ITVCFITB CHAPTER 118

 Chapter 118 — Meeting You Was My Good Fortune

The enthronement and the elevation of the empress were held on the same day, something Luo Shuyu truly had not foreseen. It was Li Mingjin’s surprise for him. Strictly speaking, the arrangement was improper; but under the new emperor’s cool gaze, the Ministry of Rites promptly changed its tune: “All under heaven is Yours. As You say, so it shall be. We will handle the paperwork.”

The late Emperor Tiancheng had ruled for twenty-eight years. The grandest state ceremony in his time was naming the crown prince, long since deceased. In short, Great Xia hadn’t seen grandeur in a long while; the new emperor’s ceremony would be lavish.

Li Mingjin could dictate his own enthronement for another key reason: the Geyan Kingdom had pledged submission to Great Xia. The “new Hachi” had seized power, executed the crown prince of Geyan, and sent the severed head as a coronation gift. Nothing could top that tribute and it neatly shut up the old-guard officials who objected to Luo Shuyu being named empress.

For now, Geyan had been folded into Great Xia’s map. Rebellions would flare, of course, but with “Hachi” in place it was manageable so long as power didn’t change his heart. That was a problem for later.

Today was for two grand rites at once: the enthronement and the investiture, court congratulations, a nationwide celebration, and a general amnesty.

With the ceremony complete, Li Mingjin became the new emperor, his reign named Yongshun, the first year beginning now.

The palace’s remaining princes, whether grown or not, were all given separate arrangements to keep the harem quiet. As for that harem, it contained only Luo Shuyu.

Palace affairs were easy: Luo Shuyu took the reins, and there were few problems. What everyone truly watched for was the fate of the Fourth Prince and Shen Mingyun and, beyond them, the batch of arrested officials. Even the Luo clan was implicated.

The Luo family sent the ailing Old Madam Luo to beg an audience with Luo Shuyu, pleading for mercy on the Luo father and sons. “If you don’t spare them, our line will end.”

Luo Shuyu thought: and what has your family’s extinction to do with me? When the Chen clan was on the verge of annihilation and begged your door, didn’t you turn them away?

That history was past, but the Chen family’s tragedy could be pieced together from whispers: dozens slain; only Chen Rong smuggled out, or Luo Shuyu would never have learned his mother was killed by his father’s hand. One account after another by rights, the Luo men could die a hundred times.

He didn’t wish to torment the old lady. He simply said, “Debts go to the debtor. If you don’t want it known, don’t do it. I’m a father now. If my closest kin murdered me for ambition and left my child alone in the world, I would be…very bitter. You know what my father did. He killed his wife for his career; now he defies the new emperor’s will, conspires with the Fourth Prince to rebel, detains court officials. His Majesty sparing your nine clans is already mercy. Learn to be content.”

The old lady wept and went home. She truly did begin fasting and chanting, praying for the emperor and Luo Shuyu. As for the Luo men, they would be executed after autumn assizes. Yet Li Mingjin did not exterminate the whole house: women and children were untouched, stripped of rank, property confiscated, reduced to commoners. Their future would be their own making.

To borrow the author of that book’s old line: if you go out and mix it up, you’ll pay it back sooner or later.

The Luo matter settled, Luo Shuyu could at last console the spirits of his mother’s kin. He wished her, in the next life, a gentle marriage.

Next came handling the Fourth Prince and Shen Mingyun. The court waited for a verdict. But after witnessing the new emperor’s methods, no one dared submit memorials pleading for the Fourth. Slapping the new emperor’s face was unwise. He was not his predecessor’s mild type. He moved fast and spoke little. Fail to finish an assignment on time and you’d get more than a chilling look, you’d get penalties.

Rumor said a major purge was coming: sinecured parasites would lose their hats. The emperor only wanted officials who worked, not leeches who fed.

Currying favor? It might save a hat for the moment except the emperor had introduced performance reviews. Monthly ones. Every post had metrics. If your superior couldn’t draft a meaningful rubric, the superior could be replaced. Hard to bribe a moving target.

With the former Personnel Ministry hauled off for rebellion, Chen Rong became Minister of Personnel, tasked with remaking the official corps. Li Mingjin placed others in turn. He knew their records: who was upright, who was glib, who actually did the work. One batch out, another in.

Only upon sitting the throne did he see how busy it was. Even so, he kept a cadence: not drowning in memorials and always saving time for Luo Shuyu and Chongchong.

Now Empress, Luo Shuyu also helped with state affairs. The Grand Chancellor’s seat was vacant; no one dared nag the emperor about an empress handling governance. Li Mingjin even considered granting Luo Shuyu a formal office.

Luo Shuyu laughed. “Being empress is already one-beneath, ten-thousand-above. I can coordinate plenty. No need to give me a title.”

Li Mingjin frowned, thinking of the old-style empresses locked in the harem, sniping at concubines. Meaningless. He wouldn’t have Luo Shuyu become that, and he wouldn’t keep concubines anyway.

“What can an empress do?” he asked.

Drawing on the book he’d once read, and modern notions besides, Luo Shuyu said, “That ‘system’ knew much of the future. We could reference what successful nations later had their empresses do.”

