Chapter 682: No

After Little Seventh finished speaking... the second floor of the roast-duck restaurant fell silent.

Every person present... without exception... was no fool.

Generals who had clawed their way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood were hardly men who understood nothing of politics or human nature.

First, Tian Wujing, who merely "knew a little about court affairs"?

Second, the accumulated foundation of a century-old Prince Zhenbei Residence.

The education and inheritance produced by that kind of household, in truth, differed very little from those of an imperial clan.

Within Beifeng Commandery, Prince Zhenbei Residence had always been a local imperial court in all but name.

As for the imperial princes present... the Crown Prince had always been steady.

Steadily hammered into the ground by Old Sixth again and again.

Then steadily waiting for his own father to intervene on his behalf and pull him back up.

Old Sixth required no explanation.

If his father had not personally entered the board, he would have become Great Yan's Situ Lei long ago.

And he had once mocked Situ Lei for sparing the lives of his two elder brothers, calling it the softness of a woman and the greatest mistake of his life.

Even the Fourth Prince, who had abandoned the struggle and formally announced his withdrawal from the succession... to tell the truth, being able to extinguish that little flame in his own heart at this moment was itself a kind of wisdom.

Then there were two others.

One was Eunuch Wei.

An old hand of the palace.

The Chief Eunuch of Inner Court.

A man who had long since lived himself into a human fox.

And the other... was Marquis Zheng.

Marquis Zheng had dared enter Yanjing this time without Gou Moli or the Blind Man.

That itself was a declaration of confidence in his own political judgment.

So... among everyone present... no one was naïve enough to believe... that Little Seventh, Ji Chengsu's declaration... had truly been nothing more than the timid babbling of a child.

He had not said he wanted to fight for the throne.

He pretended he was merely speaking because it was his turn.

He said he had no ideas of his own.

He said he would simply listen to everyone.

Listen to Crown Prince Brother.

Listen to Sixth Brother.

Listen to the Princes.

Listen to the Marquises.

Listen to everybody.

The unstated meaning was simple:

If I sit on the Dragon Throne, I'll just be a mascot.

The rest of you want the position?

Then you'll fight until one side dies.

But if I sit there... everyone can stand beside me and offer advice.

No one knew whether someone had taught him to say those words.

Or whether he had truly thought them up himself.

The latter was not impossible.

He was a child of the imperial family.

How could such a household ever truly raise some simple, thick-headed, adorable fool?

Growing up inside the palace... a eunuch's glance... a palace maid's expression... even a shift in the wind... could teach a child caution.

And that was before considering just how unusually high the average quality of the Emperor of Yan's sons already was.

Perhaps... in Little Seventh's heart... certain things had changed long ago.

That night...

Third Brother had been released from the lake pavilion.

Little Seventh had carried fruit drink and joined his brothers in welcoming Third Brother back.

Then came the banquet.

Third Brother died miserably beneath an assassin's blade.

Little Seventh would never forget that scene for the rest of his life.

If a chance appeared... of course he would fight.

Marquis Zheng shook his head slightly inside his heart.

He remembered once drinking tea and chatting with the Blind Man about Dorgon and Hooge fighting over the throne only for Fulin to profit from their struggle.

Who would have imagined... that a similar drama now seemed on the verge of replaying itself in Great Yan?

What the Crown Prince wanted... was governing through minimal interference.

What Old Sixth wanted... was continued centralization, gathering together the legacies left by the three giants, including the armies under Zheng Fan and his eldest brother Ji Wujiang, and reintegrating them beneath the center.

Little Seventh, however... wanted nothing.

Or rather... what he represented by his very existence... was shelving the dispute.

I am still young.

I still need time to grow.

Even if I become Emperor, I cannot personally rule anytime soon.

And even after I begin ruling, I will find it difficult to seize genuine authority quickly.

A young ruler inevitably brought uncertainty to the state.

Conflicts would be hidden.

Postponed.

That too was inevitable.

But one had to admit... it was still a workable method.

The Crown Prince remained kneeling, expression calm.

Ji Chengjue turned his head and looked at Little Seventh kneeling behind him.

Little Seventh returned the gaze with a shy, almost childishly innocent expression.

Everyone here was a human fox.

Naturally, Old Sixth could see something in that gaze that transcended the boy's years.

How to put it?

At Little Seventh's age...

Ji Chengjue himself had also been very good at pretending innocence.

The problem was...

Ji Chengjue was older now.

And he had already gathered a large faction around himself, the Sixth Master's party.

By comparison... while he and the Crown Prince stood here point against point...

Little Seventh, carrying nothing at all, had unexpectedly turned that very lack of baggage into an advantage.

