At this moment, it was as if landmines had been buried everywhere. Mo Zi thought she had already steeled herself mentally, but when she heard that Yuan Cheng’s birth mother was still alive, she was still shocked.
Amid her chaotic thoughts, she sorted out her first question. “Who is your birth mother?”
Yuan Cheng’s chin rested against Mo Zi’s shoulder, and when he spoke, it vibrated. “Yuan Jiaoniang. No, her surname isn’t Yuan. She simply wanted very much to become a member of the Yuan family, so she changed it herself.”
“Jiaoniang isn’t your aunt, but your mother? Then why doesn’t she acknowledge you? All these years, you’ve served as Prime Minister in Nande—doesn’t she know?” No, that wasn’t right. According to Yuan Cheng’s previous speculation, Jiaoniang knew.
“She knows. It’s just that, seeing me devote myself wholeheartedly to revenge, she doesn’t need to come forward anymore, does she?” Yuan Cheng released Mo Zi and sat on the soft couch opposite, lying down on his side.
Mo Zi discovered with surprise that he looked extremely exhausted. “How long has it been since you slept this time?”
“Not too bad. I have time to sleep, but I sleep poorly.” He let out a long sigh and patted the couch lightly. “Come sit here, so I won’t have to open my eyes to look for you. That’s tiring.”
Mo Zi knew he wanted to rest, so she didn’t argue with him and sat by his side.
He then took her hand and closed his eyes. “Since you’re willing to come sit here, it means you won’t despise me anymore.”
Mo Zi drank tea with one hand, quite content. “Others are one thing, but Jiaoniang is your birth mother. If she hasn’t acted like a mother, why should she demand you act like a son? Isn’t that laughable? Ah, don’t despise me either for being disrespectful to elders.”
“She’s put all the feelings of her lifetime on one man, with nothing left over for others, including her son and the man who fathered me with her. The only man she’s ever loved has the surname Yuan. He’s not my biological father, yet the world thinks he is, and I’ve always considered him my only father.” Feeling her beside him, he was at peace.
“You… you aren’t the biological flesh and blood of the Yuan family?” Too shocking—she had only assumed Yuan Cheng wasn’t born of the legitimate wife.
“I have no blood relation whatsoever to those hundred-plus people, but I chose to inherit this surname.” He didn’t believe in vows; he only held firm, not yielding an inch.
“Your… your adoptive parents treated you very well.” Isn’t the grace of raising greater than the grace of birth? It was exactly opposite to her own situation.
“They treated me as their own. At three, Father taught me calligraphy hand by hand. At four, Mother often held me in her arms, making my elder brothers envious and resentful.” Compared to that, the woman mad with love didn’t deserve to be his mother. “On the day officials arrested my entire family, my parents and brothers gave me the chance to escape. From that moment on, my identity as the youngest son of the Yuan family would never change—blood ties aren’t worth discussing. Eight years ago, I learned the truth, yet I still walked the path of revenge. Am I foolish?”
She heard his laughter but felt it terribly desolate. She gripped his hand tightly. “If I were you, I’d be a fool too. You know, it seems we two were born without affinity with parents—it really is so. Compared to you, I’m slightly better off. At least my adoptive father was so-so.”
“You call that self-deprecating humor?” When he laughed again, the desolation was gone. “Then I should be slightly better off than you. Your adoptive father is dead, and your biological parents are also no longer in this world, while both my biological parents are still alive.”
“Wow, I’m so envious of you.” That’s right, it was self-deprecating humor. Then she paused. “Eh? Your biological father is also alive? Who is he?”
“Mo Zi, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep this secret until I leave this world.” Whoever his biological father was held no meaning for him whatsoever.
Mo Zi cleared her throat. “I don’t mind. However, in exchange, I’ll also keep one secret in my heart forever. You don’t mind, right?”
“It’s a deal.” He suddenly opened his eyes, dark and bright as ink stones. “Only one is allowed.”
