Shen Xi finally understood completely.

“So when you poisoned Lin’er back then, you had two objectives. First, to force Su Shiyu to quickly solve the Dengwen Drum case. Second, and most importantly, you wanted Zhu Minda to understand that having him, Shisan, and Lin’er all under one roof was ultimately inappropriate. There was no guarantee that someone wouldn’t exploit their identities as Crown Prince, legitimate imperial prince, and imperial grandson to create discord between them. And the one most easily hurt would be Lin’er, the weakest of the three. Zhu Minda loved his son dearly, so for him at that time, the best solution was to have Shisan return to his Nanchang fiefdom as soon as possible.

“Because once Zhu Minda died, according to the rule of establishing the legitimate heir, Shisan would be the next heir to the position of Crown Prince. Your objective was to seize the heir apparent position, so when Zhu Minda was assassinated, Shisan had to leave the capital—otherwise you would be making wedding clothes for others.”

“At that time, Emperor Jingyuan was gravely ill and bedridden. Your original plan should have been as follows: First, use Zhu Zhaowei’s hand to assassinate Zhu Minda, temporarily allowing Zhu Zhaowei to hold great power. But Zhu Zhaowei was neither legitimate nor the eldest, so even if he held power, he couldn’t smoothly inherit the heir apparent position. Meanwhile, the true heir was in Nanchang—distant water couldn’t quench an immediate fire—thus leaving the heir apparent position vacant and creating a delicate balance between Zhu Zhaowei and Zhu Nanxian.

“Second, when the time was ripe, you would reveal the true cause of Zhu Minda’s death to Shisan, making him return to the capital and completely turn against Zhu Zhaowei. Whether they fought openly or schemed in secret didn’t matter—when the snipe and clam grapple, the fisherman profits. You only needed to find the right moment to exploit the opening. Once Shisan died, Shiqi had neither power nor influence and posed no threat at all. And you, Zhu Yushen, after Zhu Minda and Zhu Nanxian died and Zhu Jiyou was impeached by Su Shiyu, would be the eldest imperial prince in this palace in name and reality, able to legitimately inherit the throne. By then, even if Zhu Zhaowei wanted to compete with you, he couldn’t, because he would have been exhausted of power and strength by Shisan.”

At this point, Shen Xi let out a cold laugh.

“What a pity—circumstances are like a whirlpool, with waves constantly changing. No one can control the overall situation.”

Just as no one had anticipated that on the day of the Zhaojue Temple incident, Zhu Nanxian would be delayed by two hours accompanying Su Shiyu to deliver a letter, and would instead rush to Zhaojue Temple. And Zhu Zhaowei was no fool either—he seized the opportunity to first frame Zhu Nanxian for the deaths of Zhu Minda and Shen Jing, then used illness as a pretext to place Zhu Nanxian under house arrest in the Eastern Palace.

Though circumstances changed, the fundamental principle remained the same.

For Zhu Yushen at that time, with the Northern Liang marshaling troops and him being the Prince of Beiping, he naturally should lead the troops to war against the enemy. But conveniently, this also placed the tiger tallies of over ten thousand-household units of the Northern Great Camp in his hands.

That was actually his best opportunity to seize the throne. Zhu Nanxian was under house arrest, powerless as a chicken. Zhu Zhaowei held great power but bore a tainted reputation. Though he had troops, his military strength was insufficient to contend with Zhu Yushen’s. Zhu Yushen could have ascended the throne cleanly and effortlessly.

But he gave it up. If seizing the heir apparent position delayed military affairs, causing the northern gateway to fall and vast territories to be lost, then what meaning would that Crown Prince position, that Emperor position, have?

In any case, what he wanted, he would eventually fight for, with all his life’s effort, until death.

The great hall fell into deep silence. After Shen Xi had laid out all of Zhu Yushen’s conspiracies over the years before the assembled ministers, he suddenly felt lost.

He looked around. Actually, there weren’t many people in the Jinshen Hall today. Some, like Zhu Yiheng and Shu Wenlan, had accompanied Zhu Yushen through these years of supporting and assisting each other. Some, like Chen Jinsheng from the Ministry of War, though originally Zhu Yushen’s man, held low positions and had only been promoted in the past year or two, or even after Zhu Yushen ascended the throne. Still others, like Luo Songtang from the Ministry of Rites and Zeng Youliang from the Ministry of Personnel, were actually unconnected to these matters and were so frightened by this torrent of secrets that they dared not even raise their eyes.

