In the past, the national treasury had been so empty it practically rattled. Even if Gu Huaiyu had wanted to deal with Eastern Liao, he simply lacked the means.
But now, with Wei Qingya’s silver in hand, the war that had been brewing for years could finally be brought to the table.
The spring breeze was beginning to stir. If they were to strike, they had to do so while the snow on the Eastern Liao steppes was just beginning to melt—the season before their warhorses could regain their winter fat. To march even a day earlier was to gain another fraction of an advantage.
If they waited until after autumn, the northern winds would howl with blinding sand and the scorching sun would wither the troops. The difficult march would only hand the advantage of timing back to Eastern Liao.
The act of starting a war was not the issue. Gu Huaiyu held the reins of power; whether the Pure Stream faction agreed or not, he could force the march.
However, he hadn’t climbed to the position of Chancellor through his sister’s skirts. In the nine years before he grasped ultimate power, he had climbed the ladder rung by rung. Though his ascent had been rapid, every footprint was real, every step earned through blood and grit.
Because of this, he knew better than anyone: it was easy to deal with the King of Hell, but the little ghosts were a nightmare.
Grand Preceptor Dong and his circle of old fossils couldn’t stop him, but the Pure Stream faction had disciples and former subordinates scattered across every province like weeds. If he rushed into war, there was no guarantee that someone wouldn’t “accidentally” delay the grain transport or “clumsily” lose a military dispatch.
When that happened, he would be truly surrounded—ambition strangled by his own countrymen.
To repel the foreign threat, he first had to stabilize the interior. Before the final showdown with Eastern Liao, he had to twist all of Great Chen into a single, unbreakable rope. And the point where that rope began was the Son of Heaven.
Gu Huaiyu’s fingertip tapped against the desk. He let out a sudden, cold sneer. The first order of business was to tighten the leash on Yuan Zhuo.
On the palace cuju field, the spring sun was brilliant.
The Emperor wore a bright yellow headband, his crimson sleeves snapping in the wind as he moved. A dozen guards ran circles around him, yet they always seemed to “lose their footing” at the crucial moment or “accidentally” let the ball slip past. Every time the young Emperor raised his foot, the colorful ball sailed into the net as if it possessed a mind of its own.
Cuju had once been a sport for the Great Chen nobility, but now it had become a mere toy to “restore the Majesty’s confidence.”
Under the eaves of the gallery, Eunuch Xu waited with a tea set and a face cloth. Prince Xian stood nearby with his hands tucked into his sleeves, watching the Emperor with a gentle, indulgent smile.
Suddenly, the servants standing on either side knelt in a rhythmic wave, their voices rising one after another: “Greetings, Lord Chancellor—”
Gu Huaiyu’s stride was steady. The hem of his snow-white cloak brushed past the bowed heads as he came to a halt under the gallery. He narrowed his eyes, watching the high-spirited Yuan Zhuo from afar.
Prince Xian offered a polite bow, his smile warm. “What brings Chancellor Gu to watch His Majesty play cuju today?”
Gu Huaiyu gave a slight nod as a return gesture, but his gaze swept right past the Prince to land on Eunuch Xu.
Eunuch Xu hurried forward, lowering his voice. “His Majesty just finished reviewing the memorials and his essays. He hasn’t rested for several days, and he’s been out here for less than half an hour…”
Gu Huaiyu stared at Yuan Zhuo running wild on the field, his lips curling into a smile that carried no warmth. “How impressive. Finding a group of people to coax him like a child. Go. Bring him back to me.”
Eunuch Xu didn’t dare delay and hurried off at once.
Prince Xian took a half-step closer, his expression remaining mild, showing no hint of embarrassment at being slighted. “His Majesty is a young man, after all. It’s natural for him to be a bit playful. If the bowstring is pulled too tight, it will snap.”
Gu Huaiyu kept his eyes locked on the field, not even sparing the man a glance. “The Prince has no children of his own, yet you certainly seem to know how to raise them.”
Prince Xian didn’t take offense. He said softly, “His Majesty is pitiable. His birth mother passed early, and he isn’t close with the Empress Dowager. In this deep palace…” He paused, watching Yuan Zhuo being stopped by Eunuch Xu in the distance. “He doesn’t even have anyone to share his private thoughts with.”
Yuan Zhuo caught sight of Gu Huaiyu from a distance and immediately abandoned the game, sprinting toward the gallery. After a few steps, he suddenly remembered his imperial dignity and skidded to a halt, forcing himself to walk with a measured, steady gait.
However, his dark eyes were shimmering with a faint light. He came to a stop before Gu Huaiyu and said with exaggerated solemnity, “My Minister has come.”
“Did you see? I just scored a goal.”
Gu Huaiyu didn’t even lift his eyelids, offering a perfunctory, “Not bad.”
