Chapter 59: The Scapegoat Princess Consort Sentenced to Death (59)

When the various princes returned to the capital once again, Ding Shui granted an audience only to the Prince of Ji and the Prince of Qian. This meant that only these two had successfully passed the preliminary test thus far. Once again, getting straight to the point, she said:

"The two of you have done well.

Although it is far from perfect, given the limited means at your disposal, achieving this much is already quite commendable.

Next, I want the two of you to write a memorial for me.

Report your investigative findings in detail. Remember, write as clearly and comprehensively as you possibly can. The more thorough, the better. You need not hold back any reservations, nor should you fear offending me. Ultimately, whichever of you writes a memorial that satisfies me shall be the new crown prince.

You have three days. The memorials must be submitted to me by the expiration of three days. I shall not delay you any longer.

You may all take your leave..."

After performing the customary bows and exiting the Zichen Palace once again, the Prince of Ji and the Prince of Qian exchanged defiant and hostile glances before parting ways to return to their respective estates. Upon returning, they immediately gathered their respective think tanks to jointly deliberate on how the memorial should be crafted. At the same time, they painstakingly analyzed and dissected every single word of Ding Shui’s recent remarks, trying to divine the imperial intent.

The throne of the crown prince was now merely a step away.

Who dared to be careless?

The various think tanks argued until they were nearly hoarse, shedding hair by the handful. Yet, amidst the continuous debates and arguments, not a single person dared to guarantee with a pat on their chest that their interpretation of the imperial intent was undoubtedly correct.

Be that as it may, time continued to flow its natural course. Three days and thirty-six double-hours passed in the blink of an eye.

Two memorials, each as thick as a book, were delivered into Ding Shui's hands just before the deadline.

It took Ding Shui nearly two hours to read through both memorials in their entirety. Then, she decisively chose the memorial submitted by Zhu An, the Prince of Ji. This was because his was the only one that clearly yet tactfully implied that the death of his eldest brother—the late crown prince—bore a certain connection to the Tianwu Emperor.

There was no criticism, and no grievance.

He merely touched upon it in a few sentences.

As for the other contender, the Prince of Qian, regardless of whether he truly failed to discover the truth or simply lacked the courage to write it down, his approach ultimately fell short. Furthermore, his method of employing poison carried a rather crude, underworld flavor, which likewise paled in comparison to collaborating with local petty officials.

Weighing both factors and considering the overall picture, Ding Shui naturally chose the superior Prince of Ji. Having made her decision, Ding Shui did not keep the civil and military officials, nor the two princes, waiting too long; that very afternoon, she issued the decree of enfeeblement.

She instructed the Ministry of Rites to prepare the grand investiture ceremony and ordered the Imperial Household Department to thoroughly clean the Eastern Palace.

Once the imperial edict was promulgated, the faction supporting the Prince of Ji maintained a calm and composed facade on the surface, but inwardly, they were overjoyed. Conversely, the faction backing the Prince of Qian reacted as if they were in deep mourning. The officials who had previously attached themselves to him were already pulling strings and making connections, preparing to switch allegiance.

As for the Prince of Ji himself, upon returning to his manor in the capital with a radiant smile, he immediately dragged his wife into the secret chamber.

"Huimin, I am a bit frightened."

Seeing Zhu An speaking with such a distracted and haunted expression, Xu Huimin was somewhat baffled, assuming he was merely overly nervous:

"We have reached this stage, what is there for you to be afraid of?

Surely you do not fear that His Majesty will go back on his word, nor that someone would dare to assassinate you in secret. The one who should be terrified right now is the Prince of Qian. No, wait, what on earth is wrong with you?"

Initially, Xu Huimin spoke in a teasing tone to comfort him. But very soon, she realized that her husband's reaction was abnormal; he did not look nervous, but rather genuinely terrified.

