Chen Jiao couldn’t hold it in and dropped the folding fan in her hand to the ground. No matter how thick-skinned she was, she couldn’t withstand this in front of the person involved.
Xie Xianqing glanced at her, sighed lightly, eyes smiling, and said, “Don’t tease them.”
A group of high-ranking ministers, who usually carried themselves with aloof dignity, were repeatedly thwarted by Chen Jiao, a true bane of their existence—it was not easy to endure.
Seeing that the Crown Prince was not angry, Chen Jiao leaned closer and whispered, “They were discussing me behind my back first, that’s why I said it.” Besides, how could what she did be called teasing? She was clearly just solving a problem.
Xie Xianqing couldn’t possibly blame her and smiled, “I know, you did very well.”
In fact, he had arrived long before Chen Jiao did.
It was perfectly normal for ministers to vie for power and advantage. Where there are interests, there are disagreements.
In the court, with hundreds of people, each skilled in different areas and representing varying interests, the noble families, the lesser gentry, the imperial relatives, and the court ministers—they quarreled almost daily over matters big and small.
Whether emperor or heir apparent, there were far too many people under them to guarantee that each would act selflessly and righteously, wholeheartedly for the ruler, it was impossible.
Xie Xianqing himself couldn’t be completely without personal bias, so how could he demand it of his ministers?
As long as his own interests were not threatened, he would not intervene in the disputes among his subordinates, this was his first lesson in being the Crown Prince.
However, since this matter involved Chen Jiao, it inevitably carried a slight difference. He had been considering whether to step out personally and interrupt the conversation, but did not expect Chen Jiao to arrive, pushing the situation toward a point of no return.
The outburst of emotions among the officials had been caused by the negligence of palace eunuchs, whom he had already dealt with. Over time, the ministers’ temper would dissipate. If Chen Jiao had truly caused a stir and provoked public anger, she would be the one to suffer in the future.
Xie Xianqing had worried that Chen Jiao would mishandle it, but she had defused the situation with her wit, achieving an outcome far better than he imagined.
Yet it was not surprising—ever since he had met Chen Jiao, she had never disappointed him.
Thinking this, Xie Xianqing curled his lips into a smile.
Seeing him smile, Chen Jiao grew bolder. She leaned closer and said teasingly, “Your Highness, can this be considered a contribution to stabilizing the Crown Prince’s faction?”
Xie Xianqing laughed, “And what do you want for this?”
Chen Jiao blinked, feigning shock, “How could Your Highness think that of me?! My feelings for you are sincere, I serve willingly, I don’t ask for rewards!”
“However,” she shifted her tone, lowering her voice, “if the wise, heroic, magnanimous, and elegant Crown Prince insists on rewarding me, I wouldn’t refuse…”
Before she could finish, Xie Xianqing ignored her and turned to Eunuch Zhang behind him, “The lychees retrieved from the palace today, give a basket to Chen Jiao, or I fear my ears will be blistered from her nagging.”
Chen Jiao’s heart leapt with joy, though she kept up the act, speaking in surprise, “Your Highness, how did you know I like lychees? Just a few pieces will do…”
With summer arriving, she had craved lychees for a long time.
Compared to modern times, lychees in ancient times were scarce due to strict cultivation requirements.
In this era without logistics, planes, or cold chains, delivering lychees to Chang’an during the sweltering summer before they spoiled was no easy feat.
Tributary lychees were sent to the palace and distributed by the emperor to consorts, ministers, and other courtiers.
The Yong’an Marquis and the old marquis, having served the emperor loyally, could receive a few pieces.
Do not underestimate these few pieces—they were tokens of the emperor’s care and trust! Many took them home but dared not eat them, instead placing them on the ancestral altar!
In previous years, the two lychees the Yong’an Marquis received were shared among Chen Jiao, Princess Yihe, and the Old Lady, but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy their craving.
So when Chen Jiao inadvertently learned from Eunuch Zhang that the Crown Prince treated his subordinates well, distributing his share of lychees each year, she resolved to accomplish a big feat!
She aimed to shine, using her own skill to sneak some lychees from the Crown Prince’s household.
Chen Jiao had been planning this for some time, staying diligent at the Crown Prince’s residence, chatting daily and dropping hints like “I so want lychees,” “I wonder if I’ll ever get to eat them in my lifetime,” subtly signaling her desires.
