Chapter 3
Edward Quan ·
The little joy we’d felt vanished.
Oh no. Would those two try to harm Hui?
7
After the birthday celebration, the Emperor, far sharper than either of us, immediately recognized that Hui was unusual.
But he was only one. No one knew what his future held, so the Emperor merely sent two hidden guards to protect him.
We had no idea where they concealed themselves.
The Emperor paid their wages.
I quietly asked Hui whether he knew where they usually hid.
He nodded.
“Can’t Mama and Papa see them?”
We opened our eyes wide and searched in every direction until our eyes watered.
Not a soul.
Never mind. We gave up.
Why should two ordinary people like us compare ourselves with a child as blessed as Zhou Menghui?
Yes. Hui was not merely a genius.
His luck was extraordinary too.
Even with the Emperor’s protection, the narrow-minded, vicious Second and Third Princes would never leave a clever nephew favored by their father in peace.
Open attacks were easier to evade than hidden ones.
After our guards killed wave after wave of assassins, the princes sent infiltrators to poison him.
The first poisoner had barely slipped poison into a pot when the pot exploded.
The noise was tremendous.
Blackened soup splashed straight into his mouth.
When everyone else arrived, they found a shattered pot and a man dead from poison.
On the second attempt, they were cleverer. The poison was added while the drink was being carried over.
Yet as the infiltrator brought fresh milk to Hui, he inexplicably slipped and fell.
The bowl flew up.
The milk poured straight into the poisoner’s mouth.
He died in an instant.
Jingze and I were deeply worried. Would seeing this happen repeatedly harm Hui’s physical and emotional development?
What if our son was frightened out of his wits?
We looked up.
The little boy, nearly two now, was perfectly calm.
“Mama, Papa, don’t be afraid.”
“I’m here.”
We looked at each other.
It seemed our household was about to acquire a new master.
8
We were still worried. Even a swarm of small nuisances could wear you down.
What if a poisoning succeeded one day?
We were so troubled that we each ate one bowl less at every meal.
Hui asked whether we were ill.
We explained.
“We know you’re clever, but you’re still so small. We’re afraid something might happen.”
“You’re our only child. If anything happened to you, we wouldn’t want to live either.”
He watched us quietly for a moment.
Then he said calmly, “All right. I won’t play anymore. Don’t worry.”
We stared.
What had our son just said? Why couldn’t we understand him?
Within two days, something really did happen to the Second and Third Princes.
The Second Prince’s horse spooked for no apparent reason and threw him.
He survived, but one leg was reportedly so badly shattered that he would limp even after it healed.
The Third Prince’s case was more absurd.
He was quietly at home when lightning struck him.
As soon as the news spread, the censors submitted memorials accusing him of wrongdoing. Heaven, they said, had punished his tyranny and misconduct.
Memorials condemning him fell like snowflakes onto the Emperor’s desk.
His reputation was utterly ruined. The throne was beyond his reach.
The First Prince had died young. Now the Second and Third, the strongest contenders, had inexplicably fallen.
Only the Fourth and Fifth Princes remained among the adult sons.
The Fourth had recently been reprimanded.
But the Fifth was genuinely timid and incompetent.
Many still backed the Fourth Prince.
Only a few minor officials who couldn’t gain access to him, and some scholars from humble backgrounds, reluctantly placed their hopes on the Fifth.
Jingze and I knew nothing of those currents beneath the surface.
Our first problem was that he now had to go to work.
The Emperor gave him a post in the Ministry of Rites. It was undemanding, but he had to attend.
He used to sleep until he woke naturally.
Now he dragged himself up before dawn every day, then went to the ministry to deal with endless matters people could argue over without ever making clear what they were about.
By the time he came home, he was utterly spent.
“Damn it. Let the Fourth Prince take the throne already, so I can go to my fief and be a prince!”
Every evening at dinner, he repeated that complaint.
Hui needed a tutor. An elderly scholar who’d failed the higher examinations happened to appear at our gate.
He would do well enough to teach Hui his characters.