Ji Chengjue said nothing.

He turned his head back.

And continued kneeling.

"Well?"

The Emperor of Yan spoke.

Li Liangting pointed toward Little Seventh and laughed.

"Envious."

What he envied... was the quality of the Emperor's sons.

Tian Wujing said nothing.

The Emperor of Yan spread his left hand on the tabletop.

"Enough. The two of you still need to give Us an answer."

Li Liangting shook his head.

"Your Majesty, this is ultimately a matter of the imperial house. Better that I stay out of it. Your Majesty may choose as you see fit. Either way, Great Yan should have thirty peaceful years ahead of it."

The Emperor of Yan looked at Tian Wujing.

He clearly intended to force the Prince of Jingnan to state a position.

Tian Wujing set down his teacup.

"Whether it is governing through restraint or pressing forward with ambition, either can work. Whether one destroys or establishes, what the future will truly look like... who can say with certainty? Chengsu is too young. He cannot hold down the board."

Li Liangting had kicked the ball back.

Tian Wujing, however... had openly rejected Little Seventh in front of everyone.

Little Seventh's breath caught.

His face flushed red.

His small fists clenched at once.

But he did not dare make a sound.

He could only lower his head.

How desperately he wished the Prince of Jingnan had laughed it off like Prince Zhenbei and thrown the decision back.

If that happened... he felt he would still have a very real chance.

"Wujing. Who do you think is more suitable?"

The Emperor of Yan pressed for a concrete answer.

In truth... the three men at that table could choose not to speak.

But the moment one of them spoke... no one could possibly ignore it.

For the Emperor of Yan...

Tian Wujing's words now carried even more weight, in certain respects, than Li Liangting's.

Because even the Emperor himself... had to first keep Tian Wujing settled.

Tian Wujing shook his head.

"Your Majesty, I only think the Seventh Prince is unsuitable. The soldiers of Great Yan cut through thorns and brambles, soaked the battlefields in blood, and only just forged the territory and military might Great Yan possesses today. Surely we're not going to learn from the Qian people... and suddenly start playing games with a child sovereign and a doubtful state. That would be living backward. What would be the point?"

Ji Chengsu had already pressed his forehead against the floor.

He knew... his chances were almost gone.

The Prince of Jingnan had spoken this plainly.

Unless Imperial Father now used thunderous methods to suppress the Prince of Jingnan and purge the Prince's influence throughout the army... including, for example, this Marquis Pingxi... then Ji Chengsu and the Dragon Throne had become strangers.

In truth, Ji Chengsu understood that Imperial Father could no longer do such a thing.

First, he would not want to.

Second... perhaps he was no longer capable of it.

Imperial Father's return to the palace had been enormously imposing.

Yet he had not interfered directly with court affairs.

That meant Imperial Father wanted the current structure of Great Yan to pass forward smoothly.

The father who had once trampled the great clans beneath cavalry hooves... though still the true supreme ruler of Great Yan... no longer possessed the youth and surging heroic vigor of those earlier years.

Meanwhile...

Marquis Zheng, who was still studying the profound mysteries hidden in the grain of the tabletop... felt somewhat surprised.

Old Tian rejecting Little Seventh this directly truly did not match his usual style.

Just earlier, he had been drinking tea and saying "whatever."

From Marquis Zheng's own position...

Little Seventh taking the throne offered an almost ideal scenario.

The Second Prince and Sixth Prince could both become Prince Regents and jointly govern the state.

They would inevitably continue opposing each other.

There was no possibility that they would suddenly become harmonious brothers devoted to assisting their little sibling.

Because by this stage... the matter was no longer only about the two brothers themselves.

Behind each stood an entire web of supporters.

Just as Dorgon had later used political means to destroy Hooge and then styled himself Uncle Prince Regent.

If Dorgon had possessed a son of his own... perhaps he would have usurped the throne long before.

Raise it one level higher... and this was no longer merely a conflict between two factions.

It had become a collision between two philosophies of governance.

Rule through restraint.

Continued centralization.

They contradicted each other at the root.

There was naturally even less room for reconciliation.

And once the center itself split apart and could no longer issue a unified command... life for the regional military powers would become wonderfully comfortable.

A united center would inevitably seek to cut down regional power and reclaim local authority.

A divided center... would need to court those same regional powers in exchange for support.

Little Seventh's declaration had indeed made Marquis Zheng sigh at how none of the Emperor of Yan's sons could be underestimated.

But at the same time... the thought inside his heart had been:

Mm.

Little Seventh becoming Emperor would actually be quite good for me.

If the Blind Man and Gou Moli knew about this... they would definitely be delighted too.

But...

Old Tian had rejected him.

Next...

