Chapter 74: A sapling won

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By the grace of Heaven, the Emperor issues this edict:

I, upon receiving Heaven's mandate and ascending the throne, have risen early and retired late, ever mindful of state affairs, exhausting my mind and strength, hoping only for revival. Yet now, I am plagued by grave illness, my vigor waning, and I deeply feel the heavy burden of governance must be entrusted to the capable.

Among all my princely brothers, Prince Jian is the most benevolent, filial, generous, wise, and sharp-minded; since childhood he has devoured classics and deeply understands the ways of governing the state and securing peace. He enjoys virtuous renown both within and beyond the court. I am certain he shall inherit the throne, continue my unfinished work, and usher in an era of renewed glory.

I hereby abdicate in favor of my thirteenth brother, Prince Jian Zhao Yi. May he, upon ascending the throne, revere Heaven, honor ancestors, govern diligently, love his people, uphold the virtues of our forebears, and bless all under heaven. All civil and military officials shall unite in support, jointly advancing this great undertaking—none shall dare defy. Let this proclamation be known far and wide.

Fifth day of the Wu month, eleventh month, second year of Yuanfu, imperial brush.

After reading Zhao Xu's final edict, Zhao Yu could only say: in the end, blood still trumped merit.

'Did Zhao Xu go mad in his final days?'

'Or perhaps the pressure from Empress Dowager Xiang and the imperial clan drove Zhao Xu into rebellion—so he'd rather entrust his empire to the unpredictable Zhao Yi than to me, who could save the Zhao Song dynasty?'

As for what Zhao Xu truly thought, it vanished with his death, sinking forever into the depths of history, becoming an endless riddle for later historians and literati to speculate upon.

Zhao Yu stood before the fire basin, holding the thin edict in his hand, his heart a tangle of emotions.

Given Zhao Xu's final choice, Zhao Yu was grateful for his and Empress Dowager Xiang's decisiveness—they had tightly controlled Zhao Xu in his final moments, ensuring he never had the chance to release this edict; otherwise, trouble might have been immense, and the final victor uncertain.

After all, compared to Zhao Yu, Zhao Yi was timid and weak—far easier to control. Ministers would surely prefer such an emperor, and through relentless pressure and guidance, they could mold Zhao Yi into a second Song Renzong, endlessly surrendering imperial power, endlessly compromising with ministers, even achieving their ultimate goal: shared rule between prime ministerial authority and imperial authority.

Since Emperor Shenzong, the Zhao Song court had solidified into a system where all power belonged to the emperor; many ambitious ministers had been biding their time, longing to return to the golden age of Emperor Renzong.

Zhao Yu himself threw the edict into the fire basin, watching it turn to ash, erasing Zhao Xu's final threat in this world.

At that moment, Zhao Yu looked toward Zheng Xiansu, kneeling beside him, begging for punishment.

Some might wonder: Zheng Xiansu, meticulous to the extreme, had found Zhao Xu's hidden succession edict during his final moments, eliminating a major threat for Zhao Yu—why then was she begging for punishment?

Zheng Xiansu's discovery of this edict was undoubtedly a great merit.

But Zheng Xiansu's mistake was failing to destroy the lethal document immediately; instead, she took it upon herself to remove it and preserved it until now.

Imagine—if it had been exposed, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Zheng Xiansu was intelligent enough to know the correct course of action—and the grave consequences of her choice.

Yet she still chose this path.

Why?

Naturally, even then, Zheng Xiansu had foreseen Zhao Yu becoming emperor—and her own possible awkward predicament—so she kept this backup.

Had she approached Zhao Yu and he not come to see her, had he changed his heart—or put another way, had he betrayed her after using her, discarded her after gaining her aid, turning her into the greatest joke of the Zhao Song dynasty with no path left to survive—would this edict have brought Zhao Yu trouble?

In this light, when Zheng Xiansu handed over the edict and immediately knelt to beg punishment, declaring she accepted any beating or penalty without complaint—was this not appropriate?

