Chapter 104: How to Spend the Remaining Years?
"I don't know."
Chen Changsheng had no way to admit or deny it, because up until now, he still couldn't confirm his own origins.
The only thing he could be certain of now was that he should also be a member of the Chen Imperial Clan. In other words, he and the Prince of Chenliu before him should be brothers.
Turning from a friend into a brother—this feeling was somewhat strange.
The Prince of Chenliu, perhaps sensing his current mood, changed the subject and said, "Crown Prince Zhaoming had been in poor health ever since he was born. I was still quite young at the time and always lived in the Imperial Palace, but I never had the chance to see him."
Chen Changsheng thought to himself that if he really was Crown Prince Zhaoming, and the sun wheel had collapsed while he was still in Her Holiness the Empress's womb, then naturally his constitution couldn't have been very good.
"If you truly were Crown Prince Zhaoming, what would you do?"
The Prince of Chenliu's voice suddenly turned calm and detached, but the look in his eyes as he gazed at Chen Changsheng grew fervent, filled with hope and longing.
Chen Changsheng didn't know how to answer this question. Only at this moment did he suddenly realize that the most important aspect of the identity of Crown Prince Zhaoming was... that he was the lawful heir to the Great Zhou throne.
"No matter what Her Holiness the Empress has done over these years, how many elders of the Imperial Clan she has killed, one thing cannot be denied: she was the late Emperor's wife, and Crown Prince Zhaoming was her son, and even more so, the late Emperor's son. If the Great Zhou throne were to fall vacant, no one would be more qualified than Crown Prince Zhaoming to sit in that position."
The Prince of Chenliu looked into his eyes and spoke very seriously.
Because Chen Changsheng hadn't admitted to being Crown Prince Zhaoming, he didn't directly say "you" in this sentence, but instead referred to Crown Prince Zhaoming.
But the intent between the lines was already clear as day; anyone could understand it.
Her Holiness the Empress had governed for over two hundred years, forging the entire court into an iron block. Over the past decade or so, through several major cases and Zhou Tong's methods, she had crushed the Chen Imperial Clan into a miserable state. In the current capital, one could hardly see any influence from the Chen Imperial Clan. At least on the surface, the Prince of Chenliu, this sole surviving branch, was seen by many as merely a scrap of face the Empress left for the Imperial Clan, a bit of comfort for the world. More than anything, he was just a symbolic figure, like a lonely ghost with no real power.
However, back in the day, Tianliang Commandery had produced figures like Chen Xuanba and the former Crown Prince, Emperor Taizong—individuals with astonishing talent and genius. The Chen Imperial Clan's foundation ran far deeper than the world imagined. How could it be so easily eradicated? They must have hidden considerable strength within the capital, whether in the State Religion, the court, or even possibly within the Imperial Palace itself. Outside the capital, in the various commanderies, the Imperial Clan's power was preserved quite intact, enough to potentially shake the court.
Take Tianliang Commandery now, for example. If Great Zhou were truly thrown into turmoil, both the officials and the common people there would stand firmly on the side of the Chen Imperial Clan.
The Chen Imperial Clan had several hundred members scattered across the various prefectures and commanderies, each forming their own factions. The most powerful among them was the line of Prince Xiang.
Prince Xiang was the biological father of the Prince of Chenliu.
Whether the words the Prince of Chenliu spoke to Chen Changsheng now had Prince Xiang's approval was uncertain, but he was qualified to speak on behalf of Prince Xiang's faction.
If Chen Changsheng truly was Crown Prince Zhaoming and genuinely wanted to ascend the Great Zhou throne, then gaining the support of Prince Xiang's faction would be a matter of utmost importance.
Yet, Chen Changsheng showed no reaction.
A look of regret and confusion appeared in the Prince of Chenliu's eyes.
The Great Zhou throne—who wouldn't want it?
Chen Changsheng didn't want it, at least not right now. At this moment, he had no mood whatsoever to contemplate these so-called great affairs.
Before life and death, there are no great affairs—that was the principle at play.
The Prince of Chenliu couldn't stay long at the National Academy. With the rumor that Chen Changsheng was Crown Prince Zhaoming circulating, this meeting was already a taboo.
Her Holiness the Empress's people were surely watching the National Academy constantly; the imperial decree earlier was clear proof.
He looked at Chen Changsheng and said, "Don't side with Her Holiness just because of You Rong. Don't rush to make a decision. Look more, think more. Consider what my Great Zhou truly needs right now."
Chen Changsheng looked at his handsome features, at the resolute expression between his brows, and recalling the rumor he'd heard upon first entering the capital—that Her Holiness greatly valued the Prince of Chenliu—he felt somewhat puzzled.
The Prince of Chenliu seemed to know what he was thinking and said, "Her Holiness has been good to me, but she is wrong."
Chen Changsheng didn't ask who had the right to judge right from wrong, because regarding the court situation over these years, everyone had their own judgment, everyone had eyes.
"Her Holiness's error does not lie in employing Zhou Yong, nor in employing Cheng Jun, nor in employing the so-called 'Eight Tigers.'"
The Prince of Chenliu recited the names of those infamous treacherous ministers, his expression turning solemn: "...Her Holiness's error does not lie in choosing the wrong people, nor in using people wrongly. It lies in the fact that she wanted to use these people, deliberately used them. She cares nothing for anyone's life or death, only for her own power and position. She has poured all her energy into the court, killing countless people she perceived as enemies, yet she has forgotten where the true enemy of my Great Zhou lies."
