Chapter 595: - None of It Means Shit

Marquis of Pingxi.

Marquis of Pingxi.

Little Sixth Ji was not surprised that Zheng Fan had been made Marquis.

He was not even surprised by the two characters “Pingxi.”

The First Prince was Marquis of Andong.

If one looked at the four corresponding marquis titles of east, south, west, and north, they were on the same level.

The problem was that the First Prince could not be pointed toward the “west.”

Because west of Great Yan lay the desert.

The territory of the Barbarians.

Little Sixth knew perfectly well that although his imperial father had always maintained an extremely hard line toward the Barbarians, that was a political posture.

Beneath that posture, it had not prevented the First Prince from marrying a Barbarian princess and fathering a son with Barbarian blood.

His imperial father and the old Barbarian King actually shared an unspoken understanding.

Great Yan wanted to expand eastward, rise above the old Four Eastern States, inherit the legacy of Great Xia, and reunify the Xia realms.

The Barbarian Royal Court needed time to integrate the tribes of the desert and restore the glory and authority of the Royal Court.

Both sides had matters they needed to handle.

So naturally they could maintain an external understanding.

The two great peoples used methods refined by long experience to deliberately create one atmosphere that looked like “drawn swords and strung bows” for domestic audiences, while privately maintaining something closer to honey mixed with oil to reassure each other.

But if the “west” title were given to the First Prince, that would damage this understanding.

The First Prince had already married a Barbarian princess and been completely removed from the line of succession to the throne.

He had now inherited a marquisate and military command.

On the surface, that looked like real power.

At a deeper level, it meant he was no longer being treated as a conventional imperial prince.

By ordinary logic, no matter how serious his mistakes had once been, so long as he did not rebel, restoring his princely rank when the new emperor ascended the throne should have been inevitable.

Whoever became emperor would still be his younger brother.

Brotherly harmony had to be performed.

Then the First Prince’s descendants could begin from a relatively high noble rank and, even if they spent their lives eating and waiting to die, continue comfortably for many generations.

Was that not what countless people struggled their entire lives to achieve?

Across history, how many members of imperial clans participated in rebellion?

Only a minority truly aimed for the throne itself.

Most were after one thing: hereditary succession without reduction.

But once the First Prince had been enfeoffed as Marquis, he was effectively being given the treatment and duties of a noble of another surname.

To be made Prince again?

Unless he someday achieved accomplishments comparable to the Princes of Zhenbei and Jingnan, there was almost no possibility.

One could say Imperial Father had sacrificed the First Prince completely for the larger strategic picture.

Even sacrificing the entire line descended from the First Prince.

On that basis, adding the word “west” to the First Prince’s title would be even worse.

Anyone with intentions, or even without them, would immediately think of the desert to the west.

First, it would easily stimulate the nerves of the Barbarians.

The old Barbarian King was said to be nearing his end as well.

The young Barbarian prince might still possess the hot blood of youth.

The old Barbarian King might not care about a title like this, but the young prince might feel deeply humiliated.

My most beloved younger sister married into your Ji Clan.

And now what?

Your Ji Clan wants to use my brother-in-law to attack my Barbarians?

Second, it could press the First Prince too far and provoke a rebellious reaction.

Because that would truly reduce a man to nothing more than a tool.

Precisely because the First Prince could not touch the title “west,”

Count Pingye, who was stationed in eastern Jin, resisted the Savages to the north, restrained Chu to the south, and was actually the most suitable man for the title Marquis of Andong, was forced to take the only remaining direction.

West.

So be it.

If the directions became scrambled, they became scrambled.

East, south, west, and north represented the four directions as a whole.

They did not necessarily indicate literal geographic positions.

Marquis of Pingxi.

Marquis of Pingxi.

If he continued receiving favor in the future, either because he supported the next emperor or because the throne needed to pacify him, being elevated to Prince was not impossible.

Then that would become...

Prince of Pingxi.

