Chapter 141

The Crown Prince, surrounded by attendants, returned to the Eastern Palace. Zhang Shou Gong waved his hand, and the others hurriedly retreated with bowed heads.

Cui Ye stood motionless, watching their departing backs.

A change in status could shake a person’s mentality dramatically. Some recovered quickly, others never did. But Cui Ye was neither of those types.

To him, humanity itself was simply noisy. Even silence could feel loud.

Cui Ye: Annoying. Irritating.

In a sense, he was no different from his ancestors—none of them were particularly normal.

Still carrying the faint incense from Da Xiangguo Temple, Cui Ye walked quickly toward the inner hall. Yu Fu Lan stood outside the door in thought. When he saw Cui Ye return, he opened his mouth, but only managed an awkward smile.

Cui Ye paused slightly. He had already sensed something unusual.

Without further delay, he stepped inside.

Yu Fu Lan and Zhang Shou Gong remained outside. Yu Fu Lan shook his head slightly, signaling that it was better not to ask anything now. They would understand soon enough just from listening to what came from inside.

Inside the room, Meng Xi Zhao sat holding a cup of tea, taking a slow sip. Across from him, Cui Ye stood stiffly beside the gauze curtains, not moving for a long time.

Meng Xi Zhao said nothing. He simply lowered his gaze, drank another sip of tea, and then glanced sideways at the two wedding robes hanging behind him.

Cui Ye: “……”

He had been exposed.

For a moment, he felt a rare flicker of nervousness. But his psychological resilience was strong. Even in this awkward, almost desperate situation, he managed to maintain composure. Apart from a slightly prolonged silence, there was no visible loss of control.

After a long pause, he walked forward naturally and sat down opposite Meng Xi Zhao.

“This was supposed to be a surprise,” he said.

Meng Xi Zhao replied calmly, “The surprise is for me. The joy is for you.”

Cui Ye paused. “…Even so, I would only feel joy if you accepted my wish first.”

Meng Xi Zhao glanced at him again. His fingers lightly traced the rim of the teacup. Then he turned his head once more toward the robes hanging behind him.

“Did you have the Ministry of Imperial Attire make two sets of men’s wedding robes,” he asked slowly, “and did they not faint from shock?”

Just from that sentence alone, Cui Ye already knew where this conversation was heading. He had prepared himself, but hearing it still left a faint sense of disappointment.

Lowering his eyes, he said, “Yu Fu Lan handled it. I do not know their reaction.”

The atmosphere grew slightly still.

Meng Xi Zhao looked at him, then sighed softly.

“Then choose an auspicious date from the Bureau of Astronomy,” he said.

Cui Ye froze. He suddenly looked up.

The light in his eyes slowly returned.

His age was about the same as Wu Guogong’s, yet Wu Guogong could still ride horses and hunt, while he could barely walk without staggering.

Cui Ye did not hear him ask to rise, so he had no choice but to stand up on his own. Then he watched this unfamiliar old man take one step at a time toward him.

In the end, with a heavy thud, the man knelt directly in front of him.

Cui Ye: “…………”

This was catastrophic.

Ever since the year when the Heavenly Emperor of the Tian Shou reign began making a fuss about abolishing the empress, the Duke of Fangling had never again shown his emotions outwardly.

When his daughter was still alive, he had tried to fight for her, but the outcome was that he was imprisoned, and his son was demoted.

He could not save his daughter, nor could he help his son. Instead, he could only watch his children struggle and suffer on his behalf.

Especially his daughter—after being scorned and humiliated by the emperor, she still had to lower herself and beg on behalf of this old man. The emotional toll on him was self-evident.

Compared to the Cui family, the authority of the Xie family was like a single yellow bean—so small it was almost laughable. He had never felt so powerless, nor had he ever again been able to feel what dignity truly was.

The Xie family quickly fell silent. They remained alive, but acted as if they were dead. That, in itself, was the only way to protect the Empress.

Later, the Empress also died.

And later still, his grandson became the Crown Prince—only for Yu Zhi Commander, who tried to speak on the Crown Prince’s behalf, to be immediately stripped of his official position and driven out of the palace.

It was as if anything connected to the Empress or the Crown Prince was doomed to be wrong. Supporting them was wrong, not supporting them was also wrong. Only complete indifference—the indifference the Heavenly Emperor of the Tian Shou reign wanted—could grant them even a sliver of breathing room.

