Chapter 1113

Xue Lingjun said: "It wasn't me who invited you; it was the Emperor who asked you to come."

Xue Shengjing said: "When did he ever regard me as his uncle in his eyes?" His expression showed a hint of contempt.

Xue Lingjun said: "Imperial Brother, you surely wouldn't quarrel with the Emperor over this, would you?"

"How dare I! How dare I! I merely feel that even if I went, I couldn't help much; Dongluo Storehouse was seized by others—what a joke? When did the generals of Da Yong become so incompetent?"

Xue Lingjun said: "It's all thanks to your capable brother!"

A strange smile crept onto Xue Shengjing's lips: "It seems the Imperial Princess and he are getting closer."

Xue Lingjun felt her cheeks heat up; she spat: "Imperial Brother, are you already trying to clear your name?"

"What am I afraid of? Could the Emperor still think I'm colluding with Hu Xiaotian?"

Xue Lingjun said meaningfully: "A ruler's heart is unfathomable; no one knows what the Emperor thinks."

Xue Shengjing said: "The bystander sees clearly; those involved are confused. The Emperor has only just ascended the throne. As his Imperial Uncle, though I can't help much, I can still see some things clearly. When it comes to leading troops in battle, Daoming is a rare talent. After Tang Boxi's defeat, the Emperor, eager to regain face, hastily deployed troops—a major taboo in military strategy—and fell into the enemy's trap. Even an outsider like me can see it plainly; who else could miss it? It's just that no one dares to remind him."

Xue Lingjun said: "Are you trying to recommend Daoming?"

Xue Shengjing laughed: "Imperial Princess, we are siblings by blood. If you carry these words to the Emperor's ears, he might think ill of me. Daoming refuses to employ him, and consequently several brave generals of the Dong family have been sidelined. What sort of man is Qin Yangming? A mediocrity—expecting him to lead a charge is laughable. Heh heh… one battle and his true colors will show."

Xue Lingjun sighed: "Daohong truly lacks someone who can devise plans."

Xue Shengjing said: "What are you worried about? Li Chenzhou is a man capable of governing the state; if he hadn't happened to go to Bei Jiang to comfort the troops, these two battles would not have turned out this way. Sister, rest assured—I estimate Li Chenzhou is already on his way back. The Emperor trusts no one else more than him. Let's not worry needlessly; over-interfering only makes people suspect us of ulterior motives."

Xue Lingjun said: "Li Chenzhou is indeed a rare talent; his loyalty to the Emperor is beyond doubt."

Xue Shengjing said: "No matter how great one's abilities, they cannot uphold the whole world. For Da Yong to continue developing, we must have the Imperial Brother's courage and vision, as well as the magnanimity to tolerate others."

Xue Lingjun smiled faintly and said nothing; one could hear that this Second Imperial Brother harbors some grievances against the current Emperor, Daohong. Yet she still remembers that when the Imperial Brother lay mortally ill, the Second Imperial Brother's opinion had also supported elevating the Crown Prince Daohong to the throne. This Second Imperial Brother, who in others' eyes is frivolous and self-indulgent, is not so simple. The Imperial Brother, on his deathbed, had once charged her to guard against the Second Imperial Brother. The Imperial Brother was a wise ruler of his generation; such vigilance and caution were certainly not without cause.

The carriage wheels crushed the ice‑snow‑covered road, emitting a crisp crackling sound. This sound unexpectedly gave Xue Shengjing a feeling of pleasure from the depths of his heart; his small eyes narrowed into a slit. He lifted the carriage curtain to admire the outside scenery—already inside the Da Yong palace. Da Yong's rulers through the ages have been frugal in commerce. Although the palace walls are towering, all the buildings are simple and unadorned, so plain as to be almost monotonous. Among the nations, few palaces adopt a gray tone: gray high walls, gray palaces, gray roads—everything evokes a deep sense of oppression from the heart.

Xue Shengjing couldn't help recalling his Imperial Brother's stern visage in life; how could one be happy living in such an environment? His Imperial Brother's life had been spent striving for ambition; he seemed never to have truly enjoyed life. This heavy snow added color to the palace—though only white, the gray walls and white snow complemented each other, unexpectedly producing a peculiar lightness. Fresh and elegant, such a scene was something Xue Shengjing had never imagined could appear in the palace.

The carriage halted before the Nine Cauldrons Imperial Way; this has always been the rule of the Da Yong palace, and even the Prince of Yan, Xue Shengjing, must obey. They must walk along the way between the nine cauldrons into Fenghe Palace, eight great cauldrons standing on either side of the road, a huge cauldron towering before Fenghe Palace. These nine Great Bronze Cauldrons symbolize supreme authority and glory, and also represent the Da Yong emperors' resolve to unify the realm.

Xue Shengjing and Xue Lingjun walked side by side as siblings, yet their strides showed two completely different states. Burdened by his obesity, Xue Shengjing's steps were unsteady and heavy; against his backdrop, Xue Lingjun's steps grew ever lighter, like a willow swaying in the wind, graceful and supple, making one worry that her fragile frame might at any moment be blown away into the cold, empty sky.

