Meng Xi Zhao opened his mouth, as though searching for something to say.
“This subject… encountered Grand Tutor Gan outside the hall.”
Emperor Tianshou: “……”
A fragile nerve in his mind twitched—but fortunately, it did not snap.
His expression already darkened slightly, but Meng Xi Zhao acted as though he did not notice and continued lowering his head.
“Grand Tutor was worried about Your Majesty’s health, his expression quite anxious. This subject knows I am not favored by Grand Tutor Gan, and I also know that Your Majesty has just recovered from serious illness and surely wishes to see only Grand Tutor Gan and the prime ministers. That is why I waited an entire day before coming to request an audience—only to find that I still happened to run into him.”
Emperor Tianshou’s already-fragile nerves were tugged again and again.
As for whether Grand Tutor Gan was anxious or not—he couldn’t see it. But he himself was certainly feeling increasingly agitated.
Yet as he listened to Meng Xi Zhao, he caught onto the unfinished implication and stared at him.
“You said Grand Tutor does not favor you?”
Meng Xi Zhao froze slightly, looking at the emperor with a confused expression, as if this were an obvious fact known to all.
“This… this is only natural. Before this, this subject had conflicts with—”
He paused briefly before finally finding a suitable identity for Qiu Sumin.
“With the convicted criminal Qiu Sumin. Because of that matter, even my father and elder brother were implicated. Later, when Qiu Sumin’s crimes were exposed, although this matter was not something this lowly prefect alone brought about, in Grand Tutor’s eyes, I likely cannot escape responsibility.”
The emperor’s gaze was becoming increasingly strange.
Meng Xi Zhao outwardly acted unconcerned, but inwardly he felt as though he were sitting on pins and needles, thinking that unless necessary, he truly should avoid coming here in the future.
He deliberately put on a slightly guilty expression, as though offending Grand Tutor Gan was something entirely natural.
But Emperor Tianshou’s thoughts were different.
In the emperor’s mind, Meng Xi Zhao was one of the rare reckless figures in the entire court—someone who seemed to fear no one or nothing. The Xiongnu prince? He dared to challenge him. The Nanzhao princess? He dared to deceive her. Even the powerful Three Departments Minister—he had the audacity to confront him directly in front of the throne.
And yet such a fearless man… was actually afraid of Grand Tutor Gan.
At that moment, the emperor suddenly remembered something else.
Indeed, he had never once seen Meng Xi Zhao speak ill of Grand Tutor Gan. Even when he clearly knew that Li Huai had been falsely accused, and that the Gan family was deeply involved, he still prostrated himself and pleaded only for Li Huai’s release—never once mentioning the Gan family.
At the time, the emperor had thought this was prudence, a man who knew when to act appropriately.
But now, Emperor Tianshou saw it differently.
It was not prudence—it was cowardice. It was timidity. It was the recognition that he could not shake Grand Tutor Gan’s position, and thus he could only submit and kneel.
In an instant, anger surged in the emperor’s chest. Half of it was directed at Grand Tutor Gan outside, and the other half—unexpectedly—at Meng Xi Zhao.
After all, he had spent his life indulging his own temper. Expecting him to admit fault was unrealistic.
Then the emperor’s voice, laced with sarcasm, rang out:
“The sentencing of Qiu Sumin—execution by dismemberment and confiscation of his household—that was my decree. By your logic, are you saying Grand Tutor Gan also disapproves of me?”
Meng Xi Zhao was startled and quickly looked up.
“How could that be! Your Majesty is the sovereign, Grand Tutor is a minister—how could a minister harbor resentment toward the ruler? Moreover, Your Majesty and Grand Tutor have been close for more than ten years. He is the state’s consort’s father, the maternal grandfather of the Sixth Prince—how could he resent his own family?”
At the words “state consort’s father,” Emperor Tianshou’s head began to throb.
“He is NOT any kind of consort’s father!!!”
The emperor shouted.
The voice struck like thunder, and Meng Xi Zhao immediately stiffened. If his posture had been even slightly off, he would likely have already fallen to his knees.
These past few days, the emperor had often been angry—but rarely like this, truly unrestrained. His body could not tolerate such intensity; after a surge of rage, he would quickly feel emptiness in his chest and a dizzy heaviness in his head.
