After His Majesty the Emperor spat blood and fell unconscious during court, he only awoke by nightfall. Following his decree, ministers led by Minister of Personnel Xue Zeruo had already grown composed enough to calmly accept the edict establishing Princess Shunyang as the National Heir, having been conditioned by the Heavenly Screen Video.
Moreover, since Xue Zeruo was the first to propose this, even if the Emperor were to immediately abdicate in favor of Princess Shunyang, the court officials wouldn’t be particularly surprised.
At most, some might harbor stubborn resentment like Sheng Mian.
As this involved the deposition of both the National Heir and a Prince of the Commandery, along with establishing the first female heir in history, the wording of the Imperial Edict required extreme caution and precision.
Xue Zeruo drafted the edict and presented it to Emperor Hui.
Exhausted, Emperor Hui shook his head without reading it, gesturing for the Six Ministers and the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy to review it first.
As a former top imperial examination graduate, Xue Zeruo possessed brilliant literary talent. Years of official experience had made him acutely aware of what should be written, what shouldn’t, and to what extent—his brush moved accordingly.
Although the Crown Prince had been deposed, his crimes of harming the princess’s son still needed investigation and sentencing by the Ministry of Justice, Court of Judicial Review, and Censorate. Therefore, the edict primarily emphasized the Crown Prince’s lack of talent and unfitness for the heir position.
Prince Chen already had existing charges. He was first stripped of his princely title for unfilial piety, disrespect, and inhumanity, with further investigations into related offenses.
As for the highly anticipated edict establishing Princess Shunyang as heir, the praise and accolades composed by Minister Xue’s brush were beyond reproach. However…
“Since the princess is female, should she be addressed as Imperial Crown Princess when enthroned as heir?”
One minister voiced this question.
All officials turned to Emperor Hui, who covered his mouth while coughing, clearly listening to discussions without making decisions.
Queen Wang stated: “Whether daughters, sons, or children—when has the word ‘child’ become exclusive to males?”
Having weathered officialdom’s ups and downs, the minister had cultivated composure long ago. Unembarrassed and unblushing after being rebutted by the future Empress Dowager, he replied: “Your Majesty speaks wisely. This subject was narrow-minded.”
Xue Zeruo’s drafted edict ultimately went unchanged word for word, stamped with the Imperial Seal.
The next day, Emperor Hui forced himself to rise despite illness and proclaimed the edict during grand court assembly. Simultaneously, officials were dispatched to deliver the decree throughout the kingdom’s four borders.
Silver Moss Mountain in the eastern part of the Great Yin Dynasty lay a thousand miles from Luojing. Even with officials galloping on horseback, the decree establishing Princess Shunyang would take several days to arrive.
At Silver Moss Taoist Temple on Silver Moss Mountain, a guest arrived from Mingzhou City.
“Eldest Miss, the family head’s birthday falls in three days. Having cultivated here for years away from home, the family head misses you day and night. He specially sent this humble servant up the mountain to welcome you back to the mansion to reunite and enjoy familial bonds.”
Who was this visitor?
He was the steward of the Meng family from Mingzhou. Standing before Meng Wenruo with hands respectfully at his sides, he smiled as warmly and amiably as spring sunshine—uninformed observers might think he came bearing goodwill.
Meng Wenruo lifted her teacup for a small sip of clear tea, a trace of mockery flashing in her eyes.
She hadn’t seen anyone from the Meng family for many years.
“Master-Uncle!”
“Master-Uncle Qing Shu!”
A young Taoist came rushing in breathlessly, all wind and fire.
Meng Wenruo set down her teacup: “Look how flustered you are. Where’s the calmness like water that cultivators should possess? What happened?”
The young Taoist caught his breath: “Grandma Zhang from the foot of the mountain passed away yesterday! Her eldest daughter came up the mountain hoping to ask you, Master-Uncle, to write a funeral eulogy for Grandma Zhang!”
Meng Wenruo froze, momentarily lost in thought.
She had been sent to the Taoist temple very young. In those days, she always wanted to go home. Once while running down the mountain, she fell. Grandma Zhang took her home, treated her wounds, comforted her, and cheered her up until temple members came to retrieve her.
“Did Grandma Zhang pass peacefully?”
Grandma Zhang was kind and amiable. The young Taoist had interacted with her a few times, and she had even given him loquats to eat…
The young Taoist felt somewhat sorrowful: “Her eldest daughter said she passed away while basking in the sun—peacefully, with a smile still on her face. Uncle-Master, will you write the funeral eulogy?”
