Chapter Seventy-Eight: Prime Minister Song and the Emperor Are United as One

For decades in office, Fan Zhang had never encountered an official as irreverent and unrestrained as Song Zhiyuan, especially one so young and already holding such power. He himself had only ascended to the position of Grand Chancellor after reaching the age of destiny, yet this man, barely forty, stood at the pinnacle of authority. How could he not feel envy?

Now, with just a few careless words, Song Zhiyuan had left him utterly speechless—a humiliation he could not abide.

“Prime Minister Song, you’re evading the issue. Matters of the imperial family are never trivial. How can the matter of appointing an heir be treated so lightly? This is a matter of state—”

Song Zhiyuan immediately interrupted, “So, Grand Chancellor Fan refuses to acknowledge this as His Majesty’s family affair? You deny that he is, first and foremost, a father?”

A collective gasp swept through the hall. Only Prime Minister Song would dare say such a thing.

Fan Zhang opened his mouth, ready to rebuke him, but when he caught a glimpse of that expression on Song Zhiyuan’s face, his heart skipped a beat—damn, he’d nearly fallen into one of this rascal’s traps.

“I said no such thing.”

“In that case, Grand Chancellor, you admit it is His Majesty’s family matter. Today, the emperor is master of the imperial household; as for whom he appoints as his successor, naturally, that remains his prerogative. Unless he chooses to consult us, his ministers, we are in no position to offer our opinions, are we? Or perhaps, Grand Chancellor, you are now possessed by some celestial spirit, able to divine with but a calculation who is most fit to be crown prince? For instance, the third—”

“Prime Minister Song, I urge you to mind your words!” Fan Zhang nearly leaped to his feet.

The third prince—he was Fan Zhang’s grandson, his daughter being the Imperial Consort Shu. Song Zhiyuan, that scoundrel, laid trap upon thorny trap, cunning as a fox.

Song Zhiyuan feigned innocence, “What have I said? You seem terribly agitated.”

The assembled officials watched this verbal sparring between the two pillars of the court with great relish, nearly tempted to bring out a handful of seeds to snack on as the drama unfolded. Indeed, Prime Minister Song’s youth and sharp tongue left Grand Chancellor Fan utterly outmatched—his reputation for eloquence was well deserved.

Fan Zhang was so incensed he nearly expired on the spot. No longer willing to argue, he turned instead to express his loyalty to the emperor: “Your Majesty, this old minister has served through two reigns, steadfast in loyalty to you and to the Great Qing, acting always for the eternal foundation of our dynasty, with not a trace of private interest. I beg Your Majesty to discern my sincerity.”

Song Zhiyuan muttered under his breath, “As if no one else here has served two reigns.”

After all, he himself had been personally chosen as top scholar by the late emperor!

Fan Zhang shot him a venomous glare and snorted, determined not to engage further lest he be lured into yet another trap.

Emperor Chu observed all this with perfect clarity. “The matter of the succession has been discussed for years—you bring it up every year. Truly, I must be getting old; perhaps one day I’ll simply stretch out my legs and depart this world. No wonder you’re all so anxious.”

The officials were shocked and fell to their knees, crying out in unison, “Your Majesty’s blessings are boundless! May you live as long as heaven itself, ten thousand years and more!”

“If I were truly to live forever, would there be any need to name a crown prince?” the emperor remarked airily.

The officials were left speechless.

It was said that His Majesty and Prime Minister Song were comrades-in-arms who had weathered hardship together. Clearly, their gift for stinging remarks was cut from the same cloth.

“To steady the hearts of the people and the army, a successor must indeed be named. But as for how and whom, that is for Your Majesty alone to decide. We, your ministers, dare not presume.” Song Zhiyuan bowed low.

“We dare not presume,” echoed the officials of Song’s faction, bowing as one.

The members of Fan’s faction exchanged glances, thinking to themselves that every one of Song’s men was a master of flattery.

“The matter of succession can wait,” Emperor Chu said, striking the armrest of his dragon throne. “I am still strong enough to fell a tiger! Now, the Kingdom of Jiala has come to pay respects and seeks to ally with our court through marriage. What say you all to this?”