From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 223: News from the Border
Lately, there was no end to the gossip on the capital’s streets. The common folk treated their ministers and aristocracy as entertainment, much in a manner that would remind Yan Zheyun of readers of modern celebrity tabloids, should he have the chance to mingle with them. As such, any local of the capital worth his salt would be able to tell the curious traveller about the sensational news that had taken Great Ye by storm; Emperor Xuanjun had flown in the face of all convention and named his younger brother his heir.
Not to say that this was wholly unexpected. Given how smitten he was towards his male empress, how none of the concubines of his imperial harem had become pregnant from no lack of trying to climb the dragon bed, a prince of the first rank taking on the role of crown prince wasn’t the shock factor in this situation.
No, it was the fact that it wasn’t one of the two grown princes of the first rank who had been named as successor that left tongues a-wagging in taverns and teahouses. Emperor Xuanjun had skipped over both his brothers who had come of age, including the fourth prince, who was also the son of the dowager, and picked the young ninth prince.
From a prince without a title to the new master of the Eastern Palace, the change had occurred with nary a warning and had left the morning court floundering for excuses to put a halt to it. The more astute of politicians might have caught wind of His Majesty’s intentions—certainly, there was little doubt that the dowager had—but it was clear that no one had expected him to act so quickly.
Despite granting his harem permission to disperse on no uncertain terms, despite his open bias towards his empress, no one had been able to comprehend that Emperor Xuanjun cared not about having an heir of his own—
—well, an heir of his own that his very male empress couldn’t bear for him, anyway.
(Some of his choice vocabulary during their nocturnal activities might suggest that he would be very amenable to trying his best despite being fully aware of it as an impossibility.)
His powerful ministers, all blinded by their prejudices about the world and their expectations when it came to accumulating and consolidating their hold on political power, could not fathom how someone who had as close to absolute power as one could be did not wish to secure a hold on his legacy by ensuring it was handed down to the next generation.
But by now, they were all accustomed to Emperor Xuanjun’s stubbornness and, of course, little could be done once His Majesty made up his mind. A token attempt to dissuade him was made, of course. But whatever they came up with, Emperor Xuanjun seemed to have a valid counterargument, almost like he had spent a ridiculous number of evenings cuddled together with a certain someone, brainstorming what the court could potentially throw at him and formulating a suitable response just to shut them up. For example, any suggestion that he was still young and did not have to rush into making the decision just yet was met with a sceptical eyebrow and the ’friendly’ reminder that on the desk of the imperial study sat countless memorials asking him to frequent the inner palace more to beget heirs to inherit the throne. Any protest that the ninth prince was not suitable in temperament for the throne was dismissed by His Majesty, who went on a lengthy exposition on the importance of ’shaping jade’ at a tender age. In fact, the crown prince’s tutors had already been selected, and the most prestigious of them was none other than His Majesty’s grand preceptor.
This was a prestige far beyond anything that could be granted to the young ninth prince—ah, no, it was His Little Highness, the crown prince now.
Speaking of the grand tutor. This distinguished gentleman was associated with the second piece of gossip spreading around the capital like wildfire. The nuptials of the newly minted Duke Xianglin, the heir of Prince Zhenhai, Subduer of the Seas, and the youngest son of Grand Tutor Lu were fast approaching. It was obvious that no expense had been spared. Granted, the dowry could not match the betrothal gifts in opulence, if only because Grand Tutor Lu was famous for being frugal and Prince Zhenhai, who was a successful warlord with access to spoils of war and imperial endowments, had spent his family’s fortune on the marriage, as far as one could tell. Why, just the entourage of precious treasures and luxurious furniture alone travelling up from the East had required an escort so detailed the morning court had raised suspicions that Prince Zhenhai was using this as an excuse to smuggle his soldiers into the capital in preparation for a rebellion.
In response, Emperor Xuanjun had asked them to regale everyone with their trauma, which must have been so very potent as to make them believe that every bush and tree appeared to be an enemy soldier (1).
(Of course, it was a lot easier for Liu Yao to rest at ease knowing that the eyes and ears of the Kaiming were monitoring Prince Zhenhai’s every move. Perhaps it was a bit unfair of him to criticise his ministers when he had access to important information that they did not. But admitting that would give the game away and ruin a good part of his plans so they would just have to accept it for what it was.)
To make matters even more scandalous, the imperial edict that had shortly followed the announcement of this unusual betrothal confirmed Duke Xianglin’s position as the commander of the southwestern army, which was in and of itself already titillating news given that the Guo Family had hitherto almost sole control of that region. To be sure, he had made little progress in maintaining the balance of military power with the Southwestern King or keeping the restless southwestern jungle tribes at bay. But what took the cake and, as Emperor Xuanjun’s empress so delicately put it, ’pissed off the old men’ of the morning court, was his decision to name Imperial Concubine Chen military adviser to Duke Xianglin in his southwestern expedition.
All at once, tales of Deputy General Chen’s heroic deeds in the distant jungles were all the rage. This loyal, brave man, whose achievements had been ’accidentally’ undermined and overlooked, was the main topic of eager discussion.
