Chapter Six: Upheaval in the Imperial Court

In the blink of an eye, three years had passed. The bewildered youth had gradually transformed into a refined gentleman, and the seeds buried deep within his heart as a child had begun, with his growth, to quietly take root and sprout.

It was common knowledge that, no matter the nation, the tides of the imperial court could shift in an instant, and the Kingdom of Liu was no exception.

"Your Majesty, this humble servant has a memorial to present," announced an aged minister, his hair snowy white, emerging suddenly from the ranks.

"Proceed," the emperor allowed.

With a thud, the old minister fell to his knees. "Your Majesty, I beg you to depose the empress!"

These words sent immediate shockwaves through the court; all the assembled officials erupted in uproar.

"Oh? Minister, is this truly your wish?" The emperor's tone rose slightly, the meaning ambiguous.

The old minister replied gravely, "It is the utmost truth. That shameless woman is unfit to be the mother of our nation, and even less worthy of Your Majesty."

"And do you have proof?" the emperor inquired.

The old minister's face turned crimson, his eyes reddening as he spoke with righteous indignation, "That day, while I awaited Your Majesty's summons outside the palace hall, who would have thought—I could scarcely believe it—that wretched woman dared, in public, to seduce me! My reputation was nearly ruined—almost, almost..." His words broke into sobs. "I beseech Your Majesty to uphold justice for your loyal servant!"

The other ministers, shocked by the accusation, could not help but wonder: how could anyone bear to do such a thing to a man of such advanced years? Sneaking a glance at the throne, they quickly lowered their heads, playing the part of ostriches. They all understood the simplest truth: the emperor is above, the minister below; if the sovereign commands, who dares refuse? That old fox was truly risking it all.

The performance on stage had barely begun when, from outside the hall, a eunuch suddenly cried, "Commander Xiao Lin of the Imperial Guards requests an audience!"

"Admit him!"

Commander Xiao Lin entered briskly, leading in a man whose clothing was in disarray. The ministers, sensing the drama’s climax, readied themselves to watch the spectacle unfold.

Xiao Lin bowed and said, "Your Majesty, I have a matter to report."

"Proceed," the emperor replied.

Xiao Lin continued, "This matter concerns the mother of our nation. I do not know if I should speak..."

"You may speak freely," the emperor said in a low voice.

Xiao Lin acknowledged the command and said, "While on patrol, I apprehended this thief as he attempted to climb over the wall of the empress’s Jingfang Palace. Your Majesty, how shall this criminal be dealt with?"

The thief, rather handsome and with a somewhat deceptive appearance, suddenly burst into loud sobs, displaying a thoroughly unsightly demeanor. "Your Majesty, I am wronged! I was forced—forced by the empress herself... Please have mercy!"

"Absurd! Utterly absurd! The empress is the mother of our nation—how could you dare slander her so?" The prime minister stepped forward, though inwardly many scoffed. A man who rose to power by marrying off his daughter—now, at last, he faced his downfall.

The emperor idly turned the jade ring on his thumb, sighing softly at the prime minister’s words. "You are mistaken. The empress is but a mortal, after all. Even the noblest may err."

The prime minister was aghast and immediately knelt. "Your Majesty, you must not! The empress would never do such a thing!"

"There’s no need to say more," the emperor’s voice was heavy, as if deeply aggrieved. "People, like the weather, are liable to change..." He continued, "Here is my decree: Depose Empress Yu Nan, and from this day forth, confine her to the Cold Palace!"

The prime minister collapsed, his eyes dull and lifeless. It was over—his prospects, his family, all were lost.

Thus the play ended in perfection. After issuing his decree, the emperor took his leave early, citing ill health.

Somehow, almost as if by design, the news of the empress’s deposition swept across the nation that very day. Gossip filled the streets and alleys, with women, scholars, merchants, and people of every walk of life discussing the scandal.

Meanwhile, the other protagonist of this affair, so closely connected with the deposed empress, was perfectly at ease in the residence of the Grand Diviner. This man was none other than the crown prince of Liu, Liu Junlin.

Liu Junlin's face had shed all traces of youthful innocence, his features now striking and spirited. With a black stone in hand, he placed it on the board—sealing the outcome of the game. He smiled calmly. "Master, you've lost!"

