Li Jianheng never spoke of his birth mother—she was his nightmare. Lady Le, his mother, held no rank among the consorts; she was a lowly palace maid. The registers recorded only her surname, Le, and nothing else.
When Li Jianheng was still an infant, Empress Dowager Lu of the Xiande era had taken him into her palace. Yet her care was minimal: feeding him and providing clothing. His ignorance now stemmed from those early years—no one ensured he studied, and he spent his time playing with eunuchs.
He had no mother or noble consort—only a wet nurse.
The wet nurse was accustomed to the whims of Xiande’s personal eunuchs, and she treated Li Jianheng harshly. She would groom him neatly each day, but at night he often woke hungry. When he complained to his elder brother, Li Jianheng would see Xiande explode at the eunuchs, who would then scold the wet nurse. The next day she would serve him cold meals and glare, never striking him but wielding her words like knives. Li Jianheng learned early to keep his complaints to himself. Yet in his fumbling speech, he had already mastered a string of crude curses.
The wet nurse told him that his mother was a lowly palace woman, hidden away after conceiving secretly. She was kept inside the courtyard for years, sickly and half-dead, dreaming daily of seeing or speaking to her son.
When Li Jianheng was five, Emperor Guangcheng came to Empress Dowager Lu’s palace to examine Xiande Emperor Li Jianyun’s studies. Li Jianheng was playing with a cricket in his hand and was called over—his first encounter with his biological father.
The emperor asked him some characters.
Li Jianheng clutched the cricket, afraid to look at Guangcheng, stammering and unable to answer properly.
Guangcheng deemed him foolish. At five years old, unable to speak well or perform ritual properly, shy and small, he showed none of the bearing expected of royalty.
Li Jianheng wanted to speak but was terrified. He cried during the long questioning. That cry caused Guangcheng to utterly disdain him, and that first meeting became the last. Only after the emperor left did Li Jianheng realize he had accidentally crushed the cricket in his palm.
Li Jianyun pitied his weak younger brother. Then still healthy, and the most favored prince after the crown prince, he petitioned Guangcheng to teach Li Jianheng.
Li Jianheng met his brothers, all indulged and pampered, but he realized they were not truly his siblings. They mocked him, enforced rituals, made him kneel. He did not understand; while the brothers needed not bow, he did as they instructed, yet no eunuch or maid came to help him.
Only when the crown prince and Li Jianyun were present did harmony appear. Li Jianheng, knowing little, said nothing; gradually, he stopped attending school, feigned illness, avoided lessons. Li Jianyun deemed him hopeless and eventually gave up.
Once, Li Jianheng crawled through a small tunnel with eunuchs. Young eunuchs laughed quietly and gave him sweets from the pantry. Like a little dog, he wagged at the few candies. In that tunnel, he found many things he had never eaten, and he saw his mother.
He did not recognize Lady Le.
The eunuchs teased him, prompting him to call Lady Le a “sickly weakling.” She leaned against the wall and wept; he found her strange, frightening, and almost wanted to cry along.
Back with the wet nurse, he was scolded. One night, while sneaking out to urinate, he overheard the wet nurse having an affair with the same eunuch. He was caught mid-act, but the wet nurse, afraid he would tell, began giving him more sweets, pampering him daily. Among them was a rare silk tiger-eye candy. He cherished it, following Li Jianyun closely, sharing the treat.
From that year, Li Jianyun’s health declined; he eventually could not study.
Lady Lu investigated the palace diet, found nothing, and wept all night for Li Jianyun. Doctors came and went, but he never recovered.
The wet nurse stopped giving Li Jianheng candy. When he insisted, she told him that the sickly woman in the Eastern Garden had reported him, forbidding more sweets. Li Jianheng longed for silk tiger-eye candies, resentful of the sickly woman. The wet nurse told him he could have more only if he filed a complaint to Lady Lu, claiming the sweets originally came from her.
Li Jianheng dared not speak to Lady Lu, so he secretly told Li Jianyun, who lay on the couch listening. In that moment, Li Jianheng saw his elder brother as a father figure.
One night, the wet nurse woke him and led him out. From behind the curtains, he heard splashing sounds. Li Jianyun lay on the couch, beckoning him.
Li Jianheng ran over.
The sickly woman, half-naked, was repeatedly pressed into a bucket of waste water, choking and gasping, nails scraping the wood.
Li Jianyun held Li Jianheng, silent. He was frightened, repeatedly glanced back at Li Jianyun, but Li Jianyun did not smile, so he dared not either.
The woman was pressed into the bucket, gurgling in pain, scratching frantically, nails filthy and broken.
Li Jianheng saw her but could not remember her face. The sound “splash, splash” haunted his memory. The wet nurse was tall and healthy—he disliked her. In the future, the women he chose were either petite or delicate.
Li Jianheng also grew to dislike water, thinking it filthy.
After that night, the wet nurse treated him kindly; Li Jianyun treated him kindly. No one mentioned his studies. Li Jianyun no longer enforced writing practice. Eunuchs accompanied him to play. Li Jianheng was free. He played until asleep, and when he reached his teens and moved into his own residence, Li Jianyun sent him many beauties. Li Jianheng tasted pleasure, understanding indulgence in beauty, and became irreversibly addicted.
Years later, he finally realized the sickly woman had been Lady Le.
“My mother is the current Empress Dowager!”
Li Jianheng’s fingers trembled. He repeated it to Xi Hongxuan and himself, chanting it like a madman.
