Chapter Thirty-Five: A Small Surprise on Changping Street

Page 1 of 3

In recent days, many regions in the south have been afflicted by flooding. The local officials paid little heed, resulting in countless refugees and widespread displacement, and the people of the south voiced their grievances in every quarter.

A barefooted Taoist, appearing half-mad, roamed the streets, crying out, “The Great Yang falls, the Chen rises.” The former dynasty had originated in the south and had enacted policies favorable to the southern people, so this slogan spread like wildfire, passed from one to another until it was on everyone’s lips.

Golden Throne Hall

The Emperor was furious. “Imprison all officials who have failed in their duties! Replace them with a new cohort of competent men, quell the floods as swiftly as possible, and pacify the people!”

The Crown Prince spoke, “Father, there is a preposterous rumor circulating among the people: ‘The Great Yang falls, the Chen rises.’ I have already sent men to apprehend those spreading such talk.”

The Second Prince glanced sidelong at the Crown Prince, his gaze laced with mockery.

The Emperor’s voice was urgent. “Why send men to arrest them? The wise are not swayed by rumor—do you think the mighty Great Yang is threatened by a mere couple of words? Crown Prince, you are far too easily unsettled.” The Emperor sighed.

The Crown Prince’s face flushed red, and he lowered his head in shame. The Second Prince kept his head bowed, the mockery in his eyes deepening. Du Zihong frowned.

The Emperor coughed a few times and waved his hand; the eunuch proclaimed the court dismissed.

The Crown Prince, his face dark with gloom, strode away. The Second Prince hurried to catch up. “Brother.”

The Crown Prince stepped back. “What is it, Second Brother?”

“Nothing at all,” the Second Prince replied with a careless grin, spreading his hands. “It just seems that lately, Father is rather displeased with you. Chengmian would advise you to speak less, lest you anger him further.”

“No need for your concern,” the Crown Prince said curtly, plainly unwilling to say more. He shook his sleeve and walked on.

The Second Prince stood where he was, watching the Crown Prince’s retreating figure. In the distance, Chengyu stood behind a tree, quietly observing them, his expression unreadable.

The Emperor leaned on Lin Zheng’s arm as they walked. His gaze was bleak, his thoughts drifting back to years long past.

That night, the palace had been ablaze with lanterns, his men pouring in ceaselessly. He’d led the charge into the Hall of Tranquil Heart, only to find chaos outside; the princes and princesses of the previous dynasty had mostly perished in the carnage.

Though Emperor Chen had been cruel, what guilt could innocent children bear? He still remembered the clever, handsome little Prince Yongjia—he’d even taught the boy to ride.

If he had not incurred Emperor Chen’s wrath by speaking out in court, leading to the extermination of his clan, how would he have usurped the throne? The arrow was notched; there was no turning back.

Lin Zheng spoke softly, “Your Majesty, is something weighing on your mind?”

“The older one grows, the more burdens the heart bears. The past returns to me so often now,” the Emperor sighed. “Truly, I have grown old.”

Page 2 of 3

“Your Majesty is hardly old—still as full of vigor as in years past,” Lin Zheng said.

“You and I—we have both grown old.”

Dawn blushed across half the sky, the warm sunlight shining upon the Emperor’s slightly stooped form.

It was said that there was unrest again at the border. The returning Moon People’s chieftain was restless under the rule of the Yang Dynasty and quarreled often with Wu Xuan. Thus, Lord Jiang led troops to provide support.

Lord Jiang had not yet returned. Jiang Zhennin would occasionally visit the estate, and the ancestral hall was always his first destination. Apart from this, life at the Jiang residence continued as usual.

That day, Mingchu opened the “Geographical Records” and read that thirty li outside the city stood Mount Floating Jade, where hot springs bubbled all year and rare flowers and fruits abounded. Inspired, she called for Yuewu and had him bring two young ponies.

Yunxi clamored to join, but grew dizzy as soon as she mounted, and so returned home, dejected.

“I just don’t understand—am I, Yunxi, not worthy of accompanying my lady on an outing?”

“I’ll bring you back something delicious,” Mingchu promised.

Yuewu and Mingchu led their horses out the back gate. Mingchu pondered a moment, then said, “Yuewu.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s invite Chen Shanglu. He’s taken us out for fun before; we should return the favor.”

“Alright.”

Chen Shanglu arrived, barely able to contain his delight, though he frowned a bit upon seeing Yuewu. Heaven knew he’d grown bored of Mount Floating Jade, but it didn’t matter—it was all about the company.

Each mounted their own horse. Chen Shanglu exclaimed, “Chu’er, you can ride?”

Mingchu swung herself gracefully onto her horse. She turned, holding up three fingers. “Since I was three—I started learning to ride at three.”

She remembered her mother taking her outside the city, buying her a horse, and wandering about together. After that, Mingchu could ride—her skills were mediocre, but she never fell.

They passed along Changping Street, where the taverns teemed with guests. Chen Shanglu suggested, “Chu’er, the plum wine here is renowned. Let me buy some for us. We can drink among the flowers, with music and flowing water—how elegant!”

Mingchu’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful.”

Chen Shanglu dismounted and entered the tavern. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the street—five constables in government livery galloped past, a powerful brown horse nearly toppling Mingchu’s little red pony.

Page 3 of 3

Startled, the pony neighed and bolted. Mingchu pulled with all her might but could not rein it in. Yuewu, alarmed, spurred his horse in pursuit.

The wild, jolting gallop nearly unseated her; her vision blurred. Mingchu shouted, “Out of the way! The horse is out of control!” She forced herself to stay calm.

The onlookers scattered in panic. Suddenly, a child clutching a sugar gourd appeared in the road. Mingchu glanced at the wall beside her, gritted her teeth, and made up her mind. She braced herself in the stirrups and wrenched the reins sideways with all her strength.

She might not be able to stop the horse, but she could at least change its course. If the horse crashed into the wall—well, she would worry about that later.

Just as the horse was about to collide with the wall, someone darted in and swept the child away. The wind howled in her ears, and as the impact loomed, Mingchu shut her eyes.

The expected pain did not come. The world spun, and she found herself in a warm embrace. Her heart was still pounding wildly, yet she laughed. “Yuewu,” she murmured as she slowly opened her eyes, “I knew you’d come.”

Their eyes met. She saw Yuewu’s lips pressed tight, his gaze steady and reproachful. At length, he said, “You must never act so rashly again. What if I hadn’t caught up? What if your horse had been even faster? What if…”

“There are no what ifs. I knew you would come,” Mingchu interrupted.

Yuewu stared at her, his tense expression finally softening a little. He curved his lips in a faint smile, light dancing in his eyes.

Nearby, Jiang Zhenyuan stood holding the rescued child, watching them for a long while. Rong Xian’er stood beside him.

He had intended to save Mingchu himself, but saw Yuewu sweep in and carry her safely from the saddle. He watched their shared laughter, puzzled. “Those two are rather odd, aren’t they?”

“What’s odd about them?” Rong Xian’er asked.

“You wouldn’t understand, even if I explained,” Jiang Zhenyuan replied, pulling her along.

At that moment, Chen Shanglu finally caught up, breathless.

“What happened? Where did everyone go the moment I stepped outside?”

Jiang Zhenyuan eyed the trio, clicking his tongue. “What’s this? As Confucius said, ‘When three walk together, my sister is always among them.’”

Mingchu shot back, “Confucius would be rolling in his grave if he heard you!”