Chapter 84: My Son Bears the Bearing of a Great Emperor (10)

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“This time, when I went to war with His Majesty the Emperor of Dashun, I realized that what they so often call ‘the world’ and ‘the people of the world’ is not truly the world in its entirety.

What they refer to as ‘the world’ is merely the world of their own circles.

But I cannot understand: if the common folk who toil upon the land are not counted among the people of the world, then why is it that the true sign of impending chaos is always when the commoners are pushed to the edge, forced to pick up their blades and risk their lives for a future?”

Qin Ye, with practiced subtlety, passed wine to Qin Teng. The moment the boy began to drink, his true nature emerged; unable to help himself, he started lamenting the fate of the nation and its people.

Qin Ye’s lips curled into the confident smile of a strategist who has all under control. “What is it that troubles you?”

“If the world belongs to the great clans, and they control all avenues of learning and office, then they will forever remain at the top, and those at the bottom will never have the chance to rise.”

“So, what is it that confuses you?”

“I see now: they say they support the true dragon to unify the land, but if the person they support cannot bring them enough benefit, that person will swiftly fall from being the Heaven’s chosen sovereign to a traitor and usurper, condemned by all, killed by all.

In other words, the so-called struggle for the throne is merely a process of finding someone who pleases all the great clans. The deer in the hunt belongs, in essence, to the great clans. Every contender for power relies on their support.”

Qin Ye hummed in agreement, patted his shoulder, and asked, “So what do you want to do?”

“Me? I want to sweep away all that exists and remake heaven and earth.”

“Do you know what awaits you?”

“A thousand years of curses, branded as a tyrant, a butcher, a villain… every vile word will be heaped upon my head.”

Qin Teng drained the wine jar in a single gulp, then smashed it to the ground. He rose, spreading his arms as if to embrace the whole world.

“If I succeed, then let there be no more lords and nobles by birth. If the emperor fails in his duty, then let him be replaced. The world will belong to its people, not to one family’s name.

If I fail, then so be it—history is written by the victors. If I am to suffer eternal infamy, I will accept it gladly.”

Qin Ye smashed his own wine jar as well. He had intended to drink it all in one go like Qin Teng, but upon smelling the liquor, he remembered that this was not a wine of this era, but rather his own distilled spirit—potent and fierce.

Even if the boy was no real child, he could drink himself senseless and have someone care for him in his hangover the next day. Qin Ye was different; with his reputation, if he got drunk, he would be left lying on the floor all night.

He’d probably get a beating afterward for being the one who led a child into a drunken stupor and corrupted the young.

Same actions, different fate. Qin Ye chose not to drink, simply smashing the jar.

“Well said! Truly my qilin son! Your father supports you. Go forth and do as you wish—I await the day I become the founding emperor’s father, the most honored retired sovereign in all the land!”

“You support me, too?”

Qin Teng’s gaze was piercing as he looked at Qin Ye.

Qin Ye laughed heartily. “The sage said long ago that my son has the bearing of a great emperor, and I, your father, believe in you.”

The so-called ‘sage’ was in fact someone Qin Man had hired for five taels of silver; Qin Teng was fully aware.

Though his mind was muddled from drink, his memory was not so far gone. At these words, Qin Teng’s expression grew strange and hard to describe.

In the end, Qin Teng looked away gloomily.

Well, better to have an old man conned by his own brother into lameness—no, into fatherhood—than the foolish, insufferable old man of his past life whom he’d wanted to end with his own hands.

With that thought, Qin Teng’s mood suddenly became as broad and boundless as the sea and sky.

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Still—why was he so dizzy?

His thoughts soaring, Qin Teng collapsed into sleep.

Qin Ye burst into laughter beside him, only to stop abruptly, like a duck strangled at the throat.

Cui Ge, thoughtful, glanced at his nephew sprawled on the ground. After a moment’s consideration, he made up his mind and looked over at Qin Ye.

“Why did you stop laughing?”

“I’m not one for laughter by nature,” Qin Ye replied.

Cui Ge snorted, but let it pass, stepping forward to pick up his nephew and carry him away.

Qin Ye slapped his own forehead. See? If he’d gotten drunk like Qin Teng, the boy would have someone to carry him off and care for him, while he would be left on the floor for the night.

Left with no better option, Qin Ye scooped up Dahei, grumbling after a short walk, “Why are you so heavy?”

Dahei, his front legs hugged in his master’s arms and forced to walk on his hind legs, looked utterly bewildered.

Qin Teng, it seemed, had already forgotten the bold words he had uttered in his drunkenness that night.

Or perhaps, more likely, he remembered, but while he would confide in Cui Ge, discuss big plans with Qin Man, and share his intentions with the Cui clan, he would never share anything with Qin Ye.