Xie Xianqing had long grown weary of her antics, so when the delivery arrived, he sent someone into the palace to fetch two baskets.
Seeing her starting to nag again, he had Eunuch Zhang hand them over. He feared that if he didn’t, she would come to the Crown Prince’s residence crying tomorrow.
Thinking of her crying for food, Xie Xianqing found it amusing.
He glanced at Chen Jiao, half-smiling, “Satisfied now?”
The Crown Prince’s household had received two baskets; he kept one for the other ministers and gave the rest to Chen Jiao, keeping none for himself.
Chen Jiao didn’t dare show dissatisfaction. She exclaimed, “Your Highness, your intention alone is enough, I am truly satisfied!”
She clenched her fist with one hand, performing the part of a loyal subject to perfection, and said earnestly, “Such fine things should be enjoyed by the Crown Prince! Although I’ve never eaten them, it’s fine if I don’t, but Your Highness must not go without!”
Xie Xianqing: …
Even with his highest filter of perception for Chen Jiao, he was completely convinced.
He sighed helplessly, “Stop acting.”
Chen Jiao immediately relaxed, returning to her playful smile, cheerfully saying, “Rewarded by Your Highness!”
That evening, back at the marquisate, Chen Jiao lay leisurely in her chair, peeling the lychees she had earned through her cunning.
She had thought she could only trick out a single basket, yet she had a whole basket! Truly, she had a future as a cunning minister!
Princess Yihe beamed with pride, praising, “Jiao’er is increasingly valued by His Highness. I told you, our daughter is no ordinary girl.”
The Yong’an Marquis, peeling his own lychee, thought to himself, being able to trick food from the Crown Prince’s household was indeed no ordinary feat.
Yet in his heart, he grumbled—if he spoke aloud, he’d spend the night in the study again. Sighing, he continued peeling lychees obediently.
Princess Yihe frowned, “Stop eating, always just eating. Save some for Jiao’er. She loves them.”
The Yong’an Marquis didn’t respond, simply handing a peeled lychee to her.
Princess Yihe took it, first smiling, then sighing, “No need to give me any more. Back when the previous emperor was alive, mothers could always share plenty, and our household couldn’t finish them.”
Of course, Princess Yihe was exaggerating; the Grand Princess had been adopted by the previous emperor. Though her life had been comfortable, it was never to the point of indulgence in lychees.
Yet she was correct that once a new emperor ascended, the Grand Princess’s life would no longer be as easy, and she had little influence.
Princess Yihe often thought that if her previous emperor were alive, and if she had asked her mother, her daughter might even have been granted a princess title. Now, things were difficult.
She could only think of it, since her maternal grandfather passed away shortly after her birth, leaving her little memory of him.
…
Lychees were just a small episode in daily life. The heat made ministers irritable, and following the Ministry of Revenue’s reforms, the princes’ rivalry intensified.
A few days later, a sudden event at court seized the attention of all in Chang’an.
During the morning court session, regarding Minister Zhou’s management of the Yellow River, the emperor flew into a rage, publicly rebuking the Crown Prince, accusing him of insubordination, disregard for propriety, and being unfaithful and unloyal.
The words were sharp and cutting. Ministers present reportedly turned pale, dropping to their knees, calling for the emperor’s calm, including the Yong’an Marquis.
The Crown Prince bowed in penitence, but the emperor’s anger remained. He immediately dismissed court, sternly ordering the Crown Prince to reflect at home for several days, with no need to attend court.
According to the news brought back by the Yong’an Marquis, the emperor’s words were: “Reflect at home properly, and once done, return to the court as Crown Prince.”
The severity of these words was alarming, clearly signaling the emperor’s intent to depose his heir.
Even Chen Jiao felt a chill hearing this.
The Yong’an Marquis household was extremely quiet. Not just their residence—most ministers in the capital were likely unsettled today.
This was serious. The Crown Prince, as heir, had had his dignity almost swept to the ground.
Chen Jiao suddenly asked, “Was Minister Zhou’s water management inadequate?”
The Crown Prince’s subordinates had discussed Minister Zhou’s flood control before, and Chen Jiao had studied related books for several days. Though not an expert, she had understood from overhearing discussions that his methods were excellent.
Now, with the emperor’s rage, could something have gone wrong?
