Chapter 55
INFIRMITY HAD PLAGUED the emperor for so long that the Ministry of Rites had already been preparing for his funeral. But a few days after Chu Zhengde started brewing him medicine following a new prescription, his condition improved, and he regained consciousness.
Although the emperor had ruled the nation for more than two decades, no notable deeds or tremendous achievements had occurred under his name—nor had any heinous misdeeds. He’d merely presided over the legacy his ancestors left behind, doing nothing remarkable.
The emperor was prone to doubt but attentive to national affairs at the same time. That was borne out by the fact that he summoned the crown prince the moment he awoke from his coma to learn what had happened in court while he was sick.
Nothing particularly noteworthy had occurred, save for that prickly debacle revolving around Gu Fuzhou. Subjected to immense pressure from the cohort of military officials, Xiao Cheng had recalled the Tianji Guard members he’d sent to monitor Gu Fuzhou.
The military officials refused to let the crown prince off the hook, though. The moment they knew that the emperor had regained consciousness, they sent a flurry of memorials requesting an audience with His Majesty. It was as if they’d been wronged to such an extent that reporting it to the emperor was an absolute necessity.
Lying in bed, the emperor tossed a memorial from Duke Wu to the ground near where Xiao Cheng stood. “Look what you’ve done!”
“I don’t think I did anything wrong, Father,” Xiao Cheng insisted, his gaze fixed at a spot in front of him. “There is much to suspect about Gu Fuzhou, and until we uncover the truth, we can’t let him do as he pleases in the capital. Are you truly unconcerned about what he’s up to, Father?”
“You still refuse to admit your wrongdoings!” the emperor raged.
Xiao Cheng prostrated himself in front of the emperor. “Please tell me clearly what I did wrong, Father.”
The emperor shook his head. “You’re still too young.”
The emperor was about as paranoid as Xiao Cheng, but having reigned over the country for so long, he’d become well-versed in the checks and balances of power; everything he did was for the sake of the bigger picture. Gu Fuzhou was acting suspiciously, true, but it wasn’t yet time to feud with him. For one thing, the capital’s military officials and the army of three hundred thousand in Yongliang would follow Gu Fuzhou’s every order, regardless of whether the general currently dwelled in the capital. Besides, Great Yu held no other war god capable of winning every battle he fought.
All other conflicts paled in comparison to Great Yu’s decade-long war against Western Xia; it had practically drained the national reserves and had caused countless casualties. Gu Fuzhou was indeed acting suspiciously, and was arrogant to a fault, but so long as he triumphed over their foes, he couldn’t be touched. They could wait until the northwest stabilized to settle the score with him and list his offenses; he’d surely be proven guilty on one count or another.
The emperor had long seen through Xiao Cheng. He knew the crown prince’s methods were aggressive and forceful, and that he was prideful, stubbornly refusing to admit defeat. He was certain that Xiao Cheng would never be a benevolent ruler who heeded his officials’ advice. If he ruled with an iron fist as monarch and ended up alienating his generals, then his army—however mighty and powerful—would be utterly useless.
After that brief but heated exchange, the emperor already felt weary; given his sickness, he was physically and mentally exhausted. “Cheng-er,” he said.
Xiao Cheng’s eyes widened. He couldn’t remember the last time the emperor had called him that.
“Learn how to read people—figure out what their hearts most desire,” the emperor said. “And also what yours most desires.”
The heart is the most useless thing in this world. Xiao Cheng ducked his head, hiding his sardonic sneer. “Thank you for the advice, Father.”
At that moment, Xue Ying came in and reported, “Your Majesty, Great General Gu is here.”
The emperor forced himself to stay awake. “Have him come in. Cheng-er, stay; properly allay Gu Fuzhou’s concerns alongside me.”
“Yes, Father,” Xiao Cheng said, holding his displeasure at bay.
Soon, a eunuch led Gu Fuzhou into the hall. The towering general looked majestic in armor, his dark-red cape billowing after him as he brought a chilly gust of wind with him into the palace.
Gu Fuzhou readied himself to kneel to the emperor, but the emperor stopped him with a chuckle. “No need for that, beloved official. Xue Ying, prepare a seat for General Gu.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Gu Fuzhou said.
The emperor was beaming. Looking at his face, Gu Fuzhou could guess why he’d summoned him in the middle of the night, denying the general and Lin Qingyu the chance to chat by candlelight.
The emperor first asked Gu Fuzhou how he was doing and seemed particularly gratified to hear that the lingering poison in the general’s body had been neutralized. Then he brought up how the crown prince had sent members of the Tianji Guard to protect the general, failing to anticipate the discontent brewing among the military officials as a result.
“This is the crown prince’s first time governing the nation in my stead, so it’s natural that he made certain blunders,” the emperor said. “Now that the matter is resolved, we’ll leave pacifying the military officials to you.”
At first glance, it might have seemed that the emperor was expressing concern for a beloved official, but he was actually siding with his son. He was certainly eloquent, as you’d expect of an emperor who’d ruled the nation for decades. Gu Fuzhou inclined his head stoically. “I understand, Your Majesty.”
The emperor let out a few muffled coughs, then accepted the cup of tea Xiao Cheng presented to him. “You’ve reached the age of thirty, haven’t you?” he asked the general.
“I’m thirty-one this year.” Gu Fuzhou had a sinking feeling; a question about his age was usually followed by one about why he wasn’t married yet.
“Ah—you’re already thirty-one.” The emperor chuckled. “At your age, I already had a few sons. My orders that you remain stationed at the northwest border must have kept you from marrying.”
Even the sentences the emperor spoke as he brought the topic up were exactly as Gu Fuzhou had expected. “I have no intention of starting a family before the war in the northwest ends,” he replied.
“Now that’s where you’re going astray. You spend so much time stationed at the border throughout the year; you should have someone at home.” The emperor considered it briefly. “My seventh daughter happens to be at a marriageable age. How about her?”
It took Xiao Cheng a moment to grasp the emperor’s intentions. Betrothing a princess to Gu Fuzhou would placate the military officials, showing them that the emperor held them in high regard; moreover, Gu Fuzhou’s future wife would be a more effective spy than Tianji Guards.
Xiao Cheng wore the ghost of a smile. “To be honest with you, Father, Seventh Younger Sister has always admired Great General Gu’s dashing figure. I’m certain she wouldn’t object to such a betrothal.”
But Gu Fuzhou promptly refused. “This humble official appreciates the seventh princess’s admiration, but I’ve already devoted my affection to another.”
“Tell me, which noble family is this young lady from?” asked the emperor. “I’ll grant you two a marriage.”
He’s doing this again, damn it. If he likes enabling marriages so much, he should step down from the throne and become a matchmaker. “Then I’ve devoted my affection to no one,” Gu Fuzhou said.
“Do you think this is child’s play, Gu Fuzhou?” Xiao Cheng snapped, his voice cold. “One moment you like someone, and the next moment, no one?!”
“Crown Prince,” the emperor warned his son, then continued evenly, “If you aren’t enamored of anyone else, I’ll arrange for you and the seventh princess to meet sometime. If it turns out that you aren’t interested in each other, I’ll have the empress select a noblewoman for you. Whomever you set your sights on, I’ll grant a marriage to you both.” Before Gu Fuzhou could refuse, the emperor coughed again, taking away the general’s chance to speak up. “I’m tired now, so take your leave.”