Chapter 130.

Under analogous circumstances, a long-buried memory resurfaces with vigorous force.

During his previous life's ascension to the throne, Yin Chengyu faced a strikingly similar interrogation. However, the balance of power was inverted; Xue Shu held the reins of dominance, relentlessly pressing his advantage.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty, on finally achieving your heart's desire," Xue Shu had purred, a viper's sweetness coating his words. "On this auspicious occasion, might Your Majesty indulge this humble servant and grant me the fulfillment of my deepest longing?"

"The Imperial Director already stands in a position of unparalleled authority, second only to the Emperor himself," Yin Chengyu had retorted, his voice laced with wary suspicion. "What unfulfilled desires could possibly remain?"

At that juncture, their positions were diametrically opposed, neither daring to explicitly articulate their true intentions. For every step Xue Shu advanced, Yin Chengyu retreated, a delicate dance of veiled desires and unspoken threats.

"Your Majesty is perfectly aware of what I crave," Xue Shu had hissed, his eyes gleaming with barely suppressed lust, the implication hanging heavy in the air like a suffocating perfume. It was a blatant, almost vulgar, proposition masked in courtly language. He wasn't asking for land or titles; he was demanding something far more intimate, something that could only be given, not granted. The air crackled with the unspoken sexual tension, a palpable current of raw, animalistic desire.

"What the Jiu Qiansui desires," Yin Chengyu had countered, his tone hardening with a sharp edge of refusal, a hint of steel beneath the veneer of royal composure, "is something I fear I cannot, or rather will not, provide."

This wasn't merely a statement of inability; it was a firm, unequivocal rejection, delivered with the full weight of imperial authority. It was a slap in the face disguised as a polite declination, a clear message that Xue Shu's lascivious desires would remain tragically unrequited.

The subtext was clear: You want me? Dream on.

Human beings are sentient, not insentient. After years of entanglement and shared hardship, emotional resonance is inevitable. Yet, reason maintained an unwavering grip, compelling him to remain stationary and indecisive.

From both a public and private standpoint, he simply could not bear the consequences of an erroneous decision.

His most significant act of leniency was, in the end, driven by personal sentiment: sparing the other's life on the precipice of his own demise.

Yin Chengyu fixed his gaze upon Xue Shu’s. The pearl pendant swayed gently, and her downcast phoenix eyes shed their customary detachment and composure. A gentle tenderness emerged, like a finally fulfilled full moon, its effusive radiance enveloping the person before him.

Xue Shu met this gaze, which was saturated with a gentle, moonlit quality. In that fleeting moment, he experienced a disorienting, albeit compelling, illusion of being indulged.

It seemed that at this very moment, any demand he made would be met without question.

He was completely immersed in a moonlit reverie uniquely his own, the scars etched upon his heart over the years being smoothed away, a surge of joy pounding in his chest, his heart beating with unprecedented ferocity.

Yet, unlike before, there was no desperate impatience.

He took Yin Chengyu’s hand, pressing a reverent kiss onto its back. Then, rising to his feet, he lowered his head and gently kissed his brow. His dry, burning lips brushed across fluttering eyelashes, a delicately upturned nose, finally settling with utmost tenderness upon those full, crimson lips.

The kiss, light as a dragonfly’s touch, held no trace of lust. It was delivered with utmost care, as if touching an unexpected, fragile dream, fearing that any haste or force would shatter it.

Yin Chengyu tilted his face slightly, accommodating the kiss, allowing himself to be embraced, feeling the arms around his waist gradually tightening.

He remained silent throughout, as if patiently awaiting the other’s response.

Xue Shu buried his face in the hollow of his neck, inhaling deeply, his nostrils filled with the unique fragrance of snow plum that clung to him.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion: “This subject desires nothing more than to remain by Your Majesty’s side for all time. I wish for us to be as the stars and the moon, their light shining brightly upon each other every night. Though the moon may wane, the stars remain constant. We shall await the moon’s return, to once again share its fullness.”

