Behind layers of curtains, the finest ambergris incense wafted from a silver-gilt censer, obscuring the expression of the figure seated above. Jiang Changyang maintained perfect stillness, his posture, gaze, and even breathing unchanging. He appeared unfazed by the Emperor’s hour-long wait as if it had passed in the blink of an eye.
Beside him, Jiang Zhong presented a stark contrast. Though still standing tall, sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked his inner garments. Despite the early summer weather, he felt a chill in the great hall. His damp clothes clung to his back like ice, steadily sapping his warmth. Having waited over two hours for an audience, Jiang Zhong’s unease stemmed not from the wait itself, but from the guilt weighing on his conscience. He feared he might collapse if the Emperor remained silent much longer.
Just as Jiang Zhong teetered on the brink of collapse, the Emperor set down his vermilion brush and spoke softly, “The heir should be the eldest, not the most virtuous; the noblest, not the oldest. Don’t you understand this principle?” His tone, while not overtly displeased, certainly lacked warmth.
Jiang Zhong inwardly cursed his misfortune, yet a glimmer of hope arose. If Jiang Changyang accepted the Zhu Guo Gong manor, their family’s situation would improve significantly—certainly better than if Jiang Changyi inherited the title. As his mind raced with possibilities, Jiang Changyang had already knelt, declaring loudly, “Your Majesty, I am unworthy and lack talent.”
Jiang Zhong sighed internally, closed his eyes briefly, and knelt as well, remaining silent.
The Emperor regarded the father and son pair with an enigmatic smile, asking Jiang Changyang, “You claim to be unworthy and talentless, so you’d rather not accept the title? You’d willingly give it to your younger brother?”
Jiang Changyang replied firmly, “Yes.”
The Emperor then turned to Jiang Zhong, “You know your son best. Do you also believe your eldest lacks ability and talent?”
Jiang Zhong hesitated, unsure how to respond. Agreeing would be an obvious lie while disagreeing would make him appear blind to reality. As he wavered, the Emperor’s cold “Hmm?” and piercing gaze sent chills down his spine. Panicking, Jiang Zhong instinctively kowtowed, his teeth chattering.
The Emperor regarded him with disdain, “To think that the Lang Zhong of the Ministry of Works, personally appointed by me, is such an incompetent fool. What a jest.”
Jiang Zhong, not entirely foolish, stammered, “I am the one who is unworthy…” Placing all blame on himself seemed the safest option, though it did little to stem the flow of his perspiration, which soon formed a glistening puddle on the floor tiles.
Jiang Changyang frowned at his father before raising his voice, “Your Majesty, I am unfilial.”
The Emperor glanced at Jiang Changyang impassively, remaining silent for a long moment before speaking, “This is a family matter. If your kin have no objections, why should I play the villain?” He turned back to Jiang Changyang, “Jiang Dalang, is this truly your wish?”
Jiang Changyang bowed his head resolutely, “I implore Your Majesty to grant this request.”
The Emperor conceded without further comment, “Granted. You may withdraw.” His expression soured as if he could no longer bear the sight of the two men.
As Jiang Zhong and Jiang Changyang rose to leave after their final bow, Jiang Zhong stumbled. Jiang Changyang sighed silently, supporting his father by the ribs as they exited.
Once outside, Jiang Zhong hesitantly addressed his son, “Dalang…” Though the title rightfully belonged to Jiang Changyang, Jiang Zhong felt as if he had somehow betrayed his eldest, robbing him of something precious.
Jiang Changyang, eyes downcast, avoided his father’s gaze and said, “I’ll have someone help you out.” Without another word, he walked away, leaving Jiang Zhong calling after him in vain.
Inside the hall, the Emperor calmly picked up his brush again. Glancing at the servant diligently wiping Jiang Zhong’s sweat from the floor, he mused, “What an intriguing father-son pair. Am I truly so frightening?”
The ever-present Eunuch Shao, grinding ink nearby, smiled faintly, “If I may, Your Majesty, I find Lang Zhong Jiang most interesting. He’s likely the only one in the entire court who dares to openly admit his lack of filial piety before Your Majesty.”
The Emperor replied, “He’s confident I won’t punish him for it.” Indeed, Jiang Changyang’s unfilial behavior could be grounds for punishment at any time.
Eunuch Shao’s smile broadened, “Lang Zhong Jiang knows Your Majesty’s wisdom. Moreover, with his stubborn nature, he’d likely deny any wrongdoing even if Your Majesty were to punish him. Who has ever seen an ox change course when told the path ahead is impassable? Even forcibly redirecting it would require considerable effort.”