Little Sixth silently chewed over those three words.

Truthfully, there was something he had noticed very early, but had never allowed himself to think too deeply about.

Perhaps it was because meeting someone he could genuinely talk to was rare.

Perhaps because encountering such an interesting person was rare.

Perhaps because he considered himself one of the cleverest men in the world and feared loneliness.

Or perhaps because he had enjoyed the process so much that he deliberately ignored the possible result waiting at the end.

The matter was his relationship with Zheng Fan.

When Zheng Fan was still in Tiger Head City and Cuiliu Fort, Little Sixth had used his influence within the Ministry of War to help Zheng Fan break free from Beifeng Commandery and transfer to Yinlang Commandery.

That allowed Zheng Fan to catch the next stage of Great Yan’s war against Qian.

At the same time, the warhorses and armor provided to Zheng Fan in those early days had all been top-grade equipment among top-grade equipment.

Count Pingye had been able to repeatedly lead troops south and fly kites against Qian armies in large part because his military provisioning was simply too extravagant.

Two horses per rider.

Sometimes even three.

How could the Qian possibly match that mobility?

But after the campaign against Qian, or perhaps even before it, Zheng Fan had already boarded Prince of Jingnan’s ship.

Sometimes Little Sixth wondered why Prince of Jingnan had valued Zheng Fan so greatly back when he was still only a tiny garrison officer.

It was not that Little Sixth could not think of reasons.

There were simply too many.

Ability.

Temperament.

Zheng Fan was impeccable in both.

Otherwise, he could never have impressed Little Sixth himself back at the Marquis of Zhenbei Residence.

All one could say was timing and fate.

After that, Little Sixth and Zheng Fan remained nominally close comrades.

But Zheng Fan’s stations moved farther and farther away.

The level of wars he participated in rose higher and higher.

Put nicely, Zheng Fan still required Little Sixth’s support.

Put less nicely, Little Sixth was increasingly the one rushing forward to send money, grain, and talented people into Zheng Fan’s hands.

Zheng Fan’s need for him was steadily decreasing.

Little Sixth’s need for Zheng Fan was steadily increasing.

This change was unavoidable.

Political investment and support always followed that process.

Once the person you supported grew stronger and his wings hardened, you inevitably had to change the way you treated him.

Calling him a hound beneath your gate no longer fit.

More helplessly still, you had already invested too much money, effort, and emotion into him.

If you wanted all that investment to avoid becoming worthless, you still had to coax him, yield to him, follow his wishes.

If someone owed the bank one hundred taels, he was the grandson.

If he owed ten thousand taels, then he was the grandfather.

The bank had to worry whether he was eating well and sleeping well, did it not?

After leaving the Rear Garden, Little Sixth climbed into his carriage.

His mind still felt somewhat muddled.

Fortunately, he was a clever man.

Even Count Pingye had no choice but to admit that.

Years ago, Little Sixth had once said:

If Imperial Father were not deliberately favoring one side, which of my brothers could possibly compete with me?

That had not been boasting.

It had been fact.

His true opponent had never been his brothers.

It had always been his imperial father, an emperor whose desire to control power only grew stronger as he aged and his health worsened.

And unfortunately, that emperor was genuinely brilliant and formidable.

Little Sixth took out a snuff bottle and inhaled once, calming the restlessness in his chest.

Truthfully, once one grasped the essence, even the most complicated matter often became simple.

First.

Did he need Zheng Fan?

Without question.

He did.

A rising new star...

No.

The words “new star” could no longer describe Zheng Fan.

Now, Zheng Fan had already obtained a seat at the table.

Because of the wars.

Because of Prince of Jingnan’s support.

Because of his own ability, which everyone acknowledged.

He now possessed his own chips.

He had the right to place bets.

A Marquis holding a frontier command like this had to be courted by imperial princes.

And the future emperor would have to court him too.

In Little Sixth’s eyes, the imperial court resembled a merchant company.