(If one were to wonder where they had started from...well, a certain Brother Hua had a lot of time on his hands now that he was no longer responsible for the crown prince’s lessons. He also had direct access to the source material and many a lazy golden afternoon had been spent listening to a certain Brother Chen describe his uncle’s grandest of adventures, the usual arrogant lilt of his voice absent, replaced by a wistfulness that made Hua Zhixuan straighten up, switch from the casual flow of calligraphy to a beautiful proper script as he took down every word Chen Qi had to say about this forgotten hero.)
With so much happening in the capital, it was no wonder that everyone’s gaze was focused on the imperial palace, awaiting Emperor Xuanjun’s next brazen move and calculating when it would be a good time to make one of their own.
Little did they know, a piece had already shifted closer to a checkmate up in the North.
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Deft fingers slipped the message into the hollow wooden capsule attached to the leg of a majestic gyrfalcon.
Kurumqi. Song of the Wind. If anyone had asked Haerqi who he held closest and dearest to his heart, he would have said his mother without missing a beat. Pretence had to be kept. But if anyone had the power to read minds, they would have seen great blue skies and a beautiful white-bellied falcon soaring with widespread wings across the rolling plains. After all, a lowly concubine whose affection for her children was limited to the favours they could curry for her with her lord could not compare to the only friend Haerqi had.
Haerqi had only managed to get his hands on a few pathetic scraps of meat. Here in the north, the fare was meagre at best, with rations that favoured sustainability over luxury. Great General Pan ate from the same communal pot as his men and rumour had it that when Great Ye’s emperor had attended the campaign against the north in the past, no exceptions had been made for him back then either. Haerqi didn’t know whether that was true. It didn’t seem like it could. The warriors Haerqi knew of had only ever made it clear that might made right, that the strong deserved the lion’s share.
Beautiful like a desert flower, Haerqi’s looks had always been the biggest source of his shame. His father, who prized warriors above dancers, would spare his lout of a cousin, Yenanda, the time of the day but not even deign to look his way. It didn’t matter how hard he trained to overcome his flaws, how hard he practised with his knives to make up for lack of musculature and stamina, until his hands bled so profusely from his blisters and cuts that he didn’t require any healing salve to numb them.
His thorough training of Kurumqi was the only achievement in his entire life that had ever earned him praise from his father. Back then, he’d been so grateful for this pittance of recognition that he’d made sure that Kurumqi would always be able to find its way back to his father’s tent.
His message would reach in no time, cutting through the night like an arrow headed towards the man whom he had no choice but to call father and hail as overlord. The very same man who was responsible for ordering Daurga’s actions, no doubt. Sacrificing a useless son and one of many daughters in exchange for stirring unrest in Great Ye...and with the bonus of removing a nephew who had become enough of a military hero to start threatening his reign.
Haerqi could only fault himself for not seeing it until it was too late.
Job done, he headed back out of the forest and towards the encampment. The hike up mountainous terrain to find an inconspicuous area to summon Kurumqi to him had left rocks in his shoe and as he neared a roaring firepit, he stopped to clear them.
"Hey, look. It’s the barbarian whore."
The crude insults his appearance attracted didn’t faze Haerqi. He’d been called worse things in his life by his clan members. At least, here in Great Ye, he could feign ignorance of their spoken tongue.
"Did you hear? He was sent to seduce His Majesty."
"A cheap slut like that? Not fit at all for an emperor, if anything, I’d say he’s just about right for lowlifes like us."
More raucous laughter erupted. Tensions were high after Overlord Kulai invaded, the intense dislike in the hawkish gazes that followed Haerqi’s every move was understandable. The soldiers stationed this far away from the heart of the encampment were more than likely recruited as part of the latest conscription efforts. If he had to guess, they must be the locals who grew up in the war-torn borderlands; the malice that laced their words made every fibre of his being tingle with warning and as inconspicuously as he could, he slipped a hand into the folds of his tunic—clumsily fastened in Great Ye’s fashion—for the hilt of his favourite knife. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎
"If you have so much time for idle chatter, perhaps Great General Pan would be interested in knowing that he has been too lax with your training."
That cold, familiar tone was flat with an unconcealed scorn. The figure clad in black stepped out of the shadows like he was born from them. Haerqi was used to his ability to do this by now but the startled soldiers not so much. The man bore no insignia or emblem to state his military rank but there was a matter-of-fact air of authority to him that made them back down, stammering out their apologies and retreating away from this cosy warm spot before the man could take any further action.
Haerqi blinked lazily at him before unceremoniously sinking onto a recently vacated stool.
"Man from Great Ye," he drawled. "You’ve made quite a habit of coming to my rescue in times of great distress."
The corners of the man’s mouth twitched but through the smoke rising from the flames, Haerqi couldn’t be sure if he saw correctly.
"You weren’t the one in distress," was the man’s response. He spoke with certainty, as though he knew that Haerqi was one unwanted advance away from striking. He remembered what Haerqi was capable of. This should make Haerqi warier of him but it was difficult for some reason to remain hostile towards the only person to have ever shown him a measure of kindness without expecting more than he could repay in return.
When Haerqi didn’t reply to that, the man changed the subject to more important matters.
"Is it done?" he asked. He was referring to the hasty message now winging its way towards the seat of power of the northern tribes, bearing important information on Great General Pan’s battle plans.
Haerqi looked up at the night sky. There were no stars tonight.
Father, the sun has set on your rule.
"It is done," he confirmed.
