Chapter 153 Part 2

 

If, just moments ago, some had not yet grasped the full extent of what was unfolding, now—with the dagger drawn and the picture complete—no one could remain unaware.

“If you support this, then sign your name to the memorial and join Grand Chancellor Wang in proceeding to the Ziyun Palace to petition His Majesty—so that the Imperial Grandson may return!”

A servant came up to the hall carrying a golden plate with a memorial on it, as well as brush, ink, and cinnabar seal paste. He moved slowly through the hall, stopping before each official in turn.

Even if the ministers were unwilling, who dared to resist when the imperial guards came to the hall and faced the swords? Some, their hands were trembling, some were terrified, and some were helpless. One by one they took up the brush, leaving their names and fingerprints on the spread-out memorials. Unexpectedly, when the plate was delivered to one person, there was a “bang” and it was suddenly overturned and fell to the ground, and the ink stained the memorials, making a mess.

Everyone looked in surprise and saw that it was the Grand Censor Zheng Song who previously called out the palace steward to inquire about the emperor and the princess’s recent condition.

Lu Jingchen immediately came over and said coldly: “What is Grand Censor doing? Are you refusing to comply?”

Zheng Song’s face was full of contempt. He didn’t even look at him. He pushed him away, walked quickly to Wang Zhang, pointed at him and started cursing.

“Wang Zhang, you treacherous old thief! I once thought you were virtuous and wise—a loyal minister of the country—but now your true face is revealed, full of malice! How dare you, old thief, act in such manner? His Majesty’s life hangs in the balance, and instead of guarding him, you actually intend to raise an army to force the emperor to abdicate? Don’t forget! The last person who tried what you’re doing, Liu Ceye, his corpse still rots in ignominy, buried without rites!”

His voice rang like a great bell, echoing through the rafters of the grand hall. Wang Zhang looked at him grimly.

“As a monarch, one should be chosen not only by bloodline but also by merit and virtue. Apart from being the grandson of the late Emperor Ming, what merit and virtue does Li Yan have to deserve your flattery? For his own selfish reasons, he colluded with Yuwen Shouren to rebel, carved out land for himself, and invited enemies into the realm. If not for the Princess aiding His Majesty in time, it would have sparked another catastrophe like the Jingsheng rebellion! And the recent chaos at Zhenguo Tower—was that not your doing as well? To fan the flames of unrest, would you truly stoop so low as to harm innocent women and common folk?

“A thousand li around the capital—this is where the people dwell; the realm extends to the four seas. And yet, such a man without virtue or merit—what face does he have to claim the mantle of legitimacy? All I see is a man who chases profit without honor, shameless and base!”

This denunciation was so shocking that the whole hall fell silent.

Zhang Zhe sneered and retorted.

“Grand Censor Zheng, you think yourself the voice of Heaven, do you? But let me ask you this: if the Imperial Grandson is unworthy, then is the Princess somehow worthy? Even if we court officials are cowed by tyranny and dare not speak today—what of the regions beyond Chang’an? Will the military commissioners and regional commanders submit to a woman as sovereign? Will they pass up such a ripe chance to rebel? If the Princess gets her way, wouldn’t that hand them the perfect excuse to rise? The empire will drown in blood once again! You distort right and wrong, and now you publicly slander the Imperial Grandson—what, have the Princess and Pei Xiaoyuan promised you rewards? I think you are the one who harbors evil intentions and wants to curry favor with the powerful regardless of the turmoil in the Nine Provinces!”

With a “Puh” sound, a mouthful of thick phlegm flew out and landed on Zhang Zhe’s face.

Zheng Song’s eyes widened with anger: “The Princess serves as regent by His Majesty’s own trust. As for Master Pei Erlang, not to mention his father’s loyalty and courage—even he himself has shaken the barbarian tribes with fear. His merits are enough to be recorded in the annals of history! If the two of them really want to disrupt the state system and seek to take the throne as you said—then I, Zheng Song, will be the first to oppose it! I am a senior official of the third rank, entrusted by His Majesty himself—how could I stand by while you twist truth into lies and confuse right with wrong? If you wish to manipulate the court and deceive the world, then you’ll have to step over my corpse first!”

Descended from the eminent Zheng clan of Yingyang, and having served as the head of the Censorate for many years, Zheng Song’s words landed like thunder, righteous and unyielding. Even Zhang Zhe, for all his silver tongue, was struck speechless. His face flushed red as he wiped the filth from his cheek, unable to offer a retort.

“Grand Censor Zheng is right! Li Yan’s name is clearly still on the list of rebels in the imperial court. How can we welcome him as the crown prince?”

Zhao Jin and others were all infected by Zheng Song. They rushed forward in anger and stood in front of Zheng Song.

