When Lan Ningcheng went to Prince Yi’s bedchamber as usual that morning, he found it empty.
Today was Xiao Ying’s scheduled day off. Lan Ningcheng had assumed that His Highness would sleep until well past midmorning. After all, Xiao Ying had been forced to report to the Imperial Clan Court early every morning lately, and at night he invariably remained alone in his study until the small hours.
Lan Ningcheng keenly sensed that something was amiss.
He checked several other places before finally noticing that the prince’s carriage was missing from its usual spot. When he asked the gatekeeper, he learned that Xiao Ying had left for Shuyu Pavilion at first light.
Lan Ningcheng’s brows drew together slightly, but he said nothing. He merely instructed the servants to inform him when Prince Yi returned, then turned to attend to the routine affairs of the residence.
He made his way to Xiao Ying’s study.
This room contained Xiao Ying’s private intelligence network and important documents. Servants were never permitted to enter and clean it. For the past two years, Lan Ningcheng had always handled its upkeep personally.
Three walls were lined with huanghuali rosewood bookshelves. They appeared to be filled with a dazzling assortment of volumes, but most were popular fiction, illustrated albums, travelogues, poetry, and literary collections.
Not a single book of the Confucian classics or histories could be seen. This was not because Xiao Ying was ignorant or uneducated. Rather, books representing the duties of a prince were never displayed so openly in this room.
A painting by a renowned artist hung on the wall: a misty, rainy landscape of Jiangnan, a gift from Consort Wan to Xiao Ying.
It depicted Jiangnan in the third month of spring, shrouded in mist and rain.
In the distance, a few light strokes of ink formed a continuous range of shadowy mountains. In the foreground stood a village of white walls and black-tiled roofs, half concealed by the rain and mist.
A stone bridge stretched across the water. Beneath it floated several small, flat-bottomed boats, their bows slightly raised, as though they had just rowed out of the rain—or were about to disappear into it.
A few willow trees stood along the bank, their branches drooping so low that they nearly reached the water.
The falling rain had been rendered stroke by delicate stroke in the faintest ink, dense but never disorderly. The entire painting was enveloped in a thin veil of grayish-blue moisture.
In the lower-right corner was a short inscription bearing the signature of a renowned Jiangnan artist from a previous dynasty.
Xiao Ying had once said that when Consort Wan gave him the painting, she had offered only one sentence:
“This is what it looks like.”
She had not explained what it meant.
But Xiao Ying knew.
It was her Jiangnan.
The misty rain of the third month, the white walls and black tiles, the creaking of boat oars beneath the stone bridges.
It was the century-old loquat tree she had climbed as a child, the osmanthus cakes her mother had steamed over the kitchen stove, and the sensation of raindrops drifting through her boudoir window and falling onto the strings when she was learning to play the konghou.
It was also the homeland to which she could never truly return.
Xiao Ying had never left the capital.
He had grown up in the imperial palace, and after coming of age and receiving his princely title, he was forbidden to leave the capital without an imperial decree.
The farthest place he had ever visited was the imperial hunting grounds on the outskirts of the city.
The closest thing he had ever seen to Jiangnan was this painting.
Sometimes, late at night, Xiao Ying would stand before it for a long time.
The rain in the painting never fell beyond its borders, and the boats never reached the shore.
Through a thin layer of silk, he gazed at a Jiangnan he could never reach.
Lan Ningcheng shifted his gaze from the painting to the rosewood desk inlaid with mother-of-pearl. His eyes narrowed slightly.
The brushes, ink, and inkstone were neatly arranged, all perfectly clean.
There was no trace of ash in the incense burner.
Every dossier and sheet of paper had been sorted into its proper category and stacked in orderly piles.
Everything was so tidy that it seemed no one had touched the room at all.
But Lan Ningcheng knew perfectly well that, lately, Xiao Ying had spent every night sitting here alone until late into the night.
In the past, the scene he encountered had usually been something like a storm having swept through the desk. Crumpled sheets of xuan paper lay scattered everywhere. Unfiled dossiers pressed down on books that had not been returned to their shelves. Sometimes, even a teacup lay overturned.
