ITVCFITB CHAPTER 53

 Chapter 53 — You’re Not Playing Fair

Rumor had it that before she entered the palace, Empress Feng once had a sweetheart.

He was a distant cousin, her childhood friend, who came to the capital for the imperial exams. His family was poor; Grand Secretary Feng (then a Hanlin scholar) admired the young man’s talent and let him lodge at the Feng residence.

Back then, the Fengs were already dazzling. The current Empress Dowager, then the reigning empress, was Feng’s own younger sister.

Feng had long paved his path: with one sister on the throne, his daughter was certain to marry into the imperial clan. That was the Feng family’s bargaining chip.

Who could have predicted that the unmarried Lady Feng would fall for the poor relation living under their roof? Boy meets girl; sparks fly.

She was a model noble miss, raised to be a future empress, versed in qin, chess, calligraphy, painting. Untouched by the world, she met someone who shared her tastes; they wrote poems, painted together; feeling grew, as it does, and soon they swore themselves to each other in secret.

They even told the household. The cousin vowed to propose properly, with betrothal gifts and a formal match.

Grand Secretary Feng erupted. He refused outright and drove the cousin from the estate. He had already arranged a royal marriage for his daughter; a penniless scholar did not qualify.

Separated, Lady Feng went days without food or drink. Only her mother’s coaxing brought her back to herself. She understood then: she would never have the freedom to choose the person she loved.

It all happened within the Feng walls. Outside, it was hearsay.

Rivals tried to track down the “far cousin.” No one could find him. Others bribed servants; the Fengs’ staff clamped their mouths shut. In time, the story curdled into a whisper and nothing more.

Soon after, Lady Feng married the then Crown Prince, the future Emperor.

That’s one version.

The spicier version says Lady Feng kept meeting the cousin after her engagement to the young Crown Prince. Grand Secretary Feng found out, hurled the seducer out of the house… and two weeks later, Lady Feng entered the Eastern Palace. Not two months after the wedding, she was found to be nearly three months pregnant. The child was born before nine months.

This second rumor pointed a finger straight at the Crown Prince’s parentage.

When Li Mingjin finished laying out the two versions, Luo Shuyu was stunned. He lowered his voice. “So the implication is… His Highness the Crown Prince isn’t Father Emperor’s son?”

Li Mingjin smiled at his cautious tone. “Relax, good boy. Our main courtyard is sealed tight, no eavesdropping. No one will hear us.”

“I’m just… new to palace legends,” Luo admitted.

“It’s just a rumor,” Li said. “Father Emperor cracked down on it years ago. If the Crown Prince weren’t his, how would he be heir?”

Even so, the story snapped several loose threads into place for Luo. He thought a moment, then asked, carefully: “And… if it is true?”

The Crown Prince wore the heir’s jade because he had a powerful maternal clan and he was the Empress’s legitimate son.

In their last life, he had assumed the Crown Prince fell quickly because Shen Mingyun and the Fourth teamed up to topple the Grand Secretary first. The book dwelled on their feud with the Fengs. Feng’s eldest son maimed by a general loyal to the Fourth; Shen’s taverns crushed by Feng-backed businesses; tit-for-tat until the Fourth struck back.

Thinking now, those “public” conflicts, money matters and bruised egos, weren’t enough to fell a great tree rooted in court for decades. There had to be a hidden gale, quite possibly the Emperor himself, long stifled, giving the final shove.

Mantis hunts cicada, sparrow waits behind.

By Shuyu’s measure, the Crown Prince’s conduct wasn’t bad; he worked diligently. With the Feng clan’s support, his reign might have been stable enough.

Yet he was deposed.

Perhaps his bloodline was the root of it all and the reason the Fengs were destroyed. Polluting the imperial bloodline is treason of the highest order.

In Shen’s time, science could settle parentage at a glance. They had no such tools, only speculation, and faces.

The Crown Prince resembled the Empress more than the Emperor; that was why suspicion never stuck. Now that he thought about it, there was little of the Emperor in him.

While Luo’s thoughts spun, Li Mingjin grew pensive too. He slapped his thigh. “You might be onto something. The Crown Prince is… odd, when you look closely.”

“What stands out?” Luo asked.