Rubbing his temples, Emperor Tianshou still mulled over the phrase “maternal grandfather.” His thoughts twisted: Meng Xi Zhao meant that because he had married Consort Gan’s daughter and fathered the Sixth Prince, Grand Tutor Gan could not resent him… Consort Gan… the Sixth Prince…
Meng Xi Zhao carefully observed the emperor’s expression, then said softly:
“Your Majesty, please calm your anger. This subject has misspoken.”
Then, forcing himself into a strained smile, he continued:
“Since taking up this post as prefect, this subject has encountered new and strange matters every day. If Your Majesty does not mind, I could share a few—just as amusing stories.”
The emperor glanced at him. The look carried no clear meaning, but Meng Xi Zhao took it as permission.
He cleared his throat and deliberately adopted an exaggerated tone.
“When this subject first assumed office, I was overwhelmed by trivial disputes. But not every case was dull—some were quite amusing. For example, last month, I handled a case involving a widow…”
And thus, Meng Xi Zhao began speaking—calm, smiling, and weaving his words further and further into the emperor’s mind.
The Emperor of Heaven’s nerves were struck again and again.
As for whether Grand Tutor Gan was anxious or not, he could not see it—but he himself was certainly growing restless.
Yet as he listened to Meng Xi Zhao, he caught the unspoken implication and fixed him with a stare.
“You say the Grand Tutor does not favor you?”
Meng Xi Zhao paused, looking at him with a blank, slightly bewildered expression, as though this were an obvious matter known to all.
“This… this is only natural. Before this, this subject had conflicts with—”
He stopped briefly, then finally settled on a proper designation for Qiu Sumin.
“With the convicted criminal Qiu Sumin. Because of that matter, even my father and elder brother were implicated. Later, when Qiu Sumin’s crimes were exposed, although this matter was not accomplished by this minor prefect alone, in the eyes of the Grand Tutor, I likely cannot escape responsibility.”
The emperor’s gaze turned increasingly strange.
Meng Xi Zhao outwardly appeared unconcerned, but inwardly he felt uneasy, thinking he really should avoid coming here without necessity.
He deliberately showed a hint of guilt, as though offending the Grand Tutor was only to be expected.
But Emperor Tianshou’s interpretation was entirely different.
In his eyes, Meng Xi Zhao was a rare kind of reckless figure in court—someone who feared neither heaven nor earth. The Xiongnu crown prince? He dared to confront him. The Nanzhao princess? He dared to deceive her. Even powerful ministers of state? He dared to challenge them at court.
And yet such a man… actually feared Grand Tutor Gan.
At that moment, the emperor suddenly recalled something else.
He had indeed never once heard Meng Xi Zhao speak ill of Grand Tutor Gan. Even when he knew Li Huai had been wrongfully accused and the Gan family was involved, he still knelt and pleaded only for Li Huai’s release—never once mentioning the Gan family.
At the time, the emperor had thought this was prudence. Now, he saw it differently.
It was not prudence. It was fear. It was restraint. It was the recognition that he could not contend with Grand Tutor Gan’s power, and thus he had no choice but to submit.
Instantly, anger rose within the emperor.
Half toward Grand Tutor Gan outside. Half—unexpectedly—toward Meng Xi Zhao.
After all, he had always been selfish and willful; it was unrealistic to expect him to accept fault.
Then Emperor Tianshou’s voice turned sharp:
“The execution of Qiu Sumin—dissection and confiscation of his household—that was my decree. By your logic, are you saying Grand Tutor Gan also disapproves of me?”
Meng Xi Zhao looked startled and quickly raised his head.
“How could that be! Your Majesty is the sovereign, Grand Tutor Gan is the subject—how could a subject resent the ruler? Moreover, Your Majesty and the Grand Tutor have been close for over ten years. He is the state consort’s father, the Sixth Prince’s maternal grandfather—how could he resent his own family?”
At the words “maternal grandfather,” the emperor’s head began to throb.
“He is NOT any kind of maternal grandfather!!”
The emperor roared.
Meng Xi Zhao stiffened immediately, nearly kneeling on instinct.
The emperor’s condition had been unstable these days, but rarely had he erupted like this. His body could not bear such agitation; once the anger rose too high, he would quickly feel drained and dizzy.
