Helian Zheng spent half a year cutting down anyone who was "not loyal" to him—killing some, replacing others.
He sat on the dragon throne and watched the ministers kneeling below. Pleasure had settled into him like a warm cloak: every head he looked upon wore a loyalty score above fifty, most over sixty.
Even the guards around him had been replaced—each one with loyalty over sixty.
The whole palace, the whole court, is loyal to me now. Helian Zheng said to the system with self-satisfaction. From now on I'll come to court only every few days. I won't have to fear any treachery. I'll come every five days and check their loyalty—if it falls, I won't be merciful.
"Court dismissed."
He thought of returning to his studies of immortality and left trifles to those he deemed "loyal."
He imagined it so simply: live long, check loyalty every few days, and the realm would remain in his hands forever. Whoever tried to take it would find the hands already closed around the world.
The system felt a little conflicted.
Was Helian Zheng too easy to fool, or was he simply too arrogant?
When the emperor departed, the ministers exchanged wary glances. Over the last year his behavior had become baffling. The scandal of Minister Lin and Prime Minister Meng had been clear—their influence had irritated him; the Bai family's frame had removed Lin and Meng, and then Helian Zheng, without hesitation, reversed the verdict. He executed the Bai family in full.
In the months since, his cruelty had exceeded their imagination.
Those who had once been his confidants—men who had done his dirty work—had been swept away when he found a pretext. A thought crept in and chilled them: had the emperor used them until they became a threat? Had he decided to sweep them away too? The idea made many of the courtiers break out in cold sweat.
"His Majesty has been cultivating himself for months—rarely visiting the inner palace now."
"I overheard palace women gossiping; the emperor dresses in a white robe and speaks of living forever. He claims this realm will be under his control for all time."
A few close ministers whispered in a corner, worried and puzzled. "What does this mean? He has no heir yet."
Helian Zheng disliked sharing power; they secretly delighted in it. But his temper remained unstable—who knew which day he might seize them with a new pretext? If a prince sat the throne, that would be ideal; a child would be easy to control.
Ning Wuyuan's ears were sharp. He had heard the whisperings; his plain face held a smile as he walked out. He glanced toward the inner palace. Helian Zheng had bullied his precious daughter and now sought his life—he would not stand for it.
A few days later Helian Zheng returned to court.
He scanned the ministers with a sharp gaze that made knees tremble—no one knew if this would be another purge. What they did not realize was that he was watching their loyalty scores.
Seeing Ning Wuyuan's score at eighty-seven brightened his mood; he regarded the general with growing favor. After court he called Ning Wuyuan aside. The emperor's mind turned to the fact that Ning Zhiqing still lived in the Cold Palace; he would find an excuse to cast her exile as protection.
"General Ning?" the emperor prompted.
"Ning General," Helian Zheng smiled, "I wished to speak. In recent days you have seen I have been busy redressing the cases of Minister Lin and Prime Minister Meng. I plan to bring Consort Ning back."
Ning Wuyuan's face flooded with gratitude, while inwardly he cursed a dozen times. Did the emperor think him a fool? If not for Axin's help, his daughter might well be dead. Still, he knelt and thanked the emperor for protecting Ning Zhiqing, and the system—tired and resigned—jacked Ning Wuyuan's loyalty up three points to ninety.
Helian Zheng's eyes gleamed at the result. He took satisfaction in Ning Wuyuan's gratefulness and spoke as if to mend a wrong. "You must miss her dearly. I shall let you see her."
Ning Wuyuan, of course, wanted nothing more. He had not seen his little girl in so long and wondered if she had grown thin. The thought stung; tears pricked his eyes.
Helian Zheng, seeing such emotion, suspected no duplicity. To show favor, he personally ordered Ning Zhiqing returned to the rank of Noble Consort and restored Axin to Lady Lin's status—after all, Lin the Minister had been exonerated; his daughter should not be punished. These two were the only palace women whose true hearts exceeded fifty. He lavished recompense.
He brought a large retinue, clothed them in splendid palace robes, arranged court hair and exquisite hairpins and jade pendants—made a show of escorting them out of the Cold Palace.
"Consort…no—Lady Lin, are you leaving?" He Lianfu ran out and knelt, eyes full of respect and reluctance. The child who had drawn Helian Zheng's attention was brought forward.
Helian Zheng narrowed his eyes. "Who is this child?"
"She called herself Fuer," Ning Zhiqing answered, "Lady Lin and I named her Fuer in the Cold Palace."
Helian Zheng remembered once waking drunkenly beside Meng Hou; Meng Hou later feigned sickness and hid. After Meng Hou's scheme against Xifei surfaced, Helian Zheng had punished her. He ordered a search.
"Investigate," he commanded. He looked long at He Lianfu. The child did resemble Meng Hou somewhat; perhaps it was suggestion, perhaps heredity. If the child were his son, even better. Helian Zheng, bent on longevity, avoided women now; another heir would settle court anxieties.
He turned to the system. System, can you verify whether this child is mine?
Yes, host. But it will cost points. the system replied.
