Chapter 24

Gong Shi continued, "After your father passes, if the imperial court does not issue an edict of mercy, choose the servants currently attending him in his chambers for burial with him—they should already know they are to be buried alive; these past days they've grown increasingly arrogant and negligent, for when a man is near death, his conduct turns perverse—find an opportunity to keep them alive and select more careful servants from the outer courtyards to attend him; these new ones need not be sacrificed."

Burial with the dead is not limited only to childless concubines and ladies; Emperor Taizu, so that his descendants might have attendants even in the afterlife, also ordered the servants who regularly served the masters to be executed and buried with them.

Those like Gong Shi who die as sacrifices at least have their names recorded, but these attendant servants are treated like objects—merely noted once on the funeral inventory: so many vases, so many slaves…

Gong Shi was also afraid, terrified, and had no heart to ponder such matters.

But when the Zhou Wang repeatedly petitioned the Emperor for mercy to spare them from burial, she began to worry about the lives of those around her.

Her own life was in the hands of those above her; she could do nothing about it—but the lives of those around her, she could still influence.

So she began deliberately to release her people.

She had no authority over which servants the Zhou Wang would take to his grave.

Because she herself was a dying woman; when the time came, the list of those to be buried, the number of them—all would be decided by the next Zhou Wang.

She did not believe she could offer advice to Zhu Youjue.

Now, however, the Zhou Wang has formally acknowledged Zhu Zijin as his heir and is moving to solidify it; even if there should be an accident in the succession of the title, Zhu Zijin, as the designated heir, will still have some say on the list of those buried with the Zhou Wang.

Zhu Zijin had missed over a decade of education, especially after being stripped of his noble status at fourteen—he had barely touched a book since; he nervously memorized everything the Wang Fei taught him, confirming twice before finally agreeing.

Watching him leave, the Wang Fei sighed.

Qin Nai Nai refilled her tea and smiled, "Wang Fei, don't rush—there's still plenty of time; you can teach Young Master later."

The Wang Fei was deeply troubled: "I fear things won't go smoothly, Xin Niang—if in the end I must still accompany the Wang to his grave, then leave the mansion with him; mind nothing else, just help raise his children."

Qin Nai Nai, heartbroken, knelt before the Wang Fei's knees: "If the Emperor has agreed to release Young Master, it means he still wishes the Wang to have a son to care for him in his old age—isn't it only right and proper to restore him to the imperial genealogy? Once restored, when the Wang passes, the title should rightfully pass to Young Master."

The Wang Fei: "The problem is he has Zhu Youlan as his father—Prince Xiangfu has intentions; even if he dares not touch Zhao Yuansong, he'll obstruct in court."

Qin Nai Nai seethed with resentment: "Prince Xiangfu is far too tyrannical—look at his actions these past half-year; all his former talk of not wanting to part with his son was lies—he's never wanted anything but the Prince title, long scheming for brother-to-brother succession."

The Zhou Wang Fei said nothing, gazing with deep eyes toward the outside.

Ever since Zhu Youjue rejected their proposal to adopt a child twice, she knew his intentions—and the Wang understood too.

Because of Zhu Youlan as a precedent, the Zhou Wang refused to force his brothers to give up nephews or sons for adoption.

Since he refused, let fate take its course—but she…

Gong Shi lowered her eyes to her hands; she bore no hatred toward the Zhou Wang, nor was she unwilling to die with him—she was merely resentful.

A stifling rage filled her chest, filling her with fury, always wanting to destroy something.

She was willing to die for the Zhou Wang—but only if it were her own choice; she could choose death, or choose life.

Not be forced into death.

Was it her fault that she bore no son?

The Zhou Wang's eight women had all failed to conceive—not even a single pregnancy; anyone with half a brain knew whose fault it was.

Why must they die for bearing no son?

But the Zhou Wang was too good—she couldn't even hate him.

So she could only hate the system, hate the imperial court, hate the ancestors, and hate Zhu Youjue and others scheming for the Zhou Wang's title.

The atmosphere here with the Zhou Wang Fei was poor, but the atmosphere with the Zhou Wang himself was not bad.

Perhaps Pan Yun's affirmation gave the Zhou Wang more confidence; his mental affliction lifted considerably, and now that he was drinking his second bowl of Tao Ji's medicine, he felt his body much lighter.

His mouth was bitter, so he craved something sweet.

Thus, an old man and a child sat together eating sweet treasure porridge—really just rice cooked into colorful patterns with a touch of sugar.

The senior servant was delighted; the Wang had barely eaten anything lately, and even with Young Master's coaxing, he could only manage a few spoonfuls.

Seeing his appetite improve, the servant's attitude toward Pan Yun softened considerably; after serving the porridge, he skillfully stepped aside.

The Zhou Wang ate slowly, speaking to Pan Yun: "I have several children under my care—Zhu Zihou is simple and kind-hearted, but he keeps his words locked inside; I once suggested to my fourth brother adopting him, but my fourth brother wouldn't let him go."

Pan Yun nodded: "After all, he's the eldest son; reluctance is natural."

The Zhou Wang nodded: "Later, I considered adopting Zhu Zidan—he's intelligent, gentle yet steadfast, and like my late father, he loves medicine; he could inherit my father's legacy. Compared to Zihou, I preferred him—but my fourth brother refused again."

Pan Yun caught on, clicking her tongue: "He wants to be Zhou Wang himself."

The Zhou Wang smiled: "Among all my younger brothers, he is indeed the most suitable—though born of a concubine, he's always gotten along well with me."