The Yong’an Marquis said nothing at first, then sighed, “Minister Zhou’s flood management is excellent. If allowed to build the sluices, the people along both banks of the Yellow River would no longer suffer floods.”
Chen Jiao frowned, “Then why was the Crown Prince rebuked?”
The Marquis explained, “The Yellow River has long troubled the people. Minister Zhou intended to divert it before the flood season, requesting 100,000 laborers from the Ministry of Revenue, but they sent only 50,000, claiming insufficient manpower. Minister Zhou recruited 50,000 local volunteers to repair the embankments… When this reached the emperor, today’s events followed.”
Chen Jiao frowned, “Isn’t this fine?”
The Ministry lacked manpower, and the people had long suffered floods. Resolving it quickly meant peace for them. From her perspective, it was perfect. Minister Zhou had assured that materials and labor were sufficient for completion within a year.
The Yong’an Marquis sighed, “It is fine, but not for the emperor.”
The emperor had long been wary of the Crown Prince. Previously, the Ministry of Revenue had been deliberately difficult under his instruction. Now, the private resolution appeared as feigned obedience, prompting the emperor to accuse the Crown Prince of disloyalty.
Minister Zhou’s flood management was a great achievement, but returning to the capital, he might still face punishment… A minister does good to ease the emperor’s burden yet receives no reward, what kind of world is this?
Princess Yihe looked worried. Having heard from her mother earlier, she guessed the emperor’s dissatisfaction with the Crown Prince, but she had not expected such a swift outburst.
She even regretted Chen Jiao taking the Crown Prince’s side—when immortals fight, the mortals suffer. Who knew if Jiao’er would be implicated?
The Yong’an Marquis was equally concerned. Witnessing the court firsthand, he realized the emperor’s displeasure was even deeper than he imagined, filling him with apprehension.
The old marquis had said nothing throughout, suddenly gesturing to Chen Jiao, “After court, the emperor demanded punishment and capture of Minister Zhou. The Crown Prince petitioned for mercy on the Yellow River matter, personally kneeling outside the Yangxin Hall. He has not yet left the palace.”
Chen Jiao glanced at the sky. Several hours had passed since the Yong’an Marquis left court. The Crown Prince’s health… she worried whether he could endure it.
She asked gravely, “Will Minister Zhou be dismissed?”
The old marquis shook his head, “Minister Zhou is fine. Flood management is critical. The emperor merely uses him as a pawn. To protect Minister Zhou, the Crown Prince must take responsibility himself.”
Flood management was an achievement, yet the matter had been twisted into a “fault” of the Crown Prince. The emperor, unwilling to see the Crown Prince praised, deliberately made trouble, forcing him to shoulder the blame to ensure Minister Zhou could continue his work.
Understanding this, Chen Jiao felt the weight of it deeply.
She had once thought the Crown Prince’s ascension inevitable. Now, knowing his current plight, she realized her earlier assumptions were far too simplistic.
The emperor’s dissatisfaction with his heir was blatant. Ignoring father-son decorum, repeatedly scolding the Crown Prince, encouraging other princes to seize his authority. Every step the Crown Prince took was against the current—one misstep could plunge him into the abyss.
This was no simple game.
The old marquis looked at his granddaughter, eyes sharp through the haze, “What are you thinking?”
Chen Jiao pressed her lips together, “The Yellow River has long troubled the people. The emperor’s personal grudge makes life hard for Minister Zhou, but the suffering falls on the people.”
Satisfaction showed in the old marquis’s eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief, tone no longer heavy, “You see through this. Other scholar-officials will understand too.”
The Crown Prince has no real fault; his only issue is being too exceptional. He grew too quickly, even causing his father worry and fear. The old marquis knew this, and so did the other ministers, even Chen Jiao. Otherwise, the emperor’s public rebuke would not have caused so many ministers to kneel in counsel.
The people may not understand court intrigues, but they recognize Minister Zhou’s success, boosting the Crown Prince’s reputation.
The Crown Prince, with loyal ministers and popular support, would not be easily deposed.
An old servant at the marquis’s side signaled at the door. The old marquis looked at the sky, “The Crown Prince has left the palace. You should go to his residence now…”
The Yong’an Marquis immediately stood, worried, “Father, is this unwise? The emperor has commanded the Crown Prince to reflect at home. The Right Chancellor’s household remains closed; if Jiao’er visits now, wouldn’t she draw the emperor’s ire?”
