This Emperor Zhou of the first year of Zhouwu’s reign, whose joy, laughter, anger, and scolding were all laid bare, with an arrogance still lying dormant in his bones, felt unfamiliar to Wu Junji.
Wu Junji was more familiar with the old man after the 16th year of Zhouwu.
By then, Emperor Zhou had been on the throne for sixteen years and was thirty-seven years old.
In the prime of his life, his ambition could swallow mountains and rivers.
He was domineering, tyrannical, and believed himself supreme.
He was suspicious, arrogant, and sought invincibility in solitude.
He manipulated power, balanced factions, treating the imperial harem, the court, and all under heaven as pawns for his amusement, so conceited that he believed no one in the world could escape his grasp.
He reveled in others’ flattery, obedience, brothers turning against each other, family becoming enemies, and friends growing distant—all for the sake of gaining his favor or begging for a sliver of his grace.
When the old faces in Chang’an could no longer bring him pleasure, he would dig up a loach to liven up the pond.
Wu Junji was that loach.
From a humble beggar who often went hungry to a lofty Crown Prince, the process of Dragon Transformation was arduous and painful.
To say he felt no hatred would be a lie.
Without hatred, he would never have poisoned the old man or soaked the timber in the imperial mausoleum to rot, waiting for heavy rain so the old man could go swimming in the river after burial.
He only hoped the eighth prince wouldn’t bury him alongside the old man; otherwise, their coffins might drift together while swimming, which would be rather unsettling.
Wu Junji’s hatred felt somewhat misplaced when he learned it was the old man who had fathered him.
He couldn’t deny that in his past life, when he was appointed Crown Prince, he had been excited and overjoyed.
No longer fearing illness, worrying about his next meal, dreading the harsh winter, or hiding from constables rounding up laborers for river-digging.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch. He knew there would be a price to pay, yet he accepted it willingly. Later, when he became embroiled in the struggle for succession, he had no right to blame anyone.
Someone changed his clothes and swaddling cloth, while the capable eunuch watched and teased,
“Oh, the little prince is still sulking.”
Only then did Wu Junji realize tears were streaming from his eyes.
Emperor Zhou picked him up, wiping his face with disdain.
“You’re this old already, yet you can’t take a little teasing.”
Wu Junji shuddered, raising his hands and babbling for the capable eunuch to wipe them clean.
His actions were too obvious for anyone to miss.
The capable eunuch said playfully, “Your Majesty, the little prince wants someone to wipe his hands.”
Emperor Zhou was astonished. “He knows to wipe his hands?”
Wu Junji protested with whimpers—he was small, not stupid!
Emperor Zhou asked curiously, “What is he saying?”
The capable eunuch racked his brains to act as an interpreter.
“The little prince might be refuting Your Majesty’s words?”
The little prince kicked his legs excitedly, his cries growing louder.
Yes, yes, yes!
Emperor Zhou clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.
“You dog of a servant only knows how to make things up. Even I can’t understand him—how could you?”
The capable eunuch slapped his own mouth. “Your Majesty is right. This servant’s mouth deserves a lesson long overdue.”
Emperor Zhou was twenty-one this year, wielding a forty-pound halberd with fierce prowess. Wu Junji’s weight felt like holding a dish to him.
Softer than a dish, more amusing than a dish—once he picked him up, he didn’t want to put him down.
“I will stay overnight tonight and return to the palace tomorrow.”
“Replace the three wet nurses and find new ones quickly.”
The capable eunuch immediately went to carry out the orders.
Emperor Zhou carried him around to explore. Wu Junji had never left that room before, so everything seemed novel. When he saw something he liked, he would babble for Emperor Zhou to pause longer, only moving on once he had seen enough.
If he disliked something, he would hum to urge.
After repeating this a few times, Emperor Zhou tacitly cooperated.
Wu Junji admired the scenery, while Emperor Zhou admired his reactions.
Hungry, soiled, or wet, he would just whimper and fuss a bit, but otherwise never cried or made a fuss.
Playing around, the morning passed in a blink.
The little head on his chest nodded off bit by bit.
Emperor Zhou shifted from holding him upright to cradling him sideways.