“Though the moon may wane, the stars remain constant.”

Yin Chengyu murmured the words softly, then, pressing his lips closer, his tongue parted Xue Shu’s lips, engaging him in a lingering, passionate kiss, before finally declaring, with absolute authority: “I grant it.”

……

After a brief, intimate interlude within the inner chambers, Xue Shu meticulously readjusted the Emperor's slightly disheveled attire before summoning the others to enter.

With everything arranged precisely, the auspicious hour approached with ruthless punctuality.

The Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Court of Imperial Sacrifices had already positioned the imperial throne and dais before the Huangji Gate (Gate of Supreme Harmony). The Imperial Music Academy commenced playing the Zhonghe Shao music, a grand orchestral performance of eight categories of instruments, producing a majestic, resonant sound.

When the time drum, overseen by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, resounded. The young emperor dorned in the twelve-symbol imperial robe, emerged from the Linzhi Gate, flanked by a dense, reverent escort of palace attendants.

Every attendant within the Ciqing Palace (Palace of Benevolent Tranquility) lined the route, prostrating themselves in obeisance as Yin Chengyu passed.

Officials from the Ministry of Rites, who had been waiting with anxious anticipation, received the sacrificial text from Yin Chengyu, reverently holding it as they proceeded to inform the ancestral spirits at the Altars of Earth and Grain and the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Upon the second strike of the time drum, Yin Chengyu ascended to the Huangji Gate (Gate of Supreme Harmony).

By this time, civil and military officials, attired in full court dress and guided by officers from the Court of State Ceremonial, had entered the Meridian Gate, forming ranks on either side of the route, ready to pay homage to the new Emperor in the Meridian Gate Plaza.

Yin Chengyu cast his gaze downward from the Huangji Gate (Gate of Supreme Harmony), observing the vast expanse of palace personnel and court officials, a sea of bodies extending outward in undulating waves to the distant palace gates.

Countless individuals knelt beneath him, these very people representing both the potential for the overthrow of imperial power and the bedrock upon which his aspirations would be built.

Yin Chengyu felt a surge of intense emotion. The jade pendants hanging from his imperial crown swayed gently. He instinctively glanced sideways at Xue Shu, who trailed half a step behind.

Simultaneously, Xue Shu’s unwavering gaze was fixed upon him.

Their eyes met briefly. A subtle smile played upon Yin Chengyu’s lips.

This marked the commencement of his path in this life.

The imperial road would be arduous, but one individual would remain steadfastly by his side.

After descending from the Huangji Gate (Gate of Supreme Harmony), Yin Chengyu proceeded to the Huangji Palace of Supreme Harmony to receive congratulatory memorials from the assembled officials. Subsequently, the Grand Secretary of the Directorate of Ceremonial, none other than Xue Shu himself, would publicly proclaim the edict of ascension to the throne, broadcasting it to the entire realm.

Xue Shu, clad in a scarlet python robe, maintained a solemn demeanor as he held a scroll of brilliant yellow silk. He slowly unfurled it, reading aloud for all to hear:

“By imperial decree of the Emperor, who has received the Mandate of Heaven: The Emperor, by divine appointment, established a grand foundation with divine achievements and sagely martial prowess…

However, the imperial chariot faced the possibility of a sudden and unexpected end…

The throne cannot remain vacant for long, and the ancestral temples cannot be without a master. Among the imperial sons, We have been unanimously chosen to ascend the throne, complying with the public sentiment. On the sixth day of the sixth month of this year, We shall assume the imperial throne in the Huangji Palace of Supreme Harmony…

The first day of the first month of next year shall be established as the first year of the Yongguang reign. A general amnesty shall be issued, ushering in a new era. All criminals who committed offenses before the dawn of the sixth day of the sixth month, including those who were typically excluded from regular amnesties, shall be pardoned. This decree shall be proclaimed throughout the realm, so that all may be informed.”

Following the public proclamation of the edict, Yin Chengyu was no longer the successor-emperor but the rightful new sovereign.