Zhao Yu sat before Zheng Xiansu, face grim, and said: 'Come here.'

Zheng Xiansu rose obediently and stood before Zhao Yu.

'Kneel down.' Zhao Yu said.

Though Zhao Yu did not specify where, Zheng Xiansu understood at once and knelt across his thighs.

Next, whether Zhao Yu lifted her skirt or pulled down her trousers, Zheng Xiansu, though deeply ashamed, did not move a muscle, letting Zhao Yu 'whap-whap-whap' strike her buttocks.

Zheng Xiansu did not cry, nor did she feel wronged; on the contrary, Zhao Yu's beating made her feel utterly at peace.

Zheng Xiansu knew well: this time, she had erred; she had judged Zhao Yu's noble heart with her own petty mind.

So, even if Zhao Yu had discarded her, she deserved it.

Fortunately, Zhao Yu still wished to punish her.

That meant he still wanted her.

Otherwise, why would a sovereign burdened with daily state affairs waste time on a useless woman? Was it truly because her buttocks were round and firm, and he wished to take advantage?

Let's be honest: now that Zhao Yu is emperor, a single order would bring thousands of beauties willing to strip bare and submit to his every whim. Does he need her?

Zheng Xiansu understood this with perfect clarity.

Or rather, only at this moment did Zheng Xiansu fully confirm: Zhao Yu was truly determined to marry her, to make her empress—even after her mistake, he had not abandoned her. She was truly the luckiest woman in this world, having met the finest man in it.

'I shall spend my life redeeming this grave, grievous error.'

Zhao Yu was indeed angry.

'I trust you with my heart—do you play games with me?!'

'A sapling won't grow straight without pruning; a wife won't behave without discipline!'

'Had you not chosen, at the last moment, to bear all consequences and hand me this last will—like many corrupt officials who calmly surrender their own incriminating evidence instead of quietly destroying it and pretending nothing happened—you think I'd still give you a chance!'

As a result, Zhao Yu whipped Zheng Xiansu's buttocks until they were red and swollen, making her walk crookedly.

This led Wang Yisu and Zhang Chun, waiting outside the chamber with two other women, to assume Zhao Yu had slept with Zheng Xiansu.

Wang Yisu felt no concern for Zheng Xiansu; on the contrary, she was delighted.

In her view, even if Zhao Yu had truly taken Zheng Xiansu now, it mattered little.

Not only were there only a few of them here, none would speak of it.

Even if word leaked out, so what?

Did they still think this was the Song Renzong era, when ministers controlled the emperor's concubines?

So even if someone learned Zhao Yu and Zheng Xiansu had been intimate before marriage, few would dare make trouble for themselves.

For Zheng Xiansu, even if Empress Dowager Xiang had failed to arrange the 'day-for-month' marriage rite, leaving Zhao Yu unable to wed her quickly, she wouldn't waste over two more years of youth.

More importantly, if Zhao Yu slept with Zheng Xiansu today, he'd sleep with her tomorrow—so she wouldn't waste over two more years of youth either.

In stark contrast to Wang Yisu's mood, Zhang Chun was deeply unhappy.

Zhang Chun had planned to dominate the harem during the time Zheng Xiansu was not in Zhao Yu's inner court, bear him a son, and seize Zheng Xiansu's empress position.

Who knew Zhao Yu not only publicly promised Zheng Xiansu the empress title, but also rushed to bed her immediately, leaving Zhang Chun with not a single advantage.

Zhang Chun looked at the smug Zheng Xiansu and thought: 'My instinct was right—this woman is my greatest rival in life!'

Li Lin and Yuan Qingcheng, meanwhile, felt even more despondent; they simultaneously thought: 'Zhao Yu won't even spare a woman not yet married to him—how can we, as his concubines, possibly escape him?'

As for Ye Shi Yun, she still wore that look of a bystander munching on watermelon; no one knew what she was thinking...

(End of Chapter)