Wish You All the Best - Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Within a few days, all the civil and military officials in the court knew that after the morning audience, the Emperor frequently summoned Pei You'an to the Imperial Study to discuss state affairs. Whether it was during meals or even when sharing a bowl of soup, their closeness was evident. Although the Ministry of Personnel had not yet issued an official decree, it was clearly a harbinger that Pei You'an—who had been in mourning for less than half a year—would soon be summoned back to service.

Such singular honor only further verified a long-standing observation: the harmony between sovereign and minister was profound, and the Emperor’s reliance and trust in Pei You'an transcended the ordinary.

Since returning to the capital, Pei You'an had remained low-key. Apart from his summons to the palace, he rarely interacted with colleagues, spending most of his time behind closed doors. However, there was a persistent rumor that he had long-standing ties with the Taoist nun Chi Hanzhen from the White Crane Temple. Beyond treating her younger brother, they were said to share an elegant past of exchanging poetry and prose. Upon this return to the capital, he had been spotted visiting the temple again.

One was a legendary woman of fragrant jade-like bones and unconventional spirit, the other a dashing gentleman of astonishing talent and high status. As the saying goes, "the talented man and the fair lady" naturally gravitate toward one another. Furthermore, with the poet wearing his hat and displaying his refined charm, such romances had been unavoidable since ancient times; it was assumed Pei You'an could not escape such conventions, and those who mentioned it were filled with nothing but envy.

At the White Crane Temple, after Pei You'an finished checking Chi Hanzhen’s pulse, he turned to the writing desk, picked up his brush, and dipped it in ink.

Not having seen her for a long time, Chi Hanzhen looked haggard, her beauty fading like yellowed flowers; she was so ill she could barely hold up her own weight. Having just coughed violently, the flush that had gathered on her cheeks had yet to subside. Supported by a young nun, she stood up and followed him over, her face full of shame. "I have been ill for some time now. I’ve seen several physicians, but none have helped; the illness has only become more persistent. The imperial physicians from the palace came here earlier to treat my younger brother on orders, but now I dare not request them again. A broken body like mine is hardly worth mourning, but if something were to happen to me, my young brother would have no one to care for him. I had to swallow my pride and trouble you once more, my Lord."

Pei You'an finished writing the prescription. After letting the ink dry, he handed it to another young nun standing by and turned to Chi Hanzhen, saying gently: "Why do you say such things? I told you before: whatever the matter, if you are in difficulty, just come to me. How much more so when it concerns your health? Your illness this time is not light. Beyond the frailty of your body, I suspect you have been overthinking. Internal and external factors have combined to keep you bedridden. Apart from taking the medicine according to the prescription, you must set your heart at ease and avoid needless worries."

Tears shimmered in Chi Hanzhen’s eyes as she nodded in agreement.

Pei You'an looked around the room, seeing that the walls were bare and the furnishings were much sparser than before.

"When I entered the temple earlier, I heard the nun Qingxin say that you have pawned quite a few of your belongings recently?"

Chi Hanzhen replied: "This is a nunnery. Now that my younger brother’s health is improving, there are, after all, differences between men and women. Moreover, I am living under another’s roof, so I had him move out and entrusted him to a fellow villager—someone very trustworthy. However, my brother’s daily food and clothing require money, and I do not have much savings. Thus, I collected some worldly possessions to pawn or sell. Please forgive my lack of decorum, my Lord."

Pei You'an asked: "Do you need me to provide some assistance?"

Chi Hanzhen shook her head hurriedly: "My Lord, that must not happen. I pawned and sold my belongings precisely because I did not want to accept handouts from others. You have already helped me so much; I only regret that I have no way to repay you. How could I possibly ask for more?"

Pei You'an nodded slightly: "Pure in spirit and clean in ambition. Very well, I shall not force worldly goods upon you and insult your character. But in the future, if you are truly in dire straits, do not hold back—tell me directly."

Chi Hanzhen lowered her head and bowed deeply to thank him.

