The youngest consort in the Forbidden City, only eighteen-year-old Shang Qinglan, was given the title “Consort Shou” – how ironic. Shang Qinglan disliked this title, privately complaining to Wei Caiwei that it was “too aged,” depressing and lifeless, as if she were about to lie down in a coffin.

She was clearly in her prime!

However, seeing that the old emperor had enfeoffed her father as General of Agile Cavalry and Vice Commissioner-in-Chief of the Right Army, Shang Qinglan still accepted this title. It should be noted that even Imperial Noble Consort Wen, who held the highest rank in the Forbidden City, had a father who was only enfeoffed as Assistant Commander, one rank lower than Shang’s father.

Emperor Jiajing sensed death’s approach. He feared death – after sitting on this dragon throne for forty-five years, he hadn’t had enough yet. The title “Shou” (Longevity) was actually for himself. Having palace attendants constantly calling “Consort Shou” was like blessing him with long life.

Emperor Jiajing feared death and even more feared losing imperial power. He ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to strengthen surveillance of Prince Yu’s mansion, requiring daily reports.

Besides Prince Yu’s family’s every move, Wang Daxia simply wrote even what the guards protecting Prince Yu’s mansion ate for their late-night snacks into his secret reports, first sending them to Lu Ying for review.

Lu Ying opened the thick stack of secret reports, with today’s vegetable shopping list from Prince Yu’s mansion attached at the back, densely written and giving her a headache. “You don’t need to write in such detail. Reading through these mundane accounts takes half a day.”

Wang Daxia said, “The more critical the moment, the more we must avoid suspicion. Prince Yu has already confined himself to his mansion, never stepping foot outside, fearing someone might frame him.”

“Take it to Commander Zhu.” Lu Ying hurriedly flipped through and closed the secret reports. “Prince Yu has his own sense of proportion. He’s never fought for anything. It’s Li Huangqin’s side you need to watch closely – absolutely don’t let that gambling addict cause trouble again. We can’t have another Jade Guanyin incident.”

Wang Daxia said, “Our people are at Li Huangqin’s residence, changing shifts three times daily, providing round-the-clock ‘protection’ for Li Wei. They even go to the toilet together.”

Lu Ying said, “Thank you for your hard work. After we finish this busy period, I’ll give you a long vacation so you can return and marry Dr. Wei in peace.”

Emperor Jiajing’s health was very poor. Not only that, he refused to heed the Imperial Medical Academy’s advice, daily consuming “immortal medicines” offered by Taoist priests, taking elixir pills as medicine while casting aside proper herbal remedies.

The imperial physicians’ bitter persuasions were useless and only earned them imperial scolding, so they all shut their mouths and dared not prescribe medicine – if he died from it, they’d have to take the blame for the Taoist priests.

To deceive the death-fearing old emperor and make him believe mystical arts could preserve life, the Taoist priests created various “auspicious omens,” gluing a yellow lingzhi mushroom to a palace pillar. Emperor Jiajing renamed it “Jade Lingzhi Palace” and announced it to the Imperial Ancestral Temple – he hadn’t even given names to his own grandsons and granddaughters.

The Taoist priests also placed elixir pills on the old emperor’s desk and bed, claiming they were heaven-sent. Shang Qinglan didn’t believe these tricks, but the old emperor firmly believed them and demanded congratulatory memorials from all officials. Seeing the old emperor so obsessed, Shang Qinglan dared not touch the dragon’s scales or oppose imperial will, letting the Taoist priests do as they pleased.

Imperial power, this highly centralized behemoth – when its controller only wishes to believe what he believes, see what he wants to see, and hear what he wants to hear, treating all opposing voices as “someone is always trying to harm me.”

Then everything around him would cater to his wishes, presenting only what he wanted to see. And these would prove his actions were “correct,” using lies to validate fantasies until fantasy became reality.

Emperor Jiajing ascended the throne as a prince from a branch family, secured his position at sixteen, didn’t attend court for over thirty years yet firmly controlled imperial power with everyone as his chess pieces. But in his life’s final moment, he was fooled like an idiot by Taoist priests, believing crude lies about heaven-sent lingzhi and divine elixirs, avoiding illness and treatment, obsessed with pills – not only failing to achieve longevity but hastening his own death.

So except for Emperor Jiajing himself, everyone felt his days were numbered and beyond saving, all waiting for that moment to arrive.

Wang Daxia was also waiting, though he hoped this moment would come later. His wedding with Wei Caiwei was still set for the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth month, only delayed three years due to the three-year mourning period.