He thought: Grandma Zhang lived to a ripe old age. Although she had no sons, her two daughters were both exceptionally filial. Her early life had been full of hardships, but her later years were relatively happy.
To depart so peacefully was truly a good ending.
“I’ll write it!”
The young Taoist hesitated, stammering: “Then… how much should we charge for the writing fee?”
“No charge.”
The young Taoist smiled: “Excellent, Uncle-Master! I’ll go deliver the message right away!”
He dashed in energetically and dashed out just as vigorously, completely ignoring the steward who had come from Mingzhou.
The steward felt displeased but ultimately restrained himself, especially when he heard someone requesting Meng Wenruo to write a funeral eulogy. His expression turned peculiar, yet his tone grew even more respectful: “Eldest Miss, what do you think about us setting off tomorrow?”
Meng Wenruo chuckled lightly, her eyes teasing: “Steward, have you forgotten? I was sent to the Taoist temple as a child, entered the Taoist order, and received the Taoist Name Qing Shu. You should address me as Taoist Priest Qing Shu, not as ‘Eldest Miss’.”
She was born of a concubine—a maid-servant. Her tyrannical half-brother, the legitimate son doted on by the elders, detested her and bullied her. The family elders not only failed to stop him but also watched as he falsely accused her of shattering the Glass Cup, leading to her being sent to a small Taoist temple outside the city at just seven years old.
For eleven years, she had been almost entirely forgotten. If not for the Sky Screen mentioning that there would be a future Minister of Works named Meng Wenruo who had once been a Taoist, the Meng family likely wouldn’t have remembered her.
The steward remained unflustered, his respect tinged with firmness: “Even if you’ve entered the Taoist order, your blood ties to the Meng family cannot be severed. You are Taoist Priest Qing Shu, but you will always be the Meng family’s Eldest Miss.”
“Ah, so the family has been thinking of me all along?” Meng Wenruo put on an expression of being overwhelmed by favor, standing up and walking over to the steward. “To be honest, Steward, during these dozen years in the mountains, I’ve missed home day and night! Why wait until tomorrow? Please wait a moment for me. After I finish writing the eulogy and inform the temple master, I can return home with you!”
She was eager to get some travel funds to go to Luojing and pay respects to the Princess.
The steward naturally had no objections.
The conditions in the mountain Taoist temple were simple and crude—he had no desire to stay there any longer.
Looking at the Eldest Miss again, she had truly blossomed over the years. Her delicate beauty strongly resembled her maid-servant mother, who had seduced the family head with her charms. Though she wore Taoist robes, they couldn’t conceal her graceful figure—after all, she was a young woman; how could she truly be willing to waste her life in a Taoist temple?
She must be eagerly anticipating returning to the mansion, hoping the family would arrange a good marriage for her!
The steward smiled inwardly. No rush, no rush, Eldest Miss—your lifelong matters are very much on the family head and madam’s minds.
They arrived at the Meng mansion in the evening. The family head and madam had already finished their dinner and couldn’t be bothered to see Meng Wenruo.
Following the madam’s instructions, the steward settled Meng Wenruo in a remote small courtyard.
This was where she had lived as a child. After her birth mother died and she was sent to the Taoist temple, this place had become desolate and bleak.
Only—things seemed somewhat different from what she had imagined.
Could it be that the Meng family hadn’t brought her back because of the Sky Screen’s mention of a future Minister of Works named Meng Wenruo who had been a Taoist and could write funeral eulogies?
But rather because of so-called filial birthday wishes for her father and enjoying father-daughter bonds?
Her fingers brushed against the windowsill, stirring up a thick layer of dust. Would enjoying father-daughter bonds mean having a daughter stay in such an unclean, neglected place?
Meng Wenruo sneered and shook her head.
The next morning’s breakfast consisted of plain rice porridge, pickled vegetables, and three steamed buns.
The maid delivering the meal was a straightforward young girl: “Madam thought of you, Eldest Miss, having cultivated the Dao for many years—accustomed to simple meals, often doing hard labor, and having a large appetite—so she specifically instructed the kitchen to prepare this.”
Meng Wenruo smiled: “Very good, very good. Thank Mother for me. I do enjoy eating these.”
What did it matter if her appetite was large? Of course she needed to eat her fill.
After the meal, the young girl led her to meet the family head and madam. Along the way, she kept glancing at Meng Wenruo and finally gathered the courage to ask: “Eldest Miss, do you write funeral orations?”