Back then, Xiao Ying’s mind could tolerate the disorder because he knew exactly where everything was.
Now, however, the things in the study were beginning to fall into perfect order.
Lan Ningcheng’s gaze shifted to the wastepaper basket. It was completely empty, without a single discarded letter or sheet of paper covered in mistakes.
Yet at the very base of the bronze candlestick lay a tiny trace of dark paper ash that had not burned completely.
The things in the study were beginning to fall into perfect order.
The prince who usually tossed his belongings and clothes wherever he pleased had somehow become so disciplined.
But to Lan Ningcheng, this was by no means an entirely good sign.
His first thought was not that Xiao Ying had finally learned to behave himself.
It was that Xiao Ying was building a wall.
Something was undergoing a profound transformation somewhere beyond Lan Ningcheng’s sight.
He raised a cloth and wiped away the trace of ash.
Before leaving, he took one last look at the study, its cleanliness almost painfully conspicuous. Then he turned away and silently closed the door.
It was not until the afternoon that Lan Ningcheng received word that Xiao Ying had returned to the residence.
He went to the Xuanhua Waterside Pavilion, where the sound of a konghou reached him from a distance.
Few people played this instrument nowadays. Xiao Ying had been influenced by Consort Wan from childhood and was highly accomplished at it. He had once performed at a royal banquet and even received a reward from the Emperor.
But today, the music sounded very different from usual.
The pieces Xiao Ying normally played tended to be lively and spontaneous, infused with the carefree abandon of a man who indulged in romance and pleasure.
Today, however, the melody seemed shrouded in layers of drifting mist. It was oppressive and sluggish, making it impossible to discern what lay beneath it.
Lan Ningcheng waited outside the waterside pavilion. Only when the piece had ended and its lingering notes had faded did he step forward.
Sensing footsteps, Xiao Ying drew his gaze away from the pond and looked up at the newcomer.
Lan Ningcheng’s eyes briefly swept over the untouched cup of tea on the table, long since gone cold, before settling on Xiao Ying’s face.
For a while, neither man spoke. They simply regarded each other in silence.
At last, Xiao Ying broke the silence with a hint of helplessness in his voice.
“Chief Steward Lan, what is it this time?”
In the past, Lan Ningcheng had never been one to beat around the bush. He would immediately report whatever needed attention and swiftly deal with the relevant official business.
After two years together, Xiao Ying knew perfectly well that when this man fell silent, he was far more terrifying than when he spoke.
Especially now, when those usually unnervingly composed eyes were fixed on him without the slightest break.
Xiao Ying mentally reviewed his activities that morning. He did not think he had caused any trouble today… had he?
Lan Ningcheng did not ask him anything directly. After a moment, he finally spoke in an even tone.
“Your Highness.”
“Hmm?”
“You weren’t like this before.”
Xiao Ying’s fingers paused as he plucked the strings.
“Like what?”
“You used to throw your things around everywhere.”
“…”
Xiao Ying was silent for a moment before laughing in disbelief.
“Isn’t that a good thing? Weren’t you always nagging me about my lack of manners?”
Why did Lan Ningcheng seem unhappy now that he had stopped tossing things everywhere?
“Your Highness also used to talk a great deal,” Lan Ningcheng continued.
A flicker passed through Xiao Ying’s eyes as he looked at him.
“I still talk plenty.”
Lan Ningcheng glanced at the untouched cup of cold tea on the table.
“Whenever you returned from outside, even if someone had told a joke that wasn’t funny, you would bring it back and repeat it to me word for word.”
“…”
“But now, I don’t even know what you ate for lunch today or whom you went to see.”
He knew that although Xiao Ying appeared to spend his time enjoying himself, his mind had always been working beneath the surface.
He used to bring seemingly useless little things back and share them with Lan Ningcheng. Sometimes, they were not even important pieces of intelligence.
For example: “That fellow surnamed Zhao at the poetry gathering was bragging about owning an ancient painting from the previous dynasty again. Turns out it was a fake.”
Or: “That young master of the Wang family got drunk and actually started cursing his own father-in-law.”
