Chapter 353: Your Son Knows He Was Wrong, The Beating Was Too Light
Prince Yong quickly answered and walked inside.
Just as he stepped through the hall’s entrance, an inkstone came flying at his face.
Fortunately, Zhao Minghong had years of experience dodging things thrown by his imperial brother. The heavy object barely grazed his forehead as it flew past.
’That was a close call,’ he thought.
The next moment, a thin blade flew toward him. Zhao Minghong had no time to dodge, and it sliced through the hem of his robe.
Zhao Minghong stood frozen, staring as he saw the gold trim of his robe had been sheared off. "Imperial Brother," he said, dumbfounded, "even if your subject has done wrong, you can’t use hidden weapons..."
"Open your eyes and see what that is!"
Beside Emperor Wu Su’s hand lay letters from the Imperial Prison, a porcelain vial, and several still-blank interrogation records.
Zhao Minghong bent down and picked up the "hidden weapon." He recognized it, of course. It was the tool used to castrate that man.
He knew there was nothing he could hide from Emperor Wu Su; it was impossible.
He lifted his head defiantly. "It was a gift from me, your subject, to that old bastard."
The cold glint in Emperor Wu Su’s eyes was sharper than any blade. "I had thought you knew how to act with propriety."
Only after reading the letter from the Prison Department did Zhao Mingyan understand the extent of what Prince Yong had done.
He had vented his anger, but he had been far too impulsive.
Emperor Wu Su said, "Right now, Su Fengyue has collapsed with a high fever. It’s uncertain if he’ll even survive the night. You tell me, what are we to do about his confession? How are we to root out his accomplices?"
Surprise flickered in Zhao Minghong’s eyes. He hadn’t expected the old man to be so fragile.
In the next instant, he had a solution. "Imperial Brother, give your subject a list of the accomplices," he said confidently. "I will make that old... I’ll make Su Fengyue press his fingerprint on it."
Hearing that Prince Yong was still trying to muddle his way through, turning a perfectly good situation into a complete mess...
Emperor Wu Su rebuked him, "We have solid evidence, yet you want to resort to forcing a confession through torture! Are you afraid the common people won’t get to witness the might of the great Prince Yong?!"
Zhao Minghong lowered his head. "Your subject wouldn’t dare," he said meekly.
Emperor Wu Su slammed his hand on the imperial desk. "Wouldn’t dare? Every single one of you says you wouldn’t dare, but when it’s time to act, you’re all bolder than anyone!"
Zhao Minghong had no idea where the Emperor’s words were coming from.
His eyes darted around in confusion. ’Could there really be someone else who acted even more audaciously, more excessively than I did? Such a person exists?’
With his head still bowed, his gaze swept the room and suddenly landed on a figure standing against the eastern wall.
Zhao Minghong’s eyes traveled up from a pair of small, black boots and met Yuan Heng’s. He sucked in a sharp breath.
’Why is the little prince here? Could it be that he’s one of the ’bold’ people my Imperial Brother was talking about?’
Zhao Minghong was puzzled and curious. The little prince was always so sensible and obedient. What could he possibly have done to make the Emperor so furious?
The Emperor’s icy voice came from above, sending a chill down the back of Prince Yong’s neck.
"Memorials have already reached my desk, accusing you of being tyrannical, cruel, and lawless."
Zhao Minghong retorted indignantly, "Su Fengyue collaborated with the enemy and committed treason! No punishment is too severe. Whoever submitted those memorials, Imperial Brother, you should be investigating them! They’re probably Su Fengyue’s hidden accomplices!"
Emperor Wu Su had already been in a foul mood upon returning to the palace tonight. To make matters worse, several old ministers had arrived at a critical moment to seek an audience at the Diligent Governance Hall.
They had somehow learned the details of Su Fengyue’s torture.
These old fossils had come furiously to lodge a complaint, crying that "a scholar can be killed but not humiliated." One of them had even hugged a Dragon Pillar in the hall, threatening to protest with his own life.
