"Lin’er, you’ve offended His Majesty deeply. If this Fifth Prince decides to act on some deathbed decree against you, you’ll be in serious trouble!"
"Alright, alright, calm down," Jiang Lin soothed. "The Fifth Prince ascending the throne isn’t a bad thing."
Ever since Yue Heng brought him to their wedding banquet last night, Jiang Lin and Wei Yunzhao had their suspicions - especially since the Fifth Prince was nothing like the rumors suggested. Combined with Yue Heng’s prior mention of having already chosen the next heir, it wasn’t hard to guess: that person was the Fifth Prince, Yue Cheng.
"What do you mean?" Zhou Chengwang sensed something amiss but couldn’t quite grasp it, his eyes wide with confusion.
Jiang Lin said, "Put it this way, how do you know he wasn’t willingly preparing the throne for someone else?"
And that "someone else" was clearly the Fifth Prince.
"So… from the beginning, the Sixth Prince intended for the Fifth Prince to take the throne?" Zhou Chengwang’s face looked shocked.
Jiang Lin nodded with a faint smile. "Most likely. Anyway, it’s a matter between those two brothers, outsiders like use can’t interfere."
Zhou Chengwang wanted to argue, this was the imperial throne! The victor would become the most exalted figure in the world. Countless people would kill for this throne, how could it possibly concern just two people?
But then again, with the palace now firmly under the Sixth Prince’s control and most court officials aligned with him, the decision of who ascended the throne really did rest with those two brothers - no, more accurately, with the Sixth Prince alone.
Seeing Jiang Lin and Wei Yunzhao’s composed expressions, Zhou Chengwang suddenly felt indignant. "You knew all along, didn’t you?"
Zhou Chengwang grabbed Jiang Lin’s shoulders and shook him, accusing, “Lin’er, are we still good brothers or not? How could you keep such a big matter from us!”
Jiang Lin pushed his hands away. “We only had suspicions after meeting the Fifth Prince last night. Before that, we only knew the Sixth Prince wouldn’t ascend the throne, he never revealed who he intended to push forward.”
Zhou Chengwang reluctantly accepted this explanation but remained curious about the Sixth Prince’s motives. “Why doesn’t the Sixth Prince just become emperor himself? He’s young, smart, and capable. He’d clearly make a wise ruler.”
Jiang Lin said, “Perhaps there’s something more important than the throne for him to do.”
Zhou Chengwang couldn’t think of anything more important than the imperial throne.
Jiang Lin kindly gave him a hint. “Regicide.”
Zhou Chengwang shuddered in fright, nearly falling off his chair.
“Th-that’s far too bold.”
Jiang Lin asked, “You’ve heard about Concubine Li’s story, haven’t you?”
Zhou Chengwang nodded dumbly.
Jiang Lin explained, “The Sixth Prince has lain low for years, pretending to be a sickly weakling all this time, all to avenge Concubine Li. Because in his heart, she was far more important than the throne.”
To many people, Concubine Li merely gave birth to the Sixth Prince and never raised him, hardly worth abandoning the throne for revenge.
But to Yue Heng, his mother’s inability to raise him was forced upon her, and she never had the chance. Yet Concubine Li never forgot her child, doing everything in her power before her death to pave his way. Under those circumstances, it was all she could do.
Yue Heng was a man of deep sentiment, clear in gratitude and grudges. He knew exactly what he wanted.
After hearing Jiang Lin’s analysis, Zhou Chengwang felt both admiration and pity for the Sixth Prince.
Jiang Lin didn’t share the sentiment. “We can’t bring the dead back to life, and that’s regrettable. But we’ve done all we can, and we still remember them. That’s enough.”
Zhou Chengwang’s emotions shifted quickly. He slung an arm over Jiang Lin’s shoulders. “Little Lin’er, you’ve got quite the clear head.”
Jiang Lin took a sip of porridge and gestured for Zhou Chengwang to look aside. When Zhou Chengwang turned, he saw Wei Yunzhao staring straight at him, his eyes practically spelling out the words “asking for a beating.”
Zhou Chengwang instinctively retracted his arm and immediately bolted, fleeing as if chased by a dog - just like when he’d arrived.
Jiang Lin found it amusing. He beckoned to Wei Yunzhao. “Husband, jealous?”
“Yes,” Wei Yunzhao admitted shamelessly, scooting his chair closer. “Wife, I’m eating vinegar.”
[吃醋 (chī cù): lit. to eat vinegar; fig. to be jealous (romantic context).
Jiang Lin nodded. “I noticed. And?”
Wei Yunzhao pointed to his cheek. “I need my wife’s comfort to cheer up.”
Jiang Lin scooped a spoonful of porridge and fed it to Wei Yunzhao, who obediently ate it but seemed puzzled by the gesture.
Jiang Lin explained, “I’ve eaten from this bowl, and this is my spoon. So, in a way, this counts as an indirect kiss.”
Wei Yunzhao pondered for a moment, then quickly grasped the idea and took it further - he picked up a grape, bit it in half, and fed the other half to Jiang Lin.
Just as Jiang Lin was about to praise his quick learning, Wei Yunzhao leaned in with the other half of a grape between his teeth, his intention unmistakable.
Jiang Lin glanced around and noticed the maids had already discreetly vanished, tactfully giving them privacy for their meal-time affection.
How could they waste such consideration? Jiang Lin turned and caught the other half of the grape with his lips, their noses bumping in the process.
Lunch took far longer than expected. By the time they left, their lips were red and slightly swollen - proof of either excessive force or prolonged kissing.
The maids watched their retreating figures, whispering in admiration and excitement, “The young master and his wife are so loving.”
The affectionate couple, however, felt a bit embarrassed. Walking around with such obvious evidence of daytime mischief was rather mortifying.
No comments:
Post a Comment