Back then, Lan Ningcheng would clean up the resulting mess while lazily replying, “Your Highness certainly remembers quite a lot today.”
This had been their everyday routine.
What bothered Lan Ningcheng was not that Xiao Ying had stopped sharing important matters.
It was that he had stopped sharing even his nonsense.
Xiao Ying finally understood what this fellow was unhappy about.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and a trace of authority entered his voice.
“Lan Ningcheng, are you suggesting that I must report every single thing I do and say each day to you in meticulous detail?”
Lan Ningcheng did not avert his gaze from those imposing eyes. He met them openly and without hesitation.
“I do not know what Your Highness has discovered recently at the Imperial Clan Court.”
“But there is one thing I do know. In the past, whenever Your Highness returned from outside, you would tell me all sorts of useless nonsense.”
Lan Ningcheng’s tone remained calm, yet there was an almost imperceptible stubbornness beneath it.
“And I actually rather enjoyed listening to those things.”
Xiao Ying froze.
The spring breeze swept past the copper bells hanging beneath the eaves, setting them ringing with a clear, crisp sound.
He looked at Lan Ningcheng’s eyes. They were still as devoid of warmth as ever, yet utterly frank, unchanged from every single day over the past two years.
A wave of helpless bitterness suddenly rose in Xiao Ying’s heart.
He knew that the person who had truly changed was not Lan Ningcheng.
It was himself.
After a moment, Xiao Ying spoke softly.
“Today was my scheduled day off. You had left two invitations for me, so I went to see Yuexi. As for the young master from the Vice Minister’s family, I couldn’t be bothered to entertain him, so I threw his invitation away. I had lunch at Shuyu Pavilion. I ate drunken fish slices, emerald shrimp, and braised pork with dried bamboo shoots…”
He paused.
“The fish was quite good.”
Lan Ningcheng frowned.
“…That’s all?”
Xiao Ying raised an eyebrow.
“What else?”
Lan Ningcheng lowered his eyes, concealing the emotions in them.
“Then I understand.”
He did not press further, because those few pieces of nonsense had proved that his prince was still there.
Xiao Ying glanced at him, then stood up and said calmly, “As for everything else… let’s talk in the study.”
The two men went to the study.
Lan Ningcheng immediately instructed the personal guards to stand watch outside the courtyard and prevent anyone from approaching. Then he closed the door and gently set down the freshly brewed tea that a servant had prepared.
The light inside the room was somewhat dim.
Xiao Ying stood before the painting of Jiangnan in the misty rain, his back to Lan Ningcheng. His voice was so low and solemn that he seemed like an entirely different person.
“Chief Steward Lan.”
“I am here, Your Highness.”
“Have you ever considered…” Xiao Ying did not turn around. “What if one day you discovered that the person you believed you trusted most was not necessarily the person you thought they were? What if the world you saw was not what you had always believed it to be… would you still believe in it?”
Lan Ningcheng knew that Xiao Ying must have discovered something.
“What did Your Highness see at the Imperial Clan Court?”
Xiao Ying closed his eyes. Those immaculate dossiers, without a single discernible flaw, appeared in his mind.
“I saw… a web.”
He took a booklet from a hidden compartment and tossed it to Lan Ningcheng.
Lan Ningcheng caught it and quickly flipped through the pages.
This was a set of handwritten notes Xiao Ying had compiled each night. He had committed the information he discovered at the Imperial Clan Court to memory, then transcribed and organized it afterward.
The notes contained records of the deaths of princes, imperial consorts, and maternal relatives of the royal family across successive generations.
Every death had a clearly documented cause.
The names of the physicians who had treated the deceased, the officials who had examined the bodies, and the people who had handled the burial were all recorded.
There were complete records of those responsible for investigating each case as well.
The downfall of maternal relatives was always explained by plausible reasons—loss of political favor, corruption, illness, accidents, or factional struggles.
Some cases even ended with conclusions such as “no abnormalities found” or “insufficient evidence.”
“If you extend the timeline far enough, you start to see something different.”
Xiao Ying turned around, his eyes filled with a profound chill.
