The Son of Heaven takes the entire realm to serve one man.
Even though Zhao Zhen left behind a reputation for diligence and frugality in the history books, Zhao Xin felt that the procession of palace attendants following him seemed endless.
Not to mention that this time, even the Empress had come along. With the imperial and empress’s retinues combined, anyone would exclaim, “So many people!”
Although only a small number were permitted to enter the chambers, Zhao Xin immediately felt the room become cramped, the air growing thick and heavy.
Thanks to that handsome beard and somewhat dark complexion, Zhao Xin finally managed to overlap the man dressed in moon-white robes with the blurred image of his father from memory.
It wasn’t that he was unintelligent or had a poor memory, but rather that he had hardly ever seen him. The few pitiful impressions he had were mostly gained by chance, thanks to his elder sister Huirou.
Perhaps parents always prefer clever and healthy children, and ever since arriving in this world, he had been nothing but a substitute.
Just look at Zhao Zhen’s attitude toward his adopted son, Zhao Shu. Only when the original was broken could the substitute come into view, and even then, it would be constantly scrutinized.
A palace attendant held Zhao Xin, intending to perform the ceremonial bow.
But Zhao Zhen was clearly in a hurry. With a mere wave of his hand toward Consort Miao and Huirou, signaling them to rise, he rushed straight toward Zhao Xin.
Caught off guard, Zhao Xin found himself tightly embraced in Zhao Zhen’s arms before he could react.
Tears streamed down the face of the ruler of a nation as Zhao Zhen lamented, “Since ascending the throne, I have been diligent and conscientious, never slacking for a moment. Why does Heaven still seek to cut off my line?”
Zhao Xin could well understand Zhao Zhen’s feelings. If their positions were reversed, he might have wept even more bitterly.
But the long beard pressed against Zhao Xin’s face made him unbearably itchy, and he only wanted to pull away.
Yet, in his small, frail body, he was clearly no match for the strength of a grown man. He could only play the part of the obedient child, held tightly in Zhao Zhen’s embrace.
Whether it was the grief of losing a child, the immense pressure of having no heir, or perhaps both, Zhao Zhen’s tears showed no sign of stopping.
Even some of the palace attendants began to weep and sob along with him.
The only one who could still speak words of comfort was Empress Cao, who came from a military family. Yet, all she said was, “Guanjia, please restrain your grief. If you continue like this, Third Brother will not rest in peace.”
To anyone unaware, the scene might have suggested that Zhao Xin had died.
Though Zhao Xin had a thousand things to say, Zhao Zhen’s tears now choked them in his throat, leaving him unable to utter a sound.
He could certainly put on a performance, but without a stage and with his most important audience unresponsive, he could only sigh in helplessness.
Resigned, Zhao Xin did as he had done in his previous life to comfort his nephews and nieces. Following the rhythm of Zhao Zhen’s sobs, he gently patted Zhao Zhen’s back, offering what little solace he could.
At first, Zhao Zhen didn’t seem to notice, but after a few pats, his breathing grew rapid.
It wasn’t that he disliked Zhao Xin. As an emperor who was constantly nagged by court officials about the succession, who genuinely did not want to divide his vast estate among distant relatives, and who even harbored a desire to prove himself by fathering a son, he valued Zhao Xin greatly.
Unfortunately, a high fever had robbed his son of his cleverness and obedience. For a long time afterward, all he saw was a child who, aside from being human-shaped, was little different from a wooden stump.
Not only could he not run, jump, or speak properly, but even eating was a slow and laborious process. It was only through the meticulous care of his birth mother, Consort Miao, that his life was sustained.
As the ruler of a nation, accustomed to taking whatever he desired, how could he endure for long the humiliation of offering warmth only to be met with cold indifference.
Later, with the birth of his third son, shifting affections became as natural and effortless as eating or drinking.
A sudden thought flashed through Zhao Zhen’s mind, exacerbating his already frail health. He felt like a bow stretched to its limit, his complexion rapidly alternating between red and white.
Zhao Xin sensed his stiffness and seized the moment, saying, “Father, don’t cry.”
He hadn’t spoken for so long that his tongue felt stiff, and his words came out somewhat slurred.