The man sitting opposite him, stroking his beard, twitched his lips. "As they say, the disciple surpasses the master. Your progress is remarkable! But..." The Grand Diviner in his azure robe continued, "How many times must I tell you not to call me 'Second Master'? Just 'Master'—must you really persist with that 'Second'?"

Liu Junlin's eyes brimmed with laughter. He yielded cheerfully, "Yes, Master, your disciple will remember."

The Grand Diviner snorted. "At least you know when to yield. So, why didn’t you attend that grand spectacle in the palace today?"

Liu Junlin blinked. "Master, I was ill—how could I attend court?"

The Grand Diviner was helpless. Was this sly fox before him really his disciple? This was nothing like the obedient pupil he’d imagined—one he could bully at will. Clearly, first impressions were deceiving. He’d thought the boy would be pliant and meek. What a miscalculation!

"That story spreading through the streets—is it your handiwork?" the Grand Diviner asked.

"Master, you jest. I merely gave things a little push. My father arranged the gameboard—how could I, as his son, not lend a hand? I couldn’t bear the blame for filial impiety."

The Grand Diviner noted that, despite Junlin's composed words, his hand trembled ever so slightly as he raised his teacup. Evidently, the boy still cared deeply.

To the Grand Diviner, Liu Junlin was exceptionally gifted, with a keen sense for the bigger picture and sharp insight into character. For one so young, his bearing already hinted at a leader’s charisma—a natural fit for an emperor.

Alas, the present emperor was blind to uncut jade, and Junlin’s mother, blinded by selfishness, had nearly caused his death. For Junlin to hold firm in such chaos—he had truly endured much.

Before the Grand Diviner could finish reflecting, Liu Junlin suddenly stood, looking excitedly into the courtyard. "Master, it’s snowing!"

The Grand Diviner sipped his tea, watching Junlin reveal a rare trace of boyish delight. He teased, "What’s this? Missing your senior brother Zhanyan already?"

A smile crept higher and higher on Liu Junlin’s lips. "Yes, I miss him."

Junlin’s frankness gave the Grand Diviner goosebumps. This rascal—clearly, only that old Daoist disciple could keep him in check.

The snow fell all night, and by the next day, Liu Junlin set off for the Zixu Monastery.

Liu Zhanyan received Junlin’s letter a little later, and by his own calculations, Junlin should be arriving soon.

For several days, Zhanyan had Ironblue wheel him out to the monastery gate at intervals. Ever since his injury, Zhanyan’s health had been poor, especially in winter. If not cared for, he was prone to chills. After several days exposed to the cold, sure enough, one morning Ironblue found Zhanyan lying weak and feverish, wracked with coughs—a stubborn patient if ever there was one!

Ironblue had come to understand Zhanyan well. Not only was he incredibly talented and determined, but his innate stubbornness was unmatched. Once he set his mind to something, not even a hundred oxen could drag him back. He couldn’t fathom it—Junlin would arrive soon enough, so why insist on waiting outside in the cold? Utterly perplexing.

After three years together day and night, Ironblue regarded Zhanyan like a younger brother, and so could not bear to see him neglect his health.

After a few days, as Zhanyan’s chills eased, he no longer insisted on going outside, only asking Ironblue to wheel him to the study to read. Several braziers filled the room with warmth, and Ironblue was finally at ease, letting Zhanyan quietly lose himself in his books. But Zhanyan, still unwell, soon grew tired and decided to nap on the couch nearby.

Though he intended only to rest, Zhanyan soon drifted off. The study door creaked open, and someone slipped quickly inside to keep the cold air out.

The visitor crept forward and gently pressed a kiss to Zhanyan’s brow, then carefully gathered the sleeping youth into his arms. Only now, travel-worn and weary, did Liu Junlin truly feel he had reached his safe harbor.

Zhanyan stirred drowsily, glanced at Junlin, and murmured, "Junlin, welcome home..." With that, he nestled into Junlin’s embrace and fell back asleep.

Junlin chuckled softly, holding his beloved all the tighter. "Yes, senior brother, I’m home. Junlin has come home..."

All those days Zhanyan had braved the cold, waiting, it was only to welcome Junlin home.

And Junlin, riding day and night without rest, had hurried because he knew Zhanyan would be waiting—so he tried to shorten their separation as much as possible. Besides, who wouldn’t want to see their senior brother sooner, when such joy awaited?

They say in every love, the one who falls first falls deepest, and rarely finds happiness in the end. Yet who can truly say what order the heart takes in such matters?

And so, it was.