Xue Shu meticulously rolled up the edict and took the lead in performing the grand prostration.

Following him, the assembled officials successively knelt, prostrating themselves on the ground. Shouts of “Long live the Emperor!” erupted like a tidal wave, echoing ceaselessly.

*

Following the coronation ceremony, operations began to normalize, albeit with significant deviations from the established order under his regency as Crown Prince. A stark contrast emerged.

For instance, during the grand court assemblies, he now occupied the Dragon Throne, perched high above the assembled officials, his gaze sweeping over them, absorbing every twitch, every fleeting expression. This marked his inaugural grand assembly as Emperor.

The adage "a new sovereign, a new court" held true.

Despite prior interactions with numerous officials during his time as Crown Prince, the shift in his status to Emperor invariably instigated changes. Consequently, certain ambitious officials, their minds teeming with opportunism, were eager to probe the new Emperor's limits, to test the waters of his authority.

Observing the officials who had stepped forward, Yin Chengyu’s demeanor remained impassive, his tone devoid of discernible emotion as he addressed them. "I deeply appreciate Sub-Chancellor Shao's dedicated service," he began, his voice laced with a deceptive calmness, "however, given the unresolved nature of Xie Wendao's examination fraud case, a period of circumspection remains necessary. Furthermore, I have received reports of Sub-Chancellor Shao's indisposition and subsequent convalescence, a condition so severe that he has disregarded summons from the Court of Judicial Review. It appears his ailment is indeed grave. Therefore, let Sub-Chancellor Shao continue his recuperation."

He emphasized the word "recuperation" with a distinct, almost predatory inflection.

Since the re-examination of the Xie Wendao case, Shao Tian had retreated to his residence under the pretext of avoiding suspicion. He had intended this as a strategic retreat, a temporary withdrawal before a renewed offensive.

However, he had not foreseen the swift succession of palace upheavals culminating in Emperor Longfeng's demise and Yin Chengyu's rapid ascension to the throne. His "avoidance of suspicion" had morphed into an indefinite exile, a predicament from which extrication was becoming increasingly perilous, a real catch.

Moreover, the Xie Wendao case, now under the joint jurisdiction of the Court of Judicial Review, the Ministry of Justice, and the Censorate, with the Eastern Bureau's ruthless assistance, exerted immense pressure. Each layer of investigation peeled back exposed further corruption, implicating a growing number of officials like peeling an onion.

It was only a matter of time before the investigation unearthed incriminating evidence against Shao Tian.

And Shao Tian, at this critical juncture, was trapped in his enforced domestic "recuperation," powerless to intervene, completely neutered.

Under this crushing double bind, he had desperately orchestrated this probe of Yin Chengyu’s stance, deploying his faction members to test the waters during the new Emperor's first grand assembly.

Unfortunately for them, Yin Chengyu's words, while seemingly benign, masked an unprecedentedly steely resolve, a viciousness barely concealed beneath a veneer of civility.

The Shao faction officials who had spoken on his behalf retreated, their faces etched with anxiety, exchanging furtive glances, their minds plagued by a gnawing unease.

This apprehension intensified into outright dread when news spread that the Emperor had summoned Grand Secretary Yu Huai’an for a private audience following the assembly.

To allay Emperor Longfeng's suspicions, Grand Secretary Yu Huai’an had submitted his resignation long ago. However, Emperor Longfeng, constrained by various considerations, had not immediately accepted it. Later, following Yin Chengyu’s advice to lie low, Yu Huai’an had feigned illness, withdrawing from court affairs while retaining his title as Prime Minister.

Now, with the new Emperor on the throne, the Yu family no longer needed to maintain a low profile. Yu Huai’an, who had been absent from court for an extended period, not only attended the assembly in robust health but was also granted a private audience.

The implications were glaringly obvious, as clear as a punch in the face.

