Futile Devices Scans

The heartbeat rose and fell like the tide, gradually receding until it disappeared. Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s fingers curled reflexively around empty air, and he abruptly woke from a dream that had lingered for years.

The bed curtains were dim and silent, while rain murmured beyond them. After growing accustomed to sleeping beside someone, suddenly sleeping alone made the bed feel extraordinarily vast whenever he woke.

He rolled over with the quilt in his arms and stared at the patterns on the canopy. For once, he understood Wei Fu’s dramatic behavior before their parting, as though he meant to cry down the rafters and smash his headboard to pieces—separation truly was the deepest of wounds, and one for which there was no cure.

How long the nights were, while the three years Wei Fu had exhausted every scheme to obtain seemed to have slipped away in the snap of a finger.

Knock, knock. Knock, knock—

Rain poured into the courtyard, fallen blossoms carpeting the ground. The inner attendant Bai Shan hurried along from one end of the covered corridor, lifting the half-damp hem of his robe, and gently knocked on the door. “Your Highness?”

The black-lacquered partition doors opened soundlessly, revealing the tall, jade-like figure of the prince. Everything around him was darkened and blurred by rain and mist, yet he alone appeared even paler, like a cool jade statue untouched by so much as a speck of dust.

“What is it?”

Bai Shan had always felt that His Highness truly lived up to having cultivated the Dao in a temple, as though he kept some whispering spirit that reported everything into his ear. Ever since moving into the palace, no matter when Bai Shan came to summon him, His Highness would already be standing neatly dressed behind the door, forever composed and unhurried, never allowing anyone to see him caught in confusion.

He bowed and replied softly, “The king requests Your Highness’s presence at Qianchun Hall.”

“Is the king well today?”

“Reporting to Your Highness, all is well.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye stepped across the threshold and walked with him toward Qianchun Hall. Bai Shan tried to hold an umbrella for him, but he was not very tall and had to strain onto his toes to reach over Yu Gong Zhao Ye. Yu Gong Zhao Ye gently blocked him aside and casually accepted another umbrella from the attendant behind them.

Bai Shan followed closely behind him with quick little steps. After some thought, he added in a thin, soft voice, “His Majesty took his medicine after rising this morning and had Royal Physician Qi Li administer acupuncture. He appeared in excellent spirits and even reviewed memorials for a while.”

As Yu Gong Zhao Ye grew older, his emotions became increasingly difficult to read. His expression was like still water untouched by the wind. He merely nodded to show that he understood.

Although Yu Gong Ming’s rebellion three years ago had failed, the rumors had indeed reached everyone’s ears. The truth of Yu Gong Lie’s illness had essentially become an unspoken understanding among the court officials. The king had also issued an edict selecting several boys from collateral branches of the royal clan to be brought into the palace and educated, beginning preparations for the future succession of the state.

Naturally, there was no concealing the truth from trusted confidants such as Wei Fu and Yu Gong Zhao Ye. Apart from Wu Chuan Jie, whom the king deeply trusted, Yeguang’s Qi Li Xiang later joined those treating him.

However, Yu Gong Lie had fallen ill far too young. In order to avoid exposure, he had frequently used powerful medicines to suppress his symptoms, causing his constitution to weaken further and further. Last year, he had spent nearly half the year repeatedly suffering from chills and low fevers.

This year happened to mark the end of Wei Fu’s term. Having been away from Xiling for six years, he truly had no excuse to linger any longer, or Mu Heng might begin to suspect that he intended to establish himself as king in Longsha. Half a month ago, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had personally set out with an escort to accompany Wei Fu back to Xiling. Unexpectedly, they received a secret edict midway through the journey. Yu Gong Zhao Ye could only escort Wei Fu across the border and hand him over to Li Yun Zhi, commander of the southern frontier forces, who had come to receive him. Without even having time for a proper farewell, he turned around and hurried back to Bihan City.

Sure enough, the king’s condition had taken a turn for the worse.

Several days earlier, Yu Gong Lie had risen in the middle of the night and fallen. The two royal physicians had been startled awake from their dreams, fearing that the illness had weakened his muscles and bones and damaged his meridians. Yet after examining him three times over, they found nothing wrong with his legs. The problem was with his eyes.

Yu Gong Lie’s illness had occasionally caused blurred vision and sensitivity to strong light before, but beginning that night, there were now times when he could see nothing at all.

It was a deeply ominous sign, and Yu Gong Lie himself knew that it boded ill.

He had originally believed he still had time to slowly select and educate a suitable successor. But if he collapsed now, not one of the young clansmen was capable of stepping forward. With no sovereign to rule the realm, the kingdom would inevitably descend into turmoil. That was why he had hurriedly summoned Yu Gong Zhao Ye back.

To reassure him, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had stayed within the inner palace these past few days. The damp footsteps of the party came to a halt outside Qingliang Pavilion. Tian Qing, the inner attendant serving the king, hurried forward to take the umbrella and bowed respectfully. “Your Highness, please enter. His Majesty is in the inner hall.”