“Why is it that whenever something happens, the people responsible for investigating it always belong to the same few categories? Why are the officials who examine the bodies always transferred elsewhere afterward? Why is it that when certain maternal relatives first begin to lose power, several people connected to them are replaced at the same time?”
This was not simply a matter of someone killing people.
Someone was controlling what happened after a person died.
It was a system of procedures and rules that had been operating for a long time.
A web that was plainly visible, yet somehow no one had noticed it.
His Imperial Father might not be the master of this web.
If his father had only just discovered its existence, how much did he actually know?
But if his father had known about it all along… why had he never done anything?
Xiao Ying could not help wondering:
Was the Emperor truly ruling this imperial palace, or was he merely ruling within the boundaries the palace permitted?
“This does not look like the work of a lone assassin. It may not even be a group of people collectively guarding a single secret.”
Xiao Ying turned around, his eyes filled with a profound chill.
“It looks more like a procedure that has been operating for a very long time. The people responsible for recording deaths classify murders as deaths from illness. The examiners make sure the autopsy results show no abnormalities. The people in charge of personnel transfers move the relevant palace servants away and replace them with new ones. Finally, those who manage the dossiers arrange everything into a flawless, neatly concluded case.”
“The most terrifying part is not that the evidence has been destroyed. It is that the evidence left behind is itself an answer someone has carefully prepared.”
He had once thought that pruning meant a single person wielding a pair of shears to cut away members of the imperial family.
But in reality, it might be a group of gardeners.
Each held a pair of shears, and each trimmed the part assigned to them, without having anything to do with the others.
Xiao Ying gave a self-mocking laugh. There was something chilling in the realization behind it.
“In the past, I thought my Imperial Father’s suspicious nature was simply a matter of temperament. Now I understand. If a person cannot even be certain whom the people around him—the ones who pour his tea, write his documents, and investigate his cases—are truly serving, then suspicion is not an illness. It is the only way to survive.”
“I also finally understand why my imperial uncle has stayed out of politics for decades, living like a blind and deaf tortoise. Because if he were neither blind nor deaf, he would have to die.”
“Even if I uncover the truth and obtain the evidence, if I hand it to my Imperial Father, will I really get the outcome I want?”
Xiao Ying stared steadily at Lan Ningcheng.
“If my father ordered the old cases to be reinvestigated today, and the Imperial Clan Court, the Ministry of Justice, and the Court of Judicial Review all investigated them together, what would the result be? They would simply submit a lie even more perfect, even more airtight, than the original one.”
“The people caught in this web might not even know whom they are serving. Perhaps they believe they are simply ‘protecting imperial authority’ or ‘following ancestral rules.’”
He had thought that as long as he found the root of the problem, he could bring the whole thing down.
But now he had discovered that even if he found the root, bringing it down would still be incredibly difficult.
Within this vast web, he did not have the time to verify, one by one, who could be trusted.
Xiao Ying approached him step by step. The peach-blossom eyes that had once been so flirtatious and carefree now held a layer of confusion.
“You once told me that if I ever wanted that position, you would support me with all your strength. But if I really sat on the throne, and the eunuchs, chief stewards, and guards around me all claimed to serve the imperial authority… how would I know whether they were loyal to me, Xiao Ying, or merely to the position of ‘Emperor’ itself? Or perhaps they were all two-faced, saying one thing while thinking another!”
“If even the memories and history of this imperial palace can be controlled, then whom can I still trust?”
Xiao Ying realized that even he himself had spent the past nineteen years living within boundaries set by others.
It was as if he were a sheep raised inside an enclosure, unaware that he was being kept there. All he could do was gaze up at the small patch of sky he could see, believing it to be the whole world.
“This realm… whose sky does it truly belong to?”
Standing before the abyss of imperial power, what he saw was himself—even if he managed to ascend the throne, he might already be a figurehead, powerless to accomplish anything.
Lan Ningcheng looked at him.
He did not immediately kneel like a loyal minister and swear to the heavens that he would remain forever faithful to His Highness.
