice sound a bit stuffy. “Mr. Hui’an, please don’t make me laugh…”
Liu Jian clearly noticed his sorry state, laughing without any sympathy in the slightest.
Barely managing to pull through dealing with important business, Tang Fan hurried out of the palace to head home. Before he would be fully recovered, he prepared to shoot down all invites to parties and would not be going to meet anyone if they called for him, so as to not lose further face if he showed up in front of anyone.
Unfortunately, the calculations of humans were inferior to those of the Heavens — someone cut him off partway through his walk.
