Chapter 47 Emperor Jiacheng

In the Western Garden of the Imperial City stood the Weiyang Palace.

This was a palace reconstructed by the Jiacheng Emperor behind the Crown Prince's archives. Facing three lakes and backed by dozens of meters of artificial rockeries, its position—backed by mountains and facing water—made it an exceptional retreat for preserving health.

Zheng Bangcheng had been waiting for news from the Shuntian Prefecture all this time.

In his heart, he was also secretly pondering over how he might casually bring this matter to the attention of the Emperor without leaving a trace.

Zheng Bangcheng found himself in a difficult position.

As the most senior commander of the imperial guards serving by the Emperor's side, Zheng Bangcheng understood the Jiacheng Emperor’s daily lifestyle better than anyone else.

Every morning, the Emperor would rise when the sun crested the horizon. He would practice boxing forms to stretch his limbs, then partake in breakfast. After that, he would stroll around the lake and read. At noon, he took his midday meal, followed by a brief afternoon nap. The afternoon was dedicated to reviewing memorials, and dinner was served before nightfall.

Once he had finished his evening meal and the sun had set, he would prepare for sleep.

Even if sleep eluded him, he would remain seated in meditation to cultivate inner peace.

His routine was a textbook example of rising with the sun and resting with the moon.

The time he spent managing state affairs each day was never longer than six hours, nor shorter than two.

This adhered strictly to the health-preservation guidelines prescribed by the imperial physicians, moving in harmony with the natural rhythms of the cosmos.

Spring, summer, autumn, and winter each demanded a different regimen.

Winter, in particular, was a season for quiet cultivation.

For the most part, he could not be disturbed.

Even as the commander of the imperial guards, who accompanied the Emperor almost daily and was deeply familiar with his habits, Zheng Bangcheng still needed to find a very good excuse if he were to deliberately seek out the Emperor to speak of He Chong'an.

Just as Zheng Bangcheng was struggling with this dilemma, he suddenly saw Directorate Eunuch Zhao walking over with a beaming smile.

Zhao Fu, the Superintendent of the Directorate of Ceremonies, always wore a smile that stretched three parts across his face. His countenance, rounded with flesh, radiated an air of auspicious fortune—which was precisely how he had earned his name. When the reigning Emperor had ascended the throne as a youth and laid eyes on Zhao Fu for the first time, he felt that the man's face brimmed with good fortune and personally bestowed that name upon him.

He was a veteran eunuch who had followed the current sovereign for several decades.

Daring not to offend him, Zheng Bangcheng stepped forward and bowed, greeting, "Director Zhao, you have arrived."

"Indeed I have. A major event has occurred today, Commander Zheng. Are you aware of it?"

"What major event?"

"A domestic dispute between the Duke of Ningguo's estate and the Marquis of Wuning's household has boiled over. The Marchioness of Wuning has even gone so far as to drag out their Imperial Iron Certificate of Mercy. The entire capital is in an uproar over this, and I am heading in to report it to His Majesty."

"Really?" Zheng Bangcheng was dumbstruck.

He had never imagined that the Marquis of Wuning's estate would go to such lengths. They had practically staked everything they had.

There was no need for him to intervene at all; they had already escalated the matter to a point where the Emperor was forced to step in.

Unconsciously, a thought crossed his mind: "He Chong'an is a man of his word, willing to go this far. If this business succeeds, my family cannot afford to be stingy either."

The thought vanished in a flash.

Zhao Fu asked with a faint smile, "Commander Zheng, have you not heard of this before?"

"I have heard of the dispute, but I never expected it to blow up to such a scale," Zheng Bangcheng lowered his voice to ask. "Director Zhao, you are a veteran by His Majesty's side. How do you think His Majesty ought to handle this matter?"

The smile instantly vanished from Zhao Fu's face. He lowered his voice and said, "Such words must never be spoken aloud. Everything rests upon the Sacred Verdict. How could it ever be our place to comment?"

"Right, right, right," Zheng Bangcheng hastily acknowledged. "I was wrong, I was wrong."

"Quite right," Zhao Fu resumed his smile and said, "For those of us who serve before the imperial throne, nothing else matters as much as keeping our own mouths shut. What shouldn't be asked, do not ask; what shouldn't be heard, do not hear; and what shouldn't be spoken, do not speak."