“It’s a deal.” Mo Zi smiled.
Yuan Cheng closed his eyes again, his breathing slowing as he began speaking about Prince Li’s matter. “The mama at Xiliu Garden remembered Xianniang’s mother and confirmed she had played the flute for Wu Chengwan many times. Based on this, we arrested Xianniang. Unable to withstand harsh torture, she confessed that according to one client’s requirements, she would play tunes at another client’s location. The method was extremely similar to Mo Chou’s—also using missing notes to embed words, only slightly more complex because Golden Wind Song has ten sets of lyrics. They used this to hide messages, such as the location and time of secret meetings, as well as names and secret signals for making contact. It could be called airtight. With the testimony of Xiliu Garden’s mama, Xianniang, and Tao Shan—these three people—I reported it to the Emperor. That very night, the Emperor dispatched the Qianniu Guard to search Prince Li’s mansion. In Wu Chengwan’s bedchamber, they discovered a secret room. Inside were the Water Purification Pearl and the secret pact he had privately made with Daqiu. It clearly stated that he would collaborate with Daqiu from within and without to overthrow the current Emperor, and he was willing to cede half of Great Zhou’s territory in exchange for peaceful coexistence with Daqiu. He also promised that when Daqiu attacked Nande, he would send troops to assist and would relinquish any claim to dividing Nande’s interests.”
“To become Emperor, Wu Chengwan really spared no effort. Why didn’t he consider that once Yuling, Nande, and half of Great Zhou’s territory all belonged to Daqiu, would Daqiu let him keep the remaining half? Simply a pipe dream.” Mo Zi didn’t quite understand, just as she didn’t see what was so good about being Emperor.
“Clearly Daqiu also made a pledge. They swore by the heavenly gods that during the reigns of Wu Chengwan and his son—two generations—they would never invade. But Wu Chengwan would need to acknowledge Daqiu as the mother country, pay annual tribute, and open the borders to trade in all goods, including iron. Moreover, Great Zhou’s imperial court would have to establish Daqiu’s supervisory officials to monitor and guide daily government affairs.” As Yuan Cheng spoke further, his voice grew softer.
“I can only admire Wu Chengwan for being able to sign such an unequal treaty.” Mo Zi sighed. “Since both human and material evidence are present, why is there still no conclusion?”
“Because Wu Chengwan won’t confess. If he won’t confess, the Emperor hesitates. He’s the Emperor’s younger brother, so even torture has limits. We can only continue searching for more human and material evidence until he has no choice but to confess.” His breathing was steady, the ending almost inaudible.
At this moment, Mo Zi heard Ming Nian say outside, “Miss, Minister Yang has come to escort you into the palace.”
She gently withdrew her hand, stood up and walked a couple of steps, then returned to the couch to drape a silk coverlet over the sleeping man.
Just as she was about to open the door, Yuan Cheng’s voice came from behind, still very soft. “Regarding what happened in Daqiu, I told the Emperor the general outline, except for the Yuling Crown Prince, Jin Yin, and your marriage. You should consider carefully.”
Mo Zi didn’t turn around. “Sleep. Thinking about so many things, personally managing every matter—no wonder you sleep poorly. Don’t worry, I’ll handle things appropriately with the Emperor.”
Yuan Cheng said nothing more. There was only the soft rustle of silk as he turned over.
Mo Zi entered the palace with Yang Ling. The place where she would see the Emperor, however, wasn’t the usual Imperial Study but Wangshan Platform to the west. From afar, she saw the Emperor and a palace-dressed woman. The two were talking and laughing, walking while picking spring flowers on the platform. A crowd of eunuchs and palace maids followed closely.
“That consort is quite favored,” Mo Zi said to Yang Ling.
“You know her too.” Yang Ling smiled. “Xiao Mingrou. She even shot at bells together with you and Qiao.”