Pei You'an packed his medical kit and bid farewell. Ignoring her physical weakness, Chi Hanzhen personally saw him to the courtyard.

Pei You'an told her to stop there. After walking a few paces, he seemed to recall something. He hesitated slightly, turned back, and said in a low voice: "Your grandfather’s calligraphy and paintings were peerless in his day. I remember the late Emperor of the Tianxi Dynasty once wrote inscriptions on them and stamped them with his personal seal. Do you still happen to have those?"

Recalling the past, Chi Hanzhen’s eyes filled with sorrow: "It is kind of you, my Lord, to remember my grandfather’s work. When the family met with disaster, we could hardly protect ourselves, let alone other things. By sheer coincidence, my grandfather was grateful for the late Emperor's kindness. Because those pieces bore the Emperor’s own handwriting, he had set them aside beforehand and secretly entrusted them to a close friend. They have since been returned to me. They are all that remain, just for memory’s sake. May I ask, my Lord, why you inquire? If you have need of them, wait a moment; I shall retrieve them for you."

Pei You'an smiled slightly: "You misunderstand. I simply saw that you are a frail woman struggling to look after a young brother, and your circumstances are difficult. Since you do not wish to accept charity, I merely wanted to remind you: if those works with the late Emperor’s inscriptions are still there, keep them safe. In the future, they will be worth their weight in gold."

Chi Hanzhen looked puzzled: "I don't quite understand your meaning, my Lord. Why would they be worth so much in the future?"

Pei You'an smiled faintly: "Just remember what I said. I shall take my leave now. If your illness recurs after taking the medicine, do not hesitate—just have someone inform me."

He nodded to Chi Hanzhen, then turned and left, his sleeves fluttering slightly, his gait steady.

Chi Hanzhen stared fixedly at the back that was gradually fading into the distance. Her eyes slowly filled with agony, and she seemed lost in a trance.

...

In the sixth month, the Supervisor of the Shanglin Park submitted a memorial stating that the park’s four new gates had been completed. It now spanned over several hundred miles, bordered by mountains and walls, with lakes and springs facing one another. Inside, countless deer, pheasants, and rabbits roamed. Everything was prepared, waiting only for the Emperor’s arrival to inspect the results.

The Shanglin Park was located west of the city, several dozen miles away. Management was extremely strict, prohibiting unauthorized hunting by anyone under penalty of law, regardless of whether one was a prince or a noble. Since his youth, Xiao Lie had loved hunting. He remembered when he was sixteen, he had secretly taken a few attendants into the park to hunt. He had enjoyed himself immensely, but the next day, he was reported to the Emperor. Although the Emperor loved his youngest son, to serve as a warning to others, he had no choice but to punish him according to the regulations. The shame of that situation had made him a laughingstock among his brothers. From the age of twenty, after being sent to Yunnan, whenever he felt stifled over the decades, he had often used hunting to soothe his heart. Now, having ascended to the throne as Emperor, he had been diligent in reform and statecraft for nearly two years. Busy and never having a moment of leisure, the report sparked his interest. By coincidence, the martial examinations were occurring, with candidates from every province arriving in the capital. He chose a date, decreed a one-day suspension of court, and moved the palace-level martial examinations to Shanglin Park. All officials in the capital above the fourth rank were to accompany him; it was both a hunting excursion and a test of talent—truly killing two birds with one stone.

Since ascending the throne, Xiao Lie had been tireless in his governance, regardless of the season, holding morning court almost every day. He exhausted his officials, who had to rise at the fourth watch to prepare for the fifth-watch audience, and often had no peace even on rest days. When the Emperor summoned, they had to go without a hint of slackness. Hearing that court would finally be suspended for a day to hunt in Shanglin Park, they were all overjoyed. On the night before departure, they all relaxed, preparing to set off with the Emperor the next day. The imperial guards had begun occupying the park days prior. The Great Han Generals, the bladesmen of the Metropolitan Guard, and the Shenshu Battalion commanders led their men to clear the hunting grounds and parade fields, ready to welcome the imperial carriage.

