An eight-year-old kid emptied his scumbag father's warehouse and followed his grandparents into

After dinner, Xu Zize did not move into the East Palace arranged for him by his mother. Instead, he asked Qingfeng and Luying to go to the study to clean up a few rooms and move in first.

Those rooms were originally used for the princes to study and rest. They were simply furnished with only a couch, a desk and a cupboard.

After the new emperor ascended the throne, he did not impose the blame of the deposed emperor on his children and concubines.

Those who should be dismissed from the harem were dismissed, and the concubines who did not want to go back were also sent to the nunnery. Except for the seventh and eighth princes who had been drugged and had some mental problems, they were settled by the Ministry of Clan Affairs. The rest of the underage princes were allowed to go to Liangzhou Prefecture with their mothers and were not demoted to commoners.

But they were unable to take the imperial examinations for generations and could not return to Beijing.

Qingfeng brought the bedding, and Luying lit two more incense burners, barely suppressing the damp smell of the books that had accumulated over the years. Xu Zize, however, felt more at ease here than in the East Palace, with its numerous curtains and layers of palace lanterns. He even took off his jade crown and placed it on the corner of his desk, as if a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders.

He almost didn't sleep all night. The right and wrong, merits and demerits of the Jiangnan officials had actually been judged one by one in the memorials sent back previously. Those who should be dealt with were dealt with, and those who should be rewarded were rewarded.

The candlelight on the brass lampstand shrank inch by inch, and the sparks of the lamp crackled and exploded, stretching his shadow on the wall to an extremely long length.

A stack of memorials lay before him, their edges curled, the ink fuzzy from the rubbing of his fingertips. Each of those names—Huzhou Prefect Shen Ruhui, Suzhou Weaving Master Li Chiying, Songjiang Magistrate Zhao Qi—was followed by the words "behead," "exile," or "reward" written in cinnabar. He could close his eyes and recall their faces, weeping or laughing, kneeling on the palace steps, as if they were echoing in his ears.

But all that is over now.

Tomorrow's memorial would report on the performance and achievements of officials since their arrival, as well as matters requiring the court's attention to rebuild and restore people's livelihoods. He personally wrote these, already knowing the people and events by heart, but he still reviewed them again to avoid any errors or omissions.

He picked up the pen and added two lines of small characters "urgent relief" and "tax exemption" next to the word "reconstruction". He gently scraped off the ink with his fingernails before it dried, for fear that the ink would spread.

A half-foot-high pile of "Jiangnan Fish Scale Atlas" lay on the corner of his desk. He flipped through the pages one by one, his knuckles turning slightly white from the effort. The night watchman's call echoed through the window three times, and he circled "Jiujiang Weir" and "Jian'an Charity Granary" again and again, until the paper was nearly torn. Only then did he put down his pen and let out a long breath.

Seeing the perfect moonlight outside, he walked out of the room, sat down on the veranda, and stared blankly at the moon in the sky. He thought for a long time, thinking about people and things.

The bluestone steps beneath the veranda were black with dew, and the hem of his clothes brushed against them, sending the dampness creeping up his calves. The moon hung over the ridge of the glazed tiles, like a polished bronze mirror, illuminating the iron cavalry under the eaves with a crystal-clear brightness. It seemed as if he hadn't had time to truly examine them during those years as a hostage in the palace.

He leaned his arms on the railing, the coolness of the night dew seeping through his fingers.

Until the night was deep and the dew was heavy, and seeing that the master had not returned for a long time, the breeze came to look for him with a small glass lamp. The warm yellow light in the lampshade looked pitiful and small under the moonlight.

He just whispered "Let's go back" and stood up, his voice hoarse as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.

Sure enough, at the court the next day, the old antique from the Ministry of Clan Affairs and several pedantic ministers did not discuss state affairs as soon as they came to court, but raised several issues.

The old patriarch leaned on a purple bamboo cane, panting with every step, yet he was still the first to speak. The cuffs of his court robes were embroidered with overlapping cloud patterns with gold thread, as if to sew back the majesty that had long since vanished.

First, they demanded that the emperor appoint a crown prince immediately. They also repeatedly argued that the royal bloodline was weak, submitting memorials filled with the names of high-ranking noblewomen and a stack of portraits of women. They claimed that the selection process took too long, forcing the eldest prince to choose the crown princess and the crown princess' concubines from among them.

Not only that, she also proposed to start the selection process immediately to fill the harem and the Eastern Palace. She looked so anxious that her forehead was throbbing, as if she wanted to tie the eldest prince to the marriage bed right away.

The old abbot was tapping the floor tiles with his cane, the sound echoing in the empty hall: "Your Highness has reached the age of twenty, the Eastern Palace cannot be left empty for long!"

Only then did Xu Zize realize that his father knew his intentions, but still said those words to him last night. It turned out that he was forced to say them by this group of people.

He remembered his father standing on the stone steps of the Imperial Garden with his hands behind his back after dinner last night. The white hair on his temples was almost transparent under the palace lanterns, but his voice was as deep as lead: "They are pressing hard, and I have been blocking them for you for a long time." At that time, he just thought it was just ordinary nagging, but now he realized how much helplessness was hidden in his words.

Second, they disagreed with Xu Zize's proposal to bestow the title of "Princess of Anping" on Jing Chunxi. Their reasoning was that her family had already been granted the title of "Marquis of Rong'en," a recognition of her and her mother's contributions. They should not be given another title; only gold, silver, treasures, or fertile land would suffice.

When the Minister of Rites left the room, he raised his imperial tablet to the level of his eyebrows, but his voice was like a blunt knife cutting flesh: "The title of Earl is already a great favor from Heaven. If you promote her to a Princess, it may be an example of usurpation." Before he finished speaking, a few low voices of agreement were heard from the corner of the hall, like dead leaves scraping against stone steps.

Xu Zize had thought deeply about this last night and had anticipated it long ago.

He smiled contemptuously and recounted how Jing Chunxi had organized the people to punish corrupt officials and raise grain to provide relief during the floods in Jiujiang and Jian'an counties, and during the case of the eldest prince amassing wealth and stationing troops to rebel and oppress the people. He also helped him mobilize all the troops on Jianfeng Mountain to his own advantage, thus preventing a greater threat to the court.

His laughter was low, but cold as ice falling to the ground, startling the young eunuch nearby and making him shiver. When he mentioned the words "accumulating wealth and stationing troops," he intentionally or unintentionally glanced at the officials who had interacted with the eldest prince. They immediately lowered their heads, and veins bulged at the back of their necks.

"If any of my ministers have any doubts about what I've said, the people of Jiujiang and Jian'an can all testify," Xu Zize continued loudly. "Not to mention that she paid above market price for porcelain, tea, and mountain specialties produced by the people of the two counties. She also worked with the General's Mansion to open up maritime trade routes. The Jing family also donated the gold mines they discovered and mined to the court."

He turned around and glanced at the Minister of Rites, "If not, do you think the treasury, which has long been emptied, can still hold out until now?"

"Their actions not only saved the people of these two counties from disaster, but also achieved remarkable results in the reconstruction in recent years. The people live and work in peace and contentment, and are poised to surpass those in Jiangnan."

Every time he spoke, he took a step forward. The hem of his dark court robe swept across the gold bricks, making a slight rustling sound, and the officials standing in front of him stepped back one after another.

When he mentioned "higher than the market price", he raised his hand and made a vague gesture in the air, as if he could see the mules and horses loaded with tea winding down the mountain road, and the large ships loaded with porcelain heading east and south.