In truth, regarding the Crown Prince and the Emperor’s Second Son, some shrewd and experienced court ministers could not help but speculate.
The Emperor was in the prime of his life, strong and healthy, with many years ahead.
The Crown Prince was already past his coming-of-age, vigorous and showing his talent—a true blessing for the nation.
But both emperors had reached their prime in overlapping years, which made matters rather delicate.
The Empress had borne the Emperor a pair of children, skillfully securing her place in the harem.
The Second Prince was just four years old but spoke cleverly and showed a bright intellect, hinting at great potential.
Given time, he would surely become a person of importance.
The Emperor doted on this son born to the Empress.
Ministers who had visited Fengtian Hall to discuss affairs once saw the Emperor holding the little prince on his lap, tenderly teaching him to write.
What could be done?
A middle-aged man with a late-born child naturally doted on the boy, especially since the child’s mother was the Emperor’s beloved.
After all, the Emperor was human, and this was only natural.
Actually, if the Crown Prince and the Second Prince had been the same age, the Crown Prince would have had no chance.
Great Hui always favored legitimate over illegitimate offspring—though they did not prioritize birth order, the fact that the Second Prince was born to the Empress already gave him the advantage of time, place, and favor.
The only drawback was that the Second Prince was born over a decade later; the Crown Prince had already secured his position.
Barring treason, the Crown Prince would never be lightly removed—otherwise, it would cause upheaval in the Court.
That was the Crown Prince’s only leverage.
Amid such speculations, some ministers had subtly probed.
For instance, on the Second Prince’s fourth birthday, the ritual officers had overstepped by using the golden goblet—a grave breach of Great Hui’s strict etiquette but a veiled test that could be withdrawn.
The last time such a breach occurred was when the Empress first entered the palace, and that minor noblewoman had eventually ascended to the throne.
On this occasion, although the Emperor said nothing upon seeing the golden goblet, he later dismissed all the ritual officers involved.
The meaning was clear.
After that, no one dared think too much.
At least this Emperor, who had taken a concubine’s son, was not so foolish as to lose all reason.
Amid the undercurrents at Court, A wu remained entirely unaware.
Yet, from occasional snippets of conversation among the Outer Noblewomen in the harem, she sensed something.
Most noticeably, the Crown Princess.
The Crown Princess had had a difficult few years.
After giving birth to the Crown Prince’s eldest legitimate son, she was completely neglected by him.
She faded from the scene, while the Crown Prince’s nursemaid gave birth to a concubine’s son.
Afterward, the Crown Prince no longer favored wife or concubines, burying himself in state affairs and never setting foot in the inner palace.
The Crown Princess, left alone in her chambers, seemed to blame A wu for everything and sometimes looked at her with hateful eyes.
A wu felt deeply wronged!
She was inseparable from Emperor Jingxi and had already monopolized the harem as Empress.
A man like Emperor Jingxi, standing there as he did, how could he possibly still care for the Crown Prince?
She harbored no feelings toward the Crown Prince—only caution.
Yet the Crown Princess still looked at her with those sour, resentful eyes, which was simply baffling.
Beyond that bitterness, the Crown Princess was clearly wary.
She outwardly performed her duties with meekness and respect, but underneath hid ambition and a watchful eye on this “mother” close to her own age.
Aside from the Crown Princess, there were also the noble ladies of the Yingguo Duke’s Mansion—now an English Marquis, having lost a duke’s title.
The noblewomen of the Marquis’s household, when meeting A wu, were outwardly polite but inwardly guarded, their smiles thin and forced.
Yet amid such covert vigilance and probing, no one expected that the Crown Prince and the Second Prince actually had a close bond.
The Crown Prince was very fond of his young siblings.
The Emperor also did not mind giving them time together.
For instance, during spring outings, the Second Prince and the Second Princess would ride in the Crown Prince’s carriage to the countryside.
The Crown Prince’s little grandson was only a few months older than the Second Prince; close in age, they played and tussled together, creating a rare harmony.