Because he knew that, to Xiao Ying in his current state, any easy oath would seem cheap and suspicious.
Instead, he simply met Xiao Ying’s gaze calmly and spoke slowly.
“Your Highness, you are asking the wrong question.”
Xiao Ying furrowed his brows.
“What is wrong with it?”
“The question you are asking now is, ‘Who can be trusted?’”
Lan Ningcheng’s voice was as steady as an anchor holding fast against the sea.
“If one day you truly sit on that throne, you cannot concern yourself only with who is on your side. A ruler may ask whom he can trust, but he cannot govern a country by relying on that question alone.”
“What you should be asking is this: ‘If someone is not on my side, can I still make use of them?’”
Xiao Ying’s brows knitted tightly together.
“If I know that a minister has ties to another faction, how could I possibly dare to employ him?”
“Of course you can employ him.”
Lan Ningcheng’s tone was unhurried.
“You simply need to examine whom he is connected to.”
“What if he is connected to the enemy?”
“Then examine what he has gained from the enemy.”
“What if he wants to harm me?”
“Then make sure he has no opportunity to drive a blade into your heart.”
Lan Ningcheng answered steadily.
“Subordinates are never simply black or white. The truly dangerous people are not those who have personal interests of their own. They are those whose personal interests the ruler does not know about.”
Lan Ningcheng walked over to the desk and looked at the intelligence reports Xiao Ying had sorted into separate piles.
“Your Highness has been putting everything in order these past few days because you have begun dividing your intelligence into separate parts. That is the right approach. Trust is not a matter of having it or not having it. It is a matter of layers. Ordinary officials know the routine business. Trusted civil advisers know the overall direction. Military commanders know the troops and their deployments. Spies receive information through separate, individual channels.”
“But, Your Highness, dividing information into layers is not enough. Your enemies are also using layers to conceal the truth.”
Lan Ningcheng turned around, his gaze sharp.
“That is why you also need cross-verification and checks and balances. Intelligence must not travel along a single channel. The people investigating a case must not be allowed to decide the verdict themselves. The person who controls the seals must not also control the archives. And the people in charge of personnel appointments must not be allowed to decide who investigates their own subordinates.”
Xiao Ying stared at the chief steward before him.
His words were like a sharp blade cutting through the fog.
“Perhaps Your Highness has considered killing everyone in this web and replacing them all, without leaving a single one behind.”
Lan Ningcheng seemed to have seen straight through his thoughts.
Xiao Ying narrowed his eyes slightly but did not deny it.
“Would that not be the right thing to do?”
“Replace them with whom?” Lan Ningcheng countered.
“You know they are problematic now because you investigated the matter yourself. After replacing them, who will investigate the people you have just appointed? What if the new people also have their own interests? Replace them again? Kill them again? By the time you finish, how many people in the court will still dare to do their jobs?”
His tone grew more emphatic.
“People make mistakes. People change. Power becomes corrupt. If all you know how to do is kill people and replace them, what you will end up with is not a clear and honest court. It will be a deadlock in which no one dares to act.”
“A ruler’s task is not to find a group of people who will never betray him, nor to find a system that will never make mistakes. It is to ensure that whenever something goes wrong, there will still be someone capable of seeing it.”
Lan Ningcheng looked directly into Xiao Ying’s eyes and spoke each word distinctly.
“True maturity in governance means achieving this: even if someone around you betrays you, the country itself will not collapse along with them.”
Lan Ningcheng held his ruler’s gaze.
“An emperor who trusts only himself is the one most likely to be trapped inside his own field of vision. He may be able to see, yet he is worse off than a blind man.”
Lan Ningcheng knew that all the princes had received their education at Yunlu Academy. Only the Crown Prince had been assigned the Three Tutors of the Crown Prince to teach him the art of imperial rule. This was standard practice.
As a result, Xiao Ying had been taught only the Way of Loyalty to the Sovereign and the Art of Serving as a Minister.
Not a single teacher at the academy would ever have dared to tell Xiao Ying these things so plainly. Even in books, certain passages were deliberately skipped or even removed.
Xiao Ying remained silent for a long time.