After realizing this, he came to hate Emperor Cui Zhen with all his heart. He believed he was the most vicious man in the world. But Cui Zhen was too far away for him to retaliate against, so in the end, he could only hate himself instead.

When he learned in the past that Emperor Ren Zong intended to marry his daughter to the Crown Prince, he had been both terrified and excited. Later, when the Crown Prince ascended the throne and his daughter became Empress, he had felt immense pride and honor.

Every smile he had ever shown back then now felt like a slap across his own face—again and again, without end.

One could say that he had become rigid and stubborn with age, or one could say he was born a coward who dared not change anything, fearing that even the smallest deviation would bring catastrophic consequences. Whatever the reason, he had refused to contact outsiders, refused to correspond with the Crown Prince, as if hiding in this small room would prevent him from bringing disaster upon others.

Now that the Crown Prince held power and had avenged himself, the old man finally dared to show his true face—but he still felt utterly humiliated. And that feeling would likely stay with him for the rest of his life, like a shadow that never left.

After kneeling, the Duke of Fangling could only cry. When his daughter had died, he had not even dared to cry, afraid that someone outside might hear and report it to the emperor. Now, however, it was as if he was releasing more than a decade of pain and guilt all at once. Yet tragically, even his grief was silent and restrained.

Time had been too long. He had long since lost the ability to cry or laugh freely.

Cui Ye heard not a single word from him. At first, he intended to help the old man up—to accept such a bow from his grandfather-in-law would be nothing short of shortening his own lifespan. If word got out, being assassinated in anger would not even be surprising.

……

But in the end, he simply stood there, expressionless, watching the old man’s collapse.

Only after the time it took to burn half an incense stick did he finally bend down and help him up. The words he had prepared were no longer needed.

Instead, he asked whether the Empress could be reburied in the Xie family ancestral tomb. There was no need to announce it to the world, nor to hold a grand ceremony. She only needed to leave that prison and be given freedom—that alone would be enough.

Such a rebellious request was spoken lightly, and the Duke of Fangling nodded without hesitation. Matters of ritual and propriety were for those who lived comfortably. His daughter was not among them.

Meng Xi Zhao, Xie You, and Xie Yun sat quietly in the front hall. Every so often they would look up, exchange an awkward smile, then lower their heads again.

Finally, the Crown Prince emerged. He looked no different from when he entered. After bidding farewell to his uncle and cousin, he did not stay for a meal, and simply left.

Meng Xi Zhao did not ask what had happened.

Only after they boarded the carriage did Cui Ye rest his head on Meng Xi Zhao’s lap.

“Are you very tired?” Meng Xi Zhao asked.

Cui Ye looked out toward the road ahead. They were heading out of the capital; the imperial mausoleum was over eighty li away, a half-day journey.

“I am a little tired,” he said slowly, “but also a little relieved. To know that I am not the only one in this world who still remembers my mother… that feeling is quite good.”

Meng Xi Zhao listened, then looked out at the passing trees.

“I once heard a saying,” he said softly. “All things in the world come from here and return here. In this life one becomes human; in the next, perhaps wind, rain, vast waves, or the first chirp of insects in spring. She has left, yet she has not. She is gone, yet she is still here. Restless souls will eventually find peace, and lingering pain will eventually be soothed. You may not hear it, but if the Empress is truly by your side, then at this moment she would be holding you and saying—you did well.”

Cui Ye quietly watched the swaying tassels ahead. Meng Xi Zhao could not see his expression.

After a long silence, he finally heard Cui Ye speak softly:

“Then I should tell her—Mother, this was not my accomplishment alone. Look, this is your son-in-law. See how good he is.”

Meng Xi Zhao smiled faintly, pressing his lips together. Given Cui Ye’s current mood, he decided not to argue over the title.

After returning from the imperial mausoleum, life continued as usual.

Only Xie You took a long leave and returned to his hometown in Dengfeng with his aging father, saying they were going to pay respects to their ancestors.

It made sense—now that the Crown Prince had achieved such greatness, it was only proper to inform the ancestors.

Still, everyone was shocked. After all, seeing the Duke of Fangling leave his house was like seeing a monkey pick up a brush and start painting—a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle.