“Those old gossips weren’t inventing out of whole cloth. We brothers all take after our mothers somewhat, but there’s always a trace of Father Emperor. The Eldest is his build, especially. The Fourth is his face shape, his eyes and brows. The Crown Prince does look like the Empress, yes, but not entirely. He’s shorter than the rest of us, finer-boned. The rest of us have broader frames.”

From physique alone, the Crown Prince was different. Oddly, the Empress herself was tall, yet her son was slight.

“Put that way,” Shuyu said, “he is unlike you all. If Father Emperor were absolutely certain the Crown Prince is his, he wouldn’t have needed a purge ten years ago. Truth refutes rumor on its own, jailing people feels like… overcompensating.”

“Speaking of purges,” Mingjin added, “the Empress’s old wet nurses disappeared. When I was small, I remember one at her side, she even snuck me sweets. Then I never saw her again.”

“Ten years ago?” Shuyu asked.

“Either she left the palace… or” He didn’t finish. Or she was silenced.

A chill ran over Shuyu’s arms. “Do you think Father Emperor knew?”

“He had to.” Mingjin met his eyes. “No one spreads such rumors in the palace without his leave. He might even have started them to make the Empress and the Fengs squirm.”

“Yet the Crown Prince still became heir,” Luo sighed.

“Another thought,” Mingjin said slowly. “Ten years ago the Empress Dowager didn’t yet spend her days with the Buddha. The Grand Secretary often visited her. The Feng reach was larger than we thought. If we went against them then… gnats pushing down a tree.”

“Then the Empress Dowager and the Fengs greased the rails,” Shuyu murmured.

“Exactly. If the Crown Prince isn’t royal blood and he ascends, the realm changes hands in everything but name.”

Luo asked the only question that mattered: “If that’s true, how do we move something that big?”

New Year’s Eve had delivered a haul. If not for the Eldest’s slip, they wouldn’t have found the thread.

“Slowly,” Mingjin said. “First, we trace the Empress’s former attendants. Where did they go? That will tell us a lot.”

“And most important,” Luo said, tugging his sleeve, “is the cousin alive or dead.”

He said it twice, as if to nail it down.

A clan like the Fengs had plans within plans. Anyone who could endanger their standing would be… handled. If there had been a youthful scandal, they would have cleaned it up thoroughly.

No witnesses left.

A shadow flickered in Shuyu’s eyes. Threats to the throne didn’t only come from sons, they came from ministers.

The palace was a pit of dragons and tigers, wolves on all sides.

They didn’t breathe a word outside. Quietly, they sent people to dig. It would take time, especially during the holidays, but loosened tongues could be teased. For instance: the Crown Princess’s elder brother, a notorious dandy who practically lived at Huancai Pavilion.

The man’s only talent was drinking and visiting brothels. He had a delightful flaw: when drunk, he answered whatever he was asked.

Mingjin set someone to befriend him, and they fished up quite a lot. He wouldn’t know the deepest palace secrets, but he could offer telling scraps, the “small stuff” that, strung together, drew the outline.

Progress came faster than expected. By the fifth day of the New Year, they were close to the marrow.

Investigation or not, the year still had to be celebrated.

That day, Li Mingjin hosted colleagues from the Ministry of Justice, men who had quietly backed him all year. He might show up with a perpetual scowl, but he’d done his share of work. They respected him; otherwise, they wouldn’t all come to pay New Year calls.

Shuyu was genuinely pleased. He knew the rumors about Li’s temper, but seeing colleagues show up with easy camaraderie made him feel his husband was… grounded.

He had the kitchens lay out a proper spread and received the guests with Li, respect where it was due.

The officials left full and singing his praises.

“The Third Prince Consort is not what I expected.”

“He and His Highness are actually pretty affectionate. And did you notice how refined the dishes were? They even had my favorite pickled long beans.”

“And my favorite sweet-and-sour fish.”

“And my favorite braised lion’s head.”

“No wonder His Highness’s sharp jaw has softened since the wedding. He’s not as frosty either, he even asked me how to celebrate a wife’s birthday.”

“He asked me too.”

“Lesson learned: don’t judge by the surface.”

“Agreed.”

After the Ministry men, Lin Haiming arrived with a squad of generals. Shuyu discovered that Mingjin’s network was better than he’d realized. This time, remembering his past-life regrets, he’d prepared a whole lamb in advance: meat, wine, and laughter all night.