Wang Zhang raised his eyelids and coldly looked at Lu Jingchen.

Lu Jingchen ordered his men to take Zheng Song out. The imperial guards stepped forward, forcing Zhao Jin and the others to the ground, then began to drag Zheng Song out of the hall.

Lu Jingchen drew his sword and snorted coldly: “Grand Censor Zheng, since you want to be the Princess’s subject, then I’ll grant your wish.” He raised the gleaming blade and thrust it toward the censor’s chest.

Just as blood was about to be spilled in the great hall, the court officials turned their heads away, eyes shut tight, unwilling to witness the violence. But suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from outside. Jiang Zhao burst in, shouting: “General! It’s bad! His Majesty is not in Ziyun Palace! The Princess and Pei Xiaoyuan are missing too!”

Lu Jingchen’s face changed drastically, and he didn’t care about Zheng Song anymore. He turned around and grabbed Jiang Zhao’s collar: “What did you say?”

“This subordinate was ordered to surround the Ziyun Palace, but found that the defense was empty and there was no one inside! His Majesty was not in the palace! The Princess and Pei Xiaoyuan were also missing!” Jiang Zhao slid to his knees in panic and shouted again.

There was an immediate commotion in the great hall. Zhao Jin and others took the opportunity to escape, rushed forward and dragged Zheng Song back.

The holy dynasty worshipped martial arts. The ideal scholar was one who could lead armies into battle as a general and serve as a grand minister at court. Thus, in addition from being skilled in literature and calligraphy, most officials also learned riding and shooting. A moment ago, they had only been cowed by brute force—now, seeing the tide shift, they began seizing weapons from the nearby imperial guards, and a chaotic brawl broke out among the court.

Wang Zhang stood frozen where he was, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably, the composed air he had carried earlier now completely gone.

As the chaos roared around him, he suddenly looked up as if pricked by a sharp needle. His gaze lifted and fixed on the richly embroidered golden curtain hanging quietly behind the emperor’s empty throne.

This golden curtain was always kept drawn. When the emperor went to court, someone would open it and the emperor would appear from the door behind the curtain.

He stared intently, and walked forward step by step involuntarily. He climbed up the steps and came before the golden curtain. He raised his slightly trembling hand and slowly lifted the edge of the curtain.

A thin figure appeared behind the golden curtain. He sat high upon the sedan chair, clad in dragon robes, his shoulders slightly hunched, bearing a posture like a crouching tiger or coiled dragon. Yet his head was slightly bowed, eyes closed, his expression serene—as if everything unfolding at the base of the crimson steps had nothing to do with him at all, as though he were deep in meditation.

“Your Majesty!”

The first minister to glimpse the scene behind the curtain let out an involuntary cry and instinctively fell to his knees.

With that single shout, everyone turned their heads.

Suddenly, the whole hall fell into deathly silence.

The old palace eunuch Zhao Zhongfang, who was standing behind the sedan chair, walked up and opened the golden curtain.

The emperor placed one hand on the side of the sedan chair. Lifting his head with a straightened neck—as if awakening from a long sleep—he slowly opened his eyes.

Outside the great hall, dawn was breaking.

In the sudden blaze of morning light pouring into the grand hall—mingling with the flicker of massive candles—a piercing gaze lit up. Those eyes, sharp as an eagle’s, suddenly shone with a terrifying intensity that made hearts tremble.

The emperor lifted his head and swept his gaze coldly across the great hall below him, across the dense crowds of civil officials and fierce generals, some of whom were loyal to him, some of whom were betraying him.

“Zhen just remember… it’s been quite some time since Zhen last held court here. Zhen thought Zhen would take a look at what Zhen’s last remaining old companions have been up to.”

The emperor’s voice was flat, and it echoed in the dead silence of the hall, lingering for a long time.

“Your Majesty!” Zheng Song rushed forward and knelt down at the foot of the steps. The emperor looked at him and nodded slightly. The censor’s eyes were filled with tears, and he suddenly burst into tears and kowtowed in ecstasy.

Wang Zhang’s eyes were wide open, his steps retreating uncontrollably. He kept backing away until his boot heels struck the edge of the stairs—yet he seemed utterly unaware. With a misstep, his body pitched backward and tumbled down the steps.

The emperor’s majesty was overwhelming. When the very man they had believed to be blind and near death now appeared behind the golden curtain of the throne, the weight of the authority was suffocating.

Zhao Jin and those who had stood with Zheng Song immediately fell to their knees, crying out, “Long live the Emperor!” The imperial guards who had burst into the hall—all loyal to Lu Jingchen—either dropped their weapons and knelt in silence, or turned and fled. As for the dozen or so officials who had conspired with Wang Zhang to rise in revolt—their faces had turned deathly pale, their legs shaking like leaves in a storm.