Rubbing his temples, he suddenly fixated on the phrase “maternal grandfather.” His thoughts spiraled: Meng Xi Zhao meant that because he had married into the Gan family and fathered the Sixth Prince, Gan could not resent him… Gan family… Sixth Prince…
Meng Xi Zhao carefully observed the emperor’s expression and then said softly:
“Your Majesty, please calm your anger. This subject spoke improperly.”
Then, forcing a strained smile, he added:
“Since taking office as prefect, this subject encounters strange matters every day. If Your Majesty does not mind, I could share a few—just as stories for amusement.”
The emperor glanced at him. The look carried no clear intent, but Meng Xi Zhao treated it as permission.
Clearing his throat, he began.
Thus, the tale of the “widow case” unfolded.
By the end, the emperor coldly remarked, “Ignorant woman.”
Meng Xi Zhao immediately praised him: “Your Majesty is wise.”
Then, smoothly, he added the concluding twist—that the widow had discovered the truth, confronted her servants, escaped after being beaten and bound, and finally rushed to the prefectural office to file a complaint.
The emperor listened and nodded faintly. This matched his understanding of the foolish masses.
Meng Xi Zhao laughed lightly, then added, as if reflecting:
“Truly, when I heard this, I found it quite amusing…”
He continued speaking, carefully steering the conversation until the emperor’s attention shifted entirely.
But when Meng Xi Zhao later mentioned that, by extension, everyone in the realm was the emperor’s household servants, the emperor’s mood darkened again.
And when Meng Xi Zhao attempted a final, cautious reassurance before leaving, the emperor abruptly snapped and ordered him out.
Meng Xi Zhao retreated immediately—but once outside Huanning Hall, his anxious expression vanished.
On his way out, he did not linger near Grand Tutor Gan. He left without looking sideways, calm and composed.
But this only made Grand Tutor Gan more uneasy.
Unable to wait, Gan demanded to see the emperor again.
Inside the hall, Emperor Tianshou—still thinking of the “ignorant widow”—heard the request.
And suddenly, something in his mind shifted.
A widow deceived by servants… servants seizing property… and Grand Tutor Gan, though not stealing his wealth, constantly leveraging his favor and authority to pressure him…
Then, another memory surfaced—Gan’s daughter, Gan Jingyue, and the past arrangements for the palace selection…
Bit by bit, suspicion began to grow.
And for the first time, the emperor wondered:
Had he been the one trapped in someone else’s scheme from the very beginning?
Now Emperor Tianshou had become something like a philosopher—questioning everything he possibly could.
……
He firmly told Qin Feimang that he did not want to see Grand Tutor Gan. If that old man insisted on forcing him, then let him stand outside. Freeze to death for all he cared.
In the past, Emperor Tianshou would only say “I will not see him,” no matter how unpleasant his tone was. It was still just a simple refusal. But now, he had actually spoken the words “freeze to death and I won’t care.” That alone stunned all the palace attendants.
When had the emperor ever treated Grand Tutor Gan like this?
Good heavens. The world really was changing.
＊
Grand Tutor Gan had no idea what was happening inside. He only saw an inner attendant stiffly come out to deliver the message: His Majesty did not wish to see him, and even if he waited until nightfall, it would be useless.
The attendant still, out of concern for his status, spoke very tactfully. The shocking phrase “freeze to death and I won’t care” had not been conveyed. Thus Grand Tutor Gan remained unaware of just how deep Emperor Tianshou’s disgust had become—and that he was now someone best kept as far away as possible.
Thinking of Meng Xi Zhao’s triumphant smile, Grand Tutor Gan refused to leave. He had become stubborn in turn. He simply did not believe it—His Majesty had once treated him almost like a father. How could he now truly let him stand outside indefinitely?
So he stood his ground.
And after a short while, he did not see the soft-hearted emperor—but instead saw the Crown Prince approaching slowly.
The Crown Prince had changed. His presence was far stronger now. The same ceremonial procession, yet Grand Tutor Gan somehow felt he carried himself with more vigor than before.
Only after looking closely did he realize what had changed.
It was the people behind the Crown Prince.
Their expressions were no longer numb. Their backs were no longer hunched in fear of being found at fault. The Crown Prince now looked more and more like a true heir apparent—and those around him had straightened their spines as well, finally carrying themselves with the dignity of the Eastern Palace.
