[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming":3,"chapter-the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-23":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Unorthodox Sword of Ming",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2337228,4570,"Chapter 23: Arrangements","the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-23",23,"\u003Cp>In another timeline, Princess Gong indeed died as a sacrifice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon receiving news of Zhu Youdun’s death, the Emperor, considering his repeated petitions refusing burial sacrifice, decided to honor his final wish and ordered that the Princesses and consorts of the Zhou Prince who had no sons need not die as sacrifices.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time the imperial edict reached the Zhou Prince’s mansion, Princess Gong and the six consorts’ bodies had long grown cold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as the Zhou Prince died, Zhu Youjue, according to protocol, ordered Princess Gong and the six consorts to be sacrificed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since this was ancestral custom, although Zhu Youjue acted swiftly, neither the Emperor nor the court blamed him—they could only sigh and posthumously bestow titles upon the Princess and the six consorts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Pan Yun thought: compared to posthumous titles, they would have preferred to live.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the Zhou Prince gaze skeptically at the cat in her arms, Pan Yun quietly poked its belly with her finger, [Say something human.]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Xiaohei: “Meow—I’d still be clinging to you if I could speak human words as a cat?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince met the black cat’s eyes, clear as glass, and suddenly drifted off—only snapping back to awareness when the cat looked away, his eyes instantly alight, his gaze toward Pan Yun now far more solemn: “I believe you, young friend. Please sit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun: …\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She glanced down at the black cat in her arms, [What did you just do?]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Xiaohei was curious too—hadn’t she just instinctively retorted to her?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could it be…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun and Pan Xiaohei both stared intently at the Zhou Prince—could he also communicate with all things?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun fixed her gaze on his chest, eager to know how many heart cavities he had—or what other innate talent he possessed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She opened her mouth, suppressed the urge to ask, and ultimately said nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Didn’t Tao Ji also wonder about her spells and talents?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he barely mentioned it—clearly, people of this time avoided such topics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun kept silently reminding herself: be polite, be polite, there’s plenty of time, plenty of time…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So she sat back down on the small stool.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince had lived a full life—what manner of people hadn’t he seen?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Pan Yun’s past and present lives had both been extremely simple: in her past life, she had spent her entire existence from birth to death within schools, a naive, wide-eyed graduate student;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this life, she never left her home, had few chances to scheme or manipulate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The last time she’d played mind games was with the mysterious Tao Ji.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though her face showed little expression, her eyes seemed to speak volumes—the Zhou Prince guessed instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He burst into laughter, then volunteered, “A dying man may perceive things differently—I sensed it, just now, from it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though he was near death, the Zhou Prince was not bound by it; instead, he radiated calm acceptance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had been ill too long—if in the early stages he had struggled, later he had simply surrendered, accepting his fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When fate decreed his death, he would die.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He only needed to do his part.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once he accepted this, the Zhou Prince began perceiving more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Especially three years ago, when he had experienced a near-death tribulation; upon waking, he saw the world with far greater clarity, able to directly sense the true feelings of those around him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Resentment, hatred, affection, reluctance, calculation—all kinds of emotions were present.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Take this young girl before him, for instance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She might truly possess spirit communication, yet he still sensed a faint trace of calculation emanating from her—subtle, but there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What did this child hope to exchange with him?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I beg you, young friend, to guide me—how can I prevent the sacrifice of those in my household?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun held the black cat and, drawing on her limited knowledge, deduced a high probability of success.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The current Emperor is a fifteen-year-old boy, easily swayed, favoring kin, responsive to pleading but not to force—so a heartfelt plea would work better than a formal petition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though she loathed him and Wang Zhen, Pan Yun said: “Your Highness should write a personal plea to the Emperor, then, in the Princess’s name, bring heavy silver to Wang Zhen and beg him to speak well of you—this alone will secure eight-tenths of success; the remaining two-tenths depend on Heaven’s will.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince’s face darkened, his chest heaving, “Wang Zhen… How can the Emperor be controlled by a eunuch?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun replied coolly: “The Emperor favors Wang Zhen—we have no choice.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince refused—wasn’t this aiding tyranny, granting Wang Zhen unwarranted prestige?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Future historians would record his name alongside this act.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing his reluctance, Pan Yun said: “Then write a dying man’s letter—let’s see if our Emperor has enough compassion.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince agreed with this method, called for his personal attendant, and picked up his brush to write.