Lin Haiming insisted on calling him “sister-in-law” and kept toasting him. He returned two cups before Mingjin shot the general a glare and cut it off.

A prince’s consort should keep his poise. After eating to a comfortable eight-tenths, he yielded the hall to the soldiers. Then sent for more wine from the cellar, ordered hangover soup simmered, and had a few guest rooms warmed.

Compared to the civil officials, the military men were louder and more fun. With Mingjin smoothing the edges, the evening never sagged.

The lamb sizzled fragrantly. Worried it wouldn’t be enough, Shuyu sent for more side dishes so no one would go hungry under his roof.

Most of these generals would march north with Li Mingjin; it was right to treat them well.

A few didn’t come, mostly the ones tied to the Crown Prince or the Eldest, men planted by other camps.

Even so, as long as the majority leaned Mingjin’s way, he wouldn’t lack for authority. Shadow Three claimed Mingjin’s martial skill ranked in the top three among them. In martial circles there’s no undisputed “first,” but being able to speak their language was step one.

New Year calls meant visiting the Luo family as well.

Traditionally, a married child returned home on the second day. But Shuyu belonged to a prince now; palace calls came first. Everyone else had to wait.

Luo Renshou waited and waited, and finally, on the seventh day, got to see his son.

That same day, Shen Mingyun sent a cart of gifts to the Luo estate. His miscarriage was the talk of the city; Luo Renshou didn’t mention him once while hosting Luo Shuyu.

Li Mingjin had business at the palace; thus Shuyu stayed for lunch with the old madam and Luo Renshou.

After the meal, the old madam retired. Shuyu drank tea with Luo Renshou and raised Shen Mingyun himself. “Father, Cousin Shen has no close kin here. He was hurt on New Year’s Eve, and he has no sense for convalescence. It would be best to send someone to check on him. He is in the Fourth Prince’s household now.”

Putting it plainly left Luo Renshou no room to angle about drawing closer to the Fourth because of Shen.

The Fourth had been more promising lately, true, but Shen’s performance was abysmal. He couldn’t even keep a child.

At first, Luo Renshou had been furious that Shen was shuffled into a prince’s house. Then the Fourth had invited him to drink and smoothed his ruffled feathers. He’d always tried to stay neutral; now he avoided any visible closeness to any prince.

On paper, he was a winner: one legitimate son married to the Third Prince, one nephew in the Fourth’s manor. Only he knew how thankless it felt, pulled both ways.

Recently the Fourth had flattered him, treating him like a true father-in-law. The Third, in contrast, met him with a perpetual scowl, no glow of filial awe. With the comparison, the Fourth naturally looked… agreeable. Angry that Shen had entered the Fourth’s house? Not anymore.

“What a pity,” Luo Renshou sighed. “Why couldn’t Mingyun stay put and rest? Carrying a child is no small thing…”

“Perhaps fate wasn’t ripe,” Luo replied blandly.

Lowering his voice, Luo Renshou said, “I hear the Northern General returned on the second day. The Third will head north soon, won’t he?”

“Yes.” Luo couldn’t hide the heaviness in his chest. “He’s leaving.”

This time the ache was real.

“The Emperor will surely keep the general in the capital,” Luo Renshou said, playing the kind father. “Your husband will be gone some time. What will you do?”

“I’ll wait at home,” Luo said, sounding steady. “There’s nothing much to it.”

Luo Renshou’s heart leapt. With the Third Prince gone, Luo Shuyu would have to lean on him again.

Leaving the Luo residence before the snow, Luo curled in the carriage, missing Li Mingjin so sharply it startled him.

At that very moment, Li Mingjin was playing five-in-a-row with the Emperor.

Midgame, with a stone pinched between his fingers, he blurted, “Father Emperor, you’re not playing fair. I’ve been married four months and you’re sending me north.”

The Emperor huffed a laugh. “So? What do you want?”

Perhaps the recent warmth, this flicker of father-and-son, made him indulgent. He felt like spoiling the boy.

“I want to take Shuyu with me,” Li said, righteous as a sunrise.

The Emperor: “…”

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Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Sweetheart, out in the wilds—guess what I’m thinking?
Luo Shuyu: Ghost stories?
Third Prince: Nope. You, me, and the grass.
Luo Shuyu: …

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