At those words, Zhao Qingning shook her head violently.
She bit her lip, forcing back her sobs.
Her tear-filled eyes stared straight at Zhao Heng, her voice trembling.
“Father, why?”
Her voice choked, but she refused to look away.
“Why did you become like this?
Once, you were a wise and brilliant ruler. During the war between the two dynasties, you were so full of spirit, personally leading three thousand armored cavalry into battle to charge the enemy, peerless in your bravery.
Back then, who among the court officials did not admire you?
The soldiers were willing to lay down their lives for you, and the common people built shrines in your honor while you were still alive.
Since I was a child, I took you as my role model.
I studied literature and practiced martial arts day and night without rest, all because I wanted to become an indomitable figure like you one day.”
Her voice shook more and more, her tears streaming down ever faster, yet she still stared fixedly into Zhao Heng’s eyes, refusing to yield even half an inch.
“But why?
Why did you harbor that monstrosity?
Why did you grow more and more fatuous?
Why did you stand by and watch Eldest Brother and Second Brother fight for power and profit?
Why did you watch the court devolve into foul chaos, watching loyal and righteous ministers get demoted and exiled one after another?
Father, tell me why...”
The Hall of Mental Cultivation was deathly quiet.
There was only the muffled sound of Zhao Qingning’s crying and the occasional crackle of the Everlasting Lamp’s flickering flame.
Zhao Heng looked at his daughter’s tear-streaked face, which was flushed red and filled with confusion and grievance. He remained silent for a long time.
Then, he reached out his other hand and used the pad of his thumb to gently wipe away the tears at the corners of Zhao Qingning’s eyes.
His movements were very slow, and his withered hand trembled slightly from weakness.
Yet the touch against his daughter’s face was incomparably light, as if he were wiping a piece of delicate porcelain.
“Silly girl.”
His voice was so raspy it barely formed a cadence, yet an extremely faint smile floated upon his lips.
“Once you sit in this seat, you will understand.”
He coughed several times, doubling over from the force of it, taking quite a while to settle down.
Then he leaned back against his soft pillows and stared at the bed curtains above him, which were embroidered with auspicious clouds and cranes. His gaze grew distant and hollow.
“You will learn what it truly means to be a solitary ruler.
Every single official in court is constantly trying to fathom your thoughts.
Everyone wants to pry something out of your mouth.
A single casual sentence from you, and they will overanalyze it into a dozen different meanings.”
He turned his head to look back at Zhao Qingning, his eyes filled with exhaustion.
“Everyone plays mind games with you.
The princes hope for your early death, the concubines pray for a second glance, and the ministers beg for greater rewards.
I have sat on this throne for decades; I know it all too well.”
He paused, his withered fingers lightly patting the back of Zhao Qingning’s hand.
“If not forced by necessity, I could never bear to place you in this seat.
You were meant to live a fine life, marry a good man, care for your husband and raise children.
To have everything a woman in this world ought to have.
You have a fierce temperament, clear about what you love and hate, just like your mother.
When your mother passed, I promised her that I would ensure you lived a happy life.
Yet now, I must break my word...”
His voice grew quiet, and his emaciated hand slipped from Zhao Qingning’s face, dropping weakly onto the brocade quilt.
“It is your father’s failing.”
Zhao Qingning could hold it back no longer.
She buried her face in Zhao Heng’s palm, her shoulders shaking violently as suppressed sobs leaked fitfully through her fingers.
Zhao Heng gently patted the back of her head, his gaze passing over her shoulder to fall upon the young woman who had been standing silently by the side.
Looking at this young woman who had not uttered a word from start to finish, and gazing into her eyes that were calm as still water, he suddenly let out a soft laugh.
“You must be Wen Zhuo’s closed-door disciple?”
Lin Jianxi bowed slightly in greeting.
“This humble woman, Lin Jianxi, greets Your Majesty.”
Her voice was not loud, yet it settled softly into the hall like a drop of water falling into a quiet pond.
Leaning back against the soft pillows, Zhao Heng measured her up and down before slowly nodding.
“Qingning, step down for now. I wish to speak with Miss Lin alone.”
Zhao Qingning raised her head, looking at her father with tear-filled eyes before turning back to look at Lin Jianxi.
Lin Jianxi gave her a slight nod, reassuring her.
Only then did Zhao Qingning rise, messily wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve. She offered a bow to Zhao Heng and turned to walk out of the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
The hall doors closed slowly behind her with a dull thud.
Only Zhao Heng and Lin Jianxi remained inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
The flame of the Everlasting Lamp flickered between them, casting Lin Jianxi’s shadow against the wall of the hall, long and slender.
Leaning back against the soft pillows, Zhao Heng looked at Lin Jianxi and suddenly gave a chuckle.
“I truly never expected Wen Zhuo to accept a woman as his closed-door disciple.”
Lin Jianxi offered a faint smile.
“Nor would the world expect Your Majesty to let the Fourth Princess sit upon the Dragon Throne.”
Zhao Heng’s smile froze for a moment.
He narrowed his eyes at Lin Jianxi, a trace of scrutiny creeping into his gaze.
This young woman spoke neither with servility nor with arrogance.
She showed neither the trembling fear of ordinary subjects before an emperor, nor the aggressive pushiness of someone relying on their own talent.
“Let Fourth Girl sit upon the throne?”
Zhao Heng shook his head, his tone steeped in helplessness.
“Miss Lin, I am not ‘letting’ her; I have been backed into a corner with no way out.
Lu Chenzhou of Qingya Academy, along with nine academies across Jiangnan, have submitted a joint memorial recommending Fourth Girl to succeed the throne.
That memorial has likely already reached the Office of Transmission.
A joint petition recommending a woman to become emperor... Nothing like this has ever happened in the three hundred years since Grand Zhao’s founding.
They have pushed me, the Emperor, so far that I have no room left to retreat.”
After hearing these words, the smile on Lin Jianxi’s face did not change in the slightest.
She looked at Zhao Heng, her gaze as tranquil as still water.
“Your Majesty.”
Her voice remained soft and calm.
“At this point, there is no need for you to keep putting on an act.”
Zhao Heng’s smile slowly faded.
In those cloudy, exhausted eyes, a faint glint of sharp brilliance flashed.
“You began suppressing Confucian scholars for no reason, cutting funding for the Imperial Academy, replacing the Education Commissioners across the three Jiangnan circuits, and suspending the customary stipends for Mountain Lords at academies everywhere.”
Lin Jianxi’s voice was unhurried.
“If taken individually, every single one of these actions appears to be a suppression of Confucianism.
However, when linked together, they form a crystal-clear net.
You were not trying to suppress Confucian learning—you were forcing them to resist.
You knew that unless you drove them into a corner, those grey-haired, pedantic old scholars would never step forward to participate in court politics.
They would only cower in their academies, taking the imperial court’s stipends, teaching the sage’s principles, and muddling through life.
Yet you needed them to step out.
You needed them to submit a joint petition, and you needed them to recommend a successor whom neither the court nor the military could refute.”
She paused for a beat, her calm eyes staring straight at Zhao Heng.
“Because you knew that in the three-hundred-year history of Grand Zhao, there has never been a Female Emperor.
If you wanted the Fourth Princess to ascend the Dragon Throne as a woman, a mere imperial valedictory edict from you would be far from enough.
You required a force powerful enough behind her to push it through.
And that force could only be the scholars of the world.”
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