Xie Zhao: "This struggle for the succession hasn't even started…"
Third Prince, who had been outmaneuvered by the combined efforts of Xie Zhao and Tenth Prince, departed, and their seats finally enjoyed a moment of peace.
Shengping Lou, however, began to stir with activity once more.
Xie Zhao and Twelfth Prince resided within the palace, so they had arrived early.
Though Tenth Prince had established his own princely manor, his rank was relatively low, and arriving too late would breach propriety—so he too had come early.
Thus, the three of them were among the very first to arrive.
The other princes, by contrast, trickled in one after another, as if competing to see who could arrive the latest.
As though whoever came last was the most esteemed of all.
First Prince and Second Prince, in particular, arrived only a few minutes before the Emperor himself.
Cutting it that close to the deadline—one would think they'd be afraid of tripping up.
After the Emperor arrived and delivered a few auspicious pleasantries, the Mid-Autumn banquet was officially underway.
In Xie Zhao's understanding, a banquet was simply everyone gathering together to share a meal.
But today was a palace banquet, so of course it wouldn't be that simple.
As the Court of Imperial Delicacies served the dishes, those seated in the front rows began presenting gifts to the Emperor.
Xie Zhao: "…"
Xie Zhao turned to Tenth Prince and asked, "We're supposed to prepare gifts too?"
Tenth Prince whipped his head around in shock. "Of course! Don't tell me you didn't prepare one?"
At all major court banquets for important festivals—Mid-Autumn, Dragon Boat, Lantern Festival, and the like—ministers were required to present gifts to the Emperor.
The princes were both sons and subjects, so naturally they had to prepare gifts as well.
Xie Zhao had harbored a faint hope that perhaps princes might be exempt.
But Tenth Prince's matter-of-fact tone shattered that illusion.
"I… of course I also…"
Xie Zhao stammered, thinking to himself, Did I actually prepare one or not?
He had no idea himself.
Xie Zhao discreetly glanced at Fuman, who stood nearby.
Fuman immediately caught his meaning, bowed slightly, and whispered, "Your Highness's prepared jade ruyi—this servant has already sent someone to deliver it."
Oh, so "he" had indeed prepared a gift after all.
And a jade ruyi at that—an auspicious choice.
Xie Zhao breathed a sigh of relief.
At the same time, his estimation of Fuman rose considerably.
He hadn't said a single word, yet Fuman had grasped his intent, and even gone a step further by clarifying exactly what gift he was presenting.
This level of competence—Xie Zhao was going to give Fuman an extra chicken leg when they got back!
After observing for a while, Xie Zhao noticed that the order of gift presentation wasn't quite what he'd expected.
By all logic, the most honored person in the hall was the Emperor, and the princes should come next—so shouldn't the gift-giving start with the princes?
But Xie Zhao discovered that wasn't the case. It began with a man seated below the Emperor who had a rather refined, scholarly air about him.
Xie Zhao heard others address him as Duke of Yue. He presented a piece of calligraphy.
Xie Zhao rifled through the original owner's memories—this appeared to be a surviving work by a calligrapher from the previous dynasty, highly sought after. Xie Zhao couldn't estimate its exact value, but it was certainly more expensive than the jade ruyi he'd prepared.
The subsequent presenters—Duke of Lu, Duke Zheng, and the rest—Xie Zhao couldn't even remember their faces. He only remembered that each gift was more extravagant than the last, making the Duke of Yue's calligraphy seem like the cheapest offering of the bunch.
And it wasn't just the nobles' gifts that were expensive—the imperial clansmen, including his so-called "cheap brothers," were all presenting gifts that could buy several hundred jade ruyi!
Xie Zhao: Wait, you all… me… huh?
So I'm the only poor one here?
Tenth Prince discreetly curled his lip and pulled Xie Zhao aside to whisper.
"Look at them showing off—they even dug up a coral. A three-foot-tall red coral, and I've never even seen one! Big Brother really has connections."
Hmm?
That plaintive tone—could this be a fellow (poor) kindred spirit?