Though I have no biological son, I have raised an adopted son; when Zijin was taken from me, my heart shattered. I imagine any father would feel the same."

So when Zhu Youjue refused adoption, he understood—he truly believed it was because the man couldn't bear to part with his child.

Until he called Zhu Zijin back to his side—then Zhu Youjue grew desperate.

Zhu Zijin had only been in Kaifeng five days when he vanished after going out to play; rumors spread wildly; he suspected foul play, yet feared the rumors might be true.

But because of Zhu Zijin's filial devotion, he pitied the boy and could not bear to send him away again.

Zhu Youjue, perhaps panicked, once carelessly mentioned wanting to adopt Zihou as his heir.

But he quickly retracted it, claiming he'd spoken nonsense in drunkenness, still unwilling to part with him… At that moment, the Zhou Wang knew: his belief in deep brotherly affection had been false.

He sighed, took a spoonful of porridge, and looked at Pan Yun: "Young friend, how is it that you, so young, became a female Daoist Priest?"

Pan Yun was not yet a Daoist Priest—but that didn't prevent her from becoming one.

She said: "My mother died when I was six; my father and brothers were too burdened to care for me, and I had the natural aptitude for cultivation, so I became a Daoist Priest."

She embellished: "Wang, don't think me young—I've already cultivated for eight years."

The Zhou Wang couldn't help laughing: "Are you even eight years old?"

Pan Yun: "I was born with innate knowledge—I began cultivation the moment I left my mother's womb."

Though superstitious, the Zhou Wang was no fool; he retained basic judgment and was deeply skeptical of her claim.

"You don't believe me~~" Pan Yun traced a talisman in the air with her finger; the Zhou Wang watched as white light coalesced at her fingertip, forming a glyph that did not fade.

The Zhou Wang stared, dumbfounded, at the floating talisman; Pan Yun smiled gently at him, pushed her hand forward—the talisman shot toward him with a hiss and vanished into his chest.

The Zhou Wang felt his spirit clear, his chest's stifling rage dissipating.

!. Read

He looked at Pan Yun in surprise.

Pan Yun said proudly, "Although I don't have my senior brother's skill in the Dao of Alchemy, I can still draw talismans to invoke good fortune and bless people with the gathering of healthy Qi."

In fact, it was simply a matter of driving the talisman into a person's body, letting spiritual Qi slowly nourish the recipient's body and disperse the Qi of illness.

For those with mild ailments, they might simply recover; for someone as seriously ill as Zhou Wang, it would just make him feel a bit better, clear his meridians, and roughly harmonize the various Qi within him.

For example, once his stomach Qi improved, he could eat more, digest better, and the energy he absorbed would be stronger and greater.

This kind of talisman was generally used together with medicine, allowing the patient's body to recover faster; it belonged to the category of auxiliary talismans.

It was also thanks to the fact that Zhou Wang had just taken his medicine not long ago, and his body was currently circulating and transforming the medicinal power.

Once this talisman was driven in, the medicinal power could travel more smoothly through the four limbs and every bone; Zhou Wang then directly felt the change in his body.

His eyes lit up, and he grabbed Pan Yun's hand in one swift motion. "So it's a little genius! Little friend is impressive, truly impressive!"

Pan Yun said complacently, "Not only can I draw talismans, I can also read fortunes. Your Highness, would you like me to do a reading for you?"

Zhou Wang said with a chuckle, "Haven't you already done one?"

Pan Yun shook her head. "That was only physiognomy; the information gained from it is limited, not as much or as precise as what can be obtained from a person's birth date and hour."

She's already calculated so much, and it's still limited?

Zhou Wang's heart burned with eagerness, and he told her his birth date and hour.

Pan Yun then took up a brush and wrote and sketched at the side, laying out his Nine Palace Chart.

Zhou Wang could also make out some of it—after all, as a man of superstition, he had studied it before—but what could be seen from this?

Pan Yun counted on her fingers again and again, frowning slightly, then asked for the birth dates and hours of Zhu Zijin, Zhu Zihou, and Zhu Zifang.

These three children had been placed in his care since they were small; Zhou Wang knew them better than their own father, and naturally knew their birth dates and hours.

Pan Yun went through another round of calculations, and could not help frowning.

Zhou Wang began to doubt her ability and purpose once more.

There was no helping it—he had been like this lately, trusting one moment and doubting the next with whomever he met.

"What is it? Is someone hexing me?"

"Not really," Pan Yun said. "These three people are all beneficial to you; there is no mutual clashing."

Hearing this, Zhou Wang broke into a smile and trusted her once again.

"But it's strange—Zhu Zijin is clearly your heir son, and he was even separated out in the middle, so how does he have such a deep father-son bond with you? Looking at your birth dates and hours, he ought to be your biological son!"

Pan Yun said, "It's more as if he was born to be your son, only he was reborn into someone else's family."

Zhou Wang was stunned, one blank moment after another.

Even after Pan Yun left, he still had not really come back to his senses.

When his personal attendant came in, he was holding those four sheets of paper, looking at them.

The personal attendant could not help saying, "Your Highness, I think the little Daoist's reading was not bad. The eldest Young Master ought to be your son; he looks more like you too, not like the Second Prince."

Where did he look like him? He looked like his father—the two of them both resembled the late Zhou Wang.

But…

How come those two were the ones who looked most like their father? Wasn't the second one also their father's child? He just didn't look like him—what a coincidence that Zijin also didn't look like him.

Could it be that what this child said was not flattery, but the truth?

The ten lucky numbers for this chapter are numbers ending in 1; screenshot as proof, find陌顏 (Moyan).

(End of this chapter)