Prince Wu cared little for the Emperor. When he had first ascended the throne, the high monks of Tingyun Temple told him that Wu was the true land of dragon‑qi. That meant Prince Wu would one day become the Son of Heaven—it was destiny. And indeed, the Emperor grew ever more corrupt, forcing the feudal lords to rise in arms, to punish him and cleanse his court.
So Prince Wu believed he needed to do little. Let the other lords kill the Emperor; then he would strike down those “rebellious” lords, and afterward— How many troops did the imperial court have? Not even equal to a single feudal state. He did not fear the Emperor. Could the Emperor fly across the Yangtze, fly past Wu’s hundreds of thousands of soldiers, and place a blade at his throat?
But now—what was this? This girl! She was only a step away. If she reached out, she could seize his throat— Prince Wu cried out, stumbling back.
Chen Danzhu reached out and clutched his arm, sobbing softly: “My lord—please, no—”
Outside, attendants heard the Prince’s cry. One peeked in, saw the scene, then quickly withdrew, even closing the door considerately. The Prince loved beauties, and it had been some time since a new one had joined his side. And this was the Grand Tutor’s second daughter, with a prior connection to the Prince.
That connection was her elder sister. Chen Danyan had been famed as a beauty of the capital. Years ago, the Prince had asked the Grand Tutor to send her into the palace. But the old man married her off to a mere soldier instead. The Prince had nearly died of rage.
Later, at a palace banquet, he saw her again and schemed to win her. But Chen Danyan spurned him, never attending another banquet. The Prince had thought then of destroying the Chen family. Only when Inspector Zhang offered his own daughter—Beauty Zhang, even lovelier than Chen Danyan—did the Prince relent.
But even the loveliest beauty grows tiresome. And now the Chen family’s second daughter had grown up— A fifteen‑year‑old girl, delicate and tender.
That delicate girl held a hairpin to the Prince’s throat, whispering sweetly: “My lord, do not—cry out.”
Though a man, Prince Wu was pampered, weakened by wine and pleasure. In his panic, he could not break free. He was held fast by this young girl. “You—you dare commit regicide!”
Chen Danzhu lifted her gaze to him. Prince Wu was only in his forties, yet looked ten years older. She had seen him only a few times as a child, always from afar, her sister never letting her sit closer, though they had the rank to do so. The clearest she had ever seen him was at the palace gates—when Li Liang held up a severed head.
Her eyes fell to the hairpin in her hand. Regicide? Of course, she wanted to. From the moment she saw her father’s corpse, her home burned, her kin all dead—
Back then, Prince Wu was already dead. She had wanted to whip his corpse, but she herself was imprisoned and never had the chance.
Three generations of the Chen family had been loyal, devoted to Prince Wu. Yet when Li Liang carried the tally back to the capital, the Prince did not even ask questions—he simply ordered her father executed at the palace gates. Could he not think? Think of whose sake had crippled her father’s leg? Think of where her brother Chen Danyang had died?
Yes, her brother had been shot by Li Liang, but Inspector Zhang had given the opportunity. Inspector Zhang deliberately let her brother fall into encirclement, refusing to rescue him. And the Prince did not investigate. He only listened to a beauty’s tears, then told her father to stop making trouble.
Her brother’s death—dismissed with a single word, “trouble”?
Chen Danzhu’s hand trembled on the hairpin. She could not suppress the rage in her heart. She had held it down for ten years.
If Prince Wu had not killed her father, her father would surely have defended the capital. Later, remnants of Wu came to the temple to curse her. Unable to find Li Liang, they vented their anger on her. Li Liang had deliberately left her at Tao Temple so that everyone could see her, curse her, humiliate her, and vent their fury—while also making it easier for him to hunt down Wu’s survivors. They said it was because of Li Liang, because of her family, that Wu fell. Ha! She wanted to say—it was because of Prince Wu himself, who brought about his own destruction!
Li Liang was her enemy. Prince Wu was, too. She had already killed Li Liang. Prince Wu would not escape.
Chen Danzhu drew a deep breath, forcing down the fury in her heart. “My lord, I am not—I would not dare.”
Prince Wu felt the hairpin at his throat. He wanted to shout, but the hairpin pressed closer, and his voice faltered, dropping low. “Then what are you doing?”
Chen Danzhu said: “What I must say is urgent. I feared you might call others in and interrupt.”
Prince Wu’s voice shook. “Then speak quickly.” His heart was anxious and resentful. Li Liang’s betrayal? Nonsense. It was the Grand Tutor’s whole family that had betrayed him! He regretted it—he should have executed the Chen clan long ago. Ten years ago, he should have. Their refusal to send a daughter into the palace had already revealed disloyalty.