Xie Zhao felt an instant bond of mutual sympathy, gazing at Tenth Prince with hopeful eyes.
"Did Tenth Brother also give a jade ruyi?"
Tenth Prince scratched his head. "Oh, no, not that. I gave two South Sea pearls."
Pearls! South Sea pearls at that!
The light in Xie Zhao's eyes died.
He knew that in ancient times, pearl diving was far more difficult than in the modern era, keeping pearl prices perpetually sky-high.
And these were South Sea pearls, renowned for their roundness and size—a single one would already fetch an astronomical price, and Tenth Prince had given two!
"…That's not exactly much cheaper than the red coral."
Xie Zhao felt his sympathy had been misplaced. The only poor one was still himself.
"That's different."
Tenth Prince said mysteriously, "Father has wanted a red coral for ages, but the Minister of Revenue thought it too expensive and refused to fund it. Father wouldn't dip into his own privy purse either—he's been stewing over it for a while now. Now Big Brother's filled that gap, so you can bet Father's pleased."
"Oh—!" Xie Zhao had a sudden realization.
The Emperor wanted a red coral ornament but wouldn't spend money from his own private coffers. At the same time, the Minister of Revenue refused to use state funds for the Emperor's little indulgence.
And the Emperor was equally reluctant to touch the national treasury.
So the matter had been shelved indefinitely, with the Emperor itching for that red coral all the while.
Not that one could blame him for agonizing over it.
Before Dayan was established, the realm had been in chaos for ten years—even the Emperor had been desperately poor.
After saving for seventeen years, he had finally built up some family wealth—there was no way he would touch the national treasury for his own selfish desires.
If he did, his subordinates would follow suit, and future generations would learn from his example, reaching into the treasury whenever they ran short of money. Then what would become of Dayan?
But then again, the Emperor felt aggrieved.
Here he was, the Emperor of the realm, and if he wanted a red coral ornament, he had to be so cautious and deliberate about it.
Frustrating. Utterly frustrating.
The Emperor was not one to wrong himself. Feeling frustrated, he went and put pressure on the Minister of Revenue, who was thoroughly annoyed by the whole affair.
It was at this moment that the First Prince presented a red coral. Was this a gift? No—it was clearly a great help to both the Emperor and the Minister of Revenue.
This gift had absolutely hit the Emperor right in the heart.
Things indeed unfolded exactly as the Tenth Prince had predicted.
Upon seeing that red coral, as vivid as fresh blood, even the Emperor's usually stern face broke into a smile.
The Emperor rested one hand on the coral and said with considerable satisfaction, "My eldest, you've been thoughtful."
The First Prince immediately bowed humbly: "Being able to share Your Majesty's burdens is this son's fortune."
The Emperor stroked his beard, neither praising nor criticizing, and simply gestured to the chief eunuch, Feng De.
"Come, bring that plate of braised quail to the eldest—he's always loved this dish."
Feng De bowed and replied, "Yes." Then he picked up the braised quail from the Emperor's table and descended the imperial steps.
The First Prince was overjoyed and said, "This son thanks Your Majesty for the reward!" before accepting it respectfully with both hands.
After receiving it, during the interval before the Second Prince presented his gift, the First Prince picked up a quail and ate it, letting the Emperor know that he truly did appreciate this reward.
Beside him, the Second Prince's jealous gaze was almost tangible, and the other brothers could no longer sit still either.
Xie Zhao clearly heard someone two rows ahead muttering quietly.
"Isn't it just a plate of quail? Look how happy it makes the eldest brother, as if no one else has any."
Imperial banquets were usually divided into upper, middle, and lower tables according to rank, but the Emperor had said earlier that today was a family feast—everyone present was either a prince or an imperial clansman, or an old comrade who had fought alongside him to win the realm.
All were equally honored, so why divide into upper and lower tables?
In other words, everyone had the same dishes. Even Xie Zhao had this braised quail, let alone the First Prince.
But was the First Prince concerned about the dish itself? No! It was the imperial favor the Emperor bestowed.
That uniqueness was what mattered.
