Chapter 52: C52. From Heir to Emperor: Qianxing's Rise.

Chapter 52

The grand homes of the empire’s most illustrious families sat far beyond the imperial city walls, where the mournful toll of death bells echoed louder, sharper, and clearer in the early morning air.

At the very first chime, Cao Xun jolted awake, the heavy depths of his slumber shattering in an instant. He shot up from his bed, his movements swift and deliberate, pulling on his formal robes in a practiced flurry.

Beside him, Yunzhu stirred, the solemn peal vibrating through her bones. She knew the sound—knew what it meant—yet it hit her like something surreal, a chilling pulse in a half-formed dream.

By the time the seventh toll rang out, following the heavy sixth, Yunzhu’s tears had already begun to flow.

Emperor Yuan Qing?

A man only a year older than her father. Gone. Just like that?

Cao Xun hadn’t needed the bells to tell him. He’d known this was coming. The seventh chime would not stand alone; the ninth would soon follow, sealing the fate of the emperor and the night.

He returned to the bed, his large hands finding Yunzhu’s trembling shoulders, steadying her. His voice was low but firm, cutting through the haze of sorrow.

“I’ll head to the palace now. You and the elder madam—come later.”

For the Cao family, imperial relatives by blood, tonight was not a night to sit in comfort. Summoned or not, their place was outside those towering gates.

Yunzhu swallowed hard, pulling herself together. Her grief softened—not because the emperor wasn’t worthy of tears, but because he was more than just an elder to mourn. The imperial city would be a cauldron tonight, boiling over with unrest and unspoken schemes. And there was work to be done.

“I understand. Go quickly,” she managed, though her voice trembled faintly.

Cao Xun cupped her head with a final lingering touch before he turned and left.

Meanwhile, his younger brother, Cao Shao, moved with equal urgency. At the city gates, the two men met, locking eyes just long enough to confirm what words didn’t have time to say.

Together, they swung into their saddles, the horses’ hooves tearing into the dark, silent streets as they raced toward the imperial city under the moonless sky.

But they weren’t alone. From every corner of the city, officials surged forward—some on horseback, others dragging their feet in stunned urgency—pulled toward the palace as if by invisible strings.

Cao Xun and Li Yong reached the imperial gates nearly at the same moment. As Li Yong dismounted, his foot caught, and he crumbled to the cold earth in a heap. But he didn’t rise.

He stayed there, his knees pressed into the dirt, his sobs raw and unbridled as they spilled into the air.

Around him, other ministers fell to their knees in the same solemn ritual of mourning. But Cao Xun knew better. Li Yong’s grief was different, his tears sharper, deeper. He wept for a brother—not by blood, but by bond—who had stood at his side for over thirty years.

Silently, Cao Xun led his younger brother to kneel behind the cabinet ministers, Mr. Gu’s stoic figure at the head.

And there they waited. Their breaths heavy. Their minds sharp. The imperial city had only just begun its long, dark night.

*

Meanwhile, within the solemn confines of the Qianqing Palace—

Empress Cao lay sprawled over Emperor Yuan Qing's lifeless body, her weeping so raw and consuming it seemed her very soul might splinter apart. Around her, the Crown Prince, the Second Prince, and Princess Yi'an knelt in palpable grief. The Crown Prince and Princess Yi'an sobbed unabashedly like helpless children, while the Second Prince bowed his head in a suffocating silence that dripped with sorrow.

Outside, Eunuch Wan knelt as if he, too, might shatter under the weight of the moment. A younger eunuch slipped through the shadows and whispered urgently into his ear. At those words, Eunuch Wan struggled to collect himself, dragging his grief-choked breaths as he stepped closer to the dragon bed. His voice trembled with a heart-wrenching mix of sorrow and duty as he spoke to the Empress.

“Your Majesty,” he rasped, barely able to push out the words, “all the cabinet ministers, the two uncles, dukes, marquises, civil and military officials—they’re outside the palace gates now, weeping, kneeling, begging for your command. They await your decision on who may enter.”