Visiting the Crown Prince while the emperor rages would be like standing directly in his line of fire. Even the Right Chancellor’s household quietly avoided confrontation.
Princess Yihe, knowing the unpredictability of the emperor’s mind, clutched her daughter in fear, unusually defying her father-in-law, “Yes, father. It’s late now. Better for Jiao’er to go tomorrow.”
See how things unfold first; wait for the Right Chancellor’s household and other Crown Prince supporters to act before deciding.
The old marquis said nothing, but Chen Jiao held her mother’s hand, speaking calmly to her parents, “Do not worry. Grandfather is right.”
Even if the old marquis hadn’t said it, she would have gone herself. Once choosing to support the Crown Prince, there was no turning back or regret.
To pursue wealth and status, one must make choices. Sincerity begets sincerity. Besides, the Crown Prince was upright and noble, someone Chen Jiao admired greatly. Compared to the emperor, the difference in character was clear.
For both virtue and service, Chen Jiao believed the Crown Prince was the one most suited for the throne.
…
On the other side of Chang’an, the Crown Prince emerged from the palace as dusk fell, and in no time, the news spread across the city.
Having knelt before the emperor all day, Xie Xianqing’s knees throbbed with piercing pain with every step. He refused help from Eunuch Zhang, maintaining composure as he left.
Once in his carriage, behind the curtains, Xie Xianqing sat silently, eyes cold and distant.
His father was truly old.
He did not hate him; he only pitied him.
He knew the emperor could not truly do anything to him, which was why His Majesty tried to use cold intimidation and sharp rebukes to threaten his position. Yet none of this could change his status as Crown Prince.
His mother was Empress Yuan, her family the Right Chancellor’s household. He had studied diligently, loved the people as his own children, and over the years had conducted himself meticulously without error.
The carriage moved steadily through the streets, occasional calls of street vendors drifting in from outside, yet Xie Xianqing’s mind kept flashing back to the morning in the palace when the emperor had rebuked him in private.
Among the several charges the emperor had listed, one was particularly absurd: that he had no heir.
At this thought, Xie Xianqing twitched the corner of his mouth, a mocking smile playing there.
Several of his imperial brothers already had consorts, yet as heir to the throne, he remained unmarried, a fact his father feared, and which had persisted purely out of the emperor’s apprehension. The sovereign of the realm resorting to such petty tactics was absurd beyond measure.
The carriage soon arrived at the Crown Prince’s residence. Silence hung over the household; everyone’s heads were bowed, wishing they could bury themselves in the ground, not daring to make a sound.
Xie Xianqing knew they feared his wrath or resentment, yet he himself felt a calmness that belied their imaginations. He had long understood his father’s nature, and today’s outburst was far from unexpected.
His mood was neither bad nor clear-cut, merely unsettled. To see the man who had once nurtured and accompanied him become so repulsive, even he found it difficult to remain composed.
The imperial physician silently and respectfully applied medicine, noting that his knees, swollen, bruised, and engorged from kneeling too long, throbbed painfully with every touch.
At that moment, a eunuch hurried in, breaking the oppressive atmosphere, eyes shining: “Your Highness, Chen Jiao has arrived!”
Xie Xianqing, calm as ever, suddenly raised his head, eyes wide with surprise.
Chen Jiao should not have come now. The emperor had just unleashed his fury, ordering the Crown Prince into seclusion, openly expressing dissatisfaction. At such a moment, anyone visiting would be a thorn in the emperor’s eye.
Knowing Chen Jiao’s clever and perceptive nature, he was certain she understood the risks, yet she had come anyway, much like that night at the poetry gathering when she had cheerfully brought a jar of wine to see him.
She arrived just as he was having his medicine applied, his knees black and swollen. Seeing the bruises, her heart tightened, memories of unpleasant experiences flashing across her mind.
In her previous life as a dancer, her parents had pinned great hopes on her. Failing to meet expectations in training or competitions would result in being made to kneel outside, with neighbors passing by pointing and whispering.
They called themselves “civilized,” never striking the child, yet tried to imprint lessons through such humiliations. Fortunately, it never lasted long enough to impede her dancing. Still, the terror of kneeling publicly and hoping no one passed by left a lasting mark.