Chen Danzhu looked at Prince Wu, once again tempted to kill him on the spot. But—if she did, her father would surely kill her. Her father would support the Prince’s son, swear to defend Wu to the death. In the end, the riverbanks would still be breached, and too many lives would be lost.
The Prince and his treacherous ministers could die, but the people and soldiers of Wu did not deserve to.
She leaned lightly against Prince Wu and whispered: “My lord, His Majesty asks—does Prince Wu wish to be Son of Heaven?”
The Prince felt the hairpin at his throat. To speak the truth might mean death. He said: “I do not wish to be Son of Heaven. I am a prince enfeoffed by the Son of Heaven. How could I become the Son of Heaven?”
Chen Danzhu asked again: “Then why did you send assassins against His Majesty? Killing Zhou Qing was not enough—you sought to kill the Emperor himself?”
The Prince retorted: “Nonsense! Zhou Qing was a villain, hated by many. His death was blamed on me, but I never sent assassins.”
Chen Danzhu frowned. “Then why did you array troops against His Majesty?”
The Prince shouted: “It was His Majesty who came to attack me!”
Chen Danzhu raised her voice, drowning his out: “Because His Majesty came to question the matter of assassins, and you refused to meet him!”
The Prince raged: “I am not a fool. If they entered, they would kill me.”
He knew well how the Princes of Yan and Lu had died. Wu’s troops had marched too, carrying an imperial edict to investigate rebellion and assassins. They stormed the cities and slaughtered. Who truly asked questions? To divide the spoils, the master must first die.
Chen Danzhu said: “His Majesty declared he would not. If you explained clearly, His Majesty would withdraw his troops.”
The Prince scoffed. “Childish trickery. I know what kind of man the Emperor is—” That fifteen‑year‑old boy who ascended the throne with a heart more ruthless than any.
Back when he was crown prince of Wu, before Zhou Qing had devised the system of enfeoffing princes, his younger brother had stabbed him at their father’s funeral, nearly killing him. Later, investigation revealed the rebellion was tied to the imperial court—incited by the Emperor himself!
Chen Danzhu said: “His Majesty says that if you reconcile with the court, and together they destroy the Princes of Zhou and Qi, then the lands under the court will be large enough. His Majesty will not need to enforce the enfeoffment system.”
So—the Emperor was offering a bribe? Prince Wu was stunned. To join forces and eliminate Zhou and Qi? But then, only he would remain as a feudal lord. Would that not make it easier for the Emperor to strike him? The thought flashed—he was no fool.
Chen Danzhu pressed: “My lord, why does the Emperor wish to reclaim the fiefs? To grant them to his sons. If only you remain as a feudal lord, and the Emperor kills you, then who would dare be a feudal lord again? To be a feudal lord is a dead end. The Emperor may not care for you, but surely he must care for his own sons’ hearts. Would he truly estrange himself from them?”
It sounded as if—
Chen Danzhu began to cry again. “My lord—” she pressed against his chest, tears falling like pear blossoms in rain. “I do not want to see you dragged into endless war. Why fight and fight? My lord, you suffer too much—”
A beauty in his arms, soft and tender, could make a man melt—if only there were not a hairpin pressed against his throat.
“My lord, you do not know. The imperial army outside Wu is not merely twenty thousand.” Chen Danzhu lifted her tear‑filled eyes to him. “There are more than fifty thousand. Not only on the northern front—they surround us from south to north. I was terrified—”
This he truly did not know. The Grand Tutor had only said the court had thirty thousand troops. He had dismissed it as an exaggeration. Now it sounded even more exaggerated.
Prince Wu was startled. “When did the court have so many soldiers?”
When they fought the Princes of Yan and Lu, the court had fewer than twenty thousand. The imperial court held only a dozen counties, its taxes barely enough to feed the royal family. So poor—unlike Wu, rich and fertile. Where could they find money to raise fifty thousand troops?
Precisely because the Emperor did not want to live in poverty, he had striven to raise armies and reclaim the feudal lands, and twenty years had passed since then.
“Because of poverty, there are so many soldiers,” she said softly.
With no other path, they sought glory through war, wealth through conquest. Wu was too rich, too comfortable, its edge dulled.
If there truly were so many troops, then this time—Prince Wu grew uneasy, muttering: “How can we fight? With so many soldiers, how can I fight?”
Chen Danzhu lifted her head. “My lord, the Emperor’s envoy has already arrived in the capital. Will you meet him?”