A merchant company had multiple investors and shareholders.

The owner was really only the man those investors chose to manage affairs.

Now, Zheng Fan had become a new investor entering the circle.

No one could ignore him anymore.

So how should he be courted?

There were only two methods.

Benefit.

And affection.

Appeal to emotion and move him with profit.

It sounded sophisticated.

But people who tried to grasp both ends usually believed themselves clever and ended up obtaining neither result they wanted.

Zheng Fan was a very pure person.

Little Sixth knew that clearly.

So he had to deal with Zheng Fan in an equally pure way.

Benefit should no longer be discussed.

Affection had to keep being renewed.

When discussing affection, do not place profit on the table.

Be friends.

Be brothers.

Be open and straightforward with one another.

This was something Imperial Father had taught him.

The former Marquis of Zhenbei and the current Prince of Jingnan both possessed military forces capable of overturning the entire court.

Yet Imperial Father still granted them the greatest possible trust.

Not seizing their power was itself the greatest seizure of power.

Imperial rule, at its root, was about taking risks.

Not the merchant-company model where everyone smiled, negotiated, compromised, and handled matters peacefully together.

That latter arrangement would create problems.

Using the Secret Intelligence Department to monitor officials.

Drawing court factions together and balancing them against each other.

Winning hearts.

Suppressing new trends.

These were the methods everyone loved discussing while insisting they were true imperial statecraft.

They were not.

Change the outer skin and one discovered they looked almost identical to the methods a gang boss at the docks used to control his followers.

Little Sixth raised a hand and rubbed between his brows.

He took out paper.

Then a brush.

And wrote a letter.

The letter was extremely short.

Only two words:

Help me.

Then

Little Sixth crossed them out.

He changed it to:

Help me, brother.

He thought for a moment.

Then crossed out that line too.

Help your little brother out.

He hesitated.

Crossed it out again.

Wrote.

Crossed out.

Wrote again.

Finally, Little Sixth wrote only:

Bastard, help me!

Then signed beneath it:

Bitch.

...

After returning to his princely residence, he first went to see his pregnant princess consort, He Sisi.

Then he visited his secondary consort, Lingxiang.

Finally, he spent some time playing with blocks with his son, Ji Chuanye.

After that, Little Sixth entered his study.

Two men were waiting inside.

One was short and looked old, with an abacus and a writing brush hanging from his waist.

The other was very tall and thin.

A man, but strangely alluring in appearance.

The first was the boss of the docks outside Yanjing.

Behind the scenes, he was supposedly connected to the Fourth Prince.

Back when the Deng Clan had not yet fallen, the Fourth Prince’s power had actually been enormous.

Many businesses derived from the army were fundamentally connected to smashing, looting, and grabbing.

At the end of the day, whoever had the bigger fist held the business.

The docks were precisely the kind of territory one could protect only through ruthlessness.

After the Deng Clan collapsed because of the defeat in the first Battle of the Wang River, the docks were purged too.

But because the Fourth Prince ran everywhere trying to save what remained, the operation was ultimately preserved.

Perhaps in Old Fourth’s eyes, this was the last remaining shade cast by his status as an imperial prince.

But in reality, the place no longer belonged to the Deng Clan.

Nor to Ji Chengfeng.

Silver was given to him.

When Old Fourth wanted to expand and train the Capital Garrison, men were supplied to him from here as well.

Certain pieces of intelligence were also sent to him.

But in truth, this territory belonged to Little Sixth.

It merely operated beneath Old Fourth’s name.

People in the jianghu still spoke of ridiculous loyalty.

The imperial court did not.

Peaceful coexistence existed only because I could not swallow you yet.

The reason Old Fourth preserved some basic foundation after the Deng Clan fell was not because anyone still respected his feelings as Fourth Prince.

It was simply because someone wanted to borrow his skin.

The tall, thin man was an “inner household” servant.

But not one from Little Sixth’s household.

He was a steward within the Imperial Treasury.