Grand Tutor Gan watched them pass and spat inwardly.
Leaning on power.
＊
Having already come once in the morning and again at noon, Emperor Tianshou was deeply unsettled by the Crown Prince’s sudden diligence.
But to call it “diligence”… it was not exactly that. The Crown Prince only asked Qin Feimang about the emperor’s medication and whether he had eaten lunch. If he had not, he would persuade him to eat more—but he did not attempt to stay and dine with him.
Yet even this level of behavior made Emperor Tianshou extremely uncomfortable.
He could believe that Wen Shiji and Su Ruocun were truly loyal to him. But he could not believe the Crown Prince was the same.
For over ten years, the Crown Prince had never shown him any sign of filial affection.
The emperor’s mind, already in a fragile state, was now prone to extremes. Words he would not normally say came out without restraint. He directly told the Crown Prince to stop putting on such an act—there was no such thing as fatherly affection or filial piety in the imperial family.
The Crown Prince’s face went pale at those words.
He closed his eyes, as though the sentence had struck him deeply—not because it was false, but because he did not wish to look at the emperor’s face any longer.
When he opened them again, his head was slightly lowered, avoiding direct eye contact.
His voice came out strained.
“Your son… understands. In Father Emperor’s eyes, I am not a good prince. I only wish for Father Emperor to recover, rather than slowly… like the others. I know my mistake. I beg Father Emperor’s forgiveness.”
Meng Xi Zhao’s fake crying relied on tricks—staring, irritation, forcing tears.
But it was still fake. There was moisture, but no emotion.
The Crown Prince was different.
He had a talent he had never shown before: he could express overwhelming sorrow without shedding a single tear. One glance was enough to make someone’s heart tighten—even if that someone was his enemy.
Normally, he never used it. There was no need, and he did not like appearing weak. But today, for Meng Xi Zhao’s request, he had gone all in.
Emperor Tianshou had always believed the Crown Prince was like his deceased mother—stiff, stubborn, and difficult. Even his gentle appearance did not change that impression.
But this moment of raw emotion was far more intense than anything the emperor had ever seen from concubines or ministers.
And it struck deeply.
Even without a single tear, the emperor understood why he was so pained.
Because he had thought of his mother.
Empress Xie had passed away from illness. The emperor had not cared much at the time, and had not known how the Crown Prince had felt.
But now, he saw it clearly.
Twenty years.
Cui Ye had been born twenty years ago.
Only today did Emperor Tianshou feel, with sudden clarity:
So this… is my child.
＊
While the Crown Prince was competing for an invisible “Oscar,” Meng Xi Zhao had already left the palace and returned to the Residence of the Prime Minister.
He had not been back for several days. Upon arrival, he first sent supplements to the County Princess. She was four months pregnant now; if the child was carried to term, the timing would be quite favorable.
Meng Xigang was still on duty. Meng Jiuyu was also busy—the emperor had “laid down his burden,” and although nothing had technically changed, the workload had indeed increased. These days he barely returned home except for palace visits and official duties.
As a high-ranking official, he could bring work home.
Knowing Meng Xi Zhao would return today, Meng Jiuyu had already taken his place in the study, working while waiting for his unfilial son.
Meng Xi Zhao pushed the door open.
The moment he saw his father, he beamed.
“Father, good news!”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
Please stop with your good news. Every time you say that, I feel my heart stop for half a night.
Meng Xi Zhao caught the resistance on his face and quickly said, “It really is good news. Father, your chance has come.”
“The chance to clear the title of ‘number one great treacherous minister in the world.’ It has arrived.”
Meng Jiuyu remained unmoved, continuing to read the memorials with his head lowered.
Meng Xizhao looked at him in surprise. “Such a huge piece of good news, Father, why aren’t you reacting at all? You should be rejoicing. Once your reputation is cleared, Jiaojiao can get married, and after Big Brother’s child is born, they won’t have to endure people pointing at their backs anymore.”
Meng Jiuyu: “……Jiaojiao not being able to marry has nothing to do with me! Clearly it’s your mother—”
Meng Xizhao blinked, watching him freeze mid-sentence with a stiff expression.
Sweating now, aren’t you, Father? The real thoughts just slipped out.