Chapter 35: Chapter 34. What is going on in Dongshan?

Chapter 34.

In the northern stretch of the Grand Canal, an eerie spectacle unfolded: a swarm of rats, tails linked, scurrying across the banks. The bizarre sight drew a massive crowd of stunned onlookers, murmurs spreading like wildfire.

Old-timers whispered ominously, “Rats crossing the river? That can only mean a calamity is brewing.”

The news quickly reached Emperor Longfeng. Upon receiving the report from the governor of Shunfeng Prefecture, he found himself unsettled, caught in a tangle of doubt and unease.

Seeking clarity, he summoned the chief astrologer of the Imperial Observatory. The elderly man, stooped with age, launched into an elaborate web of cryptic astronomical mumbo jumbo, dodging the heart of the matter. Finally, the emperor’s patience snapped. “Enough with your riddles! Speak plainly—what do the heavens portend?!”

The chief astrologer bowed deeply, his voice trembling as he declared, “The heavens are issuing a grave warning. This year brings great misfortune.”

Emperor Longfeng’s eyes narrowed, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he paced the room. “Did the heavens also deign to provide a solution?”

After a moment of hesitation, the astrologer glanced at the skies, then muttered, “The north faces disaster. Salvation lies in the south. Heading south will avert the catastrophe.”

The emperor’s brow furrowed. “South? Are you saying I should go to Nanjing?”

He mulled it over. Shanxi, lying perilously close to the capital region, was already battling the epidemic. If it spiraled further, the plague would inevitably seep into the heartlands. Once unleashed, an outbreak of this scale wouldn’t be easily contained.

But relocating to Nanjing wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. It was the secondary capital, true, but for the Son of Heaven to flee before the plague fully took hold? The move could be seen as cowardly, a blow to imperial dignity. Worse, it would give his critics ample ammunition.

What if this epidemic wasn’t as dire as the reports suggested?

Pandemics had come and gone before. Grim and deadly, yes, but manageable in the end. Besides, if he left the capital, someone would need to stay behind to govern.

Leaving the Crown Prince in charge? It would bolster his growing reputation, possibly too much. Yet no one else inspired the same confidence.

Torn and unsure, the emperor delayed, deciding to wait for more clarity. He dispatched officials to Shanxi to verify the situation firsthand.

Not long after the investigators departed, news came from Xue Shu: 40 members of the Western Bureau stationed in Shanxi had returned. Along with them was a mysterious figure—the Daoist master known as Ziyuan Zhenren.

Xue Shu personally introduced the master to the emperor, who promptly summoned him to the palace. Ziyuan Zhenren, though his hair was white as snow, had a face that seemed no older than forty. Agile and spry, he radiated an aura of vitality that defied his years.

At the sight of him, Emperor Longfeng exclaimed with delight, “A true immortal!” He personally escorted Ziyuan to the Hall of Heavenly Purity, eager for a discussion.

The two spoke at length, from midday until twilight. Reluctantly, the emperor ended their conversation, entranced by the master’s insights. He even offered to prepare lodgings for Ziyuan within the palace.

But the Daoist shook his head and declined. “I cannot linger here. The omens are dire, and disaster looms. I must journey south to seek a remedy.”

His words struck a chord with the emperor. “What do you mean by that, Master?”

Ziyuan explained, “I have been studying the stars. Strange anomalies plague the northern heavens. The celestial pole, surrounded by malevolent energy, signals impending catastrophe. The south, however, remains untainted, its energies pure and righteous. To counter the northern menace, the south must rise to cleanse the corruption.”

The emperor leaned forward, his voice urgent. “How can the south’s energy be harnessed?”

Ziyuan’s gaze sharpened. “You must send someone of exceptional destiny to the south. Their presence will amplify the region’s righteous energy. As the balance of yin and yang naturally shifts, the strengthened southern energy will flow northward, driving away the corruption. Evil cannot withstand the righteous; the calamity will dissipate, and the disaster will be averted.”

The emperor’s mind raced. Was this the solution the heavens had promised?