Emperor Wu Su raised his eyes. "You will go to the Imperial Prison."
Zhao Minghong cupped his hands and promised, "Your subject will go and interrogate him at once. I’ll definitely pry something out of Su Fengyue before he dies."
"I mean that you will *stay* in the prison for two days."
Zhao Minghong’s head snapped up. "Stay? Stay in the Imperial Prison?" he asked in shock.
’I was planning on returning to the Prince Mansion early,’ he thought. ’Wanyin is still waiting for me...’
Emperor Wu Su’s face darkened. "The interrogation will be handed over to Duan Mingfeng." With that, he refused to look at him any longer and waved his sleeve, dismissing him.
With a dejected expression, Zhao Minghong lowered his head, turned, and started to walk away.
"Wait."
The Emperor’s voice came from behind him. Zhao Minghong spun around at once and asked hopefully, "Is Imperial Brother thinking of rescinding your order?"
Emperor Wu Su asked, "What happened to your face?"
Zhao Minghong, who had a red handprint on his face, touched his cheek in confusion.
’This face is still as handsome as ever,’ he mused. ’What could be wrong with it?’
Suddenly, Zhao Minghong remembered what had happened earlier and immediately put on a pitiful act. "Imperial Brother, actually, the Princess Consort already disciplined me before I came. Look how hard she slapped me, Imperial Brother. It even left a mark."
As if Emperor Wu Su would believe Prince Yong’s explanation. He just stared at the mark on his face, looking thoughtful.
Zhao Minghong raised his right hand as if taking an oath. "I promise I won’t make this mistake again. Please don’t make me go to prison."
"In my opinion," Emperor Wu Su said coldly, "the slap was too light."
And just like that, Prince Yong was dispatched to become Su Fengyue’s cellmate.
The scent of incense curled languidly through the hall.
Zhao Mingyan glanced at Yuan Heng, who was standing by the wall. Since returning, he had been busy dealing with the old ministers and then Prince Yong, leaving him no time to speak with his son.
"Come here."
After returning to the palace, Yuan Heng had retracted his sharp edges, appearing as respectful as ever.
It was hard to say if it was because he lacked confidence without Ji Qingwu by his side, or if the palace atmosphere simply made one instinctively hide their true nature. Or perhaps it was both.
Yuan Heng knelt on the floor. "Father Emperor, your son knows his fault."
Zhao Mingyan said tonelessly, "What fault could my son possibly have? If there are a thousand faults, they are all mine, your father’s. It was my fault that you lost your mother at a young age, causing you to resent me to this day."
Yuan Heng’s small head drooped so low it almost touched his chest. He felt that this version of his Father Emperor, who said one thing but meant another, was far more terrifying than the one who would beat him with a paddle.
"Your son spoke without thinking."
Zhao Mingyan pushed the memorials aside. "No, those were your true feelings."
Yuan Heng didn’t explain further. He simply knelt in silence, his dark eyes fixed on the seams between the golden floor tiles.
Zhao Mingyan slanted a glance at him. "Get up. You’ll catch a cold and fall ill if you kneel for too long."
Yuan Heng suspected he had misheard. His Father Emperor would never show him such gentle concern.
Sure enough, Emperor Wu Su continued, "And then, someone will come looking for me to cause trouble."
’He’s still afraid of Ji Qingwu finding out.’
Yuan Heng acknowledged the order and rose, standing in place with his head lowered. The only sounds in the room were the dripping of the water clock and the rustle of paper as pages were turned.
A long time passed before Yuan Heng heard a voice.
"You’ve gotten a lot heavier."
Yuan Heng’s small shoulders stiffened. He lifted his head and looked at the man sitting on the Dragon Chair.
The night was deep, but his Father Emperor still seemed tireless, full of vigor. The lamplight on his face did not soften his features; instead, it made them appear even sharper.
Yuan Heng lowered his head again. "Your son is still growing. It’s normal to get heavier."
Zhao Mingyan recalled when the little thing was younger. The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. "Go back and rest."