ITIEQ C88

Chapter 88 – Is There Even a Normal Person in the Xiao Family?

The rest of what happened could almost be foretold.

Creating such a noisy commotion—practically an outburst of panic—and still seeing no effect, one would of course know things were turning dire. Lesser clans might yet hope to scrape by in submission, but as for great houses with roots so deep, they had long since become thorns in that man’s side. Lord Wei Hongbo knew it well.

The very seat beneath him was eyed hungrily by many side‑branches. His son Dan’er had proven useless; everyone secretly wished the old man to die soon so they could seize the post of patriarch with legitimacy.

During the three days of Wei Sheng’s coma, Wei Hongbo sat vigil at his bedside, pondering. Not until he heard they meant to clash with Emperor Zhaohuan directly did he reach a decision.

Could he, who in youth won such achievements, truly have grown foolish in age?

A mere amputation to save the body, to cut away a limb for survival—was that so unbearable?

Kinsmen, branches, cousins, and that wolf Gongyang Ci… let them fight, let their heads split, only to find it all folly in the end. What a fine joke that would be!

Then, the sleeper agents placed within the Wei household by Princess Pingyun for many years finally entered play. Beneficiaries of Qingbei Academy’s favor included many born in Yunzhong County. From time immemorial, scholars, though weaponless, wielded sharpest pens. Their reports could be like today’s “media outlets,” inciting decline or fame at will.

When their words attacked, the whole city trembled. A magistrate might suppress a hundred. But if it were a thousand, ten thousand? If catchpoles, petty clerks, kitchen servants all turned against them—what then?

Water can overturn a boat.

The Wei clan panicked. Where had commoners found such courage to resist them?

Beset within and without, the gates of the Wei estate swung wide.

While they feasted on power, each clung to the fat morsel, teeth dug deep. But when blame must be borne, faces changed. Unable themselves, they pointed to Gongyang Ci. Always they had scorned this outsider. Now they fawned on him. Should the emperor arrive, they would shove him forward, preserve their own hides, still enjoy prestige beneath the Wei name.

How could Gongyang Ci not know their bellies’ contents? To make the Wei family live richly pained him more than death. And to let them suck his blood worse yet. All he had schemed long for naught. Could he not rise again? Though his heart bled, he could only turn about and sink back deep into dust.

But to leave truly empty‑handed would be graceless. He must leave a “gift.”

And so when the Dragon Cavalry raided the estate, they easily “discovered” incriminating manuscripts scattered brazenly across tables—correspondence, every word damning. The Wei scions, hoping to escape censure, saw it and gnashed their teeth. Only then did they realize it was over.

Now at last they understood—Gongyang Ci, Wei Hongbo, both had shed skins like golden cicadas, abandoned them as pawns.

Thus in a single accounting, a grand tower of Huizhou that had stood a hundred years crashed down in one night. News flew like an arrow, jolting every noble clan across all thirteen provinces.

Yue Ji sighed: “His Majesty scorns us, his ministers, who once shielded him from wind and rain.”

Prince Lu sat at the head seat, hands clutching a white kerchief, wiping sweat again and again.

Gathered here were clan lords and leading figures. Their faces black as pots.

All under heaven are children of the sovereign. The ruler and his ministers—kin at times close, at times estranged. The stronger one grows, the weaker the other.

The great clans once seemed unrestrained—yet how were they not leaning on imperial favor? So long as the throne required their strength to sit stable, there must be reward, privilege, indulgence, respect. Thus their power swelled fat under royal shade.

—Yet never had any emperor truly cast this aside.

Even in the mad Xiao line, no ruler thought to scatter away the cloud that gave cover overhead.

All assumed the balance would endure.

But the young emperor had proved them wrong. Barely years upon the throne, and he not only acted thus, but struck to annihilate. He cared not that clan retainers flooded all the provinces. Memorialists kneeling from the Hall of Governance straight to Longzhang Terrace could not move him.

All had misjudged.

Xiao Yuanzheng was the maddest Xiao yet!

The Xiao clan was digging its own grave. But who among them wished death with him?

The high platform shook, each desperate for self‑preservation.

Thus these regional powers gathered, heavyweights all.

Think of that grim‑faced, death‑judge of a nephew—Prince Lu only wanted to flee. He never dreamed of sitting the throne, yet lived wealthy in leisure. Now dragged by force from his domain by these others—

And now, with his nephew marching seven in, seven out across his land, how could he explain it?

He pleaded: “It nears year’s end. Why don’t we all disperse, return home for the festival?”

“Prince Lu, do you mean to retreat?” Wei Hongli clutched his hand‑heater, eyes ringed red, sleepless for days. “We are grasshoppers tied by one rope. None of us can escape!”

He had rallied troops for the Wei family, rode with Prince Lu to the capital. Yesterday he received news his household faced ruin the instant he left. While contesting His Majesty, before even a blow, his clan became target—the first fallen bird.

Others might retreat. He had no path back. Only if they triumphed could his family’s name clear. Return across the river, and he’d be seized at once.

“Hey now, what words are those? Grasshoppers? If anyone’s anxious, it’s you.” Pang Mingde dusted ash from wide sleeves. With one of the Five Surnames toppled, that only meant wider shares of meat for the rest. Why not them? Why not the Pang family ascend to Five?

“Pang Mingde! You think when Wei falls, you alone will thrive?” Wei Hongli slammed the table, roaring. The surface rattled. “Next in line is you. You!”

“Not so,” Pang Mingde spread his hands, the very picture of unruffled mocking.