Another chaotic sound of footsteps came from far away. Han Kerang arrived with a large group of Yulin warriors and surrounded Lu Jingchen.

“General Lu, I told you early in the morning that His Majesty must have his own arrangements.”

Lu Jinghu and the grand princess have been separated for many years, their marriage marked by resentment and deep-seated grudges. It was only for the sake of their two children—and the dignity of the grand princess’s status—that their union had barely been maintained. Lu Jingchen, enticed by Li Yan’s promise of great wealth and power, harbored treacherous intentions. To deal with the ever-vigilant Han Kerang, he attempted to recruit Lu Jinghu into the plot, appealing to their shared history as former conspirators and promising that, once the deed was done, he promised to kill the shrew to vent his anger. However, although Lu Jinghu and the grand princess were not on good terms, they did not hate each other to such an extent. Recently, due to matters concerning their daughter, their relationship had softened somewhat, and he had no desire to rebel. Knowing all too well his cousin’s ruthless nature—once he was involved, refusal would only bring misfortune—Lu Jinghu feigned allegiance. Thus came the events of this morning: Han Kerang, seeing through the scheme, put on soft armor in advance, and now catching them unawares, struck back with lethal force.

Wang Zhang, Lu Jingcheng, Zhang Zhe and dozens of others were all captured and tied up, and made to knelt outside the palace. As the sounds of fighting ceased, the remaining ministers in the hall finally calmed down, and after tidying up their appearance, they lined up again and saluted the emperor.

“Announcing the Resident Regent of Eastern Capital, Pei Ji, to the hall—”

Zhao Zhongfang faced the ministers, looked towards the great hall door, and announced loudly.

When this name that had disappeared from the Xuanzheng Hall for nearly twenty years sounded again at this moment, the ministers could not help but be surprised again, and they all turned their heads to look.

Outside the hall, beneath the gradually whitening morning light, a stalwart figure in blue-grey robes slowly appeared under the guidance of a palace eunuch.

He looked exhausted, as if he had just arrived from a long journey. Without even changing his clothes, he entered the palace gate and walked along the wide and straight palace road where blood was still flowing between the cracks in the tiles.

As he drew closer, the prisoners kneeling at the foot of the steps recognized him and burst into cries. Some begged for Lord Pei to save their lives, others pleaded that they had acted only under duress and had no choice but to comply. He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the many faces—some familiar, some not. At last, he looked at Wang Zhang who looked up in stunned disbelief. They stared at one another briefly. Then, Wang Zhang’s expression changed to one of bleak resignation, and he began to laugh—low at first, then louder, bitterly.

“Ten years—a dream of Huaxu; a hundred years—the affairs of the world, all empty in the end. Twenty years ago, I watched you leave Chang’an. Back then, I thought we had seen the end of each other’s stories with just one glance. I never imagined that when we met again, it would be like this. In the end, I still overestimated myself and forgot that His Majesty held the Heavenly Sword in his hand—thunderous, lightning-swift. Even you, after twenty years of desolation and dust, have now willingly returned… to be driven by his will.”

Wang Zhang suddenly struggled to his feet and lunged at a nearby Yulin guard. His neck arched forward and plunged straight into the sword held in the guard’s hand. The steel pierced through his throat, and he collapsed to the ground, dead. On the tiles of the palace in front of him, blood gradually spread.

Pei Ji withdrew his gaze, slowly turned away, leaving the cries and wails behind him as he continued forward.

He climbed the palace steps, and under the breathless gaze of hundreds of eyes on both sides, he walked to the center of the hall and bowed and saluted to the emperor behind the golden curtain.

Zhao Zhongfang read out two imperial edicts.

First, from now on, Pei Ji was promoted to the position of Zhongtai Ling, granted the honorary title of Grand Tutor, and shall henceforth preside as the foremost of the Grand Chancellors.

The second one was that Prince Xin’an, Li Hui, born of imperial blood and gifted with both virtue and intellect, shall be appointed Crown Prince, inherit the Mandate, uphold the state, and govern the realm on behalf of Heaven.

This edict would be announced to the whole world at the Captive Offering Ceremony, so that everyone may hear it.

All those who participated in today’s riot would be sentenced to death and and shall be executed alongside other convicted criminals on the day the Captive Offering Ceremony, as a warning to uphold the country’s law.

As the court officials stood stunned, and then awakened to the truth, the hall erupted in thunderous cries of “Long live the Emperor!” Amid the shouts, the palace eunuchs lifted the golden sedan chair and the emperor left the court.

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