Meng Xizhao grew a little worried that the Emperor might simply be provoked to death. After standing up, he asked Cui Ye, “Where are the imperial physicians?”
Cui Ye replied, “Most are in the Imperial Medical Bureau. Imperial Attendant Duan is in the side hall.”
In the Great Qi, all imperial physicians were “physicians,” but not all physicians were imperial physicians. The director of the bureau—Imperial Attendant Duan—was, by definition, one of them.
The title “imperial” meant exclusivity to the Emperor and Empress. Anyone else wanting an imperial physician had to first obtain an imperial decree.
When the Emperor first fell ill, the entire Imperial Medical Bureau had been summoned. Nearly all imperial physicians had come. Later, when it was confirmed to be a stroke, some were puzzled—after all, the Emperor had always been in good health. How could he suddenly suffer such an illness?
Medicine was a profound discipline, like philosophy—endless and unfathomable. Even the director could not claim to understand every strange illness in the world, so such an inexplicable case was not entirely shocking.
Moreover, only physicians thought this way. For everyone else—from civil and military officials to common folk—the reaction was simple:
Ah. That curse has come true again.
How tragic. He survived past thirty-nine, but could not survive into his “no-confusion” years.
…
Once the Emperor’s condition stabilized, his treatment was handled by three men: Imperial Attendant Duan as chief physician, with two deputy attendants assisting.
In terms of skill, Duan was the most capable. Diagnosis and prescriptions all came from him; the others were little more than decorative.
At this point, since Cui Ye was not incompetent like some officials, he naturally noticed something was wrong.
So while others believed Cui Ye had done nothing despite bringing men into the palace, in truth he had done one thing:
He had placed Imperial Attendant Duan under soft detention.
Meng Xizhao asked, “What is his attitude?”
Cui Ye replied, “He says nothing, and dares not look at me. Likely already thinks of me as a beast in human form.”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Can’t blame him. Anyone would be frightened in this situation.
He sighed. “I’ll go see him.”
Cui Ye nodded, then added, “Imperial Attendant Duan is already of advanced age. Do not bully him too harshly.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
What kind of words are those?
Am I that kind of person?
…
At times, Meng Xizhao’s self-perception was slightly distorted—for example, he thought Cui Ye had an exceptionally good temper, and at the same time, he thought he was very gentle himself.
After frightening Imperial Attendant Duan to the point of tears and snot, Meng Xizhao quickly helped him up again and proceeded to persuade him with both reason and emotion.
His core argument was simple: it was not that they were plotting rebellion, but that the world truly could not withstand further turmoil.
He even told Duan about what he had seen during his journeys outside the capital—using those scenes to stir the old physician’s feelings.
Which medical practitioner had not once dreamed of saving lives and healing the world? Reaching the position of Imperial Attendant was the peak of a physician’s career. Yet confined within the palace, treating only one patient—the Emperor, of all people—was there truly no resentment in your heart, Imperial Attendant Duan?
Duan: “…………”
At over eighty years old, still sharp of mind and steady of hearing, he was practically a national treasure. The Emperor had appointed him precisely because of his vitality, hoping he could somehow transfer that resilience to him.
The old man knew perfectly well that Meng Xizhao was trying to persuade him—but still could not help following his reasoning.
Seeing this, Meng Xizhao pressed on.
“I am not asking you to do anything extra. The rest can be handled by us. You only need to focus on medicine.”
“After the Lantern Festival, His Highness the Crown Prince will issue an agricultural compendium to the entire realm. It will contain knowledge accumulated over years—farming seasons, fertilizers, seed breeding, agricultural tools. If the people follow it, grain production will increase significantly.”
“Imperial Attendant Duan, the Great Qi is truly entering better days.”
Duan: “…”
He looked at Meng Xizhao, hesitating.
Meng Xizhao smiled as if he could read his thoughts.
“Soon, there will be someone comparable to Jia Sixie in agriculture. Their names will be remembered by the people for generations. Since you walk the same path of saving lives and healing people, do you not also wish for your name to be recorded in history?”