Already they quarreled amongst themselves before any agreement.

Bold beyond sense, with nothing inside their skulls. Yue Ji frowned. To work with such? Disgraceful.

Steam curled from his porcelain cup as he said gently: “As ministers, our duty is remonstrance. We must guard our lord within from evil deeds, and without from infamy. Gentlemen, your intentions may be loyal, but reckless—you even risked raising blades in my absence. No wonder His Majesty misunderstood.”

At last Prince Lu found one voice of reason. He sidled close: “Well said, Master Yue. Good intent must not be mistaken for ill results.”

They awoke as from a dream. With Prince Lu as figurehead, was not the slogan “Clearing the Emperor’s Court”? Even if it failed, they would claim loyal hearts.

With lines drawn clear, they could proceed. Thus they invited Yue Ji purposely. First, his prestige lent them weight. Second, since the emperor showed them such scorn, at least he must reckon with the foremost aristocrats of Great Yong.

…

As dust settled, Shen Qinghe remained on the rear front. Chest after chest of silver and treasure were carted forth, stamped and sealed—dozens, unending.

What immense wealth. He clicked tongue in awe.

Here came Princess Pingyun openly, standing beside him.

“You ought remain in Danyang County.” Shen Qinghe advised seriously. Public anger seethed outside. To outsiders, two Wei were all one snake pit. She might be swallowed with them.

“From this day, there is no Wei estate. Only the Princess’s.”

Xiao Yuxi beamed, thrilled at last to see her haughty elders, now bedraggled as rats. She could die in peace now.

“Emperor Zhaohuan—same as ever. Brilliant. But my credit too. The day you entered Qingzhou, I saw your signal, blocked every path from Yunzhong. Anyone by water? Please! The rivers are mine. Anyone dares slip past—easily sunk!” She waved, light as air, while speaking of drowning.

“…That much hatred?” Shen Qinghe sweatdropped.

“All small things now.”

Today her head bore a turquoise‑inlaid crown, hair braided into several slim plaits she toyed with. “No help—I’m petty. Pay back slights, every one. They must endure. Oh, and something I forgot to mention.”

She leaned close, lips at his ear.

“I have one captive. You’d be interested.”

A look from him.

“Gongyang Ci. Interested?”

“He’s in your hands?”

“Smart man. Knew land and water blocked, so hid early in some village. But little did he know, my ‘ordinary rustic village’ is actually a confidential research site. Every soul drilled endlessly in secrecy. A stranger comes? Next day reported and arrested!”

“…That’s rotten luck.”

She laughed. “Him alone, barely worth noting. But Xiao Rou was with him. So I seized her.”

“… …”

Not expecting him to respond, she kept on gleeful: “Always knew Gongyang Ci was foul. I told him, ‘Hand over Xiao Rou, I’ll spare your life.’ Guess what? Husbands and wives—same nest birds. When storm comes, they each fly away.”

Shen Qinghe arched brow, studying her joy. “Truly? To me you more resemble—hm—those villainess characters in romance tales. Soft‑hearted lovers to be torn apart.”

She paused, then laughed bright. “Smart again, you saw! Indeed, not all truth said. In fact, their bond was firm as iron.” With bitter irony: “Only Xiao Rou’s pleas, coughing blood, moved me to spare him. Half‑dead thrown out of Yunzhong. Oh, such lovers.”

“Really can’t see it. In his state—what’s she want with him? She’s ill, costs money. Can love feed them both?”

“Better with me—and your Qingbei marvels. Dr. Gao and the like—maybe cure her!”

These three…

Strange. With Yuxi out, still, Gongyang Ci and Wei Qiong—dragged into love, stayed tangled. Neither kin, nor enemy.

“Oh, right.” Yuxi changed tack. “So—you and the emperor? To what point?”

“Cough‑cough‑cough—”

“What cough—what cough! Don’t tell me, no hint at all? He’s already summoned you back to Kyoto. Don’t tell me you’re still just uncooked rice!”

So loud, Shen Qinghe wanted to stuff her mouth shut!

“Nonsense! Not as you think.”

“Then how? Let me tell you, don’t be fooled by my cousin’s solemn face. The Xias—hah, I know them best. So many years, dismissed his attendants, none near. Palace empty front and rear—lonely indeed. Think: either his heart is sick, or his body is.”

On she rambled. Shen Qinghe only laughed.

If the Xiao clan had even one “normal” person, it was only Xiao Yuanzheng.

“What ‘kind’ Xiao clan?” A sudden voice cut sharp. Yuxi jerked, mouth gaping.

“Of course it’s—”

Shen Qinghe: “What?” The voice was all too familiar. With teasing smirk, he watched Princess Pingyun stumble.

“…Of course, warm, courteous, thrifty, yielding—the world’s model.” She straightened, performed perfectly a palace curtsey. “This humble servant suddenly recalls urgent duties await me in Danyang. I take my leave.”

“You two, take your time—talk well, talk long!”

She winked at Shen Qinghe.

Shen Qinghe: “……”

Footnotes for Readers:

1. Golden Cicada Shedding Shell (金蝉脱壳) – Idiom: to escape danger by discarding one’s outer disguise, leaving others to suffer.
2. Water can overturn a boat (水能覆舟) – Ancient maxim: people are the foundation of the state; they can carry a ruler, or overturn him.
3. Year’s-End Festival (年关) – Literarily “pass of the year,” Chinese lunar new year period.
4. “Uncooked rice” (生米) – Playful slang: means intimate relations not consummated, i.e., “not yet slept together.”