“Stubbornly denying? Yes, he’s quite the mule, isn’t he? I fear those who desperately want titles, not those who steadfastly refuse them,” the Emperor laughed heartily.
As Jiang Zhong and Jiang Changyang exited the palace gates, they parted ways—one to the left, one to the right—each heading home. Jiang Zhong, astride his horse, watched his eldest son’s retreating figure longingly before finally spurring his mount homeward.
Meanwhile, upon hearing of Jiang Changyang’s summons to the palace, Jiang Changyi assumed the Emperor would not approve of the change. He paced anxiously, like an ant on a hot pan, though he dared not show his agitation openly. The wait seemed interminable. Suddenly, he paused and carefully retrieved a small, exquisite porcelain bottle from a hidden compartment in his desk. The bottle still contained some residual powder. He inhaled its scent, a smile playing on his lips. This recently acquired item was meant for crucial moments, but if complications arose at the palace, he might need to put it to use sooner.
The door creaked open as Xiao Xuexi entered, supporting her pregnant belly. Her face clouded with worry, she asked, “They’ve been gone so long. Do you think something’s gone wrong?”
Jiang Changyi shot her an irritated glance, “Don’t talk nonsense. What could go wrong?”
“They’re back! They’re back!” An unusually excited Cailian burst into the room, bowing deeply to the couple. “Congratulations, Young Master! Congratulations, Madam!”
Xiao Xuexi and Jiang Changyi exchanged glances, both breaking into wide smiles. Jiang Changyi, accustomed to maintaining a low profile, quickly composed himself. “What are you shouting about? Be careful, or people will laugh at us.”
Cailian grinned, “No need to worry. The Guo Gong has returned, and His Majesty has approved! The Old Madam requests your presence in her chambers to discuss the matter.”
Xiao Xuexi glanced down at her worn everyday dress, deeming it unsuitable for such a joyous occasion. “Let me change first.”
Jiang Changyi grabbed her arm, “Change into what? Don’t make a fool of yourself! This outfit is fine. Didn’t your parents teach you to remain composed in times of glory or disgrace?”
Xiao Xuexi bit back her frustration. While other noble families prided themselves on their daughters’ upbringing, Jiang Changyi often criticized her lack of proper education. Though irritating, she had to admit he was right this time.
The couple made their way to the Old Madam’s chambers, basking in the attention they received. Upon arrival, Jiang Zhong announced, “I’ll consult the almanac and invite the clan elders to the ancestral hall to inform our ancestors.”
Madam Du replied coolly, “No need for consultation. The day after tomorrow is auspicious. Remember to reaffirm your promises to me before the clan elders, so they may bear witness.” Her gaze then fixed intently on Xiao Xuexi’s belly.
Xiao Xuexi instinctively placed a hand on her stomach, then, realizing the child’s good fortune, proudly straightened her posture. Madam Du noticed this subtle movement and smiled faintly, “The child is six months along, isn’t it? How time flies.”
Xiao Xuexi nodded proudly. Madam Du turned away, her smile deepening.
On the day of the ancestral ceremony, even the weather seemed to reflect the joyous mood. Brilliant sunshine bathed the Guo Gong manor as it bustled with activity from early morning. Everyone, including Madam Du, donned resplendent new attire. Jiang Zhong, impeccably dressed, cheerfully conversed with the clan elders, “Dalang had urgent business to attend to and couldn’t join us.”
The clan members, well aware of the manor’s affairs, privately marveled at the unprecedented situation of the title passing to an obscure illegitimate son. However, none dared to interfere in family matters, instead offering enthusiastic congratulations to the newly polished Jiang Changyi.
As Jiang Changyi gazed upon the ancestral tablets in the hall, he felt a surreal sense of unease. This feeling, previously confined to his dreams, prompted him to glance back at Madam Du. Her solemn expression and fine attire betrayed no hint of potential disruption, allowing him to relax slightly. If he could just get through this ceremony, everything else could be addressed later.
“It’s time,” someone announced.
With everyone assembled, Jiang Zhong composed himself and prepared to begin. Suddenly, Madam Du burst into loud wails, “Zhong’er! My poor Zhong’er! You died so tragically, unable to rest in peace… And now your murderer, having taken everything from you, stands here shamelessly to inherit your title!”
The crowd gasped, all eyes turning to Madam Du. She tore off her ornate golden robe, revealing plain white mourning clothes underneath. She lunged forward, crying, “Ancestors, open your eyes! How can this beast, who harmed his brother—a grave sin against heaven and earth—inherit our family legacy?”
“What nonsense! Someone, escort the Madam out!” Jiang Zhong’s face paled. A flash of malice crossed Jiang Changyi’s features as he watched people rush towards Madam Du. He then covered his face, breaking into loud sobs.