Chapter 13 — Old Dreams on the Dragon Bed

Now in the autumn of his years, his patience had grown increasingly deep. He pointed to the characters inscribed upon the imperial memorial and asked, "How do you read this character?"

Thua Huy answered without a moment of hesitation: "People." He then pointed to yet another character.

"Grain."

"When these two characters are placed side by side, what do they signify?"

Thua Huy replied with absolute earnestness: "Your Imperial Majesty possesses both the hundred clans of common folk and the bountiful harvests of grain."

"Therefore, when these two characters are joined together, they represent Your Imperial Majesty."

Nguyen Lang Chieu froze for a moment before bursting into a hearty laugh. On that very day, he bestowed generous rewards upon Thua Huy’s tutor, while also extending gifts to all the attendants within the Zinfang Palace, from high to low. As the news spread far and wide, the whispers regarding the selection of a Crown Prince grew even more fervent throughout the imperial court. The renown of the Prince of Su had reached towering heights over the past few years; whenever the civil and military officials spoke of him, they could scarcely find a single flaw. Even within the common teahouses scattered across the streets, people passed along the tale that though His Majesty had lost one Crown Prince, he had miraculously gained a far superior imperial son. Whenever Nguyen Lang Chieu overheard such remarks, he would offer a casual word of praise, yet the warmth of a genuine smile never once touched the depths of his eyes. Until that fateful morning assembly, an Imperial Censor bearing the surname Chu suddenly removed his official cap and dropped to his knees right in the middle of the grand hall.

"Your Majesty, the seat of the Heir Apparent cannot be left vacant for much longer."

"The virtuous reputation of His Highness the Prince of Su echoes far and wide, and he has rendered immense service to the altars of state and soil. All the officials and common subjects are eagerly looking forward to his ascension into the Eastern Palace."

Seated upon the dragon throne, Nguyen Lang Chieu’s expression remained utterly devoid of change.

"So, Censor Chu, have you come here today specifically to instruct this emperor on how to appoint a Crown Prince?"

Censor Chu pressed his forehead against the cold stone floor: "This subject wouldn't dare."

"Yet this subject dares to boldly ask Your Majesty—could it be that for the sake of a momentary, fleeting favor, you are willing to ruin the centuries-old foundation of the Great Phat dynasty?"

Having already spoken these daring words, he had no intention of retreating unscathed. Thus, his phrasing grew increasingly severe and unyielding.

"Noble Consort Tue hails from the Lam clan, and she maintains tangled, unseemly connections with the remnants of the deposed Crown Prince's faction."

"The Sixth Imperial Prince is still of tender years, and his true character remains untested. If Your Majesty chooses to favor a beloved concubine and a youngest son while casting aside a truly virtuous prince, this subject fears that the hearts of the realm will never be won over."

As soon as these words tumbled into the air, even a few of the aged, venerated ministers could not help but knit their brows in profound disapproval. After a long, heavy silence, Nguyen Lang Chieu finally spoke: "You certainly possess quite a far-reaching imagination." Censor Chu remained prostrate upon the ground, refusing to rise: "This subject does this out of careful planning for the Great Phat dynasty, and for Your Majesty."

"In the name of planning for the Great Phat dynasty, you choose to use a mere five-year-old child as your pretext?"

"In the name of planning for this emperor, you choose to back me into a corner and force the appointment of an Heir Apparent right here within the Golden Hall?"

"Since Censor Chu is so deeply troubled by the peace of the realm and the safety of the state, the Censorate is truly missing out by failing to make full use of such a remarkable talent."

"The region of Hadong is currently suffering through a severe drought, and the common people are starving for lack of grain. Since this emperor sees that you possess the loyal heart of a true minister, how about you personally travel there to oversee the disaster relief efforts?"

Censor Chu faced this perilous decree without the slightest trace of cowardice, even casting aside all caution to loudly proclaim right then and there:

"Your Majesty has been blinded by delusion! You are entirely captivated by the seductive wiles of the Lam woman, and your actions will shatter the loyalty of all the civil and military officials!"

"Today, this subject shall use his own death to prove the steadfastness of his loyalty! I only hope to awaken Your Majesty from this slumber."

With those dramatic words, he lunged headfirst toward one of the massive pillars supporting the hall. Fortunately, the imperial guards stationed outside possessed sharp eyes and swift hands, managing to intercept him and drag him back just in the nick of time.

At that very moment, the Prince of Su stepped forward, his eyes reddened as he dropped heavily to his knees and kowtowed:

"Imperial Father, Censor Chu used language that was terribly rash and offensive, and indeed he is guilty of grave disrespect."

"Yet, regardless of how he spoke, his underlying intent was that of a loyal subject."

"If Imperial Father chooses to severely punish a straightforward and loyal official merely because of matters concerning this child, who among the court officials will ever dare to offer honest remonstrance again in the future?"

"This son has never dared to harbor idle dreams of occupying the Eastern Palace; my only wish is for the rivers and mountains to remain secure and for Imperial Father to enjoy peace and longevity. I only beg Imperial Father not to chill the hearts and minds of all the loyal subjects throughout the realm."

Following that eventful day, the virtuous reputation of the Prince of Su soared to even greater heights. In every teahouse and wine pavilion, people whispered endlessly about how kind and benevolent the Prince of Su was, willing to forgo the coveted Eastern Palace itself simply to preserve the life of a direct-speaking official. But upon hearing these tales, I could only feel that this political maneuver was exceedingly clumsy. It was a classic retreat disguised as advancement—by publicly refusing to become the Crown Prince, he only made the entire civil and military bureaucracy desire his ascension all the more. That single phrase—"do not chill the hearts of the subjects"—neatly cast Nguyen Lang Chieu into the role of a cold-blooded, tyrannical ruler. That very night, when Nguyen Lang Chieu arrived at the Zinfang Palace, his expression was impossibly dark and heavy. A palace attendant had just stepped forward to serve tea when the emperor swept his sleeve, shattering the porcelain against the floor. Everyone within the grand chamber instantly fell to their knees in unison. Offering no words of comfort, I quietly gathered Thua Huy into my arms and knelt silently upon the cold