Nearby were one or two drinking companions slightly more sober, who quickly restrained him saying, “Watch your words, watch your words, Zhou Chang, you’ve frightened the Earl of Shangcai.”
The drunken Zhou Chang just laughed loudly. “Frighten him of what? Since ancient times, who doesn’t die? If you ask me, the Earl of Shangcai has good fortune—at least he already knows how he’ll die. Unlike us, not knowing when we’ll die or how—that’s the true great terror.”
Having been pushed away, he had been half-sprawled on the ground to begin with, and now simply collapsed completely, spreading his arms and legs in a large character shape on the floor. Not caring that his head was outside the mat, he stared wide-eyed at the roof beams above, his eyes containing a sorrow others couldn’t see. “In these times, death is not to be feared. What’s fearful is dying without any value.”
“The first-class way to die is dying for the nation. The second-class way to die is dying for righteousness. The third-class would be dying for clan, dying for family.” He glanced at Zhao Ji with envy. “The Earl of Shangcai and Minister Zhao are hostages in Yuncheng—at the very least you’re dying for your clan. Being able to die in this third-class manner, this life can be considered without shame.”
He continued, “Unlike us—think about those who left with Prince Donghai, so many talented people, dying so senselessly under Shi Lei’s hands. Their deaths served no purpose for the nation, for the sovereign, for the people of this world—wasteful deaths, wasteful deaths…”
Zhao Ji’s head buzzed loudly. Throughout the whole exchange he heard nothing else, just the word “death.” He stumbled and staggered running home, wanting to ask his father what exactly they had come to Yuncheng for. Were they really here to be hostages for Zhao Hanzhang?
He had always thought they were forced into this situation, both he and his father.
Wu Shi had been driven to death by Zhao Hanzhang, his children forced to be sent back to Xiping. He thought their father and son’s task was to use the Emperor’s authority to seize the Zhao clan and Zhao family army back from Zhao Hanzhang’s hands. He thought…
He had many thoughts, but looking at it today, nothing was as he had thought.
But when he got home and saw Zhao Zhongyu looking as if he’d aged ten years, and watched him working at his desk with furrowed brows, he suddenly didn’t dare speak. He feared receiving a confirmed answer from his father’s mouth.
So Zhao Ji had never spoken it aloud, but inwardly he had already unconsciously accepted what Zhou Chang said.
Especially after Ming Yu left, he became even more certain—his father had no intention of seizing the Zhao clan back from Zhao Hanzhang’s hands. Instead he was helping her, helping her gather talented people, contend for power and profit.
And in all this, his father not only hadn’t informed him, but had actually concealed it from him.
Zhao Zhongyu turned to look at him, his lips finally pressed tight. He stepped forward, standing beside the bed and staring down at him. “Do you know how many aristocratic families have been exterminated since Emperor Hui ascended the throne? Do you know how many prominent families have scattered and fallen apart in the three years since the new Emperor took the throne?”
Zhao Ji was shocked into retreat by his interrogation, his back hitting the bed board as he became tongue-tied and speechless.
Zhao Zhongyu’s gaze grew increasingly sharp, his expression more solemn. He stared intently at his son. “Let me ask you—three years ago, how did the Zhao clan compare to the Wei clan? And today, how does the Zhao clan compare to the Wei clan?”
“Our Zhao family holds only an earldom, granted the single county of Shangcai. The Wei family held the fief of Lanling as Duke of Lanling. Even when Prince Donghai wanted to expand his own fief and re-granted Wei Jiao as Duke of Jiangxia, the Wei family’s power and reputation still exceeded our Zhao clan.”
“When your elder uncle lived, he could barely hold on. With his good reputation, the world knew of the Xiping Zhao clan. But once he passed, how many in this world could still remember the Xiping Zhao clan? When clan youth were graded for official appointments, how many could still benefit from this reputation?”
“The Wei clan had Wei Jiao and Wei Jie, two brothers. Three years ago, between the Zhao clan and Wei clan, who would favor the Zhao clan more?”
