Chapter 296: The Crown Prince Is Deposed

The old emperor has ruled for fifty years—how could he be compared to the late emperor? The late emperor was widely known for being easily swayed, open to advice, but in truth, he was easily manipulated by his ministers. The old emperor is the complete opposite: autocratic, stubborn, and an unyielding old fool.

Father and son, two extremes. The court ministers suffered terribly—facing such a stubborn emperor who refused to listen, yet held absolute power and commanded the military. The last military reform took place in the twentieth year of Taixing.

Look at the old emperor's strategy—he's undoubtedly a master of his craft. Thirty years ago, he already realized the need to grip military power tightly in his own hands, not the ministers'. Though bound by institutional limits, he left loopholes. Only thus could he later secretly mobilize troops into the capital and stage a coup to depose the crown prince.

Everything was sown as a seed thirty years ago.

Master Du took a swig of wine. "In the end, it's the ministers' incompetence—they lacked the ability to restrain imperial power, allowing it to crush the chancellor's authority, until the common people suffered."

"Either the east wind overwhelms the west, or the west overwhelms the east. These court affairs aren't for petty folk like us to worry about. Come, come, drink." Chen Guanlou took it in stride.

A speck of dust from the age, when it lands on an ordinary person's head, becomes a mountain. So what! Could he possibly storm the palace and assassinate the emperor?

A Grand Master guards the palace—no one dares act rashly.

Even the combined strength of hundreds of civil and military officials couldn't reverse the situation. As a petty man, one must know one's place: hoard grain, save money, and strive to survive each grueling day ahead.

Master Du sighed. "I'm just wasting my breath."

"Don't talk about those annoying matters. Have you ever heard of Princess Luyang? I don't recall such a figure in court."

"Princess Luyang? Princess Luyang! Let me think."

Master Du furrowed his brow, pondered for a moment, then suddenly remembered something. He rose, rummaged through drawers and cabinets, and finally pulled out a miscellaneous record from his bookshelf.

"When you mentioned Princess Luyang, I felt I'd heard the name before. Now I recall—I heard it from the Grand Master, and I once saw it in this very record. Our dynasty once had a Princess Luyang, but she committed some offense, and the old emperor ordered her entire existence erased—including all written records. Only because the Grand Master held such high status could he preserve the original documentation."

"What crime did Princess Luyang commit?"

"I don't know. I hadn't yet come to the capital then; everything I knew about the city was hearsay. Princess Luyang wasn't important enough for word of her to reach my hometown. At least, no one in my village ever mentioned her."

Chen Guanlou opened the miscellaneous record.

As the name suggests, it was a collection of casual notes recording daily observations. Two entries mentioned Princess Luyang: one described her drinking tea at a guesthouse and testing the talents of scholars; the other, her burning incense to pray for blessings. Nothing else.

Moreover, the events recorded here occurred forty years ago—far too distant from the present.

"Do you know what relationship Princess Luyang had with the old emperor?"

Was she his daughter, sister, or niece? Different ties implied different influence. If she were his daughter, her punishment was her punishment—no one would dare utter a word of protest, not even a single petitioner.

If she were his sister, someone would surely rise in opposition—the princes weren't passive.

If she were his niece, even the imperial clan would have to speak up.

Master Du shook his head. "I truly don't know. Why are you suddenly asking about her? She's probably dead by now."

"Stuck in the Tianlao prison with nothing to do, I read archives like novels. When I saw her name, I got curious, so I asked."

"Better not pry into such matters. If her existence was erased entirely, she must have committed a grave crime. Such cases are best left untouched."

"You're right! I'll rein in my curiosity from now on." Chen Guanlou agreed.

Chen Guanlou rested at home for several days, spread his wealth around at a brothel, and by the morning of the fifth day of the third month, when he returned to the Tianlao prison for duty, he was radiant and full of vigor.

Then a thunderclap struck, leaving everyone stunned.

The crown prince has been deposed!

The crown prince who had held the title for nearly forty years has been deposed.

Though rumors of his deposition had swirled for years, and courtiers whispered about it privately, each had clung to a faint hope—that it was all illusion, that the crown prince could never be deposed.

So when the imperial edict formally announced his deposition, everyone froze in place, unable to believe it—as if heaven had collapsed, earth had sunk, the dynasty's foundation had been ripped out, the age of peace had ended, and chaos was coming.

What now?

Above every head floated three words: What now?

The crown prince has been deposed—what now?

"This can't be a joke."

Xu Fugui plopped onto the chair in the office; the worn-out chair groaned in protest.

"How could palace rumors be false?"

"Once this news spreads across the land, public outrage will erupt."

"He's been crown prince for over thirty years—what will become of him now?"

"The crown prince is the most legitimate heir—if he's unfit, who is?"

"What were they doing? How could this happen?"

The prison guards of the Tianlao, called a lowly trade, always seemed pitiful. But now that the crown prince's deposition was real, each man felt a pang of patriotism and fear.

They weren't just defending the crown prince—they were defending his legitimacy, the court's dignity, and the bureaucracy's dignity.

What is dignity?

Legitimacy is dignity!

Who is more legitimate than the crown prince? Born of the empress, the eldest son, his maternal clan noble and illustrious—his legitimacy unmatched, his status unparalleled. For decades, he ruled without major fault, his virtue intact. Even minor missteps were understandable, forgivable.

Moreover, the crown prince was wise, benevolent, open to counsel, and reverent toward elders!

Deposing the crown prince meant destroying legitimacy, tearing apart the court's dignity, and shredding the bureaucracy's dignity. If even legitimacy is discarded, who will uphold the court's or the bureaucracy's dignity?

Everything's fallen apart!

Everyone's worldview had been violently shaken.

Deposing a crown prince with no grave fault, beloved by the people, was like severing the backbone of the people and shattering the moral bottom line they had long upheld.

Was he just a crown prince? He was the moral compass of the Great Qian people, their spiritual pillar, their hope for a better life.

Imperial succession had always followed order—rules, structure, predictability. People lived orderly lives, families followed norms, society cycled healthily.

Deposing the crown prince meant upending hearts, shattering social order and rules, unleashing the evil within men, and freeing the ambitious who had long lurked in the shadows.