Chapter 65: Prince Xing is Dead

Shuntian Prefecture.

Prince of Liao, Zhao Song, and Prince of Xing, Zhao Gu, had just arrived in the capital yesterday. After having a banquet with their nephew, the Emperor, the two brothers simply walked back to the Liao Prince's Mansion with their arms draped over each other's shoulders.

As imperial princes, they had estates in the capital.

"Why on earth is the Second Brother still refusing to come back?" Zhao Song asked, swaying drunkenly as he walked, before letting out a mischievous chuckle. "Could it be that he's too scared to return?"

As far as he was concerned, what was there for the young Emperor to fear? As long as you did not rebel, and had enough to eat and drink, wouldn't that suffice?

Hearing this, Zhao Gu nodded repeatedly. "Ever since the Eldest Brother passed away, the Second Brother has been acting like a ghost, terrified that his head might be separated from his shoulders."

"He even tried to persuade us younger brothers not to come back. You tell me, with the Second Brother holding out in front, which big fool would make a move against you and me first?"

They used to feel that the late Emperor favored the Eldest Brother and the Second Brother too much, but now they actually felt that being born of a concubine was rather nice—at least it spared them from becoming thorns in the new Emperor's side.

No matter what, they were still the Emperor's paternal uncles; would he really treat them poorly when it came to food and provisions?

So what if they had to hand over the military power in their hands? Just hand it over.

What was the big deal?

Upon returning to the prince's mansion, the two brothers prepared to drink a little more. Prince of Xing, Zhao Gu, was naturally fond of wine and never considered it a day unless he hugged a jar and drank himself into a stupor.

"Third Brother, how many years has it been since the two of us last met? Tonight, we must drink until we pass out as if we're fast asleep."

Yet, although Prince of Liao, Zhao Song, also loved wine, he was a very restrained person.

"No more drinking, no more drinking. Passing out like a dead log is unseemly."

Collapsing on the ground like a puddle of mud was hardly dignified when word got out.

"Third Brother, you're still the same as before, putting on a false facade of propriety. In truth, you're the worst of us all. When we were little, you even peeked at our father's concubines bathing..."

After mocking his own third brother, Zhao Gu hugged a jar of wine from the estate and drank to his heart's content.

"If only the Second Brother were here. He can drink way more than our old man."

"The Second Brother is the one who resembles our grandfather the most—forthright and unconstrained, able to mount a horse to fight battles and dismount to compose poetry. It's just a pity that the Second Brother didn't get to be Emperor."

If the Second Brother had become Emperor, would there be any room for such suspicion and paranoia?

Among all the brothers, they respected the Eldest Brother the most, and next to him, they obeyed the Second Brother the absolute most.

"This is the capital, don't land the Second Brother in trouble." Zhao Song looked cautiously around his surroundings before lowering his voice. "We still don't know how the Second Brother is doing."

Whether he was placed under house arrest or executed, as his younger brother, he would grieve.

Zhao Gu gulped down several large mouthfuls of wine and said with a tinge of sympathy, "Who are you telling?"

From the bottom of his heart, he sympathized with his second brother, and from the bottom of his heart, he admired him.

"Brother... Third Brother..."

Just as he was about to reminisce about the past, Zhao Gu suddenly felt an excruciating pain in his abdomen, so intense that he began to writhe and roll on the ground.

"Fourth Brother... Fourth Brother, what's wrong with you, Fourth Brother?"

Seeing his younger brother's face turn ashen, Zhao Song was startled and hurriedly ordered someone to summon the imperial physicians.

"Fourth Brother, what did you eat, Fourth Brother?"

They had eaten largely the same things, so why was he completely fine?

Zhao Song suddenly cast his gaze toward the wine scattered nearby. Well-versed in medical principles, he scrambled on his hands and knees to examine it, the chill in his heart instantly plunging into an icy abyss.

Crest of the Red Crane.

Crest of the Red Crane was red arsenic, capable of causing death within half an hour.

"Third Brother..."

Zhao Gu lay flat on the ground, groaning in agony. Zhao Song hurriedly rushed over to cradle his younger brother, roaring toward the doorway, "Where are the imperial physicians? Have the imperial physicians arrived yet?"

He knew that even if the physicians came, it would be useless, because not even they could save his fourth brother now.

Zhao Gu wept, "It's a good thing the Second Brother didn't come back... It's a good thing you didn't drink, Third Brother... This wasn't done by the young Emperor... Then it must have been done by Fan Chengyuan..."

Only Fan Chengyuan shouted every single day about curtailing the fiefs and prayed daily to have them locked away.

"That accursed bastard! Third Brother, Third Brother, you must avenge me, Third Brother..."

With his younger brother gone, Zhao Song naturally threw a massive tantrum, demanding an explanation from the Emperor while pointing his spearhead squarely at the immensely powerful Fan Chengyuan.

