TBR CH140

Chapter 140: The Season of Cherishing Spring

Chu Huaicun took the historical record from Liang Kechun’s hand. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed glued with meticulous care. The torn page edges were perfectly aligned and flawlessly reattached with transparent paste, leaving no trace of alteration.

The content itself was beyond reproach. That day seemed like any other ordinary day, so much so that the historian couldn’t think of anything significant to write, only noting a few birds flying backward over the capital.

Birds flying backward over the city walls were an inauspicious sign. Indeed, the capital at that time was shrouded in an ominous gloom.

“Jia Ding twenty-three,” Chu Huaicun softly read the year from the record. “If I’m not mistaken, the late emperor passed away that year. Afterwards, the era name was changed to Tianyuan, and the throne was passed to the current emperor. As for the date—”

“The ninth day of the seventh month, the emperor collapsed in Yongle Palace,” Liang Kechun recited the historical events as if they were family treasures, his eyes sparkling with an unusual light. “But history records, look, Chancellor Chu, at the entry on the next page, the late emperor lost his ability to move on the seventh, and even his words were unintelligible. The sixth, looking at it this way, was naturally the last opportunity.”

His blue robe, unkempt from days and nights of work, and the messy surroundings did not detract from the chilling power in his expression, fueled by his proximity to the truth. While experiencing immense pain and fatigue from his work, he also felt immense joy.

Chu Huaicun, however, sighed softly, his eyes like snowfields eternally covered in ice and snow. “Young Master Liang, what opportunity are you speaking of?”

Liang Kechun almost blurted out the words “edict of succession,” his voice so choked with emotion it bordered on a sob.

“The late emperor was critically ill. He knew he was dying and secretly sought out his most trusted ministers. It couldn’t have been to entrust a child to their care—the late emperor was already over seventy, and the current emperor was nearly forty. No one could afford to wait. It had to be about establishing the heir. The true imperial edict back then did not name the person currently on the throne. My teacher knew about this, which is why…”

Chu Huaicun extended his hand. Liang Kechun lowered his gaze in a daze, looking at the page in the historical record that had been cunningly replaced.

“Young Master Liang, whose handwriting is this? You recognize it, don’t you?”

“It’s…” Liang Kechun’s eyes were fixed on it, seemingly not understanding why he was being asked. “Grand Historian Wei Gong. It’s my teacher’s handwriting.”

“I’m not saying your thoughts are wrong,” Chancellor Chu’s snow-white sleeve gently brushed, and the pages of the historical record quietly closed. “It’s just that such a conjecture not only needs to be kept secret but also needs to resolve many suspicious points. If Wei Gong knew that the current emperor ascended improperly, Young Master Liang, do you think Master would alter the historical records and keep it secret, or would he rather die speaking out and proclaim it to the world?”

“He would make himself a drum, so that all under heaven would know,” Liang Kechun murmured, a hint of obscure doubt flickering in his eyes. “Yes, when my teacher taught me back then, he was always worried about whether he should say something. If he knew the edict was fake, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate.”

But the fact was, the historical record was not altered by someone else, but by Wei Gong himself.

“Furthermore, the struggle for succession at that time had progressed to a point where it was almost without suspense.”

When the late emperor passed away, Chu Huaicun was still in the capital; he remembered it clearly. “The late emperor had few heirs. The current emperor was established as Crown Prince as soon as he was born. Later, the situation changed several times, but the late emperor never expressed any intention of allowing others to succeed. There was no real need to change the heir before his death. Moreover, who would he have established? Prince Ping, or those who indulged in wine and women?”

After the late emperor’s death, no one questioned the current emperor’s illegitimate ascension, which showed the stability of the situation.

Liang Kechun’s expression grew serious. He bowed solemnly to Chu Huaicun: “Chancellor Chu is right. It seems there are still many doubts about this matter. I was too impatient and did not think it through.”

Chu Huaicun’s expression softened slightly. He repeated, “I’m not saying your thoughts are wrong, Young Master Liang. This matter not only involves Master Wei Gong, but the inner minister also relates to the Lin clan, who disappeared overnight. It would be illogical to exclude its connection to the current emperor’s ascension. It simply requires careful consideration.”

Liang Kechun, like him, was someone whose half-soul remained in the past. Chu Huaicun thought that he deeply understood the other’s feelings, wishing to expose everything that had happened on the spot and tie all the culprits to the execution ground.