He still did not want that position.
It was too exhausting, too filthy, and certainly not the life he wanted.
But only today had he truly understood, for the first time, that if one day he were forced onto that throne, what he needed to learn was never how to make everyone loyal to him.
It was how to ensure that even when some people were disloyal, the game could still continue.
Xiao Ying looked at Lan Ningcheng and suddenly curved his lips into a teasing smile. His tone regained some of its usual nonchalance.
“You’re not afraid that once I learn all this, I’ll use it against you first?”
For once, a faint, composed smile appeared at the corner of Lan Ningcheng’s mouth.
“Of course I am afraid. But if Your Highness ever begins to suspect me, please do not tell me.”
He looked at Xiao Ying, his gaze utterly serious.
“If I ever do something that betrays Your Highness, you would be better off investigating me thoroughly before I realize you have become suspicious.”
Xiao Ying watched him silently.
“If I teach Your Highness to trust only me,” Lan Ningcheng said softly, “then that would be a true failure. I would not be teaching you the art of imperial rule. I would merely be raising a prince who cannot make decisions without his teacher standing beside him.”
Outside the study, the spring breeze continued to blow.
But within these closed doors, Xiao Ying knew that the eighth prince who had always believed he could remain uninvolved as long as he stayed far enough away and cared little enough had reached a point from which there was no return.
There were paths he did not want to take.
But not wanting to walk them did not mean those paths would never one day be forced beneath his feet.
And just now, Lan Ningcheng had illuminated a small portion of the road ahead.
The path was still full of thorns and peril.
After a moment, Xiao Ying dropped back into his chair, leaned against the backrest, and resumed his usual leisurely expression. He reiterated firmly:
“Whoever wants that wretched position can have it. I absolutely refuse.”
He was not insane. Why would he willingly take a position that required exhausting his mind and energy, while forcing him to suspect everyone around him every single day?
Lan Ningcheng glanced at him and calmly poured him a cup of hot tea.
“I know.”
“If you know, why did you go on and on about it?”
“That is precisely why I need to teach you first.”
Lan Ningcheng gently pushed the teacup toward him, his voice calm and certain.
“What if one day, Your Highness has no way to escape?”
Xiao Ying’s hand jerked to a halt as he held the teacup. The tea nearly spilled over.
He stared in horror.
“Are you trying to scare me to death?!”
Yet his mind had already begun turning uncontrollably along the path Lan Ningcheng’s words had opened.
If the Crown Prince really fell, the throne would inevitably become the subject of renewed competition.
By then, whom would the powerful ministers and aristocratic clans in the court want to place on it?
It certainly would not be someone like Prince Su, Xiao Yuan, who held military power in his hands and might decide to settle accounts with them at any moment.
They would want a puppet they could easily manipulate.
Looking around the entire capital, who appeared to be “wealthy, without powerful maternal relatives, greedy for pleasure, and easy to control”?
Was it not their eighth prince, Xiao Ying himself?
Xiao Ying sucked in a sharp breath and thought to himself in alarm: No! To eliminate even the one-in-ten-million possibility of being forced into a corner and shoved onto the throne, I have to find someone to take this hot potato off my hands as quickly as possible.
He certainly did not want his imperial brothers to slit his throat on the very night of his coronation.
“Ahem… Last night, I observed the stars and saw an unusual radiance rising from Yaoguang. Its force lay in the north, pressing toward the Ziwei Star.”
Xiao Ying set down his teacup. A glimmer passed through his eyes as he settled on the perfect candidate.
Lan Ningcheng raised an eyebrow. He was not surprised in the least. He could see exactly what kind of scheme his master was plotting.
Yaoguang was the star of Po Jun, the seventh star of the Northern Dipper.
In other words, the seventh prince.
“From what I can see, that Yaoguang star flickers between bright and dim. It seems rather unstable.”
“Although the investment risk is indeed high, there are no better options.”
Xiao Ying pursed his lips. A sharp, clear light shone through his peach-blossom eyes.
“At least there is one thing about Seventh Brother that I value most: he does not need to rely on those aristocratic clans to sustain himself.”