……

After Qingming passed, it was the third month of late spring. The weather had grown warm again—by daytime, one could wear a single layer of clothing, and on sunny days, one could even go out and bask pleasantly under the sun.

The Heavenly Emperor of the Tian Shou reign had suffered his incident on the first day of the New Year. Three full months had now passed.

Human adaptability was remarkably strong. By now, everyone had already grown accustomed to obeying the Crown Prince. This court… whether the Heavenly Emperor existed or not, made no real difference anymore.

Shangxi Pass had already been executed last month. The “clearing of grievances” for General Zhan, in Meng Xi Zhao’s imagination, should have been a grand and solemn affair—one that moved the entire world to tears. Yet because Meng Xi Zhao was in the court and not among the common people, he had no idea what the populace’s reaction had been. As for the court’s reaction, it was nothing like what he had imagined.

But what could he even say? Even the Zhan family itself did not seem to care that much. As an outsider, he had even less standing to speak.

Aside from that, there was nothing else that made Meng Xi Zhao feel particularly troubled.

One rainy day, Meng Xi Zhao sat by the window reading official documents. After a while, he raised his head to look at the rain curtain and suddenly said to Cui Ye beside him:

“Let’s do it today.”

Cui Ye, holding a brush, looked over in slight surprise. “Today?”

Meng Xi Zhao shrugged. “There’s no use keeping him alive anymore. We might as well send him off today. That way, we can observe a month of national mourning and still avoid disrupting the Dragon Boat Festival, letting the people properly enjoy the holiday.”

Cui Ye: “…………”

He had no objection to doing it today, but something came to mind.

“You once said you would invite a Buddhist master to perform rites for him, and also burn his body into ashes to bury them in front of the city gate…”

If that were truly to be done, today would be a little rushed. There would be too many preparations to avoid being noticed.

Meng Xi Zhao’s mouth twitched. “That was to scare him! Burying him there would be disgusting. Every time I leave the city I’d have to think about it. Forget it—I don’t want to make things unpleasant for myself.”

Cui Ye smiled slightly and continued writing his annotations.

Meng Xi Zhao watched him. “How do you feel? If you’re uncomfortable, I can go alone.”

Cui Ye had just finished the last word. He looked up, his expression slightly strange. “Do you truly think I would feel uncomfortable about this?”

Meng Xi Zhao: “…I was just asking.”

After all, Tian Shou Emperor was, nominally, Cui Ye’s father. Who knew whether he might suddenly develop some inexplicable reluctance?

Since that was not the case, then so be it.

The medicine had already been prepared long ago. Meng Xi Zhao tucked it into his sleeve, and together with Cui Ye, they went out. The two of them looked as if they were simply going out for a meal. Anyone they passed would never have guessed they were on their way to assassinate the emperor.

In such a situation, Meng Xi Zhao almost wanted to call Zhan Bu Xiu in to witness it, but that would have been too deliberate and might alert those with ulterior motives.

Thus, only the two of them entered Hua Ning Hall. They did not even close the doors. Su Ruo Cun was sitting inside sewing a pouch. Seeing them, she immediately stood and bowed.

Meng Xi Zhao nodded at her, then discreetly passed the medicine to her under his sleeve.

Everyone inside the hall was their own people, and nothing could be heard from outside.

“Feed it to him. It will take effect in about three hours. Stay here, have Qin Fei Mang inform the Eastern Palace. Then we will bring the civil and military officials to hear His Majesty’s final words.”

Su Ruo Cun paused. “But… he cannot speak.”

Meng Xi Zhao replied, “After taking it, he still won’t be able to speak normally. But the medicine is strong enough to force out a few sounds. Once the pain of internal burning begins, he will be overwhelmed and unable to focus on anything else. At that moment, you simply say that before we arrived, he spoke two words. As for which two words… you know what they are.”

Su Ruo Cun: “…………”

She nodded.

Meng Xi Zhao had originally considered doing it himself, but he had no experience. Su Ruo Cun had been the one administering medication all this time, so she was the one who fed the fatal dose to the emperor.

In truth, even without this poison, Tian Shou Emperor would likely not have survived much longer.

He was already ill, constantly sedated, barely able to swallow, surviving only on liquid food. After three months of such torment, even the strongest man would have lost his vitality. He could have simply been worn down to death.