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he had been ill so long, hadn’t held a brush in years—his hand trembled as he gripped it, and he struggled to form characters, the strokes still shaking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glanced at the result, wanted to discard it and have someone else write it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Pan Yun thought this was perfect—it would convince the young Emperor that his uncle truly lay near death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince composed a logically sound letter, but Pan Yun felt his approach was wrong. She imagined herself as the young Emperor and decided this letter wouldn’t move him—so she took the brush and rewrote it herself, then told the Zhou Prince to copy it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince: …\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He read Pan Yun’s letter, frowning deeply: “Nonsense—this letter is incoherent, rambling. If you say I am devoted to Dao, fond of quietness, and don’t want my Princesses and consorts disturbing me, why then say I am deeply attached to them and cannot bear their sacrifice? Then you add that the people suffer hardship, and I cannot bear for my family and servants to endure burial sacrifice—what is the real reason?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun: “All of them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince: “But these contradict each other—how can the Emperor believe either?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun: “He’ll believe both.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Impossible!” Was the Emperor an idiot?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun sighed at the Zhou Prince: “Your Highness, you write operas—you value logic. But children don’t care about logic; we care about emotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This letter is saturated with your feelings: love for yourself, love for your wife, compassion for the people. The Emperor is a man of feeling—he will understand you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince remained skeptical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, Pan Yun conceded: “Fine—copy it once. Then seal both letters and send them to the palace. Submit mine first; if the Emperor is angry or ignores it, then submit yours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” the Zhou Prince said. “This letter disgraces my art—it makes me look like an amateur playwright. Submit mine first. If it fails, then submit yours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!.read\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun silently calculated, her eyes brightening slightly, and nodded: “Fine. But I have a few instructions for the messenger.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince glanced at her gleaming eyes and agreed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The attendant fetched the Zhou Prince’s trusted retainer, while the Zhou Prince picked up his brush to copy the letter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he finished, the retainer had already been waiting nearby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun sealed both letters, marked them distinctly, and handed them to the retainer: “Submit the first letter first. If there’s no reply in two days, have the Chief Secretary deliver the second letter—say the Prince is critically ill, unconscious, the mansion has already prepared the funeral rites, and this is his final letter before falling into coma.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The retainer stared, dumbfounded, glancing at the Zhou Prince behind her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The personal attendant couldn’t help shouting: “How dare you!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Zhou Prince’s eyes shone with excitement. He told the attendant: “Say exactly that—to the Chief Secretary: when you left, I was already in the final glow of life, my days numbered. Leave now—take men and catch up with the Chief Secretary.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The retainer bowed and departed immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince was still exhilarated—he had often coached others in acting, but this was his first time performing himself, with his own life as the stage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah, had he known he could play like this, he should have started two years ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince and Pan Yun exchanged glances, both feeling they had found a kindred spirit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Pan Yun stayed with the Zhou Prince, Zhu Zijin went to the guest quarters to request Tao Ji and Xuanmiao remain to treat the Zhou Prince, and to thank them for saving Zhu Tongqie.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short—he sought to cultivate ties and keep them close.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tao Ji and Xuanmiao exchanged glances—they had already cast their votes, so they agreed without hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin exhaled in relief, glanced around, then asked: “Where is Little Daoist Pan? My son keeps asking for her. He just returned home, terrified—please have her accompany him, soothe his emotions. Perhaps they could play together from now on?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Play with a child?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No no no—Pan Yun’s playmates were her own age; playing with a child was… playing with a child?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tao Ji’s lips curled slightly as he said gently: “She should be in the main courtyard with the Zhou Prince.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin froze, then rose quickly to take his leave, hurrying toward the main courtyard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou Prince’s energy was poor; he spent most of his time unconscious. His sleep was poor, so he abhorred noise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>May the Daoist not disturb the Zhou Prince.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Halfway there, Zhu Zijin was intercepted by Princess Gong’s attendants: “Young Master, the Princess wishes to speak with you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin could only turn and head to the Princess’s quarters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gu Shi was still feeding the child, so she hadn’t brought him along—the Princess’s courtyard was empty, lacking vitality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin knew: she had dismissed most of her servants, leaving only a few to attend her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Shi handed him several slave contracts: “I intended to free Xinniang and the others, so they wouldn’t… but life outside is harsh—I feared they’d suffer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since the Prince has restored you to our family name, take these contracts. When I follow your father, keep them as servants—they’ll have a place to live.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin froze, then knelt: “Mother, why speak so? Now that I’m restored to your name, I am your son—I will care for you until your final breath.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither dared speak plainly of the sacrifice, fearing someone might overhear and report them for resentful words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin believed the Princess’s sacrifice was settled—but the Princess was far more cautious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her eyes were slightly red: “Good child, I know your heart—but life is uncertain, nothing is fixed. No one knows if things will go well. Keep these contracts. Remember: I do not need maids or servants to die with me. When you settle them, if… then give them the contracts, and let them go free.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Zijin wept as he agreed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ten lucky numbers for this chapter are those ending in 4; screenshot as proof, deadline for screenshot: before next chapter’s release.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1845,"2026-06-20T22:03:57.478Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","4acb0f554c090478d98bb8fd51a3d79b31ec31e0d935a6becaccfb42586064b8","the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-24","the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-22",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-cover.jpg"]