But the past could not be easily unearthed. All they could do was get a little closer to the truth.

And a little closer.

The next day was the annual spring sacrifice. Although called the spring sacrifice, spring was already more than half over. Seeds in the fields had already sprouted, and the dense, heavy greenery of summer was beginning to take shape.

Dan Mountain was the highest mountain in the imperial suburbs, one of the tallest in the entire country. At the foot of Dan Mountain, a plot of land had already been designated for the Son of Heaven to experience the joy of farming himself.

The emperor’s sedan chair moved slowly, surrounded by crowds, its canopy like a small, floating golden cloud.

When they arrived at the site, the civil and military officials were already waiting respectfully. Only then did His Majesty, leaning on the arm of an imperial attendant, slowly dismount his precious self. His hair was now mostly white with hints of black; compared to the late emperor, his aging speed was incredible.

Now, looking back, rather than saying he rapidly aged during his reign, it seemed that when he ascended the throne, the most vigorous years of his life were already half over. At this moment, compared to Prince Duan beside him, he was already an old man; compared to the Seventh Prince, the difference constantly reminded everyone that their emperor, like the late emperor, was hunched on the throne.

However, the late emperor had stubbornly held onto that position for another twenty years before finally passing away.

The current emperor would certainly not be willing to pass the throne to the current Crown Prince and thus would not easily abdicate.

Both Prince Duan and the Seventh Prince stood beside the emperor. The Crown Prince, beside Chu Huaicun, had a rather gloomy expression, yet knew deeply that this was the price of his current position.

During the grand spring sacrifice, civil and military officials were also required to perform symbolic labor. The soil underfoot was loose, and the officials quickly grew tired of holding hoes and plows, fearing their shoes would get wet or their robes dirty. One by one, figures quietly disappeared as time passed.

This was not the palace, nor the capital, but the imperial suburbs. Hidden by the mountains and forests, sedan chairs of various red and purple colors were parked everywhere. Chu Huaicun also had no intention of being an eyesore in the emperor’s sight.

He turned and walked towards the Chancellor’s sedan chair, and as expected, saw a deep purple figure standing by the sedan chair, smiling faintly.

“Oh dear,” Ji Ying said softly, his words seemingly laced with needles and thorns, “Is Chancellor Chu also snatching a moment of leisure? I thought only people like me would—”

He trailed off and fell silent.

Under the scorching daylight, countless dappled shadows filtered through the trees. Bright spots of light fell on Chu Huaicun, making his frost-like, snow-white robes seem less cold. Furthermore, he held a few intertwined branches, still clinging to soil, in his hand. This vibrant scene surprisingly did not disrupt his aura, only making him appear much softer.

“Does Lord Ji also intend to plant trees?” Chu Huaicun deliberately asked. His presence here was clearly at the emperor’s instruction. However, the emperor couldn’t control his attitude towards this treacherous official.

Ji Ying quickly raised his eyes and looked at him, seeming to hesitate, wondering if he was joking. “No, I don’t think so.”

Chu Huaicun smiled faintly, with a somewhat sharp, blade-like quality. He turned to the Chancellor’s residence attendants guarding the sedan chair and instructed, “Bring Lord Ji a shovel.”

Ji Ying merely paused slightly before finding himself holding the shovel. He looked rather displeased, glaring fiercely at the heavy shovel in his hand. Chu Huaicun found it a little amusing.

Holding a sapling in his hand, he roughly assessed the surroundings and walked to an open space:

“Here will do. Forgive the interruption to Lord Ji’s leisure. I trouble Lord Ji to break up the soil here.”

“Chu Huaicun,” Ji Ying said sinisterly, “His Majesty wants me to tell you—”

He stared at Chancellor Chu, who was holding a messy pile of branches, and for some reason, couldn’t continue. In front of Chu Huaicun, the pile of green leaves trembled slightly, obscuring his front. Amidst the intertwined branches and leaves, against the pure white backdrop, there was an indescribable elegance. Ji Ying himself didn’t know why his tongue twisted:

“How does Chancellor Chu know where to plant it?”

Chu Huaicun stepped back, watching Ji Ying approach. “Lord Ji and I are different. When I was young, I had to make a living in various places, and I’ve naturally stayed in the mountains and forests. That plot of land was specially prepared for the spring sacrifice; cultivating it would be useless, not to mention it’s already a mess. It’s better to plant a tree in the mountains.”

