Chapter 58

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The Great Jing Dynasty—everyone knew that its founding emperor was a wise and formidable ruler, unmatched in his era. However, the one criticism often whispered about him was his romantic nature. Not only did he keep a harem of three thousand beauties, but his discreet travels among the common people also led to numerous amorous encounters.

Because of this, countless tales of the founding emperor’s romances circulated among the people. These stories were adapted into various storybooks and theatrical performances.

That said, the founding emperor’s romantic escapades never veered into vulgarity. Every relationship he engaged in was built on mutual affection, never through coercion or force. Whether it was a fleeting love affair or a woman he later brought into the palace, he treated each one with kindness and respect. His harem was known for its harmony, with the consorts regarding one another as close as sisters.

Moreover, the founding emperor took measures to protect women’s rights in marriage by introducing numerous laws into The Jing Code.

Kang Wang, Chu You, sat upright, his gaze unwavering as he met the emperor’s eyes, exuding an air of righteousness.

The emperor, who had just entered his forties, was dressed in a bright yellow robe embroidered with four coiling dragons, a white jade belt fastened at his waist. His complexion was fair, his features refined and dignified, his expression warm yet regal. However, his figure was lean, his sclera faintly tinged with yellow. The fingers that peeked from his sleeve were slender, with pronounced knuckles.

Deep in thought, the emperor lifted a porcelain teacup adorned with a motif of two dragons playing with a pearl. He took a slow, measured sip, his movements composed and elegant.

The emperor and Chu You, though half-brothers, bore little resemblance to each other in either appearance or temperament.

Seeing that the emperor did not immediately object, Chu You became even more confident. With unwavering conviction, he declared, “If two hearts are in harmony, they should never be apart. Surely, royal brother, you haven’t forgotten our royal grandfather’s earnest teachings?”

His voice carried an unmistakable note of veiled threat. “Royal brother, you made a promise to him.”

The emperor fell silent for a long moment.

Indeed, the founding emperor had once spoken those very words. At the time, the emperor had been only six years old. The founding emperor had just finished watching a famous opera titled The Peony Fan, a tragic tale of two lovers whose families’ long-standing feud kept them apart. In the play, they mournfully sang: “If love is meant to last forever, does it matter if we cannot always be together?” In the end, both lovers chose death over separation.

Deeply moved after drinking, the founding emperor had summoned the young prince and sighed, “If two hearts are in harmony, they should never be apart.” He went on to urge, “When you become emperor, you must not be so rigid and heartless as to separate true lovers.”

Back then, the young prince had been too small to understand matters of love. But the founding emperor had insisted he make a promise—one he had no choice but to agree to.

After a brief pause, the emperor set down his teacup, his eyes calm, just as he was about to speak.

But before he could, a clear and steady male voice to his right cut in first.

“Seventh Royal Uncle.”

The emperor caught the glance his son sent him and immediately fell silent. Pretending to be occupied, he reached out to feed a multicolored parrot perched on a brass bird stand beside him.

Chu You turned to look at Chu Yi, his face expressionless, but his gaze darkened with chilling hostility.

Dressed in pristine white, Chu Yi exuded an air of detachment, his presence as light as drifting clouds. In contrast to the palace’s gilded splendor, he seemed entirely out of place—like a single stroke of pale ink on a richly painted scroll of blooming flowers, understated yet striking.

“What does the Empress Dowager intend to do?” Chu Yi asked with a faint smile.

“What does she mean?!”

The brightly colored parrot flapped its wings on the perch, mimicking the words in an exaggerated, piercing voice that rang through the hall. Given the tension in the air, its echo carried an almost mocking edge.

Chu You maintained his outward composure, but his expression darkened further. His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes flashing with something unreadable.

The Empress Dowager refused to approve his marriage to Yun Rong.