Yet upon hearing that this medicine would directly end his life, the emperor still struggled violently—though “violent” here meant only that he weakly turned his head away.

Seeing that slight movement, all three of them showed a hint of surprise.

Then tears began to stream from the emperor’s eyes.

Drop after drop, pitiful beyond measure.

Meng Xi Zhao looked at him and chuckled. “So even as a person is dying, their humanity returns. I thought you wouldn’t cry.”

Cui Ye frowned as he looked at the murky tears still flowing. “Disgusting.”

Su Ruo Cun glanced at Meng Xi Zhao. Seeing no objection, she understood his meaning, then forced open the emperor’s jaw and poured the medicine in.

A poison that would take a man’s life—but all three of them watched with complete calm. After confirming he had swallowed it, Cui Ye and Meng Xi Zhao left. Su Ruo Cun remained behind beside the emperor.

Madam Guan stood nearby, while the other attendants kept their distance. Su Ruo Cun looked at the emperor’s tightly shut eyes and streaming tears, and for once, in her usually quiet voice, she spoke.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for granting me the position of Empress.”

“When we first met, I did not lie to you about one thing—you truly were my benefactor. If not for your foolishness, how could I have had what I have today?”

Tian Shou Emperor’s breathing tightened. His fingers trembled slightly.

And then—there was no more movement.

Su Ruo Cun watched this scene and gave a light, almost cheerful laugh. When she turned back around, her expression had already returned to its usual calm. No one would ever guess that she had just said such words to a dying man.

……

Three hours later, the medicine took effect, and Qin Feimang rushed toward the Eastern Palace. Seeing him in such a state, everyone’s hearts sank at once.

They knew what was about to happen, but they were not surprised.

Everyone had long been prepared. The moment the news spread, those who could enter the palace went in immediately; those who could not enter gave orders at home for the steward to quickly bring out the white cloth. Once the mourning bell rang, the masters would all kneel and wail in grief, and the servants would immediately hang white cloths at the gates.

Everyone moved with astonishing speed, as if they had rehearsed it many times before. Huanning Hall was instantly flooded with people, all kneeling on the ground so densely packed there was hardly any place to step. Inside, the Crown Prince, the Eldest Princess, Consort Su Xianfei, and Prince of Liang were all present. When Dou Imperial Physician saw Emperor Tianshou like this, he immediately felt something was wrong. A stroke did not present this way—Emperor Tianshou was breathing rapidly, his face flushed red, his eyes bulging as if they might fall out. He had barely moved, yet the veins on his neck stood out grotesquely, as though he were exerting tremendous force.

From his throat, which could no longer form words, came only faint, raspy “heh-heh” sounds.

At this point, if Dou Imperial Physician suddenly raised his head and declared that His Majesty was not suffering a stroke but had been poisoned, then he would truly be considered out of his mind.

So he simply remained silent, felt Emperor Tianshou’s pulse, and then shook his head at the crowd.

In an instant, low sobbing filled both inside and outside Huanning Hall.

Meng Xishao knelt near the front of the outer hall and contributed a sob of his own.

The Crown Prince, eyes red, looked at Emperor Tianshou and said in grief, “Father Emperor, if you have any final instructions, please tell your son.”

Dou Imperial Physician: “……”

Then perhaps you shouldn’t have poisoned His Majesty’s throat into silence.

Consort Su Ruocun was likely the one crying the most heartbroken in the entire hall. She was nearly fainting from grief, while the attendant supporting her—the lady surnamed Guan—suddenly hesitated and glanced at Qin Feimang. Qin Feimang understood immediately and stepped forward with a mournful expression, kneeling before the Crown Prince.

“During His Majesty’s moments of lucidity… he did say two unclear words,” he said, choking with grief.

The Crown Prince, sorrowful, asked, “What were they?”

Qin Feimang glanced at the bed where Emperor Tianshou lay, then lowered his head abruptly, crying as he spoke, “His Majesty… His Majesty said… ‘establish empress.’”

For a moment, the sobbing in the entire room quieted.

……

What?

Establish an empress?

Who to establish? It seemed unlikely to be anyone else—only Consort Su Xianfei, who had always stayed by Emperor Tianshou’s side and shared a kind of unspoken understanding with him.

