Chapter Forty-Two: In a Rather Bad Mood

Emperor Daojun, Zhao Ji, was furious—but the consequences were not particularly dire. It wasn’t that he lacked the will to punish the eunuch Liu Cheng, but Liang Shicheng had reminded him that such matters should not be made public, lest they tarnish the royal reputation.

The wise and discerning Zhao Ji agreed; the dignity of the royal family was his own. What did it matter if there were struggles among princes or discord among ministers? Such things were trifling. Pinching his nose, he offered a few gentle words of encouragement to Zhao Yu, then sent him away. Soon, news spread from the inner palace: the eunuch Liu Cheng, caught stealing from his post, had taken his own life in fear of punishment, seizing a moment when the guards were inattentive.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Yu merely smiled—this had been expected. It would have been strange if Liu Cheng had survived.

After sending a letter of greeting to Liu Wenguang and arranging a visit for dinner, Zhao Yu, together with Yang Xu and Lin Chong, returned once more to the World Football Hall.

The matter of marriage weighed more heavily on Empress Zheng than on Zhao Yu; she feared another mishap and had already sent the betrothal gifts ahead of schedule. By custom, the Liu family’s daughter was now nominally Zhao Yu’s princess, though he still could not recall her name.

The nearly one million taels of wealth seized from Li Yan’s household had been buried beneath the hall’s public chambers, ready to be moved when the location was right. Construction continued in earnest, but Zhao Yu felt desolate, as though there was something within him he could not vent.

Yang Xu and Lin Chong were also low-spirited, unable to explain why; perhaps they knew the reason but could not speak it.

“My brothers, after my marriage, I intend to leave the capital. This place is too oppressive. Have you any good ideas?”

After walking in silence for some time, Zhao Yu finally voiced his thoughts.

“Your Highness, I too support your departure. But without the Emperor’s decree, leaving the capital is a grave offense. Have you decided where to go?”

The ideal destination for Zhao Yu was Taiyuan. For reasons unknown, he instinctively grasped the dagger hanging at his waist.

This dagger had been gifted to him by Xiao Yiyi; whatever her intentions, he had always carried it with him.

The grasslands?

The thought startled Zhao Yu himself. As a prince of the Great Song, to flee to the grasslands—what would that make him? A traitor?

He dared not dwell on the idea, shook his head, and said softly, “Let’s take it one step at a time. This needs careful consideration.”

As Zhao Yu finished speaking, a sudden cry rang out from behind.

“Your Highness, Prince Yi, please wait!”

Zhao Yu and his companions turned, surprised, to see several attendants carrying a sedan chair rushing toward them. The bearers looked familiar; as they drew nearer, Zhao Yu realized they were members of Zhou Jinglong’s household. No need to ask—surely the man inside was old Zhou himself.

He was about to marry, had never entangled himself with Zhou’s daughter—so why had the old man come looking for him?

He stopped by the roadside, and before long, the Zhou entourage caught up.

“Lord Zhou, I have never imposed upon your daughter. I am already betrothed and have no intention of taking another wife. What is the meaning of this?”

Zhao Yu, in a dour mood, spoke bluntly.

Through the small window of the sedan, Zhou Jinglong’s face appeared, more wretched than tears. Though rebuked, he showed no displeasure.

The old man, as if guilty of some wrongdoing, did not leave the sedan, speaking hesitantly through the window, “All the fault is mine. I dare not hope to marry my daughter to Your Highness any longer. Today, I have come only to beg Your Highness: could you persuade my daughter not to become a nun?”

Zhao Yu was taken aback, recalling his encounter with Miss Zhou—a lovely girl, bold enough to approach him, and now intent on renouncing the world. Truly a spirited child.

Seeing Zhao Yu’s hesitation, Zhou Jinglong nearly wept outright. He had three sons, but only one daughter, cherished as a treasure. He had hoped she would become a princess, but a moment’s folly had ruined her life. Now his regret was boundless.

“Your Highness, today I beg you as a father. I know Your Highness is kind, so I dare to ask this favor. If you can dissuade my daughter, I will agree to any condition.”

Before Zhao Yu could reply, Yang Xu coughed and spoke righteously, “Your Highness, Lord Zhou was deceived, and Miss Zhou is innocent. At her tender age, if she truly retreats into monastic life, her whole future will be lost. You should go.”

The marriage between Zhao Yu and the Zhou family had, indirectly, been ruined by Yang Xu, but such matters could not be spoken aloud. Even if he wished to atone, he could only urge Zhao Yu to take Miss Zhou as a concubine—but Empress Zheng would never allow it.

Zhao Yu tilted his head, eyeing the peculiar expression on Yang Xu, then nodded. “Today is too late. Lord Zhou, tell me where she is, and I will go tomorrow. But whether I can persuade her, I cannot promise.”

“No problem, no problem! As long as Your Highness goes, I am already grateful.”

Old Zhou was so concerned with appearances that he never left the sedan, lest he attract attention. Yet his attempt to conceal only aroused more speculation.

The story of Prince Yi’s swift resolution spread through the city like wildfire. While people admired his quick wit, many wondered: for whom had Liu Cheng acted?

Not long after Zhao Yu and his companions returned to the football hall, Zhang Shun arrived.

He had no choice. The plan to kidnap Zhu Mian’s kin had been suggested by Lu Zhishen. Though the abduction succeeded, Zhu Mian had nothing to give up; when Zhu Mian tried to exchange a fake stone for his son, Zhang Shun and Ruan Xiao’er were nearly caught.

In the end, Ruan Xiao’er was injured, Zhu Mian’s son was killed by Zhang Shun himself, but the affair was far from over—so Zhang Shun had come again.

Zhao Yu had expected him. Having seen the mystical stone firsthand, Zhao Yu was convinced it was not, as Zhang Shun claimed, some ancestral treasure. Thus, he was less cordial at their meeting.

“Brother Zhang, I respect you as a true man and have always sought to help you. But if you think I am easy to fool, then forgive me—I must ask you to leave soon.”

Zhang Shun was startled, thinking he should be the one demanding answers. How had Zhao Yu turned the tables?

“What do you mean by this, Brother Yu?”

Zhao Yu fixed Zhang Shun with a cold gaze. “Mandate of Heaven—do you know what that means? You don’t know, and neither does your leader? An outlaw society, intent on keeping a stone inscribed with ancient script—what is your purpose?”

Zhang Shun, though born in the wilds, was no fool. Hearing Zhao Yu’s words, he instinctively stood and blurted, “Impossible! I’ve seen that stone myself. Aside from the faint dragon within, there’s no Mandate of Heaven inscribed!”