There seemed to be a deeper meaning hidden within these words. Zheng Bangcheng felt as though he understood, yet remained somewhat uncertain.

"I must be going; His Majesty is waiting."

We shall leave aside Zheng Bangcheng respectfully seeing Director Zhao off.

Upon entering the inner chambers of the Weiyang Palace, Director Zhao was immediately enveloped by a wave of dry heat. The entire palace had been built with flues beneath the floors, keeping every brick warm. It was as warm as spring, rendering even a single layer of unlined garments free from any chill.

Stripping off his outer robe and leaving only a light undergarment, Director Zhao parted the layers of heavy curtains to proceed inside.

The inner chamber was completely sealed off from the outside, yet streams of daylight filtered down from several directions. Upon closer inspection, the small windows set into the roof were pieced together from colorless glass panes no larger than the palm of a hand.

The winter sunlight was fractured by the glass, scattering patches of brilliant light across the room.

The ambient temperature within the room endowed this sunlight with a spring-like warmth.

An elderly man with graying hair sat holding a scroll of books, reading with rapt attention.

Zhao Fu walked over, stood with his hands folded respectfully, and murmured, "Master."

The elderly man raised his head, wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that concealed the few wrinkles on his face while lending him a mature and captivating air. Had it not been for his silver-white hair, one might easily have mistaken him for a man in his forties.

The most striking feature of the elderly man was his eyes.

They were gentle, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, yet possessed a piercing, chilling clarity capable of seeing through everything. It seemed as though nothing could possibly be concealed in his presence.

"Ah, little Fu has come."

"Master, the investigation has been completed." Zhao Fu respectfully presented a stack of documents with both hands.

The Jiacheng Emperor flipped through the papers several times before finally lowering them. He removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed, "I am old. Truly old. When I speak, no one listens anymore."

"My son is disobedient, my in-laws are disobedient, my inner ministers are disobedient, and my outer ministers are disobedient as well. The Central Secretariat has its own agenda, the provinces regard me as a fool, the new officials demand more, and the veteran officials take everything for granted."

"For these past ten years, I have simply wanted to live in peace—turning a blind eye, pretending to be neither deaf nor dumb, refusing to play the tyrant patriarch."

"What a pity. They have truly taken me for a deaf and dumb man."

"Little Fu, what do you think I should do?"

Daring not to smile, Zhao Fu replied, "Whatever Master decides is best, this slave will execute."

The Jiacheng Emperor mused in silence for a moment before saying, "Very well, the Laba Festival is fast approaching. This year, invite the Marquis of Wuning's estate and the Duke of Ningguo's estate to share a casual meal. Let them grant this old man a shred of face."

Zhao Fu nodded in assent.

The Jiacheng Emperor suddenly asked, "What was Zheng Bangcheng's reaction? To what extent did he involve himself in this affair?"

"In this slave's humble opinion, he merely gave it a slight push, wishing to test Your Majesty's intentions. After all, he has held the post of guard commander for many years."

"Indeed, it has been many years," the Jiacheng Emperor remarked. "Come to think of it, this is also a way to fulfill my promise to Brother Wannian."

"Very well, let him remain on duty during the Laba Banquet."

"As you command."

*******

In the estate of the Duke of Ningguo, Pei Fu, Pei Xuan, and Pei Zhao sat together with gloomy expressions.

"Father, it was my carelessness this time. I never imagined that the Marquis of Wuning's estate would resort to such desperate measures," Pei Xuan said, bowing in self-reproach. "This time, we must concede. Our priority now is to find a way to clear ourselves of the charges."

"Clear yourselves?" The Duke of Ningguo, Pei Fu, let out a long sigh. "This matter is difficult, yet also simple. The crux of it does not lie with us; it lies with His Majesty."

"If His Majesty nods and simply issues a supplementary decree, nothing of this will matter. If His Majesty refuses to nod, then the problem becomes infinitely grave."

Pei Fu felt a terrifying sense of loss of control.

As long as the matter was not brought before the Emperor, everything remained manageable for the Duke of Ningguo's estate.

However, the Emperor was a variable the Duke of Ningguo could never control.

No matter the issue, once the Emperor was drawn into it, the nature of the situation changed instantly. The rules of the power game were rewritten overnight, leaving them entirely at the mercy of the imperial will.

"In Father's view, what exactly is His Majesty's intent?"