Longfeng, the Emperor of Supreme Glory, mulled it over for a while before speaking, his tone both contemplative and commanding: “Isn’t the one with the most auspicious destiny… me?”

Who else in this world could have a destiny more exalted than the Son of Heaven himself?

Ziyuan Zhenren, the so-called True Immortal, nodded, then shook his head, his words laced with calculated ambiguity. “Yes and no, Your Majesty. Naturally, your destiny is the most extraordinary of all. Should you travel south, you’d undoubtedly strengthen the righteous energies of the realm. But as the sovereign with a body worth its weight in gold, leaving the capital so lightly is ill-advised. This humble Daoist can only seek others with noble destinies to act in your stead.”

The more Ziyuan Zhenren spoke, the more intrigued the emperor became.

The earlier warning from the Imperial Observatory had already planted the seed of temptation in his heart, though hesitation lingered. But now, Ziyuan Zhenren’s suggestion only solidified his resolve.

If what Ziyuan Zhenren claimed was true, then this journey to Nanjing wouldn’t be an escape from disaster. It would be a bold move to dispel the ominous signs brewing in the north.

The Emperor’s mind raced. The idea seemed more plausible with each passing moment. Finally, he shook his head decisively and said, “Even if you find hundreds or thousands of substitutes, none can truly replace me. I will go south personally to oversee this matter and restore balance to the realm.”

Ziyuan Zhenren hesitated, his expression betraying reluctance. “That would certainly be ideal, but…”

“Enough.” The Emperor cut him off with a wave of his hand, exuding an air of absolute authority. “There’s no need for your concern. I’ll handle everything myself.” His decision made, he ordered his attendants to prepare the imperial entourage and returned to the Qianqing Palace

Ziyuan Zhenren watched the emperor’s back retreating into the distance. Only when the emperor was long gone did he cautiously summon another man to his side: Xue Shu.

The once-imposing Ziyuan Zhenren now looked servile, his confidence replaced with a sycophantic grin. “Supervisor Xue, I’ve done exactly as you instructed.”

“Well done.” Xue Shu’s sharp eyes scrutinized the Daoist’s nervous demeanor, but he didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “For now, there’s nothing else you need to do. Just keep the emperor content. If you succeed, wealth and status will naturally follow.”

Ziyuan Zhenren hesitated, his face betraying unease. “But this is His Majesty we’re talking about. If he realizes…”

Xue Shu interrupted coldly, his tone cutting. “When you deceived those commoners in Datong, did anyone see through you?”

“Never.” Ziyuan Zhenren ’s confidence returned slightly. He stroked his meticulously groomed white beard and puffed out his chest. “In Datong, the people revered me as an ‘Old Immortal.’ They granted my every request without question.”

If not for the sudden intervention of Xue Shu’s agents, Ziyuan Zhenren would still be living like a deity in his Daoist temple, worshipped by the masses.

In fact, during a recent plague outbreak, desperate townsfolk had flocked to his temple, begging for talismans to ward off evil. Had he not feared catching the disease himself, he might have even hosted grand rituals to further cement his godlike status.

“And how does His Majesty compare to those commoners?” Xue Shu’s question was blasphemous, but his tone made it sound like the simplest of truths.

Ziyuan Zhenren hesitated, visibly torn. “That…”

“Think about it,” Xue Shu pressed, his voice dripping with persuasion. “Just treat the emperor like one of those peasants. Even if you had tens of thousands of followers, the wealth and power they’d bring wouldn’t compare to what you can gain from serving His Majesty alone.”

Ziyuan Zhenren opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words.

The logic was undeniable. The emperor, for all his divinity, wasn’t any harder to manipulate than the gullible villagers.

He glanced around the resplendent Xuanqiong Palace, where even the smallest incense burner glittered with embedded gemstones. Then he thought of his modest temple in Datong, where he couldn’t even afford to gild a proper statue. Greed surged through him, undeniable and all-consuming.

Fortune favors the bold.

With newfound resolve, Ziyuan bowed deeply. “I’ll rely on Supervisor Xue’s guidance from here on.”