The Crown Prince would take his son and siblings on outings, personally teaching them to ride horses and shoot arrows.
On this day, A wu followed Emperor Jingxi to Nanqiongzi in the southern outskirts.
The weather was warm and sunny.
A wu sat leisurely in the Imperial Outing Estate, watching from afar as the Crown Prince happily picked wild fruit with several children, completely unfazed even when mud stained his sleeves.
At one point, the Second Prince fell, and the Crown Prince quickly helped him up, worry and affection clear in his eyes.
A wu looked on, resting her chin in her hand, and sighed inwardly.
She thought how lucky it was that she discovered her pregnancy only a few months after entering the palace—otherwise, with the Crown Prince’s affection for the Second Prince, things would be difficult to explain!
Besides, the Second Prince clearly resembled Emperor Jingxi more.
That was a relief.
She felt a bit awkward watching this scene, knowing the Crown Princess was very displeased and had likely argued with the Crown Prince over it.
The Crown Princess hated it and once directly asked, “Why do you love the Second Prince more? Is it because he was born to that woman?”
The Crown Prince naturally became angry and said, “He is my brother. Should I not love him?”
They argued.
Fortunately, after a few quarrels, the Crown Princess quieted down.
Now that the Duke of England was dead and her father only a marquis with declining influence, the Crown Princess’s family had advised her to endure, so she had no choice but to.
A wu let out a slight breath and looked toward Emperor Jingxi.
The man watched his sons and daughter with a warm smile.
The soft little ones struggled to shoot arrows, while his eldest son, now past twenty, taught them with solemn care.
The man was clearly pleased by this scene of joy.
But A wu couldn’t understand.
She wondered what the Crown Prince truly meant.
Did he really harbor no suspicion or worry?
Was he so certain that the man who had taken his concubine would never be foolish again?
Or had they come to some agreement between father and son, so the Crown Prince’s heart was at ease?
Yet thinking this way, A wu also knew the Crown Prince had sat in his position for over a decade.
Of course, he had nothing to worry about—only she did.
She once knew the Crown Prince well, but after several years, those past intimacies had become a mere title of mother and son, and they no longer spoke.
She felt the man growing increasingly strange.
He was no longer the passionate, fiery youth he had once been.
Of course, A wu had changed as well.
Wealth had nourished her ambition; favor had made her greedy.
She no longer found contentment easily.
Still, she could not blame herself.
If Emperor Jingxi died young, as fate might have it, the Crown Princess would become Empress, and how miserable would her life be?
The old man would naturally care for her, arrange everything properly; the Crown Prince was conscientious and would respect her.
But what did it matter?
A hopeless widow, faced with the Crown Princess and the noblewomen of the Marquis’s household, could only survive precariously.
Thinking of this made A wu want to cry.
No matter what, she could not let herself fall to that state.
If it came to that, she might as well choose to die alongside the Emperor.
As she thought this, she saw Emperor Jingxi and the Crown Prince shooting arrows.
The Crown Prince’s skill had improved much.
The two competed evenly, while several children clapped and cheered with innocent laughter.
Emperor Jingxi turned his head, smiling at the Crown Prince with satisfaction.
“Mo Yao has improved greatly.”
The Crown Prince smiled in reply, “Thank you for your praise, Father Emperor. I have practiced diligently these past years.”
As they spoke, a eunuch brought fresh fruit picked by the children moments before, carefully washed and handed over.
A palace lady offered handkerchiefs and water basins to wash the children’s hands and faces.
The children happily ate the fruit.
Emperor Jingxi and the Crown Prince stood under a pine tree, watching the children play and chatting casually.
The Emperor inquired about drought contingency plans in the north and other important state affairs.
During these years, Emperor Jingxi had gradually entrusted several major tasks to the Crown Prince, and overall, the results were satisfactory.
Now the Crown Prince was giving a detailed report on a recent matter.