“That little red dot really knows that much?” Li Mingjin asked.

“It does. Heaven and earth, war and trade. Shen Mingyun was a good-for-nothing. After his soul crossed, his blueprints, recipes, business schemes, those were all the system’s prompts. Otherwise, how could he dream up so many cash-spinning tricks for the Fourth?”

“In that case,” Li Mingjin said, “before it disappears, let’s write down every useful scrap.”

Luo Shuyu brightened. “Leave it to me, I’ll extract what’s practical and bring it to you.”

So it was settled.

The Fourth Prince was moved from death row to a private cell and allowed to reunite with his family. His two young children didn’t understand their fathers’ fate only that both parents were home, and they were happy.

The rebellious officials would be executed after autumn. As for the Fourth and Shen Mingyun, the sentence would be exile to guard the imperial tombs, followed by a white silk cord or a cup of poison. Such is the end of failed usurpers.

Before sending the Fourth to the mausoleum, Li Mingjin asked to share a meal.

The Fourth had lost his swagger, wan and spent, yet oddly at ease, as if he’d finally set something down. If only he’d never fought his brother, could he have lived out his days as a harmless idle prince?

Had Li Mingjin never learned of the “system” or the book, he might not have come. But learning they were penned characters changed the angle of his pity. Roles were assigned; outcomes slotted by an unseen hand. Some could change their line; others were fated bleak.

He felt only rue. “Fourth Brother.”

“Third Brother,” the Fourth answered with a thin smile, calm at last.

For the first time as brothers, they sat quietly over a simple table, no barbs, no counters, just the relic of a bond they never knew how to keep.

Li Mingjin wore plain clothes, as he liked, unfussy, mobile.

“You’re broader-minded than me,” the Fourth said.

“I’m petty,” Li Mingjin replied.

“Thank you for coming. And for letting me see my family,” the Fourth said. “I’ve realized how much I missed. I haven’t even seen the whole of Great Xia. Now, I’m not sure what I was after.”

Probably loneliness, Li Mingjin thought.

He poured wine. “Let’s leave it at that. We never drank properly before. Let me toast you.”

The Fourth took it. “If I’m gone…please look after the children.”

“You may not know about Sheng Yi and Sheng Tian,” Li Mingjin said. He would tell him the truth, let the man die with clarity, not clinging to illusions. “This concerns Shen Mingyun. You’ve seen he’s…different. What I’m about to say comes from my consort. The thing lodged in Shen Mingyun is monstrous. It told us your two children were props, not real. If it leaves, they’ll go with it. Where? We don’t know.”

The Fourth blanched. He’d sensed Shen Mingyun was uncanny, but he’d chalked it up to gods and devils, not to harm aimed inward. His children… tools?

Impossible. He’d watched his son emerge, seen him grow. How could it be?

“I’ve no reason to lie to a dying man,” Li Mingjin said gently.

He was right. There was no point. The Fourth knew Shen Mingyun was strange; to hear his children weren’t “real” was a blow the mind rejects.

He knocked back the cup. Fire burned his throat. “I know. I just…can’t believe it.”

“There are many things we can’t explain with what we see,” Li Mingjin said. “Our world itself might not be ‘real.’ All the more reason the unaccountable will be. Ask Shen Mingyun yourself. The children are blameless. Be kind to them in the days you have.”

“Thank you,” the Fourth whispered.

It was a peaceful farewell, with more wine than words.

So much had happened, blink, and it was yesterday. For this throne, real people had winked out like candle flames.

Who says life isn’t a book? A book is the world; the world is a book.

That night, Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu sat outside with Chongchong and counted stars. When the boy drowsed, they climbed to the roof. The heavens felt close enough to pluck. Luo Shuyu leaned on Li Mingjin’s shoulder, both quiet.

“I told Fourth Brother about the children,” Li Mingjin said.

“He had a right to know. Will you spare them?” Luo Shuyu asked. Now that they knew they were “in a book,” would his emperor grow soft?

Li Mingjin shook his head. “To the system, we’re text, someone else’s creation. But we breathe summer heat and winter cold; we hunger and sicken; whatever ‘book’ we’re in, we are real. Somewhere unseen, there are surely countless worlds like ours, with different turns. System or no, Fourth Brother would have done what he did. That wouldn’t change.”

“You’re right,” Luo Shuyu said, squeezing his hand.

Li Mingjin laced their fingers. “And you? What do you want?”

“The same as you,” Luo Shuyu said. “Let outsiders call this a book if they like. We will live it. I want to raise Chongchong to manhood; when he can stand on his own, I want to travel the realm with you, step by step, see every place, feel every custom, make sure our people are fed and clothed. That’s what we should do from where we stand.”

Li Mingjin couldn’t agree more. They always found the same horizon, perhaps they’d been meant to walk one life together.

He kissed the back of Luo Shuyu’s hand. “Yuer, meeting you was my good fortune.”

Luo Shuyu kept his head on Mingjin’s shoulder. “Ziyiran, Yunzhi, we’ll always be together.”

“Always,” Li Mingjin said.

Yunzhi was Li Mingjin’s courtesy name.

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