Helian Zheng did not mind spending. The system confirmed: the child He Lianfu was indeed his son. The palace records agreed. Helian Zheng laughed aloud and beckoned the boy. "I am your father, you are my only son."
Watching Helian Zheng's swagger, Ning Zhiqing bit back amusement. He had put the crown upon himself, proudly.
"What is your name?"
"Fuer," the child answered.
"From now on you will be Helian Fu," the emperor decided. The boy accepted his new title and trotted at the emperor's side, a small creature full of obedient admiration. Helian Zheng checked the heart-value and found the child's true feeling surprisingly high—eighty. Delight made him lavish even more affection.
Ning Zhiqing and Axin followed behind. Ning Zhiqing clutched Axin's hand, whispering, "My legs are weak."
"Then hold me." Axin answered.
Ning Zhiqing's smile lifted. She glanced at Helian Fu, who climbed by using his wits. Ning Wuyuan watched his daughter beam and felt grateful to Axin.
Helian Zheng now had a cluster of "loyal" ministers, a "son," two women whose hearts were true to him, and guards who were loyal. He reduced court frequency—three days, then ten, then once every half month—immersing himself ever deeper in the pursuit of immortality.
When ministers remonstrated, Helian Zheng had a short temper. The system, bored and assigned another task, offered a suggestion. Host, now that you have a son, let Helian Fu attend court. You need not meet the ministers; send the child and spare yourself the trouble.
Helian Zheng narrowed his eyes. He's not yet seven. He'll be intimidated.
You can hasten his training and place a trusted person beside him, the system proposed. Someone with high status but who cannot seize power. With your permission and Helian Fu in place, the ministers will be silent.
Helian Zheng hesitated. Even intoxicated with longevity, he could not easily release power. I won't have the old fools teaching him wrong things. he muttered.
Then find a figure who will command respect without controlling the state, the system suggested. It had an idea: there was one person in the inner palace—someone talented, able to assist, and true to the host. Bring Lady Lin to advise Helian Fu; she will protect him and not seize power.
Helian Zheng considered and shook his head. Not Lady Lin. I've heard of her—she was the capital's greatest talent. With Lin the Minister disgraced and then cleared, how can I trust her heart? Better let Consort Ning sit behind the curtain. I hear she hardly reads memorials. She can sit with the son and supervise—she won't meddle with politics. Perfect.
The system—if it could kneel—would have prostrated to the deity of scheming.
Helian Zheng announced it: he would enthrone Helian Fu as crown prince. From the next day the child would stand in his stead and preside over court.
The ministers, surprised, offered no opposition. They praised the emperor's wisdom—what they secretly hoped for was the emperor's abdication of the grind of power. Who would resist a child?
"One more thing," Helian Zheng said, lips curling. "The prince is young. Beginning tomorrow Consort Ning shall accompany him to court."
He glanced at his subjects, a faint smile touching his mouth. "She will sit behind the curtain. She will only see to his safety and not interfere in statecraft."
The ministers exchanged looks. They had no objections—after all, it was Consort Ning, not Lady Lin. If Helian Zheng could be persuaded to step back, so much the better.
Ning Wuyuan's rustic heart swelled; his daughter's awkwardness when she first came to the capital—her missteps because she could not read—had become advantage. Helian Zheng's choice to place her behind the curtain rather than the more capable Lady Lin made his suspicion of Lin's talent clear.
No minister objected. Quietly, many shared hidden satisfaction. The emperor's retreat into longevity seemed complete—he even offered power.
"Already?" Ning Zhiqing had been braced, but not for Helian Zheng to decree her to the court himself. "He…really ordered me to go to court?"
Madness. Had Helian Zheng lost his mind?
Axin's eyes carried a hint of amusement. He had not lost his mind; the emperor had been softened by the lure of immortality, by the system's placebos. He would give power if it spared him the labour of rule. Ning Zhiqing's presence, Helian Fu, and obedient ministers were chess pieces all in service of his experiments.
Ning Zhiqing was anxious. "I… I'm nervous. I'm not prepared."
Axin smiled softly. "This is only the beginning."
She could have overthrown Helian Zheng at once and raised Ning Zhiqing, but a direct move would bring far more trouble. If the emperor himself decreed the transfer, courtiers would not refuse. When, later, anyone protested, Ning Zhiqing would point to the emperor's own edict. Who would dare call it false?
"Axin." Ning Zhiqing gripped her. "Will you send me tomorrow?"
"Good." Axin answered.
Ning Zhiqing resolved: "I won't let you down. I will take this power and keep you."
"Zhiqing, I believe you can do it," Axin said when Ning Zhiqing corrected her. The name landed between them like a vow.
Ning Zhiqing smiled and stepped toward the throne—ready, at last, to claim what power would let her protect. The next day she would go to court with Axin at her side. But they both knew this was only the first move.
Outside the palace, Axin's maid knelt and whispered urgently, "My lady, Xifei has sneaked into the emperor's bedchamber with something."
Axin set down her tea. Ning Zhiqing's smile faded. Their eyes met; the two of them sat very still and waited—quiet and watchful—like predators waiting for the next turn in a long game.