There were also those who, like Liu Yun, weren’t even present. And then there was himself—born and raised in the deep palace, yet seeming so out of place.

Only then did Shen Xi realize that actually, Zhu Yushen didn’t have many people under him. He simply knew how to employ people well and had a keen eye. In the former palace’s front halls, he had used Zhu Yiheng to help him lay plans together, because Zhu Yiheng was clever and perceptive, and being an imperial prince within the situation who grew up beside the former Imperial Noble Consort, he was familiar with the temperaments of all his brothers. Later during the winter hunt and at Zhaojue Temple, he had used Shu Wenlan to gather intelligence, because Shu Wenlan was broadly knowledgeable, and his serious illness provided cover, making him least likely to arouse suspicion. And at the final crucial moment, to strike decisively and seize the throne, he had used Liu Yun, because looking across the court and officials, even across all under heaven, there was only one Liu Yun who was decisive in killing, unmatched in strategy, calm and self-disciplined, painstaking and solitary in purpose.

So much so that with one Liu Yun, he had secured all under heaven.

But how could someone like Liu Yun listen to Zhu Yushen’s orders?

Shen Xi couldn’t figure it out, nor did he want to think about it anymore.

He only remembered that years ago, before the winter hunt, he had clearly written Zhu Yushen’s name in the snow, clearly wanted to move against him, but then because of Zhu Yiheng’s interference, he had dismissed that notion.

At that time, Liu Yun had told him: you’re too arrogant, you’re not ruthless enough.

He didn’t understand then, but thinking about it now, every word was a precious admonition.

Yes, he was too arrogant. He was born to glory and power, smooth sailing, matchlessly noble, so that when he wrote down Zhu Yiheng and Zhu Yushen’s names in the snow, he could never have imagined that Zhu Yiheng’s schemes were wholeheartedly for Zhu Yushen’s sake.

He was too arrogant. He had never truly submitted to anyone from the bottom of his heart, so he judged others by himself, thinking that imperial heirs could form alliances, could use each other, but he never guessed that one imperial heir would completely and thoroughly submit to another imperial heir.

All these years, in this game, whenever he reached a critical moment, he was always half a step behind. But looking at it now, was this half step really just half a step? He first lost in arrogance, then lost in soft-heartedness, and finally lost to an insurmountable barrier that would last a lifetime.

A slight error leads to a huge divergence.

Whereas Zhu Yushen and Liu Yun, setting aside questions of right and wrong or black and white, merely in terms of their approach to action—once their original intention was set and their destination determined—no matter what obstacles lay in between, would forge ahead through thorns and brambles, enduring pain as they went.

And where was his own original intention?

Shen Xi thought, he finally understood why Zhu Yushen had gathered these ministers related and unrelated to past events in the great hall.

Because he wasn’t afraid. So what if he let them know these secrets? This imperial throne—he had schemed for it. The facts were laid bare before them. Would they dare rebel against him?

Because he wanted to govern. Letting these people know the secrets, though it added a degree of danger for himself, for those ministers below who only wished to pass their days in peace, knowing this secret meant they had no choice but to guard it strictly—otherwise their lives would be in danger. Because of this caution and prudence, they would instead have to submit even more to Emperor Yongji.

Power was like this—ebb and flow, when the enemy is strong I am weak. Once you’re at the winning point, as long as you’re strong enough and flexible enough, you needn’t fear your position being unstable.

Zhu Yushen sat high before the imperial desk, watching Shen Xi who was silent, quiet, even somewhat desolate in the hall. He suddenly spoke: “Bring wine.”

Under the bewildered gazes of everyone, he descended from the platform and walked step by step to Shen Xi, personally pouring a cup of wine: “Do you know why I summoned you to Jinshen Hall today and laid out all these causes and effects clearly?”

“Because I know you value loyalty and righteousness, with deep-seated pride in your bones. If I didn’t let you see through this entire situation thoroughly, you probably wouldn’t be able to settle your heart for the rest of your life.”

“Now that you’ve seen clearly and understood, you should know that with your strength alone, this situation is beyond saving. Moreover, you, Su Shiyu, and Shisan are actually all the same—what you truly value was never this imperial throne.”