The little troublemaker found the sunlight too bright, whimpered and buried his face in his chest, clenched his fists, chirped twice, and fell asleep.
The child’s skin was tender and thin, with fine, web-like blood vessels visible through his eyelids, tinged with pink and pale blue.
Soft, faint breaths, the scent of milk, and cheeks covered in fine down.
Wu Junji didn’t take pure milk; he was usually fed a mixture of rice water and goat’s milk. His flesh was soft and plump, and compared to other seven-month-old children, he was noticeably smaller.
Emperor Zhou had only two sons, and people inevitably compared them. The more he compared, the more his heart leaned.
The eldest prince was sturdy and robust, incredibly healthy, with a fiery temper. The slightest discomfort would set him crying.
His cries were loud enough to echo through the Changchun Palace.
He would fuss when sleepy, demanding to be held, and would cry the moment he was put down.
Drool flowed like a waterfall.
Having seen such a noisy child, the one in his arms seemed all the more docile and easy to soothe.
Emperor Zhou was decisive in his actions, yet in this matter, he hesitated again and again. He couldn’t overcome the barrier in his heart. The existence of this little troublemaker constantly reminded him of those humiliating and dangerous days.
Wait a little longer.
Just for this one night. If the little troublemaker was too noisy at night, he would abandon him.
But if he behaved…
When Wu Junji opened his eyes again, his stomach burned with hunger. Someone was changing his diaper—he must have wet the bed in his sleep.
He opened his eyes, about to cry for food, when a flat, round-mouthed bottle appeared before him.
Wu Junji opened his mouth and latched onto the bottle, gulping down his meal.
The capable eunuch truly lived up to his name. Before sending away the three wet nurses, he hadn’t forgotten to inquire about the precautions for caring for Wu Junji.
The mixture of goat’s milk and rice water in the bottle was just right.
If he wasn’t fit to be the imperial eunuch, who was?
After finishing his meal, Wu Junji took a closer look—the old man still hadn’t left.
Just decide already—whether to abandon me or strangle me, give me a straight answer.
Wu Junji kicked his legs, flipped himself over, and turned his back to the old man, sulking.
The second time Wu Junji woke up, his diaper was still dry, his stomach comfortably full, and he couldn’t tell what time it was.
Before he could think too much, the bottle was brought to his lips again.
Wu Junji latched on and continued his meal.
After finishing, he looked—why did the old man look as if he hadn’t slept?
He chirped twice in greeting, gnawed on his hand, and went back to sleep.
Emperor Zhou couldn’t help but stroke his tiny feet.
The capable eunuch approached softly.
“Your Majesty, it’s the third watch. You must take care of your imperial health.”
Emperor Zhou had someone keep the milk warm at all times and stayed up half the night.
From time to time, he would touch the child’s hands, feet, and face.
The capable eunuch sighed inwardly. After all, this was his own son—how could he not care?
“The third watch.” (11 p.m.–1 a.m.)
Emperor Zhou looked out the window.
The third watch could be considered the latter half of the night.
If he hadn’t cried in the first half, he certainly wouldn’t cry in the latter half.
The outcome was already clear. He was the ruler of a nation, a man of his word—he couldn’t go back on it now.
Otherwise, wouldn’t he be giving this child leverage over him?
He would take him back to the palace.
This was his own flesh and blood, so naturally, he should raise him.
This was something entirely his own.
The blood flowing in his veins was the same as his. His bones, his frame, even his hair—all were nurtured by him.
He deserved to be as noble as he was.
Just thinking about such a child, raised by him bit by bit—the first word he spoke was taught by him, the first step he took was guided by him, his character, literary talent, martial skills, and political acumen were all cultivated by him.
Under heaven, no one could be closer than the two of them.
Emperor Zhou’s thoughts quietly shifted.
He not only wanted to bring him back, but also to grant him a noble status.
Everything about this child came from him—how was this any different from raising himself?
Emperor Zhou no longer hesitated.
“Change clothes, prepare the carriage.”
The capable eunuch immediately sprang into action.
When Emperor Zhou held Wu Junji and boarded the carriage together, the capable eunuch knew that this nameless, unranked little prince was about to ascend to the heavens in a single step.