Xue Shu’s thin smile revealed satisfaction. “Mutual benefit."

*

After two days of brooding in the Qianqing Palace, Emperor Longfeng emerged with a bold proclamation on the third day: he would travel to Nanjing to pray for the people's fortune.

He confidently recounted the sage-like wisdom of Master Ziyuan, parroting the words so fervently that even he seemed utterly convinced of their truth. By the time he addressed the court, his tone was unwavering, his resolve unshakable.

The court officials, ministers, and generals stood stunned. Not a single soul dared to refute him.

The epidemic in Shanxi had only just begun to rear its head, and yet here was the Son of Heaven, proposing to flee southward under the guise of religious duty. No amount of justification could mask the self-serving cowardice in his actions, but who would dare voice such thoughts?

This was, after all, just another in a string of absurdities from the Emperor’s reign—though this one felt more brazen, more preposterous than most.

The officials instinctively glanced toward the Grand Secretaries, the seasoned pillars of the cabinet. But these four men exchanged awkward looks, none willing to raise objections.

The southern faction, led by Deputy Minister Shao Tian, naturally kept silent. They saw no reason to provoke the Emperor’s ire. After all, their interests lay in the south, far removed from the plague-stricken north. The Emperor relocating to Nanjing only served their cause. The fewer northerners left, the less competition over resources and power.

Grand Secretary Lu Jing, however, briefly considered intervening. But a discreet tug on his sleeve from the Vice Minister of Personnel reminded him: “This is a blessing in disguise.”

If the Emperor left the capital, someone had to stay behind to hold the fort. Who else but the Crown Prince?

Lu Jing’s hesitation dissolved as realization dawned. He stayed silent.

And so, in a rare display of unanimity, the court approved the Emperor’s plan without resistance.

By late April, Emperor Longfeng departed for Nanjing, accompanied by his favored concubines, princes, and princesses, guarded by fifty thousand imperial troops. Crown Prince Yin Chengyu was appointed regent in his absence.

Yet the Emperor’s trust ran thin. He ordered Xue Shu, a loyal Eunuch, to remain in the capital with twenty thousand troops—not to assist the Crown Prince but to keep a watchful eye.

On the day of the Emperor’s departure, Crown Prince Yin Chengyu personally escorted the procession to the city gates. Watching the grand entourage vanish into the distance, the Prince finally allowed a sly, liberated smile to surface. Turning to his trusted aide Zheng Duobao, he commanded, “Summon the Grand Secretaries. We have work to do.”

The plague in Shanxi had festered long enough. Now, with no imperial interference, he could act decisively.

By nightfall, the Crown Prince convened all five Grand Secretaries in the Hongren Hall of Ciqing Palace, including the ailing Prime Minister Yu Huai’an. They discussed relief efforts for Shanxi, where reports painted an even grimmer picture than initially feared. The plague had begun spreading to nearby provinces, threatening catastrophic loss of life.

The Treasury held enough reserves, and the Ministry of Revenue could allocate funds and supplies with relative ease. Yet the real challenge lay in ensuring that aid reached the suffering masses. Corruption ran rampant, and former Shanxi Governor Zhou Weishan, disgraced and dismissed, left a power vacuum that needed urgent filling.

However, appointing a replacement proved contentious. Southern officials, led by Shao Tian, eyed the relief funds greedily but recoiled from the monumental task of managing Shanxi's crisis. Meanwhile, well-meaning officials like Yu Huai’an and Lu Jing lacked either the strength or experience to handle such a fraught situation.

The same arguments that had dominated court debates resurfaced in this meeting, devolving into a circular, fruitless quarrel.

Frustrated, Crown Prince Yin Chengyu dismissed the gathering, his mind racing with unresolved plans.

Later, in the quiet stillness of the Hall, he summoned Xue Shu.

“I’m going to Shanxi,” the Crown Prince declared, his voice resolute. “Make the arrangements.”

