Chapter 484

The Emperor died, but no heir had been named.

This had never happened in the three hundred years of the dynasty.

If there were only one heir, all problems would vanish. Quickly, ascend the throne and be emperor—everything would return to order.

But the old Emperor had sired too many sons; after eliminating the unfit princes, a group still remained in competition.

Anyone could be emperor; everyone had the ability to be emperor.

The question arose: who should be emperor?

Prince Zhong?

Prince Zhong had been deposed—why should he be the one?

Prince Jin?

Is Prince Zhong dead? If not, why should Prince Jin be chosen?

Prince Yan?

If Prince Jin can't be chosen, why should Prince Yan?

Opposing one person, you can always find fault—in birth, talent, character, reputation, ability…

In the end, this isn't one plus one equals two—it can't be quantified or standardized. A thousand people, a thousand faces. He says honoring the virtuous is the mark of a wise ruler; you say it shows indecisiveness. He says obstinacy is a flaw, a misfortune for the dynasty; you say it reflects decisive leadership, immunity to manipulation, and unwavering will.

Each side claims its own logic.

With no standard, no quantification, it seems everyone has the right to compete—but victory or defeat depends entirely on behind-the-scenes power, not personal strength.

This is fucking ridiculous.

Li Liangcheng did not rush to declare his stance; Yu Zhaoan did not rush either.

This was merely the first meeting—to exchange views. The final decision on the heir would take more back-and-forth; it could not be settled in one meeting.

But privately, Yu Zhaoan questioned Chen Guanlou: why had he not spoken up at the meeting?

"Aren't you the one who said you'd restore the rightful line? Didn't you claim to represent Hou Fu? Tell me, Young Master Chen—what are you playing at?"

"If I speak now, will it decide the outcome? No! It would only expose Prince Zhong's hand too early. Better to wait until the final vote—that's soon enough."

"On what grounds do you assume the heir will be decided by vote?"

"It's obvious. Opinions are divided; each prince has supporters in court; Chancellor Li can't decide alone. What's left? Only an open vote—relying on luck and popularity. Otherwise, any move will be questioned. Chancellor Li values his reputation—he won't risk being tainted on such a critical matter. If you were Chancellor Yu, wouldn't you choose a vote?"

Yu Zhaoan had no rebuttal.

Yes.

If it were him, in the end, when all options were exhausted, he too would choose a secret ballot to decide the heir. Whoever won, he bore no blame—and gained a good name. No matter who became emperor, for the next few years, he'd remain firmly seated as Grand Secretary. From every angle, this was the optimal solution.

Yu Zhaoan gritted his teeth: "You truly will vote for Prince Zhong?"

"One hundred percent. Are you, Chancellor Yu, supporting Prince Jin? Then again, you're fellow disciples…"

"Whether we're fellow disciples doesn't matter. Whether we came from Jixia Academy matters even less."

"Oh…" Chen Guanlou smiled knowingly. "Indeed, it doesn't matter. I've heard rumors that His Majesty fell into a coma after being injured—and eventually passed—because Jixia Academy offered the medicine. Had it not been for Jixia's pills, which ruined His Majesty's body, he wouldn't have…"

"Nonsense! His Majesty's death was clearly the work of rebels. I will immediately order the relevant departments to investigate the altar explosion case thoroughly. Whoever is implicated, I will not let go." Yu Zhaoan flew into a rage. Who was behind this? What vile scheme was this—to drag Jixia Academy into this mire?

"I understand your urgency to clear Jixia Academy's name. But… this claim has already gained support among some court officials. Once this settles, someone will lead a fierce investigation into Jixia Academy—into those pills. My point is: you might consider temporarily distancing yourself from Jixia Academy. No need to tie yourself to the same boat."

"Chen Guanlou, you truly harbor ill intent. You not only slander Jixia Academy—you're trying to smear me, ruin my reputation."

Chen Guanlou smiled, bowed his head, and casually shook his head in denial. "Chancellor Yu may think whatever you like. I'm merely saying: the storm is coming. The altar explosion case won't be easily swept under the rug."

"What do you mean? Do you suspect me? How dare you!" Yu Zhaoan exploded.

"If Prince Jin inherits the throne, wouldn't it be natural to suspect you?" Chen Guanlou countered.

"So in the end, you're still championing Prince Zhong. Chen Guanlou, I misjudged you entirely. I never thought you'd be such a loyal minister, devoted entirely to Prince Zhong's interests."

Is Chen Guanlou a loyal minister?

Can a loyal minister smuggle contraband weapons? Can he smuggle convicted criminals?

He's simply trying to muddy the waters—make them even murkier. Zhao Mingqiao is a shit-stirrer; he's the child standing on the shore, throwing firecrackers into the latrine, making everyone stink. Only when all are reeking can the truth be obscured.

The two parted on bad terms. Their supposed "alliance" had shattered.

What was Prince Zhong doing now?

He was leading the mourning, weeping bitterly, heartbroken beyond endurance—perfectly playing the filial son. No minister who saw him could accuse him of failing in his duty. On the contrary, he performed flawlessly; not a single ritual was out of place. The Ministry of Rites was thoroughly pleased; his favor among officials surged rapidly.

Other princes and dukes, unwilling to fall behind, also played the filial son—something they'd done before. Mourning was simple: rub ginger water on the eyes, and your eyes would turn red.

This performance of filial piety was truly moving heaven and earth.

The old Emperor's life was worth it!

Zhao Mingqiao, unable to bear silence, began his next move after the mourning ended.

He didn't dwell on the succession—he knew full well his status gave him no power to influence the outcome. He was merely a shit-stirrer, to be used by others.

These past days in the palace, he'd already drawn enough attention, made his name known to all. Most importantly—he hadn't lost his head. He'd already exceeded his mission.

Now, he turned his attention to the altar explosion case—to seek justice for the dead Emperor.

Li Liangcheng: …

Watching Zhao Mingqiao swear to seek justice for the old Emperor, all he could hear in his mind were two words: shameless!

He had never seen such a brazen, shameless man—it was astonishing.

Just moments ago, he'd been shouting slogans demanding abdication, demanding deposition, determined to nail the old Emperor to the pillar of shame and wipe him out completely.

Now, he suddenly put on a show of grief, vowing to investigate the altar explosion, claiming he sought justice for the dead Emperor, to find the culprit and honor his spirit.

If the old Emperor truly had a soul, the first thing he'd do is strike Zhao Mingqiao dead.