"If Eldest Brother persists in this delusion, even I as your younger brother cannot help you."
Prince Chu was still struggling to maintain the last shred of dignity before Song Yu.
But his facade was utterly torn apart by Song Yu's next words: "Third Brother, if you had someone as capable as Shen Qingping under your command, would you treasure them or discard them in disgust? If even you wouldn’t spurn such a person, why do you dare criticize this prince’s actions?"
The Shen Qingping of today was no longer the profligate of the past.
Now holding authority over both the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of War, and recently appointed as a third-rank Minister of Rites, it was only a matter of time before he took control of the Ministry of Rites as well.
A man who commanded three of the six ministries...
Who wouldn’t want him under their banner?
And if one were fortunate enough to win him over, who wouldn’t treasure him dearly?
Prince Chu’s ears burned crimson with shame and fury. His attempt to secretly sow discord between Shen Qingping and the Qin Prince's Mansion had been exposed in broad daylight. With no choice, he stormed off toward the palace in a huff.
Outside the Purple Palace Hall.
"Your Highness Prince Chu, His Majesty says he is unwell and cannot receive too many visitors. Please return to your residence for now."
At Wu Qi’s words, Prince Chu’s face seemed to split open with humiliation.
Watching as Wu Qi cheerfully ushered Song Yu and Song Shihuan into the Purple Palace Hall, Prince Chu felt his vision darken. Song Yanhong, quick to react, steadied him.
"If His Majesty is unwell, this prince shall take his leave."
As he departed, the sound of Emperor Yuanyou’s hearty laughter echoed from within the hall. Prince Chu’s eyes reddened. "Yanhong, remember the humiliation we suffered today."
Born of the same blood—why must we endure such disparity in treatment?
......
Inside the hall.
Emperor Yuanyou had already heard of Song Yu and Song Shihuan’s "glorious exploits" earlier that day. Now, seeing father and daughter before him, his expression was one of radiant satisfaction.
As for Prince Chu? The emperor had no desire to lay eyes on such an unfilial son.
"I heard our A-Huan took action today? Were you hurt? Do your hands or feet ache?"
At the emperor’s words, Song Yu, long accustomed to this, quietly sat to the side, seizing every available moment to study.
"Imperial Grandfather, your granddaughter is fine." Song Shihuan blinked. "And as for those who sided with Censor Han during the New Year’s banquet—I made sure to hit them a few extra times."
Before long, Song Shihuan had Emperor Yuanyou laughing heartily.
After the meal, the emperor kept stealing glances at Song Yu, silently calculating the odds of successfully keeping A-Huan in the capital once he left the city.
Wu Qi, sensing the emperor’s thoughts, raised an eyebrow.
He’d have to discreetly remove the valuable porcelain from the Purple Palace Hall in the coming days—just in case.
After all, when these imperial father and son clashed, even the emperor’s shoe soles weren’t spared.
......
News of the day’s events had also reached the Shen residence.
Listening to the vivid retelling by his servant, Shen Qingping’s lips never once lost their upward curve.
He could easily picture the young mistress delivering a few well-placed strikes.
And the prince’s infuriatingly smug demeanor that left others seething but powerless to retaliate.
"Cough—cough—"
A fit of coughing interrupted his thoughts. Shen Qingping tightened his cloak, feeling an unnatural chill seep into his bones. His face had grown noticeably pale.
"Third Master, you don’t look well. This servant will fetch the physician at once."
"Call him quietly. Let no one know." Shen Qingping coughed again. "It’s just a minor chill. A few doses of medicine will suffice. No need to trouble His Highness or the young mistress."
If outsiders learned of his illness, wouldn’t they secretly rejoice?
That thought alone was enough to make him sick with frustration.
Yet by nightfall, Shen Qingping was burning with fever.
The physician kept vigil in his courtyard through the night, as did the gray-templed Shen Mingwen and Lady Shen.
"Husband, Qingping has grown so thin." Lady Shen dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "He is my youngest—the child I risked my life to bring into this world. All I ask is that he remains safe and healthy."
Even when the world had scorned her son as a wastrel in years past, she hadn’t cared. So long as he was upright in character, official rank mattered little.
Shen Mingwen’s eyes, too, brimmed with sorrow as he clasped his wife’s hand.
"Madam, the boy has been under immense strain these past months. Now that His Highness and the young mistress have returned, his tension has finally eased—hence this illness." Shen Mingwen’s gaze never left his son’s fevered form. "Perhaps falling ill is a blessing. Only through balance can one endure."
"That His Highness and the young mistress protect him is our child’s fortune."
A wise bird chooses its perch. Shen Mingwen knew—his son had chosen well.
......
At dawn the next day, Shen Qingping awoke to two faces hovering alarmingly close.
"You alive? Back when you drank till dawn in pleasure houses, you never looked this pathetic. Don’t tell me you’re angling for compensation?"
At Song Yu’s words, the warmth swelling in Shen Qingping’s chest evaporated instantly.
He’d been wrong to expect anything resembling kindness from His Highness.
And now the prince had the audacity to dredge up his past indiscretions in front of the young mistress!
"Your Highness, I beg you—do not lick your lips." Shen Qingping pushed himself upright.
"Why not?" Song Yu frowned.
"I fear you might perish from your own venom."
Song Shihuan burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she ducked her head.
Song Yu rolled his eyes and motioned for Shen Qingping to rise. "Seems you’ll live. Up you get—those memorials won’t read themselves. The Ministry of Rites isn’t going to seize itself either."
"Once, I said I would enlist you, Shen Qingping, as my strategist."
Straightening, Song Yu’s voice took on a new gravity.
"Today, I revise that statement."
"If this prince achieves his ambitions, you, Shen Qingping, shall be my Chancellor."
Second only to the sovereign, above ten thousand subjects.
In that instant, Shen Qingping’s eyes blazed with dazzling brilliance.
"Teacher, A-Huan believes in you!"
As swiftly as they’d come, Song Yu and Song Shihuan departed—a long list of adversaries awaited their attention.
Too many to count, truly.
Though their visit was brief, for Shen Qingping, it proved more potent than any miracle cure.
Half an hour later.
Shen Mingwen nearly leapt from his seat at the sight of his still-pale son. "In this bitter cold, you could’ve summoned your father! Must you risk another chill—"
His scolding died as Shen Qingping interrupted:
"Father. His Highness said—if he ascends the throne, he will appoint me as Chancellor."
Shen Mingwen’s beard trembled. Twin tears traced the wrinkles of his face.
"Good. Good. Good."
He, Shen Mingwen, had climbed to the rank of Grand Tutor, believing it the pinnacle of their family’s glory.
Never had he imagined...
That the Shen name might one day produce a Chancellor.