The moon that night was eerie. It was as if a nocturnal snow had fallen in the sixth month; the pale, fuzzy moonlight scattered across the glazed roof tiles of the Eastern Palace, casting a cold, gloomy, and resentful light.

That night, the heart of Crown Prince Xiao Yintang felt as if it had been sliced in two by a sharp blade. One half was like fire—pulsing, leaping, burning—causing a crimson glow in his eyes and making the blood in his veins surge and boil. The other half, however, was like the moonlight on the roof tiles, sending a thread of resentful chill deep into his soul.

His father, Xiao Lie, the supreme Emperor of this empire, had finally disappointed him completely.

That night, he had brought the news to his father with a heart full of excitement, seeking approval. Yet, his father's reaction had left him disappointed, even filled with hatred.

Before this, he had never once imagined that his own father would actually entertain the thought of abdicating the throne to someone else. Even after that night, he still could not believe it. Recalling it carefully afterward, he even felt that perhaps it had merely been a test of his own loyalty at the time.

That was until the day the Crown Princess brought him the details of the meeting between the nun and Pei You'an, along with every word that had been spoken.

Why did Pei You'an warn the nun to keep the calligraphy and paintings with the Tianxi Emperor's inscriptions safe? He said they would be worth their weight in gold in the future. What did this mean?

Once he understood, everything became clear.

Xiao Yu was still alive. As a former official of the Tianxi Dynasty, Pei You'an not only had a deep relationship with him but must also harbor feelings for the Tianxi Dynasty that no one else could comprehend.

It was highly probable that he was lobbying Xiao Lie to uphold his original promise and welcome the Young Emperor back.

Xiao Yintang was not certain if his father had truly been swayed, but he believed that, as he had known in his dream, the love his father held for Pei You'an—this son who must not be known—far surpassed his love for him. The trust and reliance the Emperor placed in this son were also beyond what anyone could imagine.

Given Pei You'an’s duplicity, he surely would not openly urge the Emperor to abdicate. But if he were to persistently offer advice to the Emperor, convincing him to name the Young Emperor as his successor to gain historical fame and eternal glory—that would not be without its allure to an Emperor.

Xiao Yintang knew that Pei You'an could not tolerate him, just as he could not tolerate Pei You'an. Between them, it was life or death. Both of them were very clear on this.

Once, Xiao Yintang thought he was the Emperor’s only son. Now he knew that was a joke.

For over twenty years, the Emperor not only had another son he truly loved, but perhaps in the near future, there would be even more.

 

Even if Pei You'an did not succeed in the end, once the Emperor had those other sons, given the estrangement between him and his father today, how long could he sit securely on the throne of the Crown Prince?

Cold sweat drenched Xiao Yintang.

Everything today was completely different from the scenes in his dream.

Yet he stubbornly believed that everything he had seen in his dream was the way his life was originally meant to be.

The Zhen family had indeed been his women, and he had indeed been the Emperor of all people.

The reality was different, and the only variable was Pei You'an.

It was he who had stolen his woman, and now he intended to steal his throne.

In this world, the only thing that allowed Pei You'an to leverage power to fight him was the Emperor.

Once the Emperor was gone, the fate awaiting this lifetime’s Pei You'an would simply be to die alone in the borderlands, poisoned by a bowl of broth.

At this very moment, the Emperor and his son were sharpening their knives, stepping ever closer toward him.

His time was running out. He had to give his all for his own survival.

In the three-way kill between the Emperor, Pei You'an, and himself, just as the dream had revealed, he would be the one who laughed last.

...

The next morning, the streets of the capital were cleared. Under the command of the Marquis of Anyuan and the Metropolitan Commander Liu Jiushao, the imperial guards protected the Emperor. The hundred officials followed behind, and amidst the kneeling worship of the common people along the road, the grand procession left the city toward Shanglin Park.