The stakes were too high to entrust this mission to anyone else. Shanxi’s fate—and by extension, the fate of the empire—demanded his personal intervention.

With his grandfather holding the political fort in the capital, he could finally focus on what truly mattered: saving the people and proving his worth.

"Shanxi is plagued with a severe epidemic. Your Highness, with your noble and priceless body, shouldn't take such risks." Before Xue Shu could finish, his brows were already furrowed in protest.

But Yin Chengyu had no interest in hearing objections. Slowly closing the distance between them, he pressed a firm hand against Xue Shu's lips to silence him. His voice dropped, low and commanding, "I didn’t summon you here to listen to your opinions. You have one night to prepare. At dawn tomorrow, we leave. No carriages—just horses. We'll travel light and ride ahead to investigate Shanxi personally. The relief convoy will follow later."

To control the epidemic, they needed to uncover the origins of the outbreak—only then could they find a cure and halt its spread swiftly.

Xue Shu's protests fell on deaf ears. He had no choice but to comply and make the necessary arrangements.

By dawn the next day, Yin Chengyu, accompanied by three young imperial physicians and escorted by Xue Shu and a hundred elite guards, set out for Taiyuan in Shanxi. True to his word, Yin Chengyu discarded any notions of comfort. Carriages were left behind as the group pressed on at full gallop.

The three physicians, unaccustomed to horseback riding, had to rely on soldiers to guide their mounts in shifts. The entourage departed from Wangjing City at sunrise and didn’t stop until deep into the night, finding a sheltered spot to rest.

Yin Chengyu made no allowance for setting up tents. Fires were lit to ward off the cold, and everyone made do with dry rations. After a brief meal, they rested in their clothes under the open sky, ready to depart as soon as dawn broke.

Xue Shu watched as Yin Chengyu bit into a hard, cold biscuit, his brows creased in discomfort. With a rare flicker of softness, Xue Shu passed him a water pouch he’d warmed by the fire. "Take this. Warm water makes it easier to swallow."

Yin Chengyu accepted it, sipping the water before forcing down the tough biscuit. Only then did he glance up and ask, "Why aren’t you sleeping?"

Xue Shu shook his head. "Can’t sleep."

After a pause, he asked, "Does your leg hurt, Your Highness?"

Yin Chengyu hesitated briefly before nodding. "A bit sore. After years of indulgence, I’ve grown soft."

It wasn’t just his legs. His whole body ached from the relentless ride, his bones feeling as though they’d been shaken apart. Exhaustion pressed heavily on him, but the thought of the epidemic—the tiger snapping at his heels—kept him awake and restless.

Xue Shu saw through his struggle. "Shall I massage it for you?" Without waiting for a reply, he sat on the ground and patted his thigh, signaling for Yin Chengyu to rest his leg there.

Yin Chengyu hesitated until Xue Shu added pointedly, "It’s still two or three more days to Taiyuan. If you don’t ease the pain now, Your Highness might end up needing me to carry you the rest of the way."

That coaxed Yin Chengyu into complying. Leaning back against a boulder, he kicked off his boots and placed his legs on Xue Shu’s lap.

Xue Shu bowed his head, his fingers skillfully working to knead the tension from Yin Chengyu's sore muscles. Behind him, the firelight outlined his form, though his face was obscured by shadows, making his expression unreadable.

After a moment, Yin Chengyu nudged him with his toes. "Why don’t you hurt?"

Xue Shu looked up briefly, his dark gaze unreadable. "I’m trained for this."

Yin Chengyu snorted in disbelief, leaning forward to pinch his leg hard. Xue Shu flinched, his brow twitching as he suppressed the pain. Yin Chengyu smirked. "Pretending to be tough. You’re just as sore as the rest of us."

Even the soldiers escorting them, trained as they were, looked visibly worn from the journey. Xue Shu wasn’t invincible—he was simply stubborn.

Yin Chengyu shot him a sidelong glance, voice tinged with amusement. "Enough. Put my boots back on. I’m going to sleep."

———Author’s Note:

Xue Shu: His Highness cares about me! His Highness loves me!