“But now, Wei Jie took his mother and clansmen south to preserve the family—there’s been no word since. Those clan members who stayed with Wei Jiao by the Emperor’s side scattered, and now only Wei Jiao and one or two branch families struggle to hold on. Without Zhao Hanzhang, without the Zhao family army, do you think the Zhao clan’s days would be any better?”
The reason Zhao Zhongyu compared the Zhao family to the Wei family was because Zhao Changyu and Wei Jie’s grandfather Wei Guan had an extremely good relationship. When Zhao Changyu was alive, the two families could be considered family friends.
Wei Guan was older than Zhao Changyu but happened to serve at court together. During Emperor Wu’s reign, Zhao Changyu opposed Emperor Hui’s succession, proposing that Emperor Wu establish a different crown prince. At that time, Wei Guan was the crown prince’s teacher.
But even this teacher felt the crown prince was too simple-minded and didn’t agree with him inheriting the throne, joining with many court officials to propose changing crown princes.
Unfortunately, Emperor Wu was obstinate.
Once, Wei Guan got drunk and, pretending to see poorly, shot an arrow toward the crown prince, thereby making an enemy of Emperor Hui and Empress Jia.
After Emperor Hui ascended, Empress Jia framed him, nearly exterminating his entire clan. Though it didn’t come to that in the end, many died unjustly.
At that time, Zhao Changyu was also on the purge list, but he was observing mourning for his mother and had taken his family back to Xiping early, avoiding disaster.
Later the Wei family was vindicated and returned to public view, but their clan power had been severely weakened.
When Zhao Changyu lived, the Zhao family had him, so their power and reputation slightly exceeded the Wei family. But once Zhao Changyu died, the Zhao family’s direct line had no outstanding sons to show.
Zhao Zhi died young, Zhao Ji’s reputation was ruined by losing the coffin, Zhao Yi had no notable reputation, Zhao Erlang was a fool. The Wei family, however, had the famous Wei Jie, and though Wei Jiao wasn’t as handsome as his younger brother, his calligraphy was also admirable—both brothers had reputations.
Who wouldn’t think the Wei clan’s future prospects must exceed the Zhao clan?
Yet in just three short years, everything had turned upside down. The Wei clan had scattered while the Zhao clan still stood firmly on the land of Yuzhou. No one would easily assert now that the Zhao clan ranked below the Wei clan.
Seeing his son’s face pale white and speechless, Zhao Zhongyu straightened up and said coldly, “So, for the sake of the clan, you must be this hostage whether you want to or not!”
“If you want to live longer, mention Zhao Hanzhang less while you’re here. If you don’t mention her, not many people will remember you’re a hostage.” Having said this, Zhao Zhongyu turned and left.
Reaching the doorway, he summoned the servants attending Zhao Ji and instructed, “Serve him well as he recovers from his injuries. Don’t tell him about outside affairs. Before his injuries fully heal, don’t let him leave the house.”
The servants acknowledged.
Zhao Ji lay in bed, his chest heaving violently, his mind in chaos like a brain full of mush, unable to think anything through.
Ming Yu, who had been sent to Luoyang, had a very clear mind and good spirits. The road was mostly wilderness—only occasionally could one glimpse a bit of human habitation, and with few people at that. Scattered about working in the fields, they looked even fewer.
But Ming Yu would still occasionally stop, dismount from his carriage, and walk toward the fields.
Yuan Li and the others escorting him didn’t stop him either. He told them to stop and they stopped. Zhao Ming had instructed them to follow Ming Yu’s directions along the way.
In the fields, millet was being harvested.
Ming Yu walked to the fields. A person bent over cutting grain heard the movement, looked up, and seeing someone carrying swords, immediately watched them warily. “Who are you people?”
He made a show of force, brandishing his knife. “The garrison isn’t far from here. If we shout, the troops can come right over.”
Ming Yu smiled warmly. “Old sir, don’t misunderstand. We’re just passing through. Under this blazing sun, we don’t have enough fresh water, so we wanted to borrow some from you.”