“Not only agriculture and medicine, but also mathematics, physical training, and governance will all be written into books and reformed in the future.”
“I, Meng Xizhao, swear here to the heavens: the Crown Prince will be a wise ruler and a benevolent one. He has ambition, and he has vision. A prosperous age is already before us.”
He leaned slightly forward, voice steady.
“I sincerely hope Imperial Attendant Duan can ride this tide as well—and let your unparalleled medical skill benefit the entire world.”
The Duke-in-Charge, Duan, fell silent.
He could not keep up his dignified composure anymore.
His breathing turned heavy. That “cake” was simply too tempting.
He had completely forgotten that agreeing to Meng Xizhao’s proposal meant turning a blind eye to everything they were doing. Right now, he only had one question.
“But this will cost immense manpower and resources. If it is truly implemented, it will require enormous expenditure…”
Meng Xizhao smiled reassuringly.
“No need to worry. The national treasury is quite full at the moment. And even if it is emptied, with His Highness the Crown Prince’s benevolence, he will surely contribute the internal treasury as well.”
Duan: “…”
You say that as if the internal treasury already belongs to the Crown Prince.
The Emperor is still alive, isn’t he?!
Duan looked at Meng Xizhao with growing shock. This was clearly not something he had thought up today—it had been planned long ago, prepared in advance, waiting for the Emperor’s wealth to be spent.
Terrifying…
Shortly after, Meng Xizhao escorted Duan out. The old physician no longer dared to look at Cui Ye, nor even at Meng Xizhao himself, shrinking like a mistreated daughter-in-law. After confirming the Emperor was not in immediate danger, he left Huaning Hall under Zhang Shuogong’s escort.
As for where he would be taken afterward, Zhang Shuogong would make arrangements.
The hall was thick with medicinal stench—not the clean bitterness of herbs, but something fermented and foul, like medicine left to rot for days. It was also extremely hot. Even Meng Xizhao could not stand it, so after summoning Su Ruocun back, they both left.
Back at the Eastern Palace, once the doors were shut, Meng Xizhao finally relaxed.
Then Cui Ye sat beside him and asked, mildly, “I have ambition and grand aspirations?”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Cui Ye continued, “I care about the people’s livelihood and intend to compile reforms into texts?”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
He turned sharply, indignation written all over his face.
“You were eavesdropping! That is not the behavior of a good Crown Prince!”
Cui Ye replied calmly, “If I am destined to become a wise and benevolent ruler, why should I care whether I act like a good Crown Prince?”
They looked at each other in silence.
In the end, it was Meng Xizhao who cracked first. He gave a sheepish smile.
“These are minor matters. Let’s not dwell on them. Tomorrow is your big day—I’ve prepared something for you.”
He quickly slipped away.
Cui Ye watched his retreating figure and chuckled softly, not pursuing the matter.
Soon after, Meng Xizhao returned with a young eunuch carrying a large tray. On it lay a newly tailored Crown Prince’s ceremonial robe.
The Emperor had always treated Cui Ye poorly, and palace officials followed suit. Everything prepared for him was of the lowest standard. Across dynasties, the treatment of heirs varied—but what Cui Ye received was clearly the worst.
What Meng Xizhao had prepared, however, was so luxurious that even the robes worn by the Emperor when he was Crown Prince could not compare.
Normally, Crown Prince robes were red—bright red standard, deep red slightly off-mark. But this robe was so dark it was nearly black.
At a glance, it resembled a dragon robe.
Cui Ye stared at it for a moment, then asked, “When did you prepare this?”
Meng Xizhao shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. I’m the Crown Prince’s attendant—I manage the Eastern Palace. Making a robe is easy.”
He leaned in, grinning.
“Tomorrow, just wear this quietly. Then stun everyone.”
Cui Ye: “…………”
Stun, perhaps—but more likely terrify.
If he wore this, every official in the court would assume he could no longer wait, that he intended to seize the throne immediately.
Cui Ye did not understand. They had planned for so long—there was no need to rush. Acting too early would only create complications.