But seeing the Crown Prince sacrifice himself to protect his subordinates, Chen Jiao silently stood aside, her chest tight, saying nothing.
Xie Xianqing dismissed the surrounding attendants, leaving only Eunuch Zhang. He looked at Chen Jiao, gently asking, “Why so quiet?”
Seeing her expression, he assumed she was startled by the solemn atmosphere, teasing lightly, “Did you rush here just to stand in punishment?”
Despite suffering such injustice himself, he still came to comfort him. Chen Jiao could not articulate her feelings, yet they worsened.
Lowering her head, she retrieved a small porcelain bottle from her pocket and quietly placed it on the table, saying, “This is a balm my grandfather once prepared; it’s effective for bruising and stopping bleeding.”
Xie Xianqing took the bottle, voice gentle: “Chen Jiao, you trouble yourself too much.”
He remained as gentle as ever. Despite the emperor’s rebuke, despite kneeling publicly before ministers, he still showed such warmth.
Chen Jiao considered gentleness a noble quality. Many, when faced with life’s hardships, would lose reason, become irritable, and lash out at those around them.
She had prepared for anger and punishment directed at herself, but the Crown Prince had none. Seeing her rush over, he even managed a comforting smile.
Though the night was dark, the moon shone bright.
After a short while, Eunuch Zhang carefully brought a bowl of porridge. The Crown Prince had not eaten all day.
While he ate, Chen Jiao sat quietly beside him, finally unable to contain her frustration, murmuring, “I feel it’s unfair for Your Highness.”
Seeing her tense, Xie Xianqing, not teasing her, smiled: “Why would it be unfair?”
She said softly, “You are a good heir and a good son. You should not have been punished.”
As both a prince and a leader, he had done enough.
When discussing the Bian Canal, she had recently joined the Crown Prince’s faction and witnessed his efforts in flood control. On their first private meeting, his desk had been filled with books on water management.
Though not an expert like Minister Zhou, he proactively studied solutions instead of leaving everything to subordinates, a trait superior to many.
Seeing the efforts he made today to protect Minister Zhou, Chen Jiao felt that if she were in his subordinate’s position, she would remember his sacrifice forever.
In that moment, she deeply understood why so many die for those who understand them.
Sitting beside him in silent frustration, Xie Xianqing watched, unsure how to react—partly amused, partly saddened.
Chen Jiao, still young, could not comprehend the weight of his position and circumstances, coveted by many. He understood he had gained far too much, and that losses were inevitable, yet he never grew bitter or resentful.
Pouting, she suddenly said, “If only my father and mother were still alive. The emperor would never be so harsh. If my father had struck me, my mother would surely have defended me!” She referred, of course, to the Yong’an Marquis and his wife of this lifetime.
Xie Xianqing’s smile softened: “The sovereign is not like ordinary people.”
But Chen Jiao did not agree. Her eyes fell on the blood-stained gauze. Suppressed emotions erupted: “So what if he is the emperor? Isn’t he your father? If he is a father, why does he not act like one, tormenting people so?”
Her words targeted not only the emperor but memories of her previous life’s parents, triggered by the Crown Prince’s injuries.
She paced the room: “When a child is unwanted, they are cast aside. If deemed useless, another child is born. Shouldn’t parents protect their own children? Why harm them?”
The emperor disliked the Crown Prince and sought to depose him. Her parents had abandoned her, producing another child.
Why had no one considered their feelings?
Xie Xianqing’s gaze hardened: “Careful with your words!”
Chen Jiao froze, realizing her lapse, shrinking back into silence.
His eyes sharp, he did not relent: “Speaking recklessly of the imperial family, criticizing the sovereign, any such words could damn you a thousand times over.”
Having known her so long, this was the first time he had scolded her with such severity.
Chen Jiao knew how bold and outrageous her words were by the standards of someone raised in the past, yet emboldened by her closeness to him and memories of her past life, she had spoken freely.
After being chastised, she felt disappointed—not in herself for criticizing the emperor, but in misdirecting her anger over her past parents and the sovereign onto the Crown Prince.
He was the true victim, yet he bore her fury.
Compared to the always composed and rational Crown Prince, Chen Jiao felt her earlier anger useless.
Seeing her intimidated and silent, Xie Xianqing softened: “I understand your intentions. Some words are best not spoken in front of others.”