Yet even this was enough to bring immense joy.
Empress Cao, who had been weeping beside Zhao Zhen, widened her eyes in astonishment upon hearing Zhao Xin speak. She exclaimed, “Guanjia, Guanjia! Second Brother, Second Brother spoke!”
Though her appearance was ordinary and she had never been favored by Zhao Zhen, she held the belief that being a legitimate mother was better than being a stepmother, and thus she cared deeply for all of Zhao Zhen’s children.
She knew far more about Zhao Xin’s condition than Zhao Zhen did.
As far as she knew, since that high fever, Zhao Xin had only been able to utter unintelligible, garbled sounds. How could he suddenly speak so clearly today?
This was an auspicious sign, a truly great omen!
In the next moment, a powerful grip seized Zhao Xin’s shoulders. Zhao Zhen, his face streaked with tears and mucus, gazed at him with ecstatic joy as if beholding a rare treasure. “Zuixinglai, what did you say? Say it again, please?”
Seeing Zhao Xin visibly uncomfortable from Zhao Zhen’s tight grip, Empress Cao gently reminded him, “Guanjia, be careful not to hurt Second Brother.”
Only then did Zhao Zhen snap out of his daze. He awkwardly rubbed his hands together, looking at Zhao Xin with eager anticipation, his voice softened as much as possible. “Zuixinglai, what did you just say? Could you repeat it?”
Zhao Xin did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned to Consort Miao, whose eyes were brimming with tears and whose knuckles were white from clenching, and to Huirou, who looked as if she had discovered a new world, her eyes sparkling with excitement. He offered them a reassuring smile.
Faced with Zhao Xin’s rather impolite behavior, Zhao Zhen was not angered but instead grew even more delighted.
A single instance could not serve as proof—it might have been the result of Consort Miao secretly coaching him in private. But the smile he had just given was something a person with impaired faculties could not possibly produce.
Under Zhao Zhen’s expectant gaze and in the tense atmosphere where even the drop of a needle could be heard, Zhao Xin tugged at his sleeve, clumsily wiping Zhao Zhen’s face, and said clearly, “Father, don’t cry.”
“Good! Good! Good!” Zhao Zhen slapped his thigh emphatically, stood up, and repeated the word “good” three times in succession.
If he hadn’t been acutely aware of his own fragile health, he would have lifted Zhao Xin high like Simba in The Lion King.
At that moment, the only person qualified to share this joy with Zhao Zhen was Empress Cao. Thus, she also approached Zhao Xin and asked gently, “Second Brother is so clever, recognizing Father. Then, does Second Brother recognize who I am?” Zhao Xin nodded and said, “Mother.” Then he added, “Mother who treats me very well. I like her.”
Empress Cao was so overjoyed she nearly shed tears. Without favor or a son of her own, she had always been treated by Zhao Zhen as a mere tool for managing the harem. Now, with these words from Zhao Xin, she felt that all her previous efforts had not been in vain.
Zhao Zhen was also deeply moved. For the first time, he took Empress Cao’s hand and said with emotion, “Thanks to your diligent care and efforts, Empress, Zuixinglai has made such progress today.”
After the death of his third son, Zhao Zhen’s first thought was to use his second son to negotiate the matter of an heir with the ministers of the outer court.
No matter how dull his own son might be, he was still his own flesh and blood. Besides, who could guarantee that he would never father a healthy and intelligent son in the future!
But a son who existed only in plans, still a mere shadow, could never compare to one who had already grown to six years old, on the verge of firmly establishing himself, and now showing signs of intelligence!
With such a son, what more could the ministers of the outer court possibly say!
Although Zhao Xin’s current performance could only be considered below average, who could argue when Zhao Zhen, as the emperor, held the authority of heaven itself?
Now, everyone in the room knelt down, unanimously praising the Guanjia for his immense fortune and celebrating the Second Prince’s complete recovery.
Empress Cao also repeatedly ordered someone to summon the imperial physician, hoping to confirm and widely announce the news that Zhao Xin had fully recovered.
But Zhao Xin knew this was far from enough.
Zhao Zhen’s current joy was entirely due to the fact that his expectations had been dragged so low by Zhao Xin’s performance over the past two years.