“I don’t wish to break your proud spirit. Today I toast you first, hoping that even if you have unwillingness, you can let it dissolve in this wine. From now on, swallow it down. Even if it’s torment, endure it. The position of Minister of Revenue is yours, the position of first-rank Cabinet Minister is yours too. Based on merit, the title of Duke should also belong to you.”

“I preserve your official position and advance your noble rank not for any other reason but because though the war has ceased, it hasn’t ended permanently. Hidden dangers remain in the realm, people’s livelihoods await revival, circumstances are difficult, and the position of Minister of Revenue is too important. Under heaven, only you, Shen Qingyue, have the ability to do it well.”

As Zhu Yushen spoke, he extended the cup of wine forward.

The wine rippled slightly, radiating circle after circle of dark patterns.

It was good wine—even the scent made one feel its fragrance, its strength, its icy coolness.

Shen Xi looked at the wine. Slowly, he began to laugh, finding it more and more amusing, almost clutching his stomach. But suddenly, his laughter stopped abruptly. With a sweep of his sleeve, he knocked away the wine Zhu Yushen had offered, his eyes filled with bloodshot veins as he rasped: “You might as well kill me—”

All the palace attendants and ministers in the hall bowed their heads and knelt to the ground.

Guard Que Wu raised his sword to punish Shen Xi, but as he approached, Zhu Yushen raised his hand to stop him.

He looked calmly at Shen Xi, never speaking, until he watched Shen Xi’s expression gradually become desolate, become sad. Shisan was gone, Shiyu had also left, Second Sister had perished, Third Sister was said to have gone to guard Shisan’s tomb. And what about him? What should he do?

Shen Xi slowly turned and walked step by step toward the hall’s exit. For an instant, he found himself desperately hoping that guards would catch up and give his neck a sword stroke. That way he wouldn’t have to be trapped here anymore, wouldn’t have to be mired in grace and righteousness, love and hatred, and overt and covert schemes. Wouldn’t have to spin a cocoon around himself or draw a prison around himself. He was so sick of all this. He simply loathed it.

But there was nothing—behind him was only the vast wind, no one.

Not until Shen Xi’s figure disappeared from the platform steps did Shu Wenlan request instructions from Zhu Yushen: “Your Majesty, should we have someone follow and watch him? This minister fears Lord Shen—”

But Zhu Yushen shook his head: “No need. He’ll figure it out.” Then he added lightly, “Don’t underestimate him.”

Several palace attendants entered the hall to clean up the spilled wine. Zhu Yushen said to the assembled ministers: “All of you may leave.” Then to Wu Chang: “You may also withdraw.”

At some unknown time, the sun had already declined westward. Perhaps because of the former emperor’s recent passing, even though it was the evening of the thirtieth day of the year, heaven and earth were filled with desolate coldness.

Shu Wenlan descended the platform steps and slowed his pace. In just a moment, palace attendant Wu Chang caught up, performed a proper courtesy, and seeing no one around, lowered his voice. Walking half a step behind him, he said: “Young master, this old servant has already conveyed those words to Lord Liu as instructed that day.”

Shu Wenlan’s expression showed no ripples: “What did you say?”

“When mentioning Lord Su, I casually added a line: ‘His current Majesty is also feigning foolishness.’ But Lord Liu seemed unmoved, only responding with one sentence—he acknowledged it. I don’t know exactly what he was acknowledging. Whether he was acknowledging Lord Su’s resentment toward him, or acknowledging that with his great power, he would ultimately arouse the Emperor’s suspicion.”

Shu Wenlan fell silent for a moment: “And His Majesty’s side?”

Wu Chang said: “His Majesty is such a person of clear hearing and sharp vision. The other day when this old servant was attending him while changing clothes, I merely mentioned ‘When Minghua Palace first caught fire, Lord Liu had already arrived, saying he was inquiring about lamp oil matters.’ His Majesty wouldn’t let this old servant continue. It seemed he had already guessed that that person had been saved by Lord Liu, yet he too showed no reaction.”

At this point, he frowned: “This old servant has served three dynasty emperors and witnessed many imperial princes, dukes, and ministers. But these two—I truly cannot fathom what they’re thinking in their hearts. Young master, tell me, can we succeed in our endeavor?”

Shu Wenlan stood facing the setting sun, hands clasped behind his back: “It will be difficult.”