Ahead of them had already arrived the Minister of War, Huang Beishan, and the Grand Preceptor, Xiang Liren; behind them also came someone—indeed the Seventh Prince, Daoming.

Although Huang Beishan and Xiang Liren held high rank, upon seeing these three imperial relatives they hurriedly halted, bowed, and awaited their arrival.

Xue Shengjing had not deliberately waited for Daoming, yet his slow pace soon put him side by side with Daoming, who said respectfully: "Imperial Uncle, greetings, Aunt!"

A sly smile touched Xue Shengjing's lips: "You child, you're really sensible!"

Daoming appeared respectful on the surface, but in his heart he harbored hatred for these two elders before him. Had it not been for their support when the late emperor lay on his deathbed, the Da Yong throne might not have so easily fallen into the hands of the eldest prince. Though he bears grudges, he can only bury them deep inside; outwardly he must still show utmost respect. Times have changed: since the father emperor's demise, the Da Yong emperor has become the elder brother. Looking across the Central Plains, there is no shortage of precedents of brothers slaughtering each other for the throne—take the neighboring state of Dakang, which fell into its present decay and decline because of royal strife.

Daoming is a clever man; his intellect and ability had already been acknowledged in his youth, and because of his outstanding performance he won deep favor from the late emperor. In the past he gladly displayed his talents, hoping his performance would firm the late emperor's resolve to name him crown prince, but fate was not on his side—the late emperor's sudden death rendered all his prior efforts futile.

Any of those past accomplishments could have invited disaster for him. After the late emperor's passing, Daoming concealed his talents, even volunteering to guard the imperial tomb for three years to show he harbored no ambition for the throne; he would be safe only when the elder brother deemed him no longer a threat to his position. Daoming knows this is hard to achieve: the elder brother lacks the late emperor's vigor and strategy, yet he inherited the late emperor's suspicion and cruelty; over those years, the open and covert struggles between them over favor would not be wiped away, and the elder prince Daohong is certainly not magnanimous enough to repay hatred with virtue.

The recent troubles Da Yong has faced are actually welcome news to Daoming—the flames of war on the southern border, the successive defeats, which not only drain much of Daohong's energy but also test his ability; a new ruler must show his competence and responsibility to the people, yet Daohong's recent performance is clearly inadequate.

Xue Lingjun gazed at Daoming, feeling a sigh rise in her heart; deep down she actually favored his ascension. Judging solely by personal intellect and ability, Daoming is clearly superior to Daohong, yet becoming an emperor entails more than just intellect—just as a fine strategist need not personally lead the charge. Seeing Daoming's evident thinness, Xue Lingjun felt much sympathy; since Daohong took the throne, Daoming likely finds it hard to rest or eat, half disappointed by the loss of imperial authority, half fearful of looming danger.

Huang Beishan and Xiang Liren had waited for this uncle‑nephew trio; after walking only this short stretch, Xue Shengjing was already panting, rubbing his protruding belly, breathing heavily, and asked: "Why must we come here?"

Xiang Liren said: "Your Highness, the Emperor likely summoned you concerning the loss of Dongluo Storehouse."

Xue Shengjing shook his big‑headed, big‑eared head, muttered a curse of "worthless one," and the others fell silent, not knowing whom he was insulting.

Led by the eunuch who had long been waiting outside the palace gates, they entered Fenghe Palace and found Daohong far calmer than expected; yet Xue Shengjing's keen eyes still detected his agitation from the subtleties of his expression. After two major defeats, this time losing Dongluo Storehouse—one of the seven great granaries—when it should have been the new ruler's moment to establish authority, he instead lost all face. Daohong is not Xue Shengkang; he cannot match the late emperor's steadiness.

After paying their respects to the Emperor, they divided into two rows and stood there.

Daohong actually did not grant them seats, making Xue Shengjing increasingly displeased; even when the late emperor was alive he had never been so arrogant—this brat, now emperor, has become ever more insolent.

Daohong coldly stared at Huang Beishan, making the Minister of War shiver; his idea to send the Shaoyang troops to attack Dongluo Storehouse had disappointed everyone, for Huang Beishan had not expected Qin Yangming to be so incompetent—despite superior forces, he ended up thus, a laughingstock. He dared not speak; under the Emperor's gaze he lowered his eyes, fixing them on his own toes.

Fortunately Daohong soon withdrew his gaze and said in a low voice: "You all have heard about the Dongluo Storehouse incident, haven't you?"

No one responded; at such a moment nobody wishes to be the first to speak.

Daohong's gaze returned to Huang Beishan's face; the latter, helpless, stepped forward and bowed deeply: "Your subject begs the Emperor's pardon; the Dongluo Storehouse's fall is entirely due to my negligence, my poor choice of men caused this defeat—I have no face to meet the Emperor." As he spoke he performed a full kowtow to the ground.

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