However, to silence the ministers of the outer court, especially the literary elite of Emperor Renzong’s reign, this was still far from sufficient.
Fortunately, he had already figured out how to score high marks.
When everyone is happy, the serious person stands out all the more.
Zhao Zhen soon noticed something off about Zhao Xin.
Why was his little face so tense, as if he were angry?
He couldn’t help but grow nervous himself.
“Zuixinglai?” Zhao Zhen tentatively called out.
Then he heard Zhao Xin say, “Father, as the Son of Heaven, is the model for all officials and subjects of the nation. How can you discard your crown? If Third Brother were aware, he would surely be uneasy and troubled.”
Zhao Zhen was stunned. These words, coming from any six-year-old child, could be called prodigious, let alone from Zuixinglai, who had not spoken a word for two full years!
Could it be, could it be that…
Zhao Zhen’s expression grew agitated, his breathing heavy, and he was left speechless.
At this critical moment, it was Empress Cao, the fierce daughter of a military family, who remained steady. She spoke on Zhao Zhen’s behalf, asking, “Second Brother, where did you learn these words?”
It was impossible that he had simply overheard them, and Consort Miao couldn’t have taught him so quickly.
Because Zhao Zhen’s act of removing his crown had occurred just two ke ago.
Feeling once again plunged into the plight of having no heir, Zhao Zhen, in his capacity as both ruler and father, had removed his crown to mourn for his third son, Zhao Xi.
Even if palace news was typically slow to spread, it couldn’t have traveled this fast.
And what did he mean by “If Third Brother were aware, he would surely be uneasy and troubled”?
There was a folk belief that children, with their Innate Qi still intact, could see things that adults could not.
It was good that someone had picked up the conversation and asked. Zhao Xin secretly rejoiced, straightening his posture even more.
With the hastily summoned imperial physician as a witness, everyone listened as Zhao Xin told a story.
After hearing it, Zhao Zhen was bewildered—no, utterly bewildered.
So, it turned out that his son hadn’t been rendered foolish by the high fever damaging his brain. Instead, he had been taken away by an immortal to be taught, something their Mortal Eyes could not perceive.
It was only today, when Zhao Zhen had removed his crown to mourn, causing Third Brother unease, that the immortal had sought out Zuixinglai and allowed him to return to the Mortal Realm.
Zhao Zhen was reluctant to believe this was true. After all, as an emperor, he tended to use tales of immortals and deities more for political purposes than out of genuine belief.
But Zhao Xin’s eloquent manner was completely different from before, leaving him no choice but to believe.
Moreover, Zuixinglai’s birth had always carried an air of the miraculous.
Back then, because he had no heirs, Zhao Zhen had performed sacrifices to Gaomei outside the city and had portraits of the Red Emperor painted in the palace to pray for a prince. Not long after, Consort Miao was diagnosed as pregnant.
Later, he dreamed of a great sun residing within the canopy, with red light rising from the steps of the palace gate, and the courtyard illuminated so brightly by divine radiance that every detail was visible.
When Zui Xinglai was born, he saw an immortal dwelling among the clouds, seemingly speaking to him about Zui Xinglai, and thus he used the three characters “Zui Xinglai” as his son’s childhood name.
Since it was a deity who sent the child, it seemed… quite reasonable that the deity would take him back for a while to nurture him?
Those who could secure the throne had some measure of cunning. Zhao Zhen asked casually, as if by chance, “Then, Zui Xinglai, could you tell me what the immortal who left you looked like? Your father has never seen an immortal before.”
Zhao Xin was not the least bit afraid and began gesturing animatedly: “His face was dark, darker than yours, Father, with a beard this big around, very prickly. He had an iron whip this long! He didn’t wear our futou cap but instead wore an iron crown. Oh, and he also had a big tiger as a mount, a black one! I often rode it to play!”
Zhao Zhen and Empress Cao exchanged a glance, both first startled and then overjoyed.
This could not be mistaken.
Because what Zui Xinglai described was none other than the Sacred Ancestor of the dynasty, posthumously honored by Emperor Taizu after his ascension, known among the people as General Zhao Xuanlang!