While the court buzzed with speculation and conjecture, Yu Huai’an was engaged in a game of chess with Yin Chengyu in the Yangxin Palace of Mental Cultivation. Following this private meeting, the assembled officials prostrated themselves, chanting "Long Live the Emperor!" in a thunderous, unbroken wave of sound that shook the very foundations of the palace.

Lord Yu Huai'an placed a chess piece, stating, "Has Your Majesty definitively resolved to initiate this purge?"

Emperor Longfeng, during his decade-plus reign, had become engrossed in hedonistic pursuits, neglecting state affairs. This dereliction had allowed a considerable number of officials to form factions for personal gain while holding onto their positions without contributing anything of value.

"How can we revitalize the court without excising these deeply entrenched and debilitating malignancies?" Yin Chengyu retorted.

"Given the current critical need for capable individuals within the court, does Grandfather truly persist in his refusal to return to service?"

Yu Huai'an sighed, "This old minister is past his prime."

He gazed at the youthful emperor, his eyes reflecting both affection and the reverence due to a sovereign. This child was raised under his personal tutelage; he understood the emperor's character and ambitions. Therefore, he was unwilling for his closest maternal relatives to become an obstacle to the emperor’s grand designs at any future juncture.

"My eldest maternal uncle has been confined to the Ministry of Works for far too long; it is time for a change of position," Yin Chengyu asserted, noting his reluctance but not pressing the issue. "Furthermore, my younger maternal uncle: outsiders perceive him as a mere playboy, but I am aware of his thorough study of military treatises and his mastery of martial arts. It is opportune for him to display his capabilities within the Five Armies Chief Command, where he can execute a thorough reorganization on my behalf."

Yu’s two maternal uncles, one civil and one military, were both men of exceptional talent.

However, with the Yu family already being the maternal relatives of the Crown Prince and Yu Huai’an occupying the preeminent position of Prime Minister, they were in a precarious situation, akin to cooking oil over a raging fire. This necessitated their temporary suppression of their abilities.

Now, with Yu Huai’an’s retirement, they no longer needed to deliberately conceal their talents.

Yu Huai’an did not object to this arrangement: "It is indeed time for them to render service to the nation."

Yin Chengyu contemplated for a moment, placing another piece that definitively blocked his opponent’s retreat. He then abruptly shifted the topic back to Yu Huai’an, stating, "After Grandfather retires and enjoys his leisure, it would be beneficial for him to frequently enter the palace to instruct Ming’er. By this time next year, Ming’er should begin his formal education."

In the Great Yan Dynasty, imperial princes typically commenced their education early. However, by this time next year, Yin Chengyu would still be under three years of age.

Yu Huai’an frowned, perplexed. "The Fifth Prince is still quite young; what is the urgency for him to begin his studies?"

Moreover… he carefully chose his words, stating, “According to this old minister’s understanding, and that of the Empress Dowager, it is preferable for the Fifth Prince to not be excessively outstanding. To live as a wealthy and carefree prince would be a considerable blessing. Why does Your Majesty…”

He ultimately refrained from expressing his meaning explicitly.

Yu Huai’an had served three emperors, rising to the position of Prime Minister and being bestowed the honor of Crown Prince Grand Tutor.

The only individuals to receive his personal instruction, apart from Emperor Longfeng, were Yin Chengyu.

The imperial family is ruthless. Even brothers born of the same mother cannot be certain that discord will not arise between them over the Dragon Throne. Therefore, neither Yu Huai’an nor the Empress Dowager desired Yin Chengyue to be excessively prominent, lest it foster ambition within him and lead to fraternal strife in the future.

The opportune moment had not yet arrived, and Yin Chengyu did not elaborate, merely smiling and stating, "Grandfather, simply set your mind at ease. In time, you will understand."

Yu Huai’an knew that the emperor was resolute in his decisions. Although still harboring doubts, he ultimately did not offer further objections.

———TN: Brother: The grind’s locked in for good—endless overtime, no breaks, no mercy. Feels like this soul-sucking machine has me by the throat, dragging me through the same ruthless routine day after day, shredding what little life I’ve got left.