Xi Hongxuan, sniffling, listened and smiled. “Your Majesty, if everyone thinks so, the Empress Dowager’s dignity must be respected. Now she… sigh. She lacks a son!”
Li Jianheng gasped, chest aching. “I… I know!”
“I doubt you do,” Xi Hongxuan said.
“Who gave you the audacity to speak to me here?” Li Jianheng demanded.
“Men speak best when facing death,” Xi Hongxuan said through blood-stained lips. Spitting, he continued, “Today, you and I cannot leave. There is no emperor or minister—just rats in a pit, waiting to drown! What kind of emperor are you? Before, Xiao Er was lifted onto the Dragon Throne, and you flattered him like an ancestor. Remember? You were always his master—he risked his life to save you, deservedly! Parents, elders, and children don’t owe each other that kind of gratitude. The Xiao clan, emboldened by the Northern Cavalry, are arrogant. Decades ago, even under Emperor Guangcheng, such chaos didn’t happen. Watching you, I’m furious! Being emperor to this extent—what is it like? Better I roamed the salt flats as a merchant, carefree. You endure this humiliation—better to drown with me now.”
He spoke a long while, teeth gritted in pain. Listening to Li Jianheng’s sobs, he choked up himself.
“Your Majesty…” Xi Hongxuan said sincerely. “My mother was a woman of Qinzou, lowly-born, favored by my father only due to her parents’ schemes. I, as second son, lived without dignity. At eighteen, I braved the seas to beg for survival. Why? My parents favored my elder brother, leaving me nothing! Later, I was injured at sea, recovering for months in Qinzou. Now fat and formidable, I was once handsome. Before departure, I loved a woman, promised marriage, but upon return, she had wed another—my true sister-in-law. Xi Gu’an, my elder brother, cared for me and my woman—what a brother! I thank him all my life!”
In the cramped, damp pit, Xi Hongxuan cried and laughed.
“I thank him all my life! Your Majesty, who is not to be pitied? You pity me—so you let me be prime minister? You pity Xiao Er—he became the celebrated governor. Who pities you? If Xiao Er had true heart for you, could Xiao Jiming speak so boldly before the court? No, that was bullying! And look at Shen Ba—fathered by Shen Wei, the prison was brutal. At fifteen, in Ji Lei’s hands, skinned and tortured. He survived, but look at him now—already a ghost. All are pitiful—if you pity them all, how can you rule? Remember: men act for themselves; heavens and earth punish the idle. Your Majesty, ignore talk of your birth mother’s lowly status. You are Li; I am Xi—that suffices! Life has rank and station. Kings, generals—merely fools’ tales. You are Li Jianheng, born above Xiao Chiye! The Xiao clan dares nothing; you command the hearts of the people! Raise your arm, who dares defy? This is the Son of Heaven!”
This is the true Son of Heaven.
Li Jianheng felt enlightened. In the damp, filthy pit, he first understood who he was. Tears ran down as he recalled the past—all seemed wasted until now.
Xi Hongxuan, refusing to miss the moment, continued, voice strained: “Do they mock your ignorance, your fear of death? Everyone fears death! Until a blade touches your neck, words flow easily. Once it does, nine times out of ten, one soils oneself! You are emperor, not artisan. Scholars from the Imperial Academy can advise you on learning. Ministers exist to counsel you. You are emperor—you are an emperor!”
“I am emperor…” Li Jianheng shivered, repeating, “You are right—I am emperor.”
Xi Hongxuan, seeing the moment ripe, finally exhaled.
Who dares risk so much! Manipulating the Lotus Flower Tower—if it collapses, and the water rushes in, no proof remains, and all blame falls on Xi Hongxuan. Failure to control Li Jianheng could mean dismissal—or worse—from the Bureau of Censors. New Ministry of Revenue officials would be replaced; Hai Liangyi could even execute them.
Xi Hongxuan, in the filthy water, carefully considered the network of people. He neither wanted to die nor be exiled. Having finally overthrown Xi Gu’an to reach his position, encountering Li Jianheng as a rare, capable “master,” he had to survive.
Hurry.
His lips pale from blood loss, he muttered prayers.
Xue Xiuzhuo, Hai Liangyi, Shen Zechuan, even Xiao Chiye—any would suffice—just bring the emperor out. Li Jianheng must not die here, or everything Xi Hongxuan had done would be lost.
Just as Xi Hongxuan neared unconsciousness, a thunderous crash overhead shook the pit, debris tumbled, and foul water surged. Sounds blended with the pounding rain.
Xi Hongxuan nearly wept with relief. He heard Li Jianheng hoisted, heavy timber lifted by the Imperial Guards.
Water reached Xi Hongxuan’s waist. He reached out, shouting, “Help—!”
Xiao Chiye looked down. The cold surge reached Xi Hongxuan’s chest, yet he did not lift him.
“Xiao Er…” Xi Hongxuan gritted his teeth, hatred and desperation. Water rose over his head; he struggled, choking on filth.
When Xi Hongxuan was finally pulled up, mouth full of foul water, he clutched Xiao Chiye’s arm, neck craned, gasping curses, “Y-yo-u, f-f-ck… your, m-mother!”
Xiao Chiye shoved him down; mud and water filled his mouth and nose. The suffocation forced frantic clawing, yet he could not move Xiao Chiye’s iron grip.
Though filled with intent to kill, Xiao Chiye could not. Reinforcements had yet to withdraw, and Li Jianheng emerged fully conscious.
Grabbing Xi Hongxuan by the collar, Xiao Chiye leaned close. “Say it again—loudly.”