Zhu An swallowed hard before continuing:

"I dared not voice these thoughts to anyone else, and I dare speak of them only to you. I feel that His Majesty... something is wrong with him.

Although I was not raised personally by His Majesty and brought up by his side for over a decade like my eldest brother was, I was often close to him during my childhood. Even during the years I spent at my fief, my contact with His Majesty never ceased. I always believed I understood him thoroughly.

However, ever since His Majesty supposedly suffered a stroke, vomited blood, and hovered near death some time ago, only to reappear as if nothing had happened, far too many things have felt wrong. His personality, his behavior, and even the tone of his voice are entirely off.

While investigating the assassination of my eldest brother, I vaguely sensed that, given the extent of His Majesty's absolute control over the realm, it was impossible for him to have been completely oblivious to the matter.

Therefore, it is highly likely that His Majesty orchestrated the whole thing to temper and test my eldest brother, only for the plan to miscarry. But based on my understanding of His Majesty, even if an accident truly led to my eldest brother's death, His Majesty would never admit to it. In fact, in all likelihood, he would go to great lengths to cover it up."

"Let alone let us find out about it."

"His Majesty has never admitted to a mistake. If there is a fault, it could never possibly be his. That has always been his way."

"Previously, a certain minister submitted a memorial pointing out the flaw in a particular policy. Because His Majesty was in a foul mood, he had the minister executed on the spot. Later events proved that the minister was right, yet His Majesty never admitted his error; instead, he claimed that the minister failed to express himself clearly and therefore deserved his fate.

What about the senior official of the Prince of Lu's manor? What about the Princess of Lu!

There are simply too many similar instances.

His Majesty has never once acknowledged that he was in the wrong."

"Yet, when His Majesty told us to write those memorials, I had the lingering sensation that he was luring and encouraging us to point out his flaws. When I deliberately included those few sentences in my memorial, I was taking a desperate gamble—and though the gamble paid off,

I still feel deeply unsettled inside. It feels strange.

Beyond that, there are far too many other things about His Majesty that do not add up. Truly too many to clearly articulate."

As he spoke, Zhu An looked genuinely lost and bewildered.

Although being selected as the new crown prince ought to be a cause for immense celebration, the uncanny and bizarre aura surrounding his imperial father made it impossible for him to truly rejoice.

He was plagued by a profound sense of foreboding and unease.

"Are you perhaps overthinking this? Although His Majesty has never acknowledged a mistake in the past, your eldest brother held a completely different significance to him. The death of your eldest brother must have dealt a blow to His Majesty that far surpasses the loss of any other son or relative.

When the Empress passed away back then, didn't His Majesty's personality undergo a drastic transformation as well? Previously, he was somewhat restrained when it came to killing.

Once the Empress died,

His Majesty's butcher knife practically never stopped."

Xu Huimin’s understanding of the Tianwu Emperor naturally fell far short of that of his own biological son. She simply felt that the current situation was quite favorable: her husband was about to become the crown prince, she would be the crown princess, and in a few years, barring any unforeseen disasters, she would unquestionably ascend to the supreme status of empress. Why bother torturing herself with wild imaginations?

To prevent her husband from falling down a rabbit hole of obsessive paranoia, she naturally had to work hard to rationalize the situation. They had already reached the threshold of receiving the crown prince investiture; nothing must go wrong at this juncture:

"Besides, if it is truly as you said—that your eldest brother's death stemmed from His Majesty's desire to temper him, but things went awry—then it is entirely natural for His Majesty to feel regret. In other matters, His Majesty might comfortably wash his hands of any responsibility, but in this matter, no matter how much he tries to deny it outwardly, he can never get past his own conscience!

Therefore, feeling regret, remorse, and even a degree of self-loathing, leading to a change in temperament, is nothing out of the ordinary, right?"

In any case, Xu Huimin saw no problem with this logic.

Putting herself in his shoes, if she had deliberately tried to toughen up her son only for it to result in his tragic demise,

let alone feeling regret,

she would have had the urge to smash her head against a wall and end her life right then and there.