He was not offended by her impudence, merely concerned that if she spoke so freely outside, disaster would follow.
Earlier, her demeanor had seemed off; he had restrained his curiosity, intending to investigate later. Seeing her pale now, he regretted being too harsh, understanding her words had been born of care.
With only his trusted attendant in the room, her words would never spread. Xie Xianqing’s glance swept to Eunuch Zhang, who remained pressed to the ground, motionless.
Noticing the eunuch, Chen Jiao relaxed. Zhang shared the Crown Prince’s honor and shame; even if she betrayed him, he would not.
Xie Xianqing, seeing her still slightly sullen, softened his tone, coaxing gently: “Do you still want lychees?” He had saved some from the palace for her.
Chen Jiao, gaining some spirit, replied weakly: “…Yes.”
He smiled.
Compared to her cold father and self-preserving ministers, Chen Jiao was the first to visit him, a gesture of extraordinary loyalty. At this moment, not just lychees, anything she desired he would provide.
While Xie Xianqing ate and tended to his wounds, Chen Jiao obediently sat beside him eating lychees. After a while, she remembered her purpose: to console the Crown Prince, hastily swallowing her mouthful.
She looked at him and encouraged, “Your Highness, you have only suffered a minor setback. Wait patiently, and in time, you will find broader horizons.” Only the emperor surpassed an heir in stature.
Xie Xianqing smiled silently. Chen Jiao hurried, “Don’t doubt it. When you become emperor, you will surely be better than him.”
He teased, “Since when has Chen Jiao learned Master Huiyan’s skill?” Master Huiyan was skilled in fortune-telling, and he joked about her taking it up.
Chen Jiao ignored him, whispering, “Yes, I can tell fortunes. I predict the emperor will one day regret treating you this way.”
Xie Xianqing’s expression darkened, voice calm: “He is the sovereign. He does not need love.”
After a day full of trials, the Crown Prince needed rest and recovery, so Chen Jiao, having offered comfort, left shortly thereafter.
Once the boisterous Chen Jiao departed, the Crown Prince’s residence returned to its usual quiet. Xie Xianqing sat alone, the vast mansion feeling desolately cold.
He recalled the young girl standing before him, clear-eyed and resolute: “Even if one is emperor, having no one who treats them sincerely, being unloved, is pitiable indeed.”
Yes, how could it not be pitiable?
In a century, there might not be even a single tear shed for him by someone who truly cared.
Power erases and dilutes familial bonds. The Crown Prince had grown accustomed to palace intrigue, yet Chen Jiao’s presence stirred the still waters of his life, like a beam of light piercing a decaying, shuttered mansion.
During her visits, he had not noticed, but after she left, he felt the absence keenly.
In the following days, Chen Jiao visited the Crown Prince’s residence frequently, moving naturally as if it were her own home.
With the Crown Prince in seclusion by imperial decree, officials dared not approach, even the Right Chancellor maintained a low profile, wary of the emperor’s scrutiny.
Yet Chen Jiao continued her visits, becoming the most conspicuous presence in the quiet mansion, even drawing the emperor’s notice and displeasure.
In the Golden Throne Hall, Fifth Prince stood before the emperor, addressing him with a smile: “Father, I know little of this Chen Jiao, only that his abilities are considerable, and in just a few months, he has established himself firmly by the Crown Prince’s side.”
The emperor, preoccupied with state affairs, responded thoughtfully: “Oh? I heard the Yong’an Marquis’s heir writes poorly, a prodigal, despite Princess Yihe’s painstaking efforts…”
The emperor barely remembered a single heir, only asking out of caution regarding the Crown Prince. Hearing Fifth Prince’s words, however, he grew attentive.
Fifth Prince smirked, deliberately saying: “He does not seem like the prodigal described by outsiders; he is very loyal to the imperial brother.”
What had been a casual inquiry turned severe—loyalty, yes, but to ignore the emperor’s rebukes and openly visit the Crown Prince?
Seeing his father’s reaction, Fifth Prince’s eyes glinted with satisfaction.
His mother, the most favored consort, had taught him patience and restraint. She had waited long, ultimately gaining power after Empress Yuan’s passing, and Fifth Prince believed that with enough patience, he would obtain what he desired.
Resentful of the Crown Prince’s status, yet patient to endure, he was like a venomous snake lying in wait, ready to strike decisively when the time came.