Pei You'an was supposed to accompany the imperial carriage. However, for the past few days, Chi Hanzhen’s illness had worsened. Last night, she had reached a high fever and fallen into a coma; the situation was extremely dangerous. Upon hearing the news, Pei You'an excused himself from the Emperor and urgently summoned an imperial physician, rushing there himself. He did not sleep all night. It was not until this morning that Chi Hanzhen’s fever finally broke, though she remained unconscious.

The imperial physician was elderly and, having stayed up all night, was completely exhausted. Pei You'an told the physician to rest and strolled to a stone pavilion in the courtyard.

The pavilion was tidy, featuring a stone table and stone stools. On the table rested several volumes of Taoist scriptures, along with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. It was likely the place where Chi Hanzhen spent her spare time reading and writing.

Pei You'an stepped into the pavilion. He picked up a volume of Taoist scripture, flipped through it for a moment, and then put it down. Seeming to follow a sudden impulse, he began to slowly spread out the paper, grind the ink, and picked up a silver-tipped brush from the rack. He dipped it fully in ink, suspended his wrist, and began to write.

He had not slept all night, and faint bloodshot lines appeared in his eyes. Yet, his posture remained as straight and elegant as bamboo in the snow, showing no sign of fatigue. Standing by the stone table, he bowed his head slightly, waving the brush and splashing ink, focusing entirely on his writing.

The morning sun was rising slowly. A ray of golden light suddenly pierced through the oleander branches beside the pavilion, casting into the pavilion and landing upon him. A sleeve fluttered slightly in the cool morning breeze as his arm moved to wield the ink.

Chi Hanzhen stood quietly behind the window, staring foolishly at the man in the pavilion who seemed to gather the breeze in his sleeves. She could no longer hold back. She ripped off the ice pack the young nun had just placed on her forehead, pushed the door open with a crash, and under the astonished gaze of the young nun, rushed toward the stone pavilion.

She was truly suffering from a severe illness; her face was sallow, and after taking only those ten steps, cold sweat poured down her forehead. She reached out and gripped a pavilion pillar, panting twice, and said: "Lord Pei, stop worrying about me! Go wherever you should go today! Do not delay important matters because of me!"

Pei You'an glanced at her, his wrist not pausing: "You’re awake? Go back to your room and rest."

"Lord Pei!"

Chi Hanzhen’s face was filled with panic. She walked toward him, but her legs went weak, and she collapsed onto the pavilion steps. Struggling to crawl up to a sitting position, she said: "Lord Pei, leave quickly! Stop worrying about me!"

Pei You'an’s expression remained unmoved. He wrote the final character, checked it once, and slowly placed the brush back on the rack. Only then did he turn to look at Chi Hanzhen, who was crawling and kneeling on the stone steps. His expression was calm, and he did not speak.

"Lord Pei, I no longer wish to deceive you. A few days ago, my younger brother was taken away by someone. They used him to threaten me, forcing me to spy on you. I dared not disobey and could only deceive you against my own heart. At the time, in order to feign illness, I soaked myself in ice water, and afterward, I did not take the medicine you prescribed. Until a few days ago, I was told that I must keep you in the temple today, that I could not let you leave for a single step, otherwise my younger brother would lose his life..."

Chi Hanzhen was bathed in tears.

"Was that person the Crown Princess?" Pei You'an asked indifferently.

Chi Hanzhen closed her eyes: "Yes!"

"Everyone praises my integrity, yet no one knows that I hide dirt and filth in my heart. I was never willing to spend my life in a Taoist temple. At the beginning, when the Crown Princess interacted with me, although I hesitated, in order to raise my status, I could not bear to cut off the red dust of the world. I did not expect to weave a cocoon around myself and end up in this state today!"

Her tears flowed endlessly.

"...Lord Pei, you called me pure in spirit and clean in ambition that day—how could I possibly be worthy of such praise? You cared for the teacher-student bond with my grandfather and treated me with sincerity and kindness, yet I deceived you in this way! Leave quickly! Go wherever you should go today! If you don't leave, I fear something terrible will happen!"