The hoe struck the ground with a dull thud. But the earth remained flat, with no sign of being dug.

Chu Huaicun paused, looking at Ji Ying.

The other man was clearly very embarrassed. He was already as unskilled with farming tools as other officials, and his body was weak. While Chu Huaicun was speaking, Ji Ying had wanted to try nonchalantly, but the effect was clearly very poor.

He turned gloomy with failure. If others had seen him, they would clearly have retreated far away from this mad dog who bit without blinking.

Chu Huaicun looked at him, and for some reason, felt a little pleased.

“I told you I wouldn’t…”

Ji Ying said softly, but his hand did not release the shovel. Chu Huaicun walked behind him, first placing the branches in his hand to the side, then holding the upper part of the shovel’s wooden handle, and meticulously adjusted the angle.

“Lord Ji shouldn’t shovel straight down. Like this, tilting it a bit will be much better.”

Maintaining this posture, Chu Huaicun applied a little force, moving Ji Ying’s hand downwards along with his own. Indeed, a large clod of earth was turned up. He released his hand, only then realizing that Ji Ying had again been silenced by his sudden, somewhat intimate touch.

“You try?”

Ji Ying kept his mouth shut, silently shoveling a few times according to Chu Huaicun’s instructions. The initial pit was not very standard. Chu Huaicun roughly estimated and deemed it acceptable.

But Ji Ying insisted on competing and finally, in front of Chancellor Chu, neatly trimmed the pit, even patting down the surrounding soil.

Working together, they truly planted the tree in a proper manner.

“What kind of tree is this?”

Ji Ying stepped back two paces and began to admire their combined effort, his eyes unable to move away. It was undoubtedly a small tree; although it had grown branches and verdant leaves, it couldn’t compare to the tall trees around it.

“It’s a wutong tree,” Chu Huaicun said.

The phoenix only nests in the wutong tree and drinks from pure springs. The wutong tree has always been a symbol of nobility and purity.

Ji Ying finally curved his eyes, and a deep smile once again spread across his face. “If this tree were planted solely by Chancellor Chu, it would be fitting; but if it passed through my hands, wouldn’t it sully the tree’s reputation?”

“The tree is already planted,” Chu Huaicun said calmly. “Lord Ji would never be able to bring himself to dig it out. So, don’t worry about reputation or lack thereof. After all, the other person who planted the tree isn’t exactly pure either.”

“Who said I wouldn’t?”

Ji Ying bit his lip, feeling his words lacked conviction. “Never mind, Chancellor Chu sees through me completely, what else can I do? I actually came here to inform Chancellor Chu that for the afternoon’s mountain ascent and sacrifice to heaven, and the archery skills demonstration afterwards, Chancellor Chu should at least cooperate and stay in the same place as His Majesty, instead of being unfindable like this.”

“I understand.”

Chu Huaicun responded indifferently. Ji Ying hesitated for a moment, and before he could speak, he heard Chu Huaicun say, “I’ll change in the sedan chair. Lord Ji, don’t leave yet. I’ll go with you afterwards. That way it’ll be easier for you to report back.”

Back at the spring sacrifice grounds, the subsequent ceremonies were long and tedious. Watching the world’s most revered old man clumsily tilling the land with a hoe was no more pleasant than watching an ordinary farmer. Today’s sun was also unforgiving, fiercely baking the earth.

Soon, the spring plowing was declared finished. The imperial ritual official, his face wreathed in smiles, scurried to the front of the crowd. Civil and military officials were herded back like sheep, encircling the sacrificial altar. The official spoke a long string of flowery words in an exaggerated tone, his voice tense, clearly having prepared for this for a long time. Speaking at such a grand occasion left no room for error, otherwise, heads would roll.

But those present hardly listened to him.

Sacrificial cattle and sheep were carried onto the altar, candles were arranged, the celestial phenomena were divined, and as usual, there was a string of noncommittal auspicious words.

Soon, the group began to ascend to the summit of Dan Mountain. Leaving the open altar and entering the tree-shaded mountain forest was a welcome relief. Even sitting in a sedan chair, one could feel the freer flowing air, carrying the scent of the forest’s vegetation. Occasionally, convoys startled mountain foxes and hedgehogs, and some guards had already successfully hunted wild rabbits.