Not just the First Prince—everyone at the banquet who had thrown their lot in with him felt a shared pride and smiled even more brightly.
Those on the opposite side, meanwhile, were holding their breath, trying to outshine the First Prince in the Emperor's eyes.
Thus, for a time, the atmosphere in the front rows was lively indeed—one person speaking after another, turning the imperial palace banquet into something like a common household gathering, full of warmth and bustle.
The Emperor watched this scene with a face full of gratification, occasionally pulling this duke or that duke into conversation, reminiscing about the old days. The mood was extremely cordial.
Xie Zhao watched this scene with curiosity.
"Tsk."
"What are you tsk-ing about?" the Tenth Prince leaned in to ask.
He thought Xie Zhao had discovered some gossip and deliberately leaned his ear closer to listen.
Xie Zhao pushed the Tenth Prince's head back.
"Nothing. I was just thinking—how rare. It's been so many years since the founding, and everyone's still here."
Not a single one had been stripped of military command.
"Pfft, I thought it was something interesting."
Hearing there was no gossip, the Tenth Prince listlessly flicked his sleeve and sat up straight.
"The Duke of Yue and the others are still young, so of course everyone's here." The Tenth Prince assumed Xie Zhao was referring to the nobles' ages.
"Look at the Duke of Song—he's not much older than your cousin Chun Jue. I reckon you'll still see him around when you're old."
Xie Zhao followed the direction the Tenth Prince pointed and indeed saw among the nobles one who was exceptionally young—sporting a small mustache but with few wrinkles on his face, looking to be only around forty.
Compared to the other dukes, he seemed almost like someone who had inherited his title from his father—far too young.
But as Xie Zhao recalled, this man was a bona fide founding duke. At seventeen, he had ridden into battle with sword in hand, fighting alongside the Emperor.
His valor surpassed the entire army, and his use of troops was bizarre and unpredictable. Even back then, he could strike fear into enemy forces—the moment they heard "Bai Yan is coming!", they would flee in panic, scattering in utter defeat.
After the Yan Dynasty was established, the Duke of Song, Bai Yan, had campaigned south against Nanzhao and held the north against the Tartars, his reputation undiminished from his younger days. He was considered the second most prominent figure among the dukes, after the Duke of Yue.
The Tenth Prince's voice was not quiet, and those nearby could hear him—the Thirteenth Prince, for instance, glanced over at them upon hearing this.
The Tenth Prince noticed the look and turned to ask, "You're not going to go tattle to your uncle, are you?"
The Thirteenth Prince shot the Tenth Prince a glare. "What's there to say about such a trivial matter? A waste of my uncle's time."
The Tenth Prince bared his teeth. "Hey, the Thirteenth's temper has grown, has it?"
The Thirteenth Prince looked straight ahead, not at the Tenth Prince. "It hasn't grown. My temper has always been this big."
"Fine, I won't talk to you then."
The Thirteenth Prince did indeed seem to have quite a temper—but then again, he had every right to, for that illustrious Duke of Song was none other than the Thirteenth Prince's own maternal uncle.
In fact, it wasn't just the Thirteenth Prince—Xie Zhao noticed that among the princes present, aside from himself, the Sixth Prince, and the Fifteenth Prince, everyone else's birth mothers came from noble and distinguished families.
Oh, but he had it even worse than the Sixth Prince and the Fifteenth Prince—at least those two still had their birth mothers alive.
So looking at it that way, wasn't he the biggest dark horse in the struggle for the succession?
Xie Zhao leaned back in a tactical recline.
When he had first transmigrated here a couple of days ago, he'd actually worried a bit about his situation.
After all, the precedents were right there in front of him—a situation with this many princes, all basically grown adults, was way too dangerous.
He didn't have any ambition to fight for the throne, but what if someone tried to win him over and make him pick a side?
Now Xie Zhao was relieved. He simply had no value worth recruiting.
So why the hell should he worry?
Lie flat. Just lie flat completely.
After all, no matter who ended up winning in the end, he'd at least be a Prince of the First Rank. Wasn't the good life practically right around the corner?
Author's note:
None