The Emperor listened attentively, though his gaze subtly drifted to the children playing in the distance.
After listening, the Emperor commented on the Crown Prince’s shortcomings.
The Crown Prince agreed and offered some explanations.
His kind nature was a virtue, but in critical moments, he hesitated, even showed weakness.
He lacked the sharpness and decisiveness necessary for an emperor.
To be blunt, the Emperor believed his son was incapable of controlling the court officials.
As they spoke, two children began to quarrel over a small matter.
The little Imperial Grandson burst into tears, and the palace lady tried to soothe him in vain.
He toddled over, sniffling, and complained to his father and grandfather.
Pointing to the Second Prince, he said pitifully, “The Second Prince said he saw it first!”
The Crown Prince frowned slightly and said, “It’s only a grasshopper. Does it matter who saw it first?”
He said helplessly, “Regardless of who saw it first, if the Second Prince is willing to give it to you, you should thank him.”
The little grandson stamped his foot unhappily.
“But it was Yunjin who saw it first, not the Second Prince!”
The Crown Prince said, “Didn’t your father tell you to be respectful and humble toward the Second Prince? How did I teach you? For such a small thing, you’re crying like this?”
He could hardly believe it—what kind of children were these?
Emperor Jingxi said, “Mo Yao, when you were four, you didn’t understand many things and often cried. You were no better than him. Why be so hard on him?”
The Crown Prince looked at the Emperor helplessly, unable to argue.
The Emperor bent down and took out an object—a little dragonfly woven from reeds.
The little grandson’s eyes lit up.
Emperor Jingxi said to his little grandson, “Yunjin, do you like this?”
The little one nodded eagerly.
“Good. The palace ladies will help you wash your hands and face. After that, you can play with this.”
“Okay!”
“There are some more here. Take them and share them with your Second Prince and Second Princess.”
The little grandson nodded busily.
Children’s minds were short; he had already forgotten the quarrel and was eager to share the interesting little toy.
Clutching the reed dragonfly, he scampered off happily.
The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow, speechless.
Emperor Jingxi quietly instructed, “Mo Yao, they’ll probably fight again later. You go and take them to play ‘jump the city walls.'”
The Crown Prince replied, “…Yes.”
He hurried over, ready to take charge as the children’s leader.
Emperor Jingxi stood with his hands behind his back, watching the Crown Prince and the children, his expression growing somewhat serious.
To him, a child’s nature was evident even by age three.
Their play revealed their character—how they related to peers, handled trouble, even their manners toward palace ladies and eunuchs, and their everyday speech.
Though he admitted some bias, the Second Prince had shown qualities he admired, making the Emperor feel that with a bit of nurturing, the boy’s future was promising.
Thinking this, his gaze casually drifted to the nearby estate where A wu sat leisurely eating fruit and enjoying the scenery, occasionally glancing at the Crown Prince and the children.
A few years ago, he would have walked over and blocked her view, telling her to stop staring at the Crown Prince.
But now he no longer says such things.
The relationship between his little Empress and his eldest son had become particularly complicated.
He could even sense a faint wariness from the Empress toward the Crown Prince.
At this thought, he chuckled softly.
Perhaps the Crown Prince sensed it too, but what he felt remained unknown.
Once passionate lovers, they now regarded each other as enemies.
As the Crown Prince’s father and A wu’s husband, he would never know the answer.
In fact, Mo Yao truly loved his siblings dearly—that was evident.
Whether there was something more behind this was unclear, but it no longer mattered to the Emperor.
After all, the future of the Great Hui Empire weighed heavily on his mind.
Where once his worries lay hidden beneath the surface, now they floated like seaweed, faintly visible.
He knew A wu’s thoughts well and sensed her quiet anxieties.
But he could not speak much to her.
Perhaps she felt wronged, thinking him too tight-lipped to reveal his thoughts.
Yet some things were meant to be acted upon, not spoken of.
Without absolute certainty, he would never act, keeping these matters buried deep within his heart.
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