But the Crown Prince had just gone to pay respects at Empress Xie’s tomb. To make another woman empress, placing a young and beautiful empress dowager above him—wasn’t that slapping the Crown Prince in the face?

Oh dear, look at the Crown Prince’s expression—he was so shocked he had lost his voice.

Everyone’s thoughts churned differently. No one knew how the Crown Prince would react. To agree would invite endless trouble; to refuse would go against filial piety.

They did not know the relationship between Su Ruocun and Meng Xishao, nor did they know the connection between Meng Xishao and the Crown Prince. So their hearts were filled with schadenfreude. But in the next instant, after hearing the Crown Prince’s response, they could no longer feel amused.

The Crown Prince closed his mouth, looked again at Emperor Tianshou who was still struggling, and as if making a decision, suddenly said, “If this is Father Emperor’s decree, your son… will respectfully obey the imperial edict!”

After speaking, he immediately turned and growled at those behind him, “Why are you not yet writing the edict? Confer Consort Su Xianfei as—”

He paused.

Everyone’s hearts rose to their throats.

Fortunately, he still finished, “as Empress!”

As if to confirm that this truly was Emperor Tianshou’s final wish, the moment the Crown Prince finished speaking, Emperor Tianshou stopped struggling and quietly ceased breathing.

Everyone was startled, and then a wave of earth-shaking wails erupted, as if the roof beams might be lifted off the hall. Meng Xishao, however, did not follow the others this time. He only looked silently in that direction and thought to himself—

Could Emperor Tianshou have been angered to death by that decree?

……

The Emperor had fallen. The mourning bell rang forty-five times, marking the passing of a sovereign. Throughout the Qi Kingdom, white cloths fluttered everywhere. The national mourning lasted a full month. During this period, no marriages were allowed, no music or dancing permitted, and no consumption of meat or alcohol.

At the same time, the imperial examinations were suspended for a year. This year’s scholars could only consider their preparation wasted.

The scholars lamented in frustration, but there were also those secretly pleased—namely, criminals.

……

With the passing of the former emperor and the ascension of a new ruler, as long as the new emperor was not as eccentric as the previous one, he would follow tradition and grant a general amnesty and tax reduction.

Thus, after only three or four days of calm in the capital, people began eagerly waiting to see how much grain and tax the new emperor would spare them.

Meng Xishao and Cui Ye had already discussed this beforehand. A general amnesty would indeed be issued, but murderers, traitors, and those guilty of sexual crimes would not be pardoned. As for tax reductions, corvée labor would be exempted for five years, and agricultural taxes reduced by forty percent for the current rate, also for five years.

In the eyes of the officials, this was excessively generous. Even if the treasury now had funds, it could not be squandered like this. They all urged Cui Ye to withdraw the decree. Cui Ye smiled at them and said, “Fine. Then you be the emperor instead.”

Officials: “…………”

That shameless rhetoric—why did it sound so familiar?

Wait, wasn’t that exactly what Meng Xishao used to say?

They knew it. Ever since he got close to that wastrel, even the Crown Prince had been corrupted.

And amid all the grumbling, Cui Ye was formally enthroned.

Still at Chongzheng Hall, Meng Xishao looked up at that familiar, gentle and handsome face, feeling nothing but satisfaction.

Iron must remain in place while emperors come and go. Since Cui Ye did not favor eunuchs, there was no high-ranking official suitable to preside over the first court assembly, so the duty once again fell to Qin Feimang.

According to protocol, everyone knelt together. This was perhaps the first time Meng Xishao had participated in a feudal ritual so enthusiastically. However, after standing up again in high spirits, he noticed that Minister of State Situ Xianggong in front of him rose a beat slower than the others.

That old man had still been quite active when Emperor Tianshou was alive, but after the emperor’s death, he had become completely low-profile. If not for his students still running around causing trouble, Meng Xishao would almost have thought he had fully aligned himself with Emperor Tianshou and harbored objections toward Cui Ye.

Based on his repeated memorials requesting retirement from office, Meng Xishao guessed that he was preparing to withdraw from public life.

That evening, the newly enthroned emperor and his yet-to-be-formally-wedded minister sat down for a meal together. Meng Xishao was distracted, and Cui Ye asked him what was wrong. Meng Xishao then shared his speculation.