But Empress Cao was drowning—adrift in a sea of devastation. She did not hear him. Not until Eunuch Wan repeated himself did the fog around her begin to clear. Slowly, tear-streaked and shaking, her gaze lifted to meet his. In a voice torn ragged by anguish, she asked, “The Emperor is nearing his end… Is there… Is there any testamentary decree? A single word? Anything?”

Eunuch Wan’s head dipped, his face carved in grim solemnity. “No, Your Majesty. The Emperor left no decree, no instructions.”

A silence that could crush the heavens settled over the room.

At the edge of this tableau, the younger Eunuch Wan’s trembling forehead pressed against the cold stone floor. Tears glimmered and fell as he stammered out his pitiful tale. “Hui… Hui… Your Majesty—this lowly servant attended His Majesty tonight… He collapsed so suddenly. All he could manage before… before transcending to the heavens… was a few faltering words.” His voice broke. “The Crown Prince and Your Majesty are to preside over affairs. Then… Then he could say no more… Sob… It was chaos outside…”

Nearby, Li Yao knelt with veins bulging in his fists, clenching the hilt of Yuzhuan as though it were the only thing tethering him to reality. A bitter fire raged within him. Absurd. Utterly absurd.

The truth was branded into his mind—the Emperor had etched the character 二 (Two) into his palm. That could mean only one thing: His Majesty had intended for the Second Prince to ascend the throne. So how, how, could the young Eunuch Wan spout such nonsense?

Empress Cao’s red-rimmed eyes flickered with faint relief—an ember of hope struggling against her grief. But she wasn’t done. No, not yet. Her gaze, sharp despite her anguish, locked onto Li Yao. She leaned forward, voice heavy with expectation. “Li Yao… Did the Emperor say anything to you? You were there—you saw.”

Li Yao’s head hung low. His jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might crack. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped and heavy with restraint. “Your Majesty… By the time I arrived, His Majesty could no longer speak.”

The younger eunuch’s story. Eunuch Wan’s account. Li Yao’s words—they all aligned.

At last, Empress Cao allowed herself to breathe, if only a little. Her teary gaze swept over the kneeling Second Prince—lingering just a moment longer—before shifting toward the palace gates. “Summon the cabinet ministers, the six ministers, Uncle Cao Xun, and Duke Ningguo Li Yong. They shall attend.”

The command passed from trembling lips to steady hands. Palace attendants carried the decree like messengers of fate to the gates, where it rippled through the waiting crowd.

The gates groaned open.

And like shadows summoned by an Empress’s will, Gu Shoufu and the chosen ministers surged forward, their footsteps swift and heavy as they entered the Qianqing Palace, where destiny—dark and unrelenting—waited.

As they entered the dragon chamber, the air seemed to thicken with grief. Emperor Yuan Qing lay there, his face drained of all color, the pallor of death settling upon him. The ministers—hardened men of politics and power—could do nothing but collapse into tears once again, their weeping filling the vast, somber space.

The young eunuch Wan, his voice trembling but clear, read out the Emperor's final words. Empress Cao, always composed and poised, dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes with her silk handkerchief before turning toward the formidable Prime Minister, Gu Shoufu. Her voice was low, but sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

"The Emperor leaves us far too soon, and I find myself lost amidst this chaos. Prime Minister, what must be done? Speak."

Gu Shoufu’s voice, heavy with sorrow yet steady, answered without hesitation. "A nation cannot stand for a single day without its ruler. With the Emperor gone, the crown prince must immediately ascend to the throne. As for the cause of the Emperor's sudden death, it must be investigated to its very depths, without compromise or delay."

Empress Cao, resolute and unyielding, called for the crown prince to come forward. The boy—barely twelve years old—had always known the weight of the crown would one day fall upon him. Yet tonight, in this cold and unforgiving moment, he was not a sovereign-to-be; he was simply a son mourning his father. Memories of Nanyuan’s tension last year flashed in his mind, but those fears had eased once he'd sensed his father’s disfavor toward the second prince. Succession hadn’t occupied his thoughts—until now. Now, as he stared at his father's still form, grief clutched at his heart, fierce and merciless.

The young prince trembled as tears ran freely down his face. Standing beside his mother, his gaze never left his father’s lifeless body on that imposing dragon bed.

Breaking the silence, Gu Shoufu stepped forward. With deliberate movements, he kneeled thrice and kowtowed nine times, his voice echoing as he addressed the crown prince as the Emperor.