Wang Daxia clasped his hands together, praying to heaven, “I hope heaven blesses us – may His Majesty at least live past this New Year.”

Otherwise, after family mourning comes national mourning – when could they possibly get married? He was twenty-one this year, and Wei Caiwei was already twenty-five!

He’d been looking forward to this day since he was fourteen – this was too difficult.

The ninth day of the twelfth month was exactly milk-brother Lu Bing’s death anniversary. Emperor Jiajing was in poor spirits, grieving before Lu Bing’s portrait. Old, weak and chronically ill, yet refusing treatment and eating pills like meals, after taking medicine he became excited with flushed skin, white hair but youthful face like an immortal, seemingly recovered.

But once the medicine wore off, he immediately became listless. When lying in bed, even blankets felt heavy, pressing on him until breathing was difficult, so he’d take more pills.

Repeatedly doing this emptied his body, leaving only a shell.

With the precedent of Lan Daoxing’s death by a thousand cuts, no Taoist priest dared offer medicine on Lu Bing’s death anniversary. Emperor Jiajing sat quietly before the portrait, recalling past years with his milk-brother, hearing only the howling north wind outside.

Emperor Jiajing meditated on the cushion but couldn’t sit steadily, his entire body aching. The Taoist priests dared not offer medicine on Lu Bing’s death anniversary, but Emperor Jiajing still had considerable “inventory.” He opened his medicine box and took one pill with cold water. After a while, feeling it had little effect and still hurting, he took two more pills in succession.

As the three pills’ medicinal properties took effect, a warm current flowed from his dantian into his organs, driving away pain. Emperor Jiajing felt his body heating up, so he removed his outer robe. Even the bamboo crown binding his hair felt like it was pulling at his scalp, so he removed the crown, letting his gray-white long hair fall to his waist – finally comfortable.

In a trance, Emperor Jiajing heard hoofbeats. He pushed open the door to look out and saw a person wearing a rain cape and red felt hat, riding a lightning-fast Ferghana horse galloping toward him.

It was milk-brother Lu Bing. Previously when Emperor Jiajing summoned him to the palace for discussions, regardless of holidays, weather, time, even midnight, as long as the emperor called, Lu Bing would definitely arrive immediately, through wind and rain. Whenever milk-brother came, any thorny matter could be resolved, any crisis overcome.

Emperor Jiajing ran out regardless of the wind and snow. In that moment, age and illness vanished – white hair, wrinkles, hunched back, rheumatism, sagging flesh all disappeared, becoming a black-haired, red-lipped youth with moist skin.

He was still that fifteen-year-old little prince of Anlu, Hubei, whose greatest dream was someday escaping his fiefdom to see the outside world.

The two met on the palace path amid heavy snow. Lu Bing extended his hand from atop the Ferghana horse, “Your Highness, I’ve come to take you home.”

This must be a dream. Prince Xian’s mansion in Anlu, Hubei was the place young Emperor Jiajing had always wanted to escape from, but in his twilight years, it was where he most wanted to go.

Go home, return to the original beauty (Note 1).

Emperor Jiajing grasped Lu Bing’s hand, his body rising into the air to sit behind Lu Bing, embracing his milk-brother’s waist tightly as always.

Lu Bing spurred his horse forward. The thousand-li Ferghana horse ran like lightning. As they ran, the cold snow beneath the horse’s hooves gradually became Anlu’s rice paddies. The air carried faint rice fragrance, the snowy day became a summer night. Amid rice flower fragrance speaking of good harvest, listening to frogs croaking everywhere, fireflies flashing green light all around.

Emperor Jiajing reached out and caught some fireflies glowing in his fist, green light shining through his fingers.

Lu Bing asked, “How many fireflies did Your Highness catch?”

Emperor Jiajing opened his hand and three fireflies flew out from his palm. Young Emperor Jiajing and Lu Bing jumped down from the horse to chase fireflies. Chasing and chasing, they changed from youths to two children, smearing mud on each other’s faces until they became two mud people…

Chief Eunuch of the Ceremonial Directorate Huang Jin hadn’t heard Emperor Jiajing call anyone for a long time but dared not disturb him. By noon when it was time to eat, there was still no movement.

The emperor couldn’t be left hungry. Huang Jin boldly pushed open the door and saw Emperor Jiajing wearing only an undergarment, hair disheveled, shoes and socks removed as if it were summer, lying face-up on the meditation cushion.

Huang Jin was used to this scene – after taking medicine, the body heated up and skin became sensitive, painful to touch, requiring removal of clothes and loosening hair to disperse medicinal effects.