He could hardly invest in the third or fifth princes. Those two would definitely turn against him as soon as they took the throne and send him straight to his death.
As for the other princes, Xiao Ying found their intentions harder to read. At first glance, they seemed uninterested in the throne, but who could say whether one of them was acting just as he was?
Following Xiao Ying’s line of thought, Lan Ningcheng objectively outlined the political situation at court.
“Prince Su’s abilities are certainly exceptional. But in the eyes of the court officials, his greatest disadvantage is his birth. His birth mother came from the ranks of the palace maids. He has no powerful maternal relatives, and His Majesty has never favored him. Although he has earned military merit over the years, very few people in the capital are genuinely willing to speak on his behalf.”
Lan Ningcheng looked at Xiao Ying.
“In the eyes of conventional society, none of this can compare with the Crown Prince’s claim to legitimacy. Do you think he can bear the weight of the throne?”
“Isn’t that all the better?”
Xiao Ying gave a cold laugh and leaned forward slightly. His peach-blossom eyes were bright with keen understanding.
“No maternal clan means no maternal relatives to constrain him. No connections at court means he owes no favors to the great aristocratic families and cannot be controlled by them. Do you really think Seventh Brother has spent these past few years in the northern frontier merely ‘guarding the borders’?”
Lan Ningcheng raised an eyebrow.
“I would be delighted to hear your reasoning.”
“First, Linbei City.”
Xiao Ying raised one finger.
“That military city lay abandoned for twenty years. Even Father Emperor was unwilling to spend a fortune rebuilding it back then, yet Seventh Brother restored it. If his only purpose were border defense, there would be plenty of other places where troops could be stationed. Why Linbei City in particular? Given its location… I suspect he wants more than just a city. He is building a northern military command center with himself at its core.”
Linbei City had once been the foremost military city in the region. It controlled the three major routes through the northern frontier and served as an important gateway into Dasheng from the north.
Xiao Ying knew that Xiao Yuan had not suddenly decided to rebuild the city on a whim. Such a project could not be completed overnight. It required enormous financial and human resources.
He would not believe for a moment that Xiao Yuan had not been planning this for a long time.
“Second, thirty thousand troops.”
Xiao Ying raised a second finger.
“The court believes that sending him to the northern frontier was simply a way for him to guard the borders on Father Emperor’s behalf. But when a prince commands thirty thousand soldiers on the northern frontier, those thirty thousand men are no longer merely a number in a military report. He has a city, an army, advisers like Xia Lanshi, the northern frontier’s commercial routes, and the intelligence network of Tingxue Pavilion. Most importantly, all these resources can reinforce one another.”
Although Xiao Yuan had no faction of his own in the capital, he had already established a power structure in the northern frontier that did not depend on the capital.
The irony was that the Emperor had adopted a policy of conferring princely titles without granting substantial fiefs, imposing layer upon layer of restrictions to prevent the princes from rebelling.
But Dasheng had enjoyed peace for many years, with few major wars.
Only the northern frontier remained in a state of prolonged conflict. The fighting had continued back and forth for more than a century, and the front lines had gradually pushed southward.
By coincidence, the Emperor had sent Xiao Yuan to the northern frontier for a variety of reasons, yet Xiao Yuan had unexpectedly managed to hold the line.
From then on, Xiao Yuan had gradually accumulated a power base of his own in the north.
Xiao Ying paused, his gaze growing more profound.
“What I find most interesting is the third point—Linzhou.”
Lan Ningcheng’s eyes narrowed slightly. He did not interrupt, waiting for Xiao Ying to continue.
“Those old foxes in the Ministry of Revenue have deliberately delayed the northern frontier’s provisions for years. You and I both know that. The northern frontier has constantly complained about food shortages, too.”
Xiao Ying’s long fingers tapped lightly against the rosewood desktop, producing a steady tok, tok.
“‘Short of food’ and ‘completely cut off from supplies’ are two different things. If Seventh Brother truly depended on that single supply line from the court, the northern frontier would have collapsed into mutiny long ago. But he has managed to hold on. That means the Ministry of Revenue has long since lost the ability to keep him in check.”