The boy’s bewildered eyes flickered across the sea of kneeling ministers. His body remained frozen, too stunned to respond, until his mother’s firm, steady hands gripped his shoulders. Empress Cao’s voice rang out, commanding yet inviting, as she addressed the gathered ministers.

"The Emperor may be young, but each of you served his father with loyalty and unwavering diligence. I expect nothing less of you now. Stand by him, guide him, and do not falter."

The ministers, rising to the gravity of her words, responded as one. "We will obey. The trust of the late Emperor and Empress Dowager will not be misplaced."

Empress Cao's gaze shifted then, sharp as steel, landing on Li Yong—the Duke, and head of the fearsome Jin Yiwei. Her voice dropped into a sultry, yet dangerous timbre, each word deliberate.

"The late Emperor trusted you above all others. The truth behind his death cannot remain hidden. The responsibility of uncovering it now lies with you, Duke. Do not fail me."

Li Yong’s face, streaked with tears, hardened with resolve. He clenched his fists, bowing deeply as he declared, "Fear not, Your Highness. I will drag the truth into the light, no matter the cost!"

Without losing a moment, Li Yong barked orders to summon the imperial physicians from the royal hospital. The chamber buzzed with movement as the Emperor’s body was examined from head to toe, whispers swirling through the room like smoke. When the physicians finally spoke, their verdict struck like thunder: poison.

The Emperor’s food and drink became the prime suspects. Every morsel, every drop consumed that day was scrutinized, but the focus narrowed onto four Qi Nourishing Pills—a gift from Master Tong Yuan.

The air turned colder as Master Tong Yuan was dragged in for questioning. The royal physicians laid the evidence bare, their expressions dark. Among them, Dr. Deng—who’d been preparing a simple cold remedy for the Emperor—could contain himself no longer. He fell to his knees, tears streaming as he pointed an accusatory finger at Master Tong Yuan. His voice, dripping with anguish and venom, rang through the chamber.

"You peddle your so-called elixirs like a fool, and yet you dare meddle with medicine beyond your understanding! Why in the hell did you add ephedra to tonight’s prescription?! Do you even realize what you’ve done?!"

The room fell into a tense, deathly silence. The truth, bitter and unrelenting, had begun to surface.

Even though Master Tong Yuan strongly suspected the Emperor’s sudden death was tied to the addition of ephedra, the man showed no shred of guilt. Instead, he coolly defended himself, voice unshaken, “Ephedra is a standard remedy for colds and chills. Your medicine was useless for the late Emperor, and I merely added some to help him sweat out the sickness. Tell me—what’s so wrong about trying to save him in such a way?”

Doctor Deng didn’t miss a beat, exposing him with icy precision. “The concoction tonight included Shiwei, which clashes violently with ephedra. Worse yet, you overdosed it. The late Emperor was already too weak—your pill pushed him over the edge.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. The unspoken truth hit the room like a blade; everyone understood what had happened.

Master Tong Yuan’s face drained of color. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees before Empress Cao and the young emperor, loudly proclaiming his innocence. But innocence? Appearances only ran so deep. Who knew what deeper, darker secrets still simmered under that carefully arranged calm?

Empress Cao, unflinching, ordered Li Yong to continue digging.

Li Yong wasted no time. Every last member of the palace staff who had served Emperor Yuan Qing that night—the guards, the attendants, every doctor from Taiyuan Hospital, Master Tong Yuan, his young Taoist disciples—were dragged to the Jinyi Guards for a ruthless overnight interrogation.

The spotlight burned harshest on Taiyuan Hospital and Master Tong Yuan. Li Yao and the imperial guards, on the other hand, were quickly dismissed; they’d only done their duties and had no access to the deadly elixir.

Yet when it was Li Yao’s turn, the tension split like a raw nerve. Facing his own father, Li Yong—ever stoic—cracked. Overcome with grief, the man broke down in sobs.

The Emperor, a friend and comrade he had served day and night, was gone. And grief spread like poison. The Duke of Ningguo, crushed, retreated into his sorrow. The other Jinyiwei officers gave him space, leaving Li Yao to console his father.