Yet, while Fan Chengyuan was ruthless, he was hardly a fool; how could he possibly make a move against the Princes of Liao and Xing at a time like this?

The Prince of Lu, whom he most wanted to eradicate, had not even returned yet; how could he possibly wish to lay a hand on these two?

The young Emperor certainly had not done this either. Just as everyone was utterly baffled, Fan Chengyuan suddenly cast a fierce glare at the grief-stricken Wang Zhiqiuh.

He lunged fiercely toward Wang Zhiqiuh, his hands wrapping tightly around his neck in a chokehold.

"It was you! You did this, didn't you? Was it you?"

Everyone present was a seasoned political fox of many years; how could Wang Zhiqiuh possibly let any trace show on his face?

"I, Wang Mingfeng, was cultivated and promoted by the late Emperor. If I were to commit such a heinous and rebellious act, may I be torn apart by five horses, struck by lightning from the heavens, and meet a miserable end."

So what if he had done it?

As long as he refused to admit to it, the greatest suspicion for this matter would fall squarely on the two of you, monarch and minister.

Although Wang Zhiqiuh's actions often damaged the interests of many, his personal integrity was witnessed by all, and furthermore, ancients placed immense weight upon oaths.

Driven nearly to madness, Zhao Song drew the saber of an imperial guard and slashed like a madman toward Fan Chengyuan.

"You treacherous sycophant, how dare you instigate His Majesty to poison and murder an imperial uncle? If I do not hack you to pieces today, I shall no longer bear the surname Zhao!"

Drawing a sword before the imperial throne was a grave matter, frightening even the young Emperor into standing up from his seat.

"Third Uncle, do not act rashly. I will undoubtedly give you an explanation for this matter."

It was true that he had wanted to bestow poisoned wine, but his poisoned wine was meant solely for the Second Uncle.

Chaos erupted within the grand hall, and Fan Chengyuan rolled all over the floor, evading Zhao Song's blade.

The surrounding guards wanted to intervene but did not dare. Zhao Bo stood beside his third uncle, pleading with him repeatedly, but seeing that he paid him no heed at all, he finally roared in anger.

"Detound the Third Imperial Uncle and escort him back to his mansion! None are permitted to leave the estate without my command!"

Only then did the guards dare to step forward and restrain Zhao Song. By this time, although Fan Chengyuan was uninjured, his robes were already in disarray and he looked utterly wretched.

Upon departing from the palace, Hua Lang followed Wang Zhiqiuh. Staring at his friend's calm countenance, he spoke.

"The Prince of Xing is dead. What shall we do next?"

He knew that beneath his good friend's serene expression, a turbulent, heart-wrenching storm was undoubtedly raging.

It was the agony of betraying the late Emperor while feeling compelled to do so nonetheless.

Wang Zhiqiuh gazed leisurely toward the imperial tombs, his tone resembling that of an eighty-year-old man simply waiting for death.

He intended to drive the Prince of Liao to suicide!

Following that, he would spread rumors that Fan Chengyuan was an orphan of the former dynasty, and then offer himself up as a sacrifice—only then would the Prince of Lu's uprising be completely righteous and justified.

Seeing that his friend refused to confide in him, Hua Lang choked back a sob and said, "Once the Prince of Lu enters the capital, he will certainly not allow His Majesty to live."

The late Emperor had believed that position was a protective amulet for his grandson, but in truth, it was a death warrant. It would have been better to simply declare that the Prince of Lu should depose the nephew and ascend the throne himself; that way, at least their lives might have been spared.

Yet, if he had spoken thus, wouldn't every imperial prince across the realm have sought to "cleanse the imperial court"?

Now, for the sake of a single Fan Chengyuan, an imperial prince had been sacrificed, and an emperor was about to follow.

Consequently, they would fail the late Emperor's dying trust all the more profoundly.

"What other choice do I have?" Even the gentle-natured Wang Zhiqiuh could no longer contain his fury at this moment. "His Majesty listens to that man surnamed Fan, not to us."

"Do you think I willingly want to prop up the Prince of Lu? Do I not wish for His Majesty to become a wise monarch of a generation?"

"His Majesty listens to that fellow surnamed Fan's reckless tax exemptions; this year, the Ministry of Revenue's tax collection has been halved, and the imperial treasury is twice as empty as it was during the late Emperor's reign. What do you propose we do about the northern frontiers?"

"Must we truly resort to peace through marriage, truly purchase their sickly and aging horses at exorbitant prices in exchange for peace, pressing the entire dignity of the Great Yong dynasty into the dirt and trampling upon it?"

When wars broke out, when disasters required relief, when imperial tombs needed building, when water conservancy projects had to be undertaken, and when officials needed to be paid their stipends—what could ever be accomplished without money?

If the imperial court could not accomplish anything, the realm would plunge into chaos. By then, with the common people suffering and destitute, they would fail the late Emperor even more grievously, and fail the official caps resting upon their heads.