Chapter 24: Words of Flattery

Lady Gong continued her instructions, "After your father passes, if there is no imperial decree of grace, choose those boys currently serving in his quarters to be buried with him. They should already know they are meant for sacrifice; they have become increasingly insolent and negligent of late. It is the nature of people facing the end to grow rebellious. Find an opportunity to provide for them, and select more careful servants from the outer courtyard to attend to your father instead. These newcomers need not be buried with him."

Funerary sacrifice was not limited to concubines and wives without children. To ensure the ancestral spirits had attendants in the afterlife, the founding Emperor had decreed that servants who served closely by their masters' sides should also be put to death.

While the death of a noblewoman like Lady Gong bore a name and status, these servants were treated no differently than inanimate objects, recorded on a ledger alongside items like "several vases" or "several slaves."

Lady Gong was terrified and had no heart to dwell on these thoughts. However, as the Prince of Zhou repeatedly submitted petitions to the Emperor begging for mercy to exempt them from this fate, she began to worry about those around her. Her own life was in the hands of those above, and she was powerless to change it, but she could still manage the fates of those in her service.

Thus, she began to strategically release her people. As for the servants destined to be buried with the Prince, she had no say. She was a woman facing death herself, and when the time came, the list and the number of victims would be decided by the next Prince of Zhou. She did not believe she could offer suggestions to Zhu Youjue.

Now that the Prince of Zhou had finally acknowledged Zhu Zijin as his heir and sought to solidify his status, even if the succession faced complications, Zhu Zijin—as the designated heir—would have some influence over the funerary list.

Zhu Zijin had missed over a decade of education, and since being demoted to commoner status at fourteen, he had barely touched a book. He nervously memorized what the Princess was teaching him, confirming it twice before agreeing.

Watching him leave, the Princess sighed. Nurse Qin refilled her tea and smiled, "Do not fret, Your Highness. There is still time; you can teach the young master more in the future."

The Princess was heavy with worry. "I only fear things will not go smoothly. Xin-niang, if in the end I must accompany the Prince, you should take him and move out of the estate. Do not involve yourself in anything; just help him raise his children."

Nurse Qin was heartbroken. Kneeling at the Princess's knees, she said, "Since the Emperor has agreed to release the young master, it means he still intends for the Prince to have a son to care for him in his old age. Should it not be a matter of course for him to be re-entered into the jade genealogy? Once he is on the records, the title should be inherited by the young master when the Prince passes."

The Princess replied, "The trouble lies in the fact that his father is Zhu Youjue. The Prince of Xiangfu has his own designs; even if he does not dare move against Zhao Yuansong, he will surely obstruct this in the court."

Nurse Qin said with resentment, "The Prince of Xiangfu is too overbearing. Looking at his actions over the past six months, all that talk about not being able to part with his son was a lie. I fear he is unwilling to give up the princedom and has long been plotting for the succession to pass from brother to brother."

The Princess did not respond, her gaze fixed deeply on the view outside. Since Zhu Youjue had twice rejected their proposals to adopt his children, she had known his intentions, and the Prince understood as well. Because of the precedent set by Zhu Youxu, the Prince of Zhou was unwilling to force his brothers to give up their sons. Since he was unwilling, he let it be, but she...

Lady Gong looked down at her hands. She did not resent the Prince of Zhou, nor was she unwilling to die with him; it was the injustice that gnawed at her. A stifling anger filled her chest, making her want to destroy something. She would willingly die for the Prince, provided it was her own choice—the choice to live or to die. Not to be forced into the grave by others.

Was having no children her fault? None of the Prince of Zhou’s eight women had borne a child, nor had there even been a pregnancy; anyone could see where the problem lay. Why should they be sacrificed for being childless? Yet, the Prince was so kind that she could not bring herself to hate him. Thus, she could only hate the system, the Imperial court, the ancestors, and those like Zhu Youjue who plotted to seize the Princedom of Zhou.

While the atmosphere in the Princess's chambers was heavy, the mood in the Prince's quarters was quite different.

Perhaps it was Pan Yun’s affirmation that gave the Prince more confidence. His mental burden had lifted, and with the second bowl of medicine prescribed by Tao Ji, he felt his body grow much lighter. His mouth tasted bitter, so he craved something sweet.

The old man and the young girl sat together eating "treasure porridge," which was essentially various grains boiled into a rich mixture with a bit of sugar. The long-serving attendant was delighted; the Prince had barely been able to eat anything lately, and even with the young master's coaxing, he could only manage a few spoonfuls. Seeing his improved appetite, the attendant looked more favorably upon Pan Yun and stepped back discreetly after serving the porridge.

As the Prince ate slowly, he said to Pan Yun, "I have several children raised in my household. Zi-hou is simple and kind-hearted, but he likes to keep his thoughts to himself. I once mentioned adopting him to the Fourth Brother, but he was unwilling to part with him."

Pan Yun nodded, "He is the eldest son, so it is natural that he would be reluctant."