It didn’t matter. He would play the role of a wastrel, strive to live until the world was unified, and Qin Teng became the founding emperor, while he lived on as the retired sovereign.

Then we’d see if Cui Ge dared lay a finger on him again. He’d stand before Cui Ge and dare him to try.

At that moment, he’d say to Cui Ge, “I still preferred you when you were wild and untamed.”

The thought amused Qin Ye so much that he began to chuckle as he stroked Dahei’s fur.

Dahei tucked his tail and whimpered. When Brother Chicken was stewed, his master had worn the very same expression. Was this the day Dahei’s own fate was sealed?

Of course, Dahei’s life was spared. Once Cui Ge learned of Qin Teng’s ambitions, he fell silent, then decided at once to support his nephew.

After all, the Cui family had once been a great clan, but was so no longer.

Cui Ge had no wish to bear the burden of restoring the family's glory. Since his nephew had such aspirations, he might as well give him a helping hand.

Having accompanied the Emperor of Dashun on campaign, Cui Ge understood: with such a ruler, it was all but impossible for Dashun to survive.

Since Dashun was doomed, why shouldn’t it be his nephew who ushered in a new, prosperous era?

At court, some pinned their hopes on the Crown Prince, who, unlike his father, was gentle and respectful, often advising the emperor against extravagant projects and needless campaigns.

Thus, many ministers placed their hope in the Crown Prince. Cui Ge, however, believed that it was precisely because of the prince’s admonitions that his position was precarious.

Sure enough, after more than a year of rest, the Emperor, unable to bear idleness, once again resolved to lead a campaign, this time marching south.

The Crown Prince, full of worry, asked to accompany the emperor, handing over state affairs to his younger brother.

The emperor agreed.

No sooner had the emperor left the capital than the prince, compelled by an imperial edict that required the people to kneel in welcome and offer their dearest possessions, clashed with his father.

The prince wished to abolish this order; to the common folk, their most precious belongings were but worthless trinkets in the emperor’s eyes, who would never spare them a glance. Yet still, he demanded such tributes.

The citizens, dressed in their finest, would line the emperor’s route, presenting their gifts with hands raised high.

Sometimes, they would kneel for days and nights on end.

Even in wind and rain, they could not leave.

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All of this arose from the emperor’s caprice. He would travel a short distance, and if he was displeased, he would order the army to halt and rest.

Or if he was particularly fond of a gift from some minister along the way, he would linger for days.

Local officials, charged with notifying the people, had no influence over the emperor’s will; they could only control the people’s actions.

The suffering—broken families, countless deaths—was of no concern to them.

Someone brought word of these miseries to the Crown Prince.

The prince, compassionate by nature, spoke out in remonstrance, and the emperor flew into a rage.

Did the life of a mere laborer dare weigh against the pleasure of the exalted sovereign? Was the prince so secure in his position that he dared meddle in the emperor’s joy?

In his fury, the emperor threw the prince into prison.

The ministers pleaded for him, and they too were imprisoned.

Cui Ge thought the emperor was utterly mad, but he did not wish for Dashun to collapse at that moment; his nephew was still young and unprepared.

Thus, it was best to save the Crown Prince if possible.

But how?

Qin Ye was also with the army this time. Cui Ge brought him along, fearing he might let slip Qin Teng’s drunken boasts from that night.

Strictly speaking, only a fool would blurt out such treason—words punishable by the extermination of one’s clan. Cui Ge shouldn’t have worried.

But the Cui clan wrote, saying they had already secured all the Qin family’s servants and that none would reveal Qin Ye’s loud exclamation of “my son bears the mark of an emperor.”

At this, Cui Ge could only marvel—so, you really did dare to say it.

What if a disgruntled servant went to betray the family?

Given the Qin family’s former connections, who would protect them? Their house would be destroyed, their assets seized.

It would be a bitter end indeed, the kind that leaves one’s eyes wide open in death.

So, Cui Ge decided to keep Qin Ye close, where he could watch him.

The anxiety over the Crown Prince gave Cui Ge such a fever that sores broke out on his lips.

Qin Ye clicked his tongue at the sight, unable to help but comment, “What’s there to worry about?”

“How could I not worry? I nearly stood up to plead for the prince myself. Fortunately, someone else was quicker, but they were all thrown into prison. That Luo Su, after all, was a pillar of support for His Majesty even before he took the throne.”

And what was the result?

The emperor showed no mercy—he locked them up without a thought.

“Didn’t Pei Shaoping also go on campaign?”

Pei Shaoping, one of the infamous “Three Traitors” of the court, did not hold great office, but he and his two peers had an unrivaled talent for divining the emperor’s will.

The emperor was mad; any appeal to the common good fell on deaf ears. The emperor was supreme—everything and everyone must serve him.

But the three traitors, they did everything to please him, coaxing and flattering, so that whatever they proposed, the emperor agreed without a second thought.