The finances of the court were divided into two broad parts.

The national treasury, theoretically controlled by the Ministry of Revenue.

And the Imperial Treasury, the emperor’s private purse.

But the division between the national treasury and the Imperial Treasury was not truly absolute.

If the national treasury ran dry, the Imperial Treasury inevitably had to contribute.

Unless an emperor was genuinely brain-damaged, he would never clutch his own private treasury while rats starved inside the national treasury.

As the man effectively running the Ministry of Revenue, Little Sixth understood the Imperial Treasury quite well.

His imperial father disliked personal luxury and had always treated state affairs as public matters.

So the size and turnover of the Imperial Treasury had been compressed to a very low level for years.

But Little Sixth judged his father by himself.

Even without evidence, he could guess Imperial Father must possess another reserve.

That reserve did not exist because of greed.

It was simply something an emperor had to possess.

Otherwise, how did the hidden yamen under Lu Bing, separate from the Secret Intelligence Department, actually operate?

No matter how brilliant an emperor was, he could never leave himself in a position equivalent to walking out of the house with nothing but the clothes on his back.

The short man reported:

“Your Highness, several boats have arrived at the docks lately. They were hidden extremely well, but they should be carrying armor and weapons sent from Sanshi Commandery.”

The Sanshi Deng Clan had fallen.

But even a starved camel was larger than a horse.

Now, Old Fourth had finally obtained a real position with power.

Naturally, the Deng Clan would spare no effort supporting him.

Sanshi Commandery was the Deng Clan’s foundation.

The clan still retained some influence there.

Shipping armor, weapons, and military equipment was only natural.

After all, given Great Yan’s current situation, where could Old Fourth possibly obtain enough real troops, grain, and equipment to train a new army?

Little Sixth’s side refused to provide even a copper.

The Crown Prince’s side had allocated some funding, but at most it was enough to maintain a decorative shell.

If Old Fourth wanted genuine substance, he would have to pay blood money.

He would have to hollow out the Deng Clan’s remaining talented people and hidden resources in Sanshi Commandery and pour them into this Capital Garrison force.

That was expected.

The problem was

Little Sixth was a man who excelled at conspiracies.

So when he looked at things, his perspective often drifted instinctively toward conspiracy.

“Your Highness, the Imperial Treasury moved a shipment recently.”

“Where?”

“Unknown.”

Little Sixth nodded.

“You may leave.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The tall man and the short man withdrew.

Little Sixth sat in the chair and rubbed his brow.

Eunuch Zhang entered carrying tea and placed it before him.

“Master, the letter and the earlier draft pages have already been sent east according to your orders.”

Ji Chengjue nodded.

He lifted the teacup and took a sip.

“Master, does it look like something is about to happen?”

An emperor approaching the end of his life naturally created a season of endless trouble.

Especially now that the external war was visibly drawing to a close.

Once outside threats no longer forced internal factions together, inside the state the dragons and tigers would inevitably begin fighting.

“Probably... yes.”

Ji Chengjue nodded faintly.

“Master, the longer this drags on, the worse it is for us.”

No matter what, the Crown Prince was master of the Eastern Palace.

The state’s designated heir.

The foundation of succession.

If everything remained calm, then when the funeral bell finally rang, the Crown Prince would inherit the throne.

Heaven’s Mandate would appear to rest naturally upon him.

After that, trying to do anything else would become far harder.

“No hurry. No hurry.”

Ji Chengjue gently waved one hand.

“Eunuch Zhang, you think time is becoming tight for us. My guess is that Eunuch Li Yinglian is probably saying exactly the same thing to my Second Brother right now. I step on him once, Imperial Father pulls him back up. I step on him again, Imperial Father pulls him back up again. If Imperial Father had not kept favoring one side, I would have dragged him down long ago. His foundation is unstable, so naturally his heart is uneasy. We are afraid that if Imperial Father suddenly dies, Second Brother will inherit with perfect legitimacy. Over there, they are probably equally afraid that before Imperial Father dies, we may decide to fight like cornered beasts and drag everything down with us. The closer we come to this point, the more important it is to stay calm. Imperial Father is an enlightened ruler and a good emperor. I believe he will not make the mistake most emperors make in old age. Before, I could not see the situation this clearly. Now, with the war in Chu visibly nearing its end, everything beneath that should be able to return to the proper track.”