A golden suanni incense burner slowly breathed out sandalwood smoke. The hall was filled with a stifling warmth, as though no air could pass through it. A faint medicinal odor mingled with the fragrance, much like the haggard sickness Yu Gong Lie could not completely conceal even beneath heavy powder and formal grooming.

“May Your Majesty be well.”

“Little Uncle, you’re here.” Yu Gong Lie forced himself to summon some energy and beckoned him closer. “I have something to show you.”

On the imperial desk before him rested an agarwood box more than a foot long. Its surface was smooth and undecorated, retaining the wood’s natural color and close grain. Upon approaching, one could smell the wood’s own faint, serene fragrance.

“Grandfather passed this to Father, and Father passed it to me before his death.” Yu Gong Lie stroked the hard, gently warm wooden box, unable to conceal the reluctance and melancholy in his eyes. “He told me to make this edict known to the world when there was no other choice.”

The tip of Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s brow shifted almost imperceptibly.

When he had been ordered to receive Yu Gong Ming and escort him back to the palace, Yu Gong Ming had mentioned that while his mother consort was attending the late king during his illness, she had overheard Yu Gong Feng Ting hand Yu Gong Lie proof concerning Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s origins and warn him never to allow an outsider to seize the throne.

Presumably, this was that posthumous edict.

Had Yu Gong Lie’s condition already deteriorated to the point where he had no choice but to bring out this final weapon?

Although Yu Gong Zhao Ye had no intention whatsoever of kicking his nephew aside and ascending the throne himself, his status and authority were plain for all to see. While Wei Fu had been at court, the Purple Empyrean Court was the only government office permitted to bypass the Cabinet and report directly to the throne. Now that even the Chief Minister capable of restraining him had departed, Yu Gong Zhao Ye was the foremost man beneath the king.

He stood only one step away from the throne. Would he truly sit by and allow some wet-behind-the-ears brat from a collateral branch of the royal clan to climb over his head? Even if he himself lacked such intentions, who could say that others would not urge him forward—or forcibly place him upon the throne?

So long as the person seated above was not an idiot, they would sense the threat he represented.

No one enjoyed being watched as though they were a thief. Yu Gong Zhao Ye had always known this day would come, but seeing the matter laid openly before him still left him faintly displeased. He said indifferently, “The late king’s final instructions should naturally be obeyed. If Your Majesty believes the time has come, you may proceed as you see fit.”

Instead, Yu Gong Lie pushed the box toward him. “Little Uncle, read it first.”

“…”

Now Yu Gong Zhao Ye truly began looking at him as though he were a fool. He reminded him tactfully, “Your Majesty, given my position, allowing me to see this would invite suspicion. It seems somewhat inappropriate.”

Yu Gong Lie insisted, “You’ll understand once you read it.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye did his best to fathom the king’s intentions. He guessed that Yu Gong Lie did not wish to make the edict public and perhaps intended to entrust him with supporting a young sovereign, thereby deliberately casting aside all suspicion between them. He accepted the agarwood box with both hands and removed the folded booklet bound in blue satin.

The moment he finished reading the first two lines, his gaze froze.

It was written in the hand of his nominal “Father Emperor,” Emperor Zheng’an, Yu Gong Du.

Xie Wang Shu rarely spoke of his biological father and had even refused to tell Yu Gong Zhao Ye his name. All these years, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had only vaguely known that the man had been a military officer who unfortunately died young, never knowing until his death that he had a child.

Yu Gong Zhao Ye had never tried to investigate, nor had he particularly wanted a biological father. After all, whenever the members of Bihua discussed their backgrounds, every one of them lacked either a father or a mother. Anyone fortunate enough to have both parents alive would never have entered their profession in the first place, so he had simply allowed Xie Wang Shu to brush him off.

However, based on scattered fragments of rumor, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had guessed that his father might have been the son of some prominent aristocratic clan and perhaps even related to the Yu Gong family. After all, taking a bandit woman as noble consort and acknowledging the child she brought with her would have exposed even an emperor to endless rumors and criticism.

Xie Wang Shu was certainly a rare and brilliant talent, but when Yu Gong Du made that decision, cherishing her abilities had probably been incidental. His true purpose might have been to preserve the last trace of that man’s bloodline.

This edict proved that Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s reasoning had not been far off, but he had still imagined the matter far too simply.

They were not merely “distantly related.”

His biological father was Ji An Chen, the eldest son of Marquis Xiping, Ji Yan. Ji An Chen’s mother, Lady Xue, had an elder sister who served as a Zhaoyi in the palace, so she often entered the imperial residence. There, she and Crown Prince Yu Gong Du secretly developed feelings for one another, and in time, she bore him a child.

Elio’s Notes: Zhaoyi was a senior rank held by an imperial consort.

Most absurdly of all, that child was both the eldest son of Marquis Xiping and the eldest son of Yu Gong Du. Yu Gong Du treasured him greatly, but their conduct had violated the proper order of human relations and would ultimately be despised by the world. He therefore had no choice but to allow the boy to be raised within the marquis’s household.