After the events at Jing Wang Manor, he had sought her out, pleading and reasoning with her at great length. Yet, despite her lifelong fondness for him, she remained unmoved. Worse still, when she learned that he had gone to the Marquis of Dingyuan Residence to propose, she flew into a rage—so furious that, for a moment, she had even considered ordering Yun Rong’s execution.

He had begged, again and again, even causing an uproar at Shou’an Palace, trying every possible approach. In the end, Empress Dowager Yuan relented—but only enough to permit Yun Rong to become his secondary consort, not his principal wife.

No one knew Chu You better than himself—he understood that his Yun Rong would never accept the position of a secondary consort.

She was different from ordinary women. Beneath her gentle exterior lay an unyielding spirit. How could someone like her ever bow her head in submission?

More than that, he would never allow anyone to stand above Yun Rong, to wield power over her, nor could he bear to see her forced to humble herself before the primary wife.

The recent impeachment from the Duke of Ying’s household had caught him off guard. It infuriated him that Fang Ming Feng still harbored intentions toward Yun Rong, yet at the same time, he saw an opportunity.

If he could force the emperor to intervene, to formally sanction his marriage to Gu Yun Rong, not only would their union be secured, but he could also use the situation to suppress the Duke of Ying’s growing influence.

The emperor had always upheld the founding emperor’s principles, and Chu You had been almost certain—at least eighty to ninety percent confident—that he would succeed. But then…

His gaze narrowed as he looked at Chu Yi, standing merely seven or eight feet away. A dangerous aura radiated from him, sharp and oppressive.

Yet Chu Yi remained utterly unruffled. His expression was as warm and refined as jade, his smile as effortless as ever. Without the slightest hesitation, he continued, “The Empress Dowager once said she would personally arrange a fine match for Seventh Royal Uncle. She even made Father Emperor swear before our royal grandfather that he would not interfere in Seventh Royal Uncle’s marriage.”

“Father Emperor has always been a dutiful son. How could he possibly go against the late emperor’s wishes?”

“Seventh Royal Uncle, it would be best not to let the Empress Dowager’s goodwill go to waste.”

Chu Yi’s tone was measured and unhurried, striking the perfect balance. When spoken by him, these words carried no aggression, only a quiet, undeniable weight.

Chu You stared at Chu Yi intently, a storm raging in his eyes.

He couldn’t quite tell if Chu Yi had done this deliberately—just as he couldn’t be certain whether Chu Yi had played a role in the incident at Danyang City.

For a moment, silence filled the Eastern Study, broken only by the incessant chatter of the noisy parrot. At times, it squawked, “Marriage!” and at others, “Last wishes!”

The emperor remained a spectator, saying nothing as he idly teased the parrot with his fingers. His eyes, brimming with amusement, remained fixed on Chu Yi, as though he could never tire of looking at him.

Seeing that the emperor had refused to take the bait, Chu You’s heart gradually sank. Restlessness gnawed at him, and his sharp, hawk-like gaze turned razor-edged.

As for his royal elder brother, Chu You had never thought much of him.

The late emperor’s primary empress, Lady Liu, came from humble origins—nothing more than a commoner of low birth. She was never truly fit to be the mother of the nation. And yet, Chu Qi owed his current position solely to the fact that he was her eldest legitimate son. His literary and military talents were both mediocre at best.

During the founding emperor’s reign, Chu Qi had already been named the imperial grandson.

Later, when the late emperor ascended the throne, he had attempted multiple times to depose the crown prince. However, each time, the court officials blocked him, insisting that a crown prince could not be dismissed without just cause. And so, Chu Qi had naturally progressed from imperial grandson to crown prince, and finally, to the supreme ruler of Great Jing.

Chu You clenched his fists, the taut lines of his arms and knuckles betraying the frustration he was barely holding back.

Ignoring Chu Yi altogether, he turned once again to the emperor on the couch. “Royal Brother, is this truly your decision?”

The emperor’s lips curved into a faint smile, but he remained silent, leaving everything in Chu Yi’s hands.