Meng Xizhao was usually careful, not someone who acted on impulse.
So he asked, “Why do you want me to wear this?”
Meng Xizhao paused, as if he had not expected the question.
He looked away slightly, a little awkward.
“Because… I think you would look good in it.”
Silence.
When Meng Xizhao looked back, Cui Ye was gone.
He froze. “Where is the Crown Prince?!”
The eunuch answered, “…He went to change clothes.”
＊
In the end, because Meng Xizhao had already satisfied his curiosity, Cui Ye did not insist on wearing that robe the next day.
On the following morning, he still appeared in ordinary court attire.
Now that he was beginning to show authority, he needed to demonstrate ambition carefully—but not so abruptly as to cause panic.
Meng Xizhao wanted him to gradually resemble the Emperor in subtle ways. Cui Ye, on the other hand, intended to start with favoritism.
So his first move was to grant Meng Xizhao another post.
In addition to Crown Prince Attendant and Magistrate of Yingtian Prefecture, he was now also appointed Left Remonstrance Gentleman—promoted and officially entering the Three Departments and Six Ministries, now qualified to participate in court deliberations.
Naturally, officials tried to object. While they did not dare openly oppose replacing the Emperor, they were very willing to suppress the Crown Prince’s authority. A weak Crown Prince was easier to control.
But Cui Ye did not yield even a step. He cited Meng Xizhao’s previous achievements, arguing that he had never been properly rewarded before—this was merely compensation.
And as for Meng Xizhao himself—he was shameless beyond belief.
At the mention of promotion, he immediately agreed with enthusiasm. If not for others stopping him in time, he would have bowed in thanks on the spot.
Do you even know how fast you are being promoted? Does any young official accept everything without hesitation like you? Have some restraint! This is the Great Qi court, not your personal marketplace! The entire bureaucracy is being ruined by people like you who don’t even know how to act modest!
…………
Actually, Meng Xi Zhao also felt like cursing in his heart. Being assigned three official posts at once—honestly, even a mule in a production brigade wouldn’t be worked this hard. Cui Ye hadn’t even discussed it with him at all; it was clearly retaliation for Meng Xi Zhao’s own move yesterday of acting first and reporting later. But in front of the civil and military officials, Meng Xi Zhao couldn’t openly oppose him. A man, after all, still had to save some face for him in public.
He would settle accounts slowly when they got back.
Cui Ye met Meng Xi Zhao’s murderous glare without changing his expression in the slightest.
The position of Prefect of Yingtian was, for their current situation, something that absolutely had to be held by one of their own. Meng Xi Zhao did not trust outsiders, so he would never hand it over. As for the position of Palace Attendant of the Crown Prince, Meng Xi Zhao was willing to relinquish it, but Cui Ye did not want him to. After all, Cui Ye was still residing in the Eastern Palace. Without that official post, Meng Xi Zhao would have far fewer reasons to come here to see him.
In this way, Cui Ye carefully weighed his options before deciding to additionally grant Meng Xi Zhao the position of Left Sanqi Changshi. Although it looked like a heavy workload, it could be distributed. For example, Cui Ye did not care who managed the internal affairs of the Eastern Palace under the Crown Prince Attendant position. He only wanted that position to serve as Meng Xi Zhao’s pass.
This was the first contest between ruler and minister. Even though Meng Xi Zhao was cursing inwardly, he still had to work hard to help Cui Ye secure victory. In the end, they naturally won. Seeing the Crown Prince elevate Meng Xi Zhao so highly, the officials all felt subtle emotions—some were uneasy, some were alarmed. This was only the beginning. Would he go on to promote Xie Yuan, Zhan Bu Xiu, and others, placing all his people into key positions?
Fortunately, after this matter was settled, the Crown Prince merely smiled and, as usual, continued to look at them with calm warmth.
Only then did everyone understand: this had been a warning as well as a signal. The Crown Prince was telling them that he was not a puppet, nor was he some easily manipulated fool like Emperor Tian Shou. From now on, in front of him, they should rein in their schemes.