A faint smile touched Xiao Ying’s lips.
“The Governor of Linzhou is one of Father Emperor’s men. Yet grain from Beiming Port, which falls under Linzhou’s jurisdiction, is still moving north.”
He lifted his eyes to Lan Ningcheng.
“The Governor of Linzhou is loyal to Father Emperor, but that does not necessarily mean all the grain in Linzhou is controlled by people loyal to Father Emperor. The actual resources in Seventh Brother’s hands are far greater than the capital realizes. Of the three northern frontier provinces, parts of Hanzhou and Linzhou have already settled into obedience under Seventh Brother. As for the remaining province, Cangzhou… its governor is a shrewd man. At present, he is probably still holding back and waiting to see which way the wind blows.”
After hearing this analysis, Lan Ningcheng did not immediately agree. Instead, he deliberately pointed out its weaknesses.
“Your Highness’s reasoning is sound, but it remains reasoning. Linbei City could be nothing more than a military arrangement. Thirty thousand soldiers could simply be the northern frontier garrison. The grain moving through Beiming Port might merely mean that the Governor of Linzhou does not dare offend Prince Su. As for Hanzhou and Cangzhou, their behavior could be nothing more than normal administration.”
Lan Ningcheng poured him a little more tea.
“When these matters are put together, they certainly warrant suspicion. But they are still insufficient to prove that Prince Su has ambitions for the throne.”
Xiao Ying fell silent.
“Your Highness originally began gathering evidence of the Eastern Palace’s crimes and investigating these cases to protect yourself.”
Lan Ningcheng looked directly into his eyes.
“What about now?”
“If the Crown Prince really falls, at least there must be evidence to show the court officials why the Eastern Palace can no longer occupy that position.”
Xiao Ying gazed at the closed window, his eyes distant and complicated.
“Since someone has to sit in that wretched position, Seventh Brother taking over would be the best outcome for the realm and for me. I might as well clear the road for him in the capital ahead of time. That would be far better than having those old fossils force an imperial robe onto me one day.”
“But has Your Highness considered one problem?”
Lan Ningcheng asked, “What if Prince Su has absolutely no intention of claiming the throne, despite everything you do?”
Xiao Ying fell silent for a moment.
He certainly could not send a letter directly asking, “Seventh Brother, do you want to be Emperor?”
That would be equivalent to handing someone evidence that could be used against him.
Nor could he travel to the northern frontier, and Xiao Yuan could not casually return to the capital.
They had no ordinary channel through which to communicate.
Xiao Ying picked up the cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and took a small sip.
“Does Seventh Brother truly have no ambition… or does he simply have no need to let anyone know that he does?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and a cool smile played at the corners of his lips.
“Still, these are only my guesses.”
Xiao Ying set down the teacup.
“So I need to keep watching. If he truly has no interest in the throne, then clearing the road for him will at least remove one potential source of trouble for me. But if he does have ambitions…”
His peach-blossom eyes no longer held the purely frivolous expression of the past. Instead, a profound light shone within them.
“Then all the more reason to clear the road properly.”
Lan Ningcheng did not reply.
He knew that his prince had already reached his own conclusion.
Lan Ningcheng watched him for a moment before suddenly speaking softly.
“Your Highness.”
“Hmm?”
Lan Ningcheng said calmly, “You are no longer merely looking for someone to take that hot potato off your hands.”
Xiao Ying looked at him in confusion.
Lan Ningcheng met his gaze directly.
“You are preparing to make sure that person is ready to catch it.”
Xiao Ying remained silent for a long while, then shot him an annoyed look.
“I’m just afraid of getting burned to death.”
“I know.”
“That’s why I’m finding someone to take it in advance.”
“I know that, too.”
“…”
The corners of Lan Ningcheng’s mouth lifted slightly as he added, “It’s just that the person in question… doesn’t seem to know yet that Your Highness is already looking for a pot to put him in.”
He wondered what expression Prince Su would wear if he learned that a younger brother was secretly scheming behind his back, trying to force that scalding imperial robe onto his shoulders.