Cui Ye held deep respect for Minister Situ Xianggong, though he did not place him on a pedestal of importance. After thinking it over, he said, “If he truly insists on leaving, I will grant his request. Minister Situ has served the state faithfully for decades. Allowing him to rest and enjoy his old age is not a bad thing.”

Meng Xishao frowned. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s just that you’ve just ascended the throne, and if he leaves now, it may become difficult to control the officials underneath him. It could also give you a reputation for mistreating veteran ministers.”

After a pause, he continued, “How about this—I’ll go visit him later. I’m not trying to burden him. I just want to ask him to stay for a couple more years. Even if he does nothing, it would be enough for him to serve as a stabilizing pillar.”

Cui Ye blinked. “What is a stabilizing pillar?”

Meng Xishao replied, “…I’ll explain it to you later.”

With that, he wiped his mouth, left Cui Ye still eating, and ran off on his own.

……

Along the way, palace attendants looked at him with solemn reverence. Even though nothing had yet happened, they had already decided—this man was the chief villainous minister of the new dynasty.

Meanwhile, Meng Xishao, who had finally met Minister Situ Xianggong smoothly, was now obediently and earnestly explaining how difficult it had been to establish the new regime, how hard Cui Ye’s position was, and expressing his own concerns.

He stated that if Minister Situ was willing to remain, then in a few days, during the grand distribution of imperial rewards, he would be promoted to Grand Tutor Situ. Like the former Grand Tutor Gan, he would not be required to handle affairs, only to appear when necessary and steady the situation.

And when Meng Xishao spoke of “when necessary,” he essentially meant the moments when Yan Shunying was preparing to cause trouble.

To restrain that old fox, another old fox was required.

Meng Xishao spoke with great sincerity, his mouth nearly worn out from persuasion. “Minister Situ, now that treacherous officials have been eliminated and everything is waiting to be rebuilt, although Nanzhao has fallen, the Xiongnu and Jurchen still watch us like tigers eyeing their prey. Don’t you wish to stay and personally witness the Great Qi grow stronger and better?”

Situ Huan looked at him, a faint smile that was not quite a smile on his face. “Treacherous officials have been eliminated?”

Meng Xishao blinked. “There’s still Ge Wenjin, but His Majesty won’t let him cause trouble for long.”

Situ Huan’s voice was deep and slightly hoarse with age. Suddenly, he laughed heartily twice, leaving Meng Xishao completely confused.

After laughing, he looked at Meng Xishao leisurely. “That’s not right. The greatest and deepest treacherous minister of all—isn’t he sitting right in front of me? Using the name of a villainous official, doing the deeds of a villainous official, and cutting down the chief of villainous officials. Am I wrong, Minister Meng?”

Meng Xishao: “……”

He looked at Situ Huan silently for a moment, then said, “If I say you’re right, will you stay?”

Situ Huan nodded.

Without any moral backbone whatsoever, Meng Xishao immediately and firmly replied, “Right!”

Situ Huan: “……”

In any case, as long as he could persuade the man to stay, that was good enough. After a few more polite exchanges, Meng Xishao prepared to leave.

But just before stepping out, he hesitated, then turned back and bowed to Situ Huan.

“In the past, I thank Minister Situ for your assistance,” he said. “However… I have my own judgment regarding these matters, and His Majesty also does not wish for me to continue bearing such a reputation in public. I hope Minister Situ will treat this as a secret between us and not speak of it.”

He really did not want it spread around—especially not in detail. Although he wasn’t even sure exactly how much Situ Xianggong knew, the safest option was still: do not say anything.

He did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps and become the next target of the court.

Situ Huan understood his concern and nodded slowly.

Only then did Meng Xishao smile slightly. Just before he turned again to leave, Situ Huan set down his teacup and smiled at him with an expression of benevolent kindness.

“Since I now know your secret,” he said slowly, “in return, I shall also tell you one of mine.”

Meng Xishao froze slightly.

Situ Huan looked directly into his eyes. “After the late emperor passed away, I frequently knelt in mourning and overexerted myself in grief. In a moment of carelessness, I sprained my foot.”

“My wife told me to delegate whatever I could, and for anything that could not be delegated, to proceed slowly. In Minister Meng’s eyes, that likely carries a different interpretation.”

Meng Xishao: “…………”

I was wrong.

You should really just retire already.