Mo Zi laughed aloud, squinting to look carefully at the woman with the brilliant smile. “It’s true what they say—after three days apart, one should look at someone with new eyes.” The person who once would rather die than marry the Emperor now wore an air of elegant nobility. Where was there even half a trace of dejection?
“You should say ‘nothing special after all.'” Yang Ling was an extremely arrogant talent who dared say what others dared not. “When Qiao told me about her, I thought she had some pride. Now it seems she’s just a common thing.”
“Compared to your disappointment, I’m relieved for her.” Seeing Yang Ling’s confusion, Mo Zi explained. “Since she lacks the power to resist the fate of entering the palace, why not let herself strive to adapt? Should she, after entering the palace, spend every day washing her face with tears, treat the Emperor coldly, let the various consorts bully her, and finally end her remaining years in the Cold Palace—would such a woman deserve our admiration? Would such a woman be uncommon, a person transcending worldliness? Look at her—she’s adapted, she can smile. That is her defiance against fate. And how do you know she has no genuine feelings for the Emperor? In this harem, as long as a woman who strives to survive and tries to make herself happy hasn’t yet lost her conscience, she shouldn’t be judged by us who watch from the opposite shore.”
Yang Ling looked at Mo Zi with solemn respect. “I’ve long heard that Minister Mo Zi has a heaven in his heart, vast and boundless. Today’s encounter is better than ten years of reading. Yang Ling has learned much.”
“Just personal feelings. Minister Yang needn’t be so formal.” Mo Zi smiled slightly and beckoned a young eunuch to report to the Emperor.
The Emperor then noticed them, but still held Xiao Mingrou’s hand and spoke intimately with her for quite a while before releasing her with a smile. Such behavior, by rights, shouldn’t occur, but it showed the Emperor’s love for Xiao Mingrou—like young lovers reluctant to part.
Xiao Mingrou, surrounded by palace maids, walked over. When she saw clearly it was Mo Zi, she couldn’t help but freeze, her steps stopping.
Yang Ling performed the proper courtesies. “Greetings to Consort Chen.”
Mo Zi called out as well.
Xiao Mingrou said indifferently, “Ministers, you may rise.”
Mo Zi straightened and looked at her.
Elegant from afar, radiant up close. She wore a smoke-green peacock feather gown, inlaid with the Eight Treasures, colorful pearls, and kingfisher feathers, with a flowing gold silk waist sash and a blue agate snow-gold white magnolia bracelet on her wrist. Her eyes were like spring water, her lips like lovesick berries, her cheeks dusted with pale gold powder over peach-blossom color. So beautiful one couldn’t look away.
“Minister Mo Zi.” Xiao Mingrou also looked at her.
Mo Zi said, “Yes.”
“Thank you.” After saying this, Xiao Mingrou walked past.
Yang Ling was puzzled. “What is she thanking you for?”
Mo Zi thought about it. “Perhaps thanking me for scolding her during the bell-shooting?”
“Then she’s speaking ironically and actually wants to take revenge on you?” Yang Ling immediately contemplated telling Yuan Cheng.
At this moment, the young eunuch ran over, saying the Emperor summoned them.
The Emperor was clearly in a good mood. “Girl, every time I see you, I feel especially happy. Tell me, why is that?”
Mo Zi smiled brightly. “Mostly because I look particularly honest and easy to bully. However, this time it’s not I who made Your Majesty happy—it’s Your Majesty who has captured a beauty’s heart and is deeply satisfied. This is Consort Chen’s achievement.”
Yang Ling listened in secret amazement. This person’s eloquence—when sparring with the Emperor, she dared say anything, and now when flattering, she was equally shameless. Her skill was profound; he could never hope to match it.
“You girl, do you think I can’t tell this is flattery?” Though he said this, the Emperor laughed heartily—in truth, he was quite pleased.
But his next sentence showed that while pleased, he understood perfectly. “The ship docked two hours ago. Why are you so late?”