The Prince continued, "Later, I thought of adopting Zi-jue. He is clever, gentle yet firm, and like my late father, he has a passion for medicine. He would have been perfect to carry on my father’s legacy, so I preferred him over Zi-hou. Unfortunately, the Fourth Brother did not agree either."

Pan Yun caught the drift and clicked her tongue, "He wants to be the Prince of Zhou himself."

The Prince smiled, "Among all my younger brothers, he is indeed a suitable candidate. Though born of a concubine, he has always had a good relationship with me. While I have no biological children, I have raised an heir. When Zijin was taken away, I was heartbroken. I assumed other fathers felt the same."

He had understood Zhu Youjue's refusal, truly believing it was out of paternal affection—until he brought Zhu Zijin back to his side, and Zhu Youjue began to panic. Zhu Zijin had only been in Kaifeng for five days when he was lost while out playing. Rumors were rampant; the Prince suspected foul play but feared the rumors might be true. However, moved by Zhu Zijin’s filial piety, he could not bear to send him away again.

Perhaps Zhu Youjue had panicked, for one day he had inadvertently mentioned wanting to adopt out his eldest son, Zhu Zi-hou, to the Prince. But he soon retracted his words, claiming he had been drunk and speaking nonsense, and that he could not bear to part with him. In that moment, the Prince knew that the brotherly bond he believed in was not as deep as he had thought.

He sighed, took a spoonful of porridge, and looked at Pan Yun, "And you, little friend? Why did you become a Taoist priestess at such a young age?"

Pan Yun was not yet a formal Taoist, but that did not stop her from becoming one. She said, "My mother passed away when I was six. My father and brothers were hardworking and could not look after me, and I possessed an aptitude for the Tao, so I became a priestess." She added a touch of prestige, "Don't let my age fool you, Prince; I have already been cultivating for eight years."

The Prince couldn't help but laugh, "Are you even eight years old?"

Pan Yun replied, "I was born with knowledge; I have been cultivating since I left my mother's womb."

Though the Prince was superstitious, he was no fool and maintained a healthy skepticism. "You don't believe me?" Pan Yun used her finger as a brush, writing a talisman in the air. The Prince watched with his own eyes as a white light condensed at her fingertip, forming a shimmering, persistent sigil.

The Prince stared blankly at the talisman floating in the air. Pan Yun smiled at him, pushed her hand forward, and the talisman flew toward the Prince, sinking directly into his chest. The Prince felt a sudden sense of clarity, and the stifling pressure in his chest dissipated. He looked at Pan Yun in astonishment.

Pan Yun said proudly, "While I lack my senior brother's mastery of alchemy, I can use talismans to bring good fortune and help people recover their health."

In truth, she had infused the talisman into his body, allowing spiritual energy to slowly nourish his constitution and dissipate the illness. For mild cases, it might lead to a full recovery; for a severe case like the Prince’s, it simply made him feel better, clearing his meridians and harmonizing his energy.

For instance, with his stomach qi improved, he could eat more, digest better, and absorb more strength. Such talismans were usually used in conjunction with medicine to accelerate recovery. Benefiting from the medicine he had just taken, the talisman allowed the medicinal power to flow more smoothly through his limbs. The Prince felt the change vividly.

His eyes brightened as he grabbed Pan Yun’s hand, "You are a little genius! Truly impressive, little friend, truly impressive."

Pan Yun said smugly, "I don't just draw talismans; I can also tell fortunes. Prince, would you like me to calculate yours?"

The Prince chuckled, "Haven't you already?"

Pan Yun shook her head, "That was merely physiognomy; the information is limited. It is not as precise or comprehensive as calculations based on one's birth date and time."

The Prince was intrigued and provided his birth details. Pan Yun took a brush and began to sketch out his Nine Palace chart. The Prince understood some of it, having studied it himself, but he couldn't grasp what she was looking for. Pan Yun calculated repeatedly, then frowned slightly and asked for the birth dates of Zhu Zijin, Zhu Zi-hou, and Zhu Zi-jue.

Since these three children had been raised under his care, the Prince knew their birth dates better than their own father. Pan Yun calculated again, her brows knitting further. The Prince began to doubt her intentions again—he had been like this lately, trusting and then immediately suspicious.

"What is it? Is someone cursing me?"

"Not at all," Pan Yun said. "All three of them are beneficial to you; there is no conflict." The Prince smiled, relieved, and trusted her again.

"But it is strange. Zhu Zijin is clearly your adopted heir, and he was even sent away for a time, yet your karmic bond as father and son is so deep. Based on your birth charts, he should have been your biological son." Pan Yun added, "It is almost as if he was meant to be your son from birth, only to be born into another family."

The Prince sat stunned. He remained in a daze long after Pan Yun left. When the attendant entered, the Prince was still holding the four sheets of paper.

The attendant couldn't help but say, "Prince, I think the young Daoist calculated well. The young master should be your son; he looks more like you than the second Prince does."

That wasn't a resemblance to him, but to his father—they both looked like the late Prince of Zhou. But why were they the only two who resembled their father so closely? Was it merely a coincidence? Was what the child said not flattery, but the truth?