"But His Majesty's transformation is simply too drastic. How can a person change to such an extent? The southwestern officials arrested this time—the vast majority of them were merely sentenced to exile with their entire families.

Only a handful were beheaded. This is entirely abnormal!"

"Furthermore, I feel as though His Majesty has grown somewhat effeminate. Certain subtle gestures of his look just like those of an eunuch. My mind is in complete turmoil!"

Zhu An could never have imagined the concept of body-snatching or soul transference.

He simply felt completely overwhelmed and utterly incapable of comprehending the situation.

Seeing this, Xu Huimin genuinely had no idea how to advise him further. She could only step forward gently, embrace Zhu An, and speak in a soft voice:

"Could it be that you are simply too exhausted? The pressure is too immense, making you overly suspicious and paranoid. It will be fine. The position of crown prince has already been decided. From now on, we need only follow the established rules, accept the investiture, complete the series of rituals, and move into the Eastern Palace. Shall I go brew a bowl of calming soup for you?"

At this moment, Xu Huimin’s own mind was somewhat chaotic as well.

However, she was not doing so because she believed Zhu An's wild suspicions; rather, she was terrified that Zhu An's mental state might completely fracture. If the crown prince were to spread the notion that the reigning emperor was an impostor, no one would follow him in his delusions; instead, they would most likely hasten to denounce him as an unfilial crown prince. What kind of good end could possibly await him then?

Yet she was afraid that speaking too severely would further stimulate her husband, so she could only offer temporary soothing words.

She resolved to see if she could secretly consult a trusted imperial physician later.

Meanwhile, all of this played out before Ding Shui's eyes: "Are my flaws truly that glaring? Alas, some deeply ingrained habits are indeed difficult to alter—such as personality traits, minor gestures, and the fact that I genuinely lack his ruthlessness to casually exterminate nine familial generations or wipe out entire clans.

Still, it hardly matters. If worst comes to worst, I will simply lay my cards on the table.

I will find an opportunity to give him a fright later. Having finally managed to pick a reasonably competent heir to the throne, I cannot let him drive himself half-mad with his own paranoia."

Indeed, the Prince of Ji had detected that something was amiss with his imperial father, and Ding Shui in turn had detected the evasion and doubt in Zhu An's eyes. Curious, she had followed him and thus witnessed him pouring his heart out to his wife, only for his wife to disbelieve him and suspect that his mental health had deteriorated instead.

After muttering a silent complaint, Ding Shui decided she would eventually have to find a chance to reveal the truth to him. She believed he had enough sense to know where his interests lay; after all, no one would willingly abandon the imperial throne.

Another hour or so later, Zhu An finally fell asleep under the combined effects of the calming soup and the soothing incense.

Xu Huimin did not reveal a single word of what Zhu An had said to anyone. Over the next few days, whenever they were alone, she repeatedly insisted to Zhu An that His Majesty was completely fine, that everyone agreed the current emperor was far easier to get along with than before, and that civil and military officials no longer needed to prepare coffins in advance out of fear when attending court audiences.

Zhu An himself seemed to be desperately trying to self-hypnotize.

In any case, when the time came to accept the decree of investiture and hold the grand ceremony for the creation of the crown prince, he behaved entirely normally. Half a month later, he smoothly moved into the Eastern Palace. Meanwhile, two regional princes had already declared that they had been away from their fiefs for too long, and now that the crown prince was a settled matter, it was time for them to return.

Naturally, Ding Shui had no intention of allowing this. The primary reason for summoning all the regional princes to the capital, apart from deciding on a new crown prince, was the crucial task of curtailing the power of the feudal lords.

Seeing that certain princes were growing impatient,

Ding Shui had no choice but to accelerate the pace of her plan.