Huang Jin quickly helped Emperor Jiajing up, “Your Majesty, the floor is cold.”

But this time, Emperor Jiajing didn’t respond at all. Huang Jin realized something was wrong and quickly called for imperial physicians.

The imperial physicians were helpless with Emperor Jiajing’s condition – oil exhausted, lamp extinguished, even immortals couldn’t save him. They dared not treat him boldly, fearing responsibility.

Grand Secretary Xu Jie locked up all the Taoist priests who had offered medicine and comforted the physicians: “You may treat him boldly. His Majesty’s body was ruined by these evil priests – it has nothing to do with you.”

With the Grand Secretary’s guarantee, the imperial physicians used their full abilities to treat Emperor Jiajing. Success would bring merit, failure would be the Taoist priests’ responsibility.

Xu Jie wanted to preserve the old emperor’s life because a state cannot be without a ruler for a day. With the emperor unconscious, Prince Yu as the de facto heir apparent needed to begin regency duties.

Once Prince Yu became regent, he could legitimately issue orders and wield power, allowing smooth transition of imperial authority. So Emperor Jiajing couldn’t die yet.

Prince Yu entered the palace under Embroidered Uniform Guard escort.

Fearing mishaps, Wang Daxia ordered his subordinates to watch Prince Jinggong’s birth mother Consort Lu Jing closely (yes, she was still alive), just like guarding gambling addict Li Wei, even following her to the toilet, ensuring Prince Yu’s safety in the Forbidden City.

Only eighteen more days until my wedding – old emperor, you must hold on!

Wei Caiwei of Tianshui Lane remained calm. Since Consort Shang Shou told her the old emperor began abusing pills, she knew in this life Emperor Jiajing would repeat his mistakes and not survive the year.

Fortunately, as subjects, national mourning lasted one hundred days, delaying the wedding about three months. After waiting three years then another three years, three more months wouldn’t matter.

Forbidden City, West Garden.

“Prince Yu, the edict draft is complete. Please review it, Your Highness.” Grand Secretary Xu Jie showed Prince Yu Emperor Jiajing’s “final edict.”

Emperor Jiajing hadn’t died yet, sleeping like a living corpse. Even unconscious, he hadn’t established his only son Prince Yu as heir apparent, fearing it would steal his imperial power – naturally he hadn’t left any so-called final edict beforehand.

Emperor Jiajing was now a puppet for others to manipulate. Whatever the edict said wasn’t his decision.

Prince Yu opened the edict draft: “I, as a member of the imperial clan, inherited the great succession and have served the ancestral temple for forty-five years… Prince Yu, with natural benevolence and filial piety, precocious wisdom and intelligence, following ancestral instructions above and conforming to popular sentiment below, shall ascend the imperial throne.”

This was a final edict explaining his legitimate status and identifying the throne’s successor – simple and clear.

But for Prince Yu, this wasn’t enough. Looking at Emperor Jiajing on the dragon bed, weak and helpless like an infant, Prince Yu’s thirty years of suppressed grievance and anger erupted. He picked up his brush and wrote rapidly on the draft, first severely berating the old emperor in Emperor Jiajing’s voice:

“…Pursuing longevity led to treacherous people taking advantage to deceive… suburban temple sacrifices not personally attended, court lectures long abandoned… often thinking with regret and remorse…”

After the scolding, Prince Yu wrote: “From succession until now, ministers who offended by speaking truth – survivors shall be recalled to service, the deceased commemorated. Those currently imprisoned shall be released and restored to office; alchemists and such people, according to their crimes, shall all receive proper punishment; wasteful activities like fasting ceremonies and purchases shall all be stopped.”

This meant all wrongful imprisonments since Emperor Jiajing’s succession would be overturned, officials restored to their posts, rehabilitation work done well; all stinking Taoist priests executed; all immortality and mysticism projects halted.

After finishing, Prince Yu gave the revised edict to Xu Jie: “Polish this version.”

Xu Jie opened it and saw the son had scolded his father thoroughly first – venting years of resentment. But the three new policies afterward were powerful. First was rehabilitation and employing former ministers to win hearts. Second was severely punishing Taoist priests who’d done evil for years, conforming to popular will. Third was abolishing Taoist temples and altars throughout the Forbidden City, saving expenses.

With these three policies, the realm would unite behind him! This Prince Yu had substance.

Author’s Note: Note 1: Go home, return to the original beauty – Jay Chou’s “Rice Fragrance”

The chapter when Lu Bing died in this book was titled “The Original Vow.” When Emperor Jiajing dies it’s “The Original Beauty” – they echo each other.