Li Liangting picked up the thread.

"Exactly. It's too petty. Put a little child up there and all that does is let Qian and Chu laugh that Great Yan has no men left. We old Yan folk have always cared about our face, haven't we?"

Well played, Prince Zhenbei.

Once the Prince of Jingnan had clearly revealed his position...

Li Liangting had gone and picked up the ball he himself had kicked away earlier.

Then smashed it straight into the Seventh Prince's face.

A man of Prince Zhenbei's standing could not possibly behave like some fence-sitter swaying with the wind.

So... there was only one explanation.

Earlier, he had deliberately been waiting for Tian Wujing to speak.

Then he followed up and assisted.

Together... the two Princes had rejected the possibility of Little Seventh taking the throne.

Now this... was genuinely interesting.

Put plainly... with those three men seated there... who became the foundation of the state already had very little to do with the imperial princes themselves.

That had always been the most helpless part of Old Sixth's position.

His faction was actually stronger than the Crown Prince's.

His arrangements were deeper and more meticulous.

But before these particular men... he understood perfectly well that even if every piece he controlled activated at once, it would still be useless.

Just like the Regent of Chu painstakingly building his entire position... only for the Prince of Jingnan to ride a thousand li and burn Ying Capital directly.

The Emperor of Yan had asked:

Which one do you favor as the national heir?

At first, the Prince of Jingnan and Prince Zhenbei both said it did not matter.

Then... they rejected Little Seventh.

It was as though a chess move had been offered to you.

You played half a move.

That did not follow the rules.

So the only thing left was to reset the board and begin again.

The Emperor of Yan was not angry.

To be precise... at this moment, this Emperor was both stronger than ever... and weaker than ever.

He needed the Iron Triangle more than at any previous point.

Because he could no longer withstand upheaval.

"Since that's the case, everything remains as before."

The Emperor of Yan said those words.

The Crown Prince remained calm.

After governing as regent for so long, he had at least cultivated his composure to the highest realm.

Everything remains as before.

On the surface... that meant the Crown Prince remained Crown Prince.

And if he remained Crown Prince... then in the future he would naturally ascend the throne.

But after considering everything that had just happened inside this roast-duck restaurant... the more likely meaning was something else.

Set it aside for now.

You two... keep fighting for the succession.

In short... the foundation of the state had not been settled cleanly and decisively the way everyone had imagined.

The location might have been casual.

But the matter itself... could never truly be casual.

"Wujiang returns tomorrow. There will be a banquet inside the palace."

The Prince of Jingnan and Prince Zhenbei both left the table.

"This minister obeys."

"This minister obeys."

"Chengsu. Help Us back to the palace."

"Yes, Imperial Father."

Ji Chengsu, his eyes reddened, rose and hurried over to support his father downstairs.

After that... the Crown Prince rose unsteadily.

He walked before the two Princes and saluted each in turn.

Then he too descended the stairs.

The Fourth Prince, Ji Chengfeng, simply toppled sideways onto the floor and began gulping air.

Ji Chengjue stretched both hands toward Zheng Fan.

"My legs are numb. Come on. Pull me up."

He was not pretending.

Whenever Ji Chengjue knew in advance that he would need to kneel for a long time, he normally tied padding around his knees.

Today, however, he had spent the first half of the day working frantically in the kitchen roasting ducks and had already exhausted himself.

Then came this long kneeling.

While his nerves were taut, he had managed.

Now that the tension suddenly released... exhaustion and numbness crashed through his body at once.

"Your legs are numb?"

"Yes."

Marquis Zheng bent down.

Then slapped Ji Chengjue's thighs hard several times with both hands.

"Hiss..."

Old Sixth immediately twisted into an expression of unbearable soreness.

"Go on, then. Cut down the regional powers. Go ahead. Cut."

"You bastard surnamed Zheng! You're using public business to avenge a private grudge!"

"Heh. I happen to like that style. If I couldn't avenge private grudges, why the hell would I bother eating the public's rice?"

Ji Chengjue slowly climbed to his feet.

By then... the Prince of Jingnan and Prince Zhenbei had already gone downstairs.

The two Princes reached the entrance of the roast-duck restaurant.

Prince Zhenbei stretched lazily first.

Looking at the sunset on the horizon... he sighed.

"The sunset is beautiful."

Tian Wujing said nothing.

Prince Zhenbei laughed again.

"He has beautiful dreams too."

...

Upstairs... the Sword Saint flew back through the window.

At the same time, he nodded once, indicating that the experts outside had all withdrawn.

Zheng Fan looked at Ji Chengjue.

"That move of yours was too dangerous."

"You might consider what position I've actually been forced into." Ji Chengjue's expression darkened as well.