Chu Huaicun sat in his sedan chair, testing his bow.

It was a beautiful large bow, with light-colored wood, yet exceptionally hard. The gleaming bowstring was taut on the crescent-shaped bow, emitting a subtle, low hum when stroked. However, as he examined the weapon he had brought from his residence, his thoughts drifted to the bow he had had someone give to Ji Ying.

Ji Ying’s sedan chair followed behind the bright yellow imperial sedan, maintaining a certain distance from the Chancellor’s sedan chair.

When everyone reached the summit, there was another long segment of sacrificial rites. However, the emperor’s worship of heaven and earth did not require the participation of all officials; only their respectful bowing from outside was needed. Chu Huaicun merely offered a brief bow, then turned and stood aside like an otherworldly immortal, his bright white robes subtly overshadowing the elderly man in the bright yellow in the center.

Chancellor Chu thus unreservedly displayed his disdain for the imperial family. He slowly surveyed his surroundings, and surprisingly, no one dared to look up at him. These respectfully bowed officials actually did not know of Chu Huaicun’s transgression.

Qin Sangzhi and his retinue had recently become quiet, likely because they sought his help. Qin Sangzhi had also sent out messages, and a large portion of the articles fiercely denouncing him had ceased, which was an unexpected bonus.

Compared to the core ministers of the court, Ji Ying was kneeling in a more peripheral position. His face was calm, and he didn’t even raise his head, his long black hair draped motionless on his back. Chu Huaicun’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, finding him glaringly obvious, yet unable to look away.

Fortunately, the ceremony, though long, was also short. After all, it wasn’t a grand event like the Fengshan sacrifice, but merely an annual ritual. The emperor was old, and the previous labor had drained his spirit, so the Heaven Worship Ceremony was quickly brought to an end by a lavishly dressed ritual official.

The court officials were finally allowed to enter the imperial temporary palace built on Dan Mountain, and the music of silk and bamboo instruments began to play for the banquet.

However, before that, everyone traditionally competed in archery. On the flat ground, hay bales were placed at intervals, each marked with a red target. Drawing a bow and shooting an arrow, hitting the inner ring of the target was already excellent; hitting the red target directly indicated extraordinary archery skills.

When Chu Huaicun approached the field, Ji Ying was staring at the bow in his hand. The bow looked unremarkable, like a spare provided in the temporary palace for officials who hadn’t brought their own. But Chu Huaicun knew how light and agile it was to use, like a young and vibrant deer.

Ji Ying stared motionless at it, as if making some decision.

Not until the snow-white figure approached did he immediately compose himself and raise his eyes, “Chancellor Chu has arrived. This bow… it truly suits me, but if I still can’t hit the target, perhaps that would be—”

His voice gradually faded.

Chu Huaicun, however, smiled: “Lord Ji hasn’t tried yet, how do you know? Just now, Lord Ji also said he couldn’t use a shovel, and couldn’t dig the ground at first either.”

Ji Ying stood somewhat stiffly in place, again reminded of his awkwardness. He glared fiercely at the bow in his hand, finally seeming to have made a decision to redeem himself:

“Alright, Chancellor Chu, just watch.”

According to the order, it was Chu Huaicun’s turn first. The young and high-ranking Chancellor Chu casually pulled the bowstring, then notched a prepared white-feathered arrow. The feathers were bright, the arrowhead gleamed, and it suddenly flew from the low-humming bow, piercing the center of the hay target’s crimson bullseye.

Everyone couldn’t help but marvel.

General Zhenbei’s archery was not to be outdone, almost hitting the center red dot. However, his arrow flew with such great force that it almost knocked over the hay target firmly fixed to the ground.

He scratched his head, his laughter hearty: “Thankfully, I wasn’t too far behind Chancellor Chu.”

Chu Huaicun’s gaze drifted over to him indifferently. However, on such a day, given his temperament, there was indeed no need to avoid it.

Then, a few more people took their turns, and finally, at a certain moment, everyone fell silent in unison.

A pale, ghost-like figure emerged from the crowd, a false smile on his face, clad in a bright purple official robe, its embroidered serpents seemingly about to stir, hissing and flicking their tongues. He held a bow in his hand, and people cleared a path for him.

Ji Ying slowly walked forward. He said softly:

“It’s my turn.”