She threw herself onto the steps, weeping bitterly.

Pei You'an looked down at her for a moment, walked down the pavilion steps, and headed outward.

After a long while, the young nun finally gathered the courage to approach, helping her up from the ground and onto a nearby stone stool.

Chi Hanzhen looked at the ink that was still spread across the stone table.

"Ten thousand scrolls of poetry, a thousand cups of wine. I have never paid mind to nobles or kings. I am too lazy to return to the jade towers and golden palaces; let me stick plum blossoms in my hair and get drunk in Luoyang."

"Ten thousand chariots of Marquis, ten thousand chariots of Kings. The wind drifts the jade flute as the plum blossoms fall; wine floods the golden goblet while the moon remains bright. In the nine springs of the grave, all become nobles and kings."

The first half was taken from Zhu Yanhuo’s Zhegu Tian, and the second half was from the former Tang dynasty’s Liu Chang'an’s Spring Evening Reminiscences.

A morning sun sprinkled across the ink-splattered manuscript, the ink not yet dry. Every character was bold and powerful, the spirit of the work deep and steady.

Chi Hanzhen’s eyes were blurred with tears as she murmured the lines, then turned to search for that figure once more. The figure had already vanished beyond the courtyard gate.

...

That day, a piece of news shook the imperial court and the public alike.

While the Emperor was hunting in Shanglin Park and conducting the martial examinations, he was unexpectedly assassinated. The situation was extremely perilous, but fortunately, Liu Jiushao was as meticulous as a hair, having perceived the plot in advance. Before the assassin could get close, he was captured by men led by Liu Jiushao. The Emperor was shaken and ordered an on-site interrogation, only to learn that it was the work of the remnants of the King of Shun'an. Furious, he returned to the palace and suspended court for three days. Just as the officials were terrified and speculating, three days later, the Emperor unexpectedly issued an Edict of Self-Reproach.

The edict stated that the Emperor and the King of Shun'an were originally brothers, sharing the same ancestors, blood, and flesh. Unexpectedly, they had pressured one another, and he had failed to preserve fraternal love, leading to deep resentment and bringing shame upon the clan. Last night, he dreamt of his ancestors reprimanding him and awoke in terror, fearing he would have no face to meet his ancestors in the underworld. He ought to have returned personally to the ancestral tomb in Gengzhou to reflect on his faults, but the weight of the people and the empire rested upon him. Fortunately, the Crown Prince was purely filial and volunteered to abdicate his position as Crown Prince, becoming a commoner to return to the ancestral lands on his father's behalf to guard the tombs and fulfill the way of filial piety.

Once this Edict of Self-Reproach was issued, the entire court was in an uproar. Old Zhang and Zhou Xing requested an audience with the Emperor; when they came out, their faces were ashen, and if not for their attendants supporting them, they would have been unable to walk.

Two days later, Old Zhang cited his advanced age and declining health in a memorial requesting to retire to his hometown, which the Emperor granted. The Zhou family was not so fortunate. Zhou Jin was dismissed for the crime of forming factions and, fearing the consequences, committed suicide in the Dali Temple prison. This case involved dozens of officials.

In the short span of less than half a month, the imperial court had undergone such earth-shaking changes. For a time, the atmosphere was one of terror and suspicion. The civil and military officials were all in fear, appearing to submit memorials in agreement with the Edict of Self-Reproach and praising the Crown Prince’s filial piety, but in secret, terrifying news was being transmitted rapidly.

It was said that the assassination at Shanglin Park had been proven to be a conspiracy between the Crown Prince and Zhou Jin. The Emperor was incredibly enraged; he killed Zhou Jin, abolished the Crown Prince, and ordered him imprisoned in the ancestral lands, never to take a single step out for the rest of his life. If he stepped out, he was to be executed without mercy.

This was a royal death warrant, with absolutely no possibility of reversal.