“Master, this slave is foolish. What is the proper track?”

“The proper track?”

Little Sixth took another sip of tea.

Then said:

“First send word down. Anyone of ours who has not revealed himself is not to reveal himself. Anyone already exposed is forbidden from making the slightest move without orders. Right now, we wait. We wait for the Eastern Palace to lose patience first. I am not afraid of the Eastern Palace. But everyone inside the Eastern Palace is definitely afraid of me. And now let me explain what I mean by the proper track. If the wars outside were still raging, if the Barbarians of the western desert remained poised to strike, if the campaign against Chu had become a quagmire, if Qian’s Three Frontiers still held hope of fishing profit from the flames, then the struggle for that Dragon Throne would become very interesting indeed. Old Fourth would actually still possess a chance in that kind of environment. Second Brother and I would inevitably have to fight. Over these years, we have infiltrated many of his hidden arrangements and trained men, but I imagine he has planted quite a few nails among us as well. Old Fifth is still in Yingdu repairing the riverworks and has not returned. But his staying there is itself an invisible and elegant move. Far from the whirlpool of Yanjing, waiting for the highest bidder. Even Little Seventh would not be completely without opportunity. In short, if external danger were pressing directly against the gates, then internal instability would have to be cut through quickly with a sharp blade. Perhaps in the end, Second Brother and I might even have to pinch our noses, each retreat one step, and let Little Seventh ascend as a compromise. Do not think that is impossible. Nothing about it is impossible. We all share the surname Ji. But now everything outside is returning to the proper track. Even if Imperial Father is preparing to leave, he must first settle the family accounts. In the end, Imperial Father himself will still arbitrate the division. When ordinary families divide their property, they invite a respected clan elder...”

“Master, you mean...?”

Little Sixth nodded.

“So do not make a move yet. No matter how many clever schemes, how many hidden spies, how many advance preparations, how many miscellaneous arrangements piled on top of arrangements...”

“Heh.”

Little Sixth smiled.

“Just like the patriarchs of the aristocratic clans thought years ago. Great Yan could not function without them. They believed their methods were sophisticated. They could speak in court and command influence in the provinces. Truthfully, among them there really were extraordinary men. But it did not matter.”

Little Sixth let out a long sigh.

He gently spun the lid of the teacup against the table.

Then slowly said:

“If the Princes of Zhenbei and Jingnan enter Yanjing again, sit beside Imperial Father, and decide who the successor will be, Eunuch Zhang, then tell me. What the hell would all our arrangements from these past years amount to?”

Little Sixth raised his head.

A faint sorrow appeared on his face.

“What is imperial statecraft? What are imperial methods? It is not household management. It is not everyone smiling peacefully. It is not pulling one faction up and beating another down, then pressing one side while raising the other. Imperial statecraft lies in balance? Bullshit. Anyone who says that is as naïve as a farmer imagining Imperial Father eats dozens of fried flatbreads every day. The foundation of imperial statecraft is this: as emperor, he can flip the table.”

“What defenses? What arrangements? What preparations? Even if Second Brother and I fight until sparks fly across the sky...”

Little Sixth gave a cold laugh.

“Once the princely banners of Zhenbei and Jingnan are planted outside the gates of the Rear Garden, Second Brother and I will both have to kneel outside those gates and listen to the imperial decree.”

Then Little Sixth suddenly rolled his eyes and imitated a line once spoken by that brother of his surnamed Zheng:

“Tch. None of it means shit.”

[End of Chapter 595]