On the third day after Zhu An moved into the Eastern Palace, Ding Shui summoned him into the Zichen Palace that very night. She ordered everyone else to withdraw and led him into a soundproof secret chamber.

This chamber was one that Ding Shui had excavated from scratch the previous night using the synthesis system.

She simply synthesized earth and stone continuously—it was quite straightforward. The underground space beneath the main tomb chamber of the Prince of Lu had been created using this exact method, completed in a matter of minutes. After all, since she was merely planning to lay her cards on the table with her chosen crown prince and had no intention of broadcasting it to the entire realm, maintaining strict confidentiality was still necessary.

"Sit down, my chosen crown prince."

Although the secret chamber had been dug only the night before, there was no problem pulling chairs and tables out of her synthesized storage space, so the room was far from empty.

Stools and tables were fully provided.

Clearly, Zhu An was somewhat dazed. He had only just managed to barely self-hypnotize himself into accepting his father's transformation as normal, but these words were simply too bizarre.

Though the statement itself was factual, hearing it spoken at this very moment by his imperial father felt utterly surreal and spine-chilling.

"Imperial Father!"

"Do not call me Imperial Father. You may address me by my current secular alias, Goddess of Qingetian, or you could call me sister-in-law, or even Mother孟—I can accept any of those!"

Ding Shui said with a light, mischievous chuckle.

If she weren't in the middle of a serious revelation, being called "Dad" would actually have been quite satisfying.

Zhu An's reaction to this was entirely within Ding Shui's expectations: he was struck dumb, his mind felt as though it were about to explode, and his soul momentarily felt detached from his body.

In a fraction of a second, his capacity for rational thought completely vanished.

After a long while, he managed to piece together some semblance of a train of thought based on the information Ding Shui had provided. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he blurted out:

"You... you are that unfathomable entity.

You... you... surnamed Meng! Sister-in-law! You are the Princess of Lu! How can this be possible? What on earth did you do to Imperial Father? What is happening right now? How could it come to this? What exactly are you? You... you..."

"Why such a massive reaction?

Hmph, had I not stepped in to take over this body in time, this realm would have descended into utter chaos long ago. You surely did not genuinely believe that his vomiting blood, suffering a stroke, and becoming bedridden was an act, did you? Realizing you accidentally caused the death of the capable heir you spent over a decade cultivating—being driven nearly to the point of a fatal rage—wouldn't you say that is entirely normal?

Very well, I have no desire to waste words with you.

As long as you obediently follow my lead from now on, I can naturally guarantee the stability of your position as crown prince. In a couple of years—or perhaps a year or two—I will let you ascend the throne."

"Afterwards, I shall even bestow upon you a magnificent gift—a gift substantial enough to ensure you become an emperor of through the ages."

Ding Shui truly had no patience to beat around the bush, so she spoke with absolute candor. As for the grand gift, it naturally referred to the high-yield crop seeds and superior livestock juveniles she had previously handed over to her sister.

And as for what would happen if he chose not to obey obediently—

Ding Shui felt she did not need to spell it out. Given Zhu An's intelligence and decades of life experience, he would surely be able to comprehend the implications.

Following another several minutes of heavy silence, Zhu An finally managed to process, accept, and sort out the harsh reality and his own perilous predicament. He did not refuse, but still asked with hesitation:

"Then... what about my imperial father? Is he dead or alive right now?"

"His physical body remains alive, and his soul is also alive. However, you should be well aware that he and I share a feud unto death. I can only guarantee that I will not treat him the way I treated the Prince of Lu.

As for expecting me to treat him with kindness,

you can stop daydreaming."

Ding Shui remained ruthlessly honest. To allow the original owner's lingering grievances to dissipate entirely, the Tianwu Emperor could not possibly be allowed a peaceful end.

Even if he wasn't subjected to being carved by a thousand cuts seven or eight times,

he would at least have to experience the agonizing torment of being poisoned by hemlock just as the original owner had, otherwise her resentment could never be placated.