Influenced by the martial traditions of the Ji family, Ji An Chen devoted himself wholeheartedly to military service. Yu Gong Du personally bestowed upon him the famous sword Dawnlight, hoping that he would inherit Marquis Xiping’s legacy and become a brave and formidable general. Yet Heaven granted him too few years. During Ji An Chen’s second campaign in the southwest, a traitor within the army leaked military intelligence. The light cavalry under his command fell into an enemy ambush, and the entire force was annihilated.

When the news reached the court, Yu Gong Du was overwhelmed with grief. After the army returned to the capital, he personally examined Ji An Chen’s belongings and summoned his comrades for detailed questioning. Unexpectedly, he learned that the sword Ji An Chen had carried was not the one originally bestowed upon him. It appeared he had exchanged tokens with someone.

Yu Gong Du immediately dispatched Bihua to search everywhere. Following the faint trail of clues, they eventually reached Xiaohui Mountain, where the bandit leader Xie Wang Shu, who possessed the treasured sword Dawnlight, was already close to giving birth.

After calculating the dates, Yu Gong Du was stunned to realize that the child was very likely Ji An Chen’s posthumous son.

Xie Wang Shu had been perfectly content as a bandit and had no desire to enter anyone’s household as a widowed young mistress. But Yu Gong Du had already made up his mind that, no matter what, he would bring the child back to his side.

The scandal of the past could not conveniently be mentioned, and Yu Gong Du likely had no wish to compete with Marquis Xiping over their grandson. He therefore negotiated directly with Xie Wang Shu, persuading her to lead the bandits of Xiaohui Mountain in submitting to the court. Xie Wang Shu entered the palace as Noble Consort Xie, giving the child a legitimate identity, while she selected loyal subordinates to join Bihua and serve the court as a formal military force.

The emperor, who had lost his beloved son, endured immense pressure and acknowledged his grandson as his own prince. In this way, “Xie Ying” became “Yu Gong Zhao Ye.”

At the end of the edict, beneath the date “the fourth day of the ninth month in the twenty-fourth year of Zheng’an,” was the great seal of state. The scarlet color had faded with age, but Yu Gong Zhao Ye knew that date well.

It was the night before his “Father Emperor” passed away.

Below it was another line written in a different, vigorous hand:

“In accordance with the late emperor’s final decree, Yu Gong Zhao Ye is hereby enfeoffed as a prince. His character is of the purest, and his merits are immense. He is truly a pillar of the state and may be entrusted with the gravest responsibilities. This decree shall be preserved within the palace and produced in times of emergency, so as to uphold the rightful succession.”

The inscription read, “The sixteenth day of the sixth month in the fourth year of Chenghe,” and above it was another neatly impressed great seal of state.

Chenghe was the reign title of Xiling’s Emperor Mu Heng. That had been the year the late king, Yu Gong Feng Ting, passed away.

Turning to the next fold, he found two more lines written in fresh ink. The newly impressed seal was scarlet as blood.

“Life and death follow their natural course, and even sages cannot escape them. So long as a worthy successor is found, the state gains its sovereign, and all beneath Heaven has a king to honor, then even if I depart this world, what regret could remain? The fifteenth day of the eleventh month in the tenth year of Chenghe.”

Three square seals in winding seal script, progressing from pale to vivid, resembled a trail of footprints wandering through the first half of Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s life—a life spent walking alone beneath the moon, hidden amid the bustling crowds.

“Little Uncle.”

Yu Gong Lie’s sighing voice drifted over. “I’m still accustomed to calling you that, Elder Cousin.”

The shock came roaring across the years and struck Yu Gong Zhao Ye squarely in the head. For once, he could not force out a single word.

“I’m actually very timid. I don’t possess Father or Grandfather’s courage. These years upon the throne have truly felt like walking on thin ice. I’m often terrified, always afraid that someone will drive me down from it.”

“We are the same age, but you somehow seem naturally steadier. So I have always secretly regarded you as an elder. I kept thinking that even if I failed, at least you would still be here, and Longsha would not perish in my hands.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “…”

“A’Ying and the others are still young. They cannot bear such responsibility, nor would they command the court’s respect. Whether you are willing or not, you are the only suitable choice.”

Yu Gong Lie smiled at him wearily, his expression loosening with relief. “I’ve run out of options again, so I suppose I’ll have to impose upon Royal Uncle one more time.”

“Today, I pass this edict to Royal Uncle. In the end, the realm of the Yu Gong clan has not fallen into an outsider’s hands.”

Author’s Notes:

“This decree shall be preserved within the palace and produced in times of emergency, so as to uphold the rightful succession.” — Chronology of Zhang Ting Yu, the thirteenth year of Yongzheng.

“Life and death follow their natural course… even if I depart this world, what regret could remain?” — adapted from the posthumous edict of Emperor Yingzong of Ming: “All who are born must die; this is the natural way of humanity. Even sages and wise men cannot escape it. So long as a worthy successor inherits the throne, and the ancestral temples and people have a sovereign, then even if I depart this world, what regret could remain?”

Why am I writing classical Chinese again? Crawls away wearing an expression of agony.

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