But Li Yao seized the moment to unload a truth he’d been carrying like a lead weight on his chest. One secret. One revelation that could change everything.

Li Yong’s tears stilled. His face turned cold as stone. He pulled his son aside, voice low and taut. “Are you sure of this?”

Li Yao’s glare flared hot and sharp. “Do I look like I’d lie about this?”

And then—he raised his hand. Two fingers. Tapped the air three times in that haunting motion Emperor Yuan Qing had made before his death.

The meaning was crystal clear: the Emperor had been planning to depose the crown prince and install the second prince.

Li Yong paled, sweat slicking his skin as the weight of the confession crushed him. He knew. Gu Shoufu knew. The Emperor’s last moments were tangled with turmoil and impulsive decisions. His obsession with the throne, his inability to let go—it all culminated here. He had made up his mind, and then, just like that, he was gone.

Li Yong clutched his son’s hand, voice an urgent rasp. “Does anyone else know?”

Li Yao’s face turned ghostly white. “Who would believe me even if I did? The third brother is fiercely loyal to His Highness, the Second Prince. And Young Eunuch Wan—he confirmed it himself. He was at the Emperor’s side every step of the way. Even if I had the courage to speak out, what difference would it make? The court—civil and military officials alike—would back him without hesitation.”

Li Yong’s grip tightened, his gaze sharper than it had ever been. “Then don’t you dare. Don’t tell a soul. Not tonight. Not ever. Not your mother, your wife, your children—not even Mr. Gu. Bury this, son. Let it rot in silence. Take it to your grave.”

Li Yao understood the politics at play, but there was a fire smoldering in his chest. His voice, edged with frustration and defiance, broke the still air. “So that’s it? We’re just going to swallow this whole and let it slide? Your Highness…”

Li Yong shot his son a sharp look, silencing him with a flick of his hand—cool, steady, and commanding.

“Let it slide? Even if the late Emperor himself clawed out of his grave and demanded a change to the crown prince, no one—and I mean no one—in the court would go along with it. Not Gu Shoufu, not Cao Xun, not even the fiercest opportunist. The crown prince is legitimate, untarnished, and untouchable. The officials are bound—no, enslaved—to the rightful order. Any man who tries to undermine it, even an emperor, risks shattering his own crown. Do you think the ministers would stand idly by while chaos seeps through the cracks of the state? Foreign powers licking their lips, the kingdom teetering, all because one man didn’t like his heir? Never.”

Li Yong’s gaze sharpened, his words dripping with conviction. “Even if this so-called ‘intent’ from the Emperor’s lips reached the ears of those officials, they’d laugh. Without evidence? Nothing but smoke. And even with it, they’d slam their fists on the table, invoke tradition, rally around the crown prince like a wall of stone. Gu Shoufu. Cao Xun. Cao Shao. These are men who don’t flinch, men who won’t betray the very principles they’ve bled for, no matter whose son you are. They wouldn’t spit on the will of the literati, or dismiss the commoners’ sense of justice just to appease petty palace whispers.”

He leaned forward, voice dropping lower but sharper now, cutting into his son like a blade. “So tell me, boy, what’s the point of stirring up this hornet’s nest? You think the Ningguo mansion can dodge the venom? You think the second prince—who could’ve had it all, standing tall as a vassal king—will escape unscathed? A word out of line, and he’ll be pulled headfirst into the muck of palace schemes. Accusations of treason, of conniving for the throne. Poisonous tongues wagging. And when that storm hits, it’ll crush everyone. The house. The prince. You. Gone.”

Three days later, Li Yong stood before Empress Cao and the young emperor. His tone was resolute, his findings presented cleanly: “The late Emperor died from a mismatched medication. No schemes, no conspiracy.”

The Empress listened, her expression unreadable as a stone wall, but her actions spoke volumes. After deliberating with the cabinet, she stripped the two palace physicians of their titles, sending them away in disgrace. Zhenren Tongyuan was packed off to the army, where his skills could serve a harsher master. The matter, as far as the court was concerned, was closed.

A month later, beneath the glint of banners and the solemn hum of ritual, the young emperor ascended the Dragon Throne. His name rang out through the halls of history: Emperor Qianxing.