Great Zhou was the legitimate dynasty of the human world, representing the fundamental interests of all humanity. Its enemy, of course, lay to the north—the Demon race.
"Look at the rivers and mountains of these past two hundred years. Great Zhou's national power is at its peak, yet in the north, we have gained not an inch of ground, and have even suffered many defeats. Our former countrymen and people still endure bitter suffering in the wind and snow, yet they are still occasionally seized by those demons to be used as military rations. Why has this situation come about? Because Her Holiness's mind has never been focused there."
The Prince of Chenliu looked into his eyes and said in a deep voice, "No matter how high her cultivation realm, how strong her power, how outstanding her skill in political maneuvering, in the end, she is still a woman. Her vision and scope are inherently limited. She cannot lead us to victory in this war, and therefore, she is not qualified to continue sitting on the throne."
The sun gradually shifted westward. It wasn't yet dusk, but the sky had already taken on a warm, reddish hue.
Chen Changsheng walked back to the side of the canvas awning. Under the uneasy and doubtful gazes of the female disciples of Nanxi Zhai, he climbed up the large banyan tree, stood on one of its branches, and looked into the distance.
The capital was bathed in the early autumn sunlight. Everywhere were black eaves and white walls. The streets were thronged with people, carriages flowing like water—a scene of bustling prosperity, peace, and joy.
The people living here could hardly imagine the pressure the human army was under on the northern snow plains, or the bleak lives the people there endured.
Just as the people living in the present age had probably long forgotten that a thousand years ago, the vanguard of the Demon army had besieged Luoyang City for three whole months, their forward positions only four hundred li from the capital.
Thinking about the Prince of Chenliu's earlier words, he fell silent for a long time. Then he stopped dwelling on it and began to think about his own affairs.
The large banyan tree was by the lake, and the lake was within the National Academy. Here, there was green grass.
He had lived here for over two years. When he first walked in here, the name of the National Academy carved into the stone was completely covered by ivy. This was a forgotten old garden.
Here, he had met that black goat, and also that old woman from the palace. Later, he had seen that old woman from a distance in the Imperial Palace, and he had almost forgotten what she looked like.
That bamboo cart pulled by the black goat didn't belong to the old woman; it belonged to Mo Yu.
He hadn't seen Mo Yu for a very long time. He hadn't smelled her scent on his bed for a long time either, nor seen the strands of hair she left behind. Perhaps it was because of Xu Yourong?
Back then, he was the only one in the National Academy.
On the other side of the wall was the Hundred Herbs Garden. A little girl climbed over the wall, and so the National Academy gained another person.
Then, Xuan Yuan Po came, Tang Thirty-Six came, and later, Zhe Xiu and Su Moyu also came. After the autumn recruitment last year, it had become even more lively here.
Thinking back on the time he spent here with Luo Luo, he had the illusion of being in a different life.
Xuan Yuan Po had already left. He was probably racing towards the Red River by now. When Luo Luo found out, she would surely be very sad.
Thinking of this, Chen Changsheng felt some comfort, and then he realized that he couldn't truly achieve a heart as still as water. It turned out he still cared about some things.
Tragedy, perhaps, was tearing up beautiful things to show people. Sorrow, on the other hand, was watching beauty but being unable to approach it, finally forced to turn and walk away, never to see it again.
Looking at the capital in autumn, thinking that he was about to leave this beautiful world, he truly began to grieve.
He looked into the distance and suddenly shouted twice. There was no specific meaning; he just made a sound to prove his own existence.
The female disciples of Nanxi Zhai and the students of the National Academy looked at him on the large banyan tree, his figure seeming to melt into the sunlight, utterly bewildered. Hearing his shouts, they were even more startled. The female disciples of Nanxi Zhai thought, how could the Holy Maiden like someone like this? The students of the National Academy thought, so this is what the Dean is like.
Tang Thirty-Six, Zhe Xiu, and Su Moyu looked at him, their expressions grave, their hearts heavy.
...
...
If you knew you only had a few dozen days left to live, how would you spend that time? Would you list the things you most wanted to do but hadn't accomplished, create a wish list, then sell your house and land to fulfill them one by one? Or would you hide in a dark corner of your room, bathing your face in tears every day? Or would you ignore all moral rules and indulge the deepest desires and evil thoughts within you?
When Chen Changsheng stood on the large banyan tree by the lake in the National Academy pondering this question, in the Qingli Si Prison deep within the alley of the Northern Military Command, former Chief Medical Officer of the Imperial Medical Bureau, Lord Sun, and former Senior Official of the Ministry of Rites, Lord Yang Xiushen, were also facing this question. However, they had no energy to think about how to spend these days; they only wanted to reduce the number of these days as much as possible.
Ever since they had been secretly imprisoned in the Zhou Prison, they had wanted to die. The sooner, the better, because here, life was truly worse than death.
A sharp wire was thrust into Yang Xiushen's left ear, then pulled out from his right ear on the other side, bringing with it something resembling brain matter, but not much blood. That was because, over these past days, he had already lost too much blood, or perhaps because his hot blood had long since dissipated amidst the torment of these days.