"Tell me. Who taught Little Seventh to say those things?"

"Imperial Father returned to the palace and still hasn't summoned any outside ministers. Even imperial princes asking to enter and pay respects have been refused. But Little Seventh lives inside the palace. Who do you think?"

Things... seemed to be growing more and more interesting.

"At a time like this, who else would dare teach Little Seventh what to say? They'd need the guts first," Ji Chengjue added.

"But it came to nothing. He was still rejected."

"Rejected is rejected. That's true. But honestly, when Little Seventh started talking, I really thought my youngest brother was about to overturn the whole board. Zheng Fan... you were hoping Little Seventh would sit on that throne, weren't you?"

"Yes."

Marquis Zheng admitted it openly.

"Where's the fun in that? Playing chess against some rotten amateur only gets more boring the longer you go. You should play against me. Then the two of us can fight each other afterward. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

Zheng Fan pointed at his own face.

He looked at Ji Chengjue with genuine curiosity.

"Ji Chengjue?"

"Mm?"

"Do I look sick to you?"

"Not yet."

"Exactly. So why the hell would I choose you?"

"Seriously, brother..."

"Enough. Don't give me that routine."

"The two Princes and Imperial Father... don't seem to be standing on the same side."

Ji Chengjue reached out, poured himself a cup of tea, and continued:

"Why do I get the feeling those two Princes just want to watch the show? Like they want to watch me and the Crown Prince fight until one of us dies. Like they actually want to watch all of us brothers tear each other apart."

"And then?" Zheng Fan smiled at Ji Chengjue. "Are you, Old Sixth, planning to display noble character and yield the throne to everyone else?"

Ji Chengjue shook his head.

"I will not be the hand that gets chopped off."

After saying that...

Ji Chengjue placed the teacup back on the table.

At that moment...

Zheng Fan picked up another teacup.

And stacked it directly on top of Ji Chengjue's.

Ji Chengjue stared at Zheng Fan in astonishment.

"Have you gone mad?"

Zheng Fan shook his head slightly.

"No. You have definitely gone mad. This is nothing like your style. This is Imperial Father's board. Their board."

Zheng Fan drew in a deep breath.

Then slowly let it out.

"They play theirs. We... play ours."

...

Inside the carriage...

Ji Chengsu sat properly to one side.

Across from him, the Emperor of Yan lay beneath a blanket with his eyes closed.

Every so often, Little Seventh sniffled.

But he did not dare make too much noise.

Looking at Imperial Father's face... what he felt was not security.

It was a genuine fear rising from the bottom of his heart.

Last night...

Imperial Father had summoned him to his side.

He had said:

I am old.

Ji Chengsu had immediately knelt and said:

Imperial Father will live through a thousand autumns and ten thousand generations, ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years.

The Emperor said... no one in this world can possibly live ten thousand years.

He also said... later... you must listen carefully to your elder brothers.

Listen to everyone.

And so... today...

Ji Chengsu had dared gather his courage on the second floor of the roast-duck restaurant and speak with his own voice.

But... he had disappointed Imperial Father.

At the same time... resentment began rising from the bottom of his heart.

Even children of his age already understood the difference between "mine" and "yours."

And Great Yan's Seventh Prince had been precociously intelligent from birth.

This is clearly the Ji family's affair.

Why do the two of you get to say no?

The young imperial prince was clever.

But he was still young.

And he had only just brushed past the most intoxicating chair in the entire world.

Inevitably... some of his feelings showed.

At that moment, the Emperor of Yan slowly opened his eyes.

He looked at his youngest son sitting there.

At the corner of his mouth... a faint smile appeared.

When Ji Chengsu noticed his father's gaze, he immediately rose and knelt before him.

"This son... this son disappointed Imperial Father."

In Ji Chengsu's mind...

Imperial Father had deliberately wanted to give him a push.

Wanted to help him ascend.

Imperial Father... loved him.

It was he... he himself had not been good enough.

He had failed to give Imperial Father a way down from the stage.

"This son... this son made Imperial Father unhappy. Sob..."

The Emperor of Yan shook his head.

He looked toward the dead leaves drifting past outside the carriage window.

Somewhere in the air... a killing chill seemed to be gathering.

Today... had only been the appetizer.

Then... perhaps finally irritated by the sound of his youngest son's crying... the Emperor spoke.

"Stop crying."

Ji Chengsu immediately stopped.

But he continued pleading guilty, trying to recover a little through obedient behavior.

"Imperial Father, this son..."

"You did well."

"This son is ashamed. This son does not deserve Imperial Father's..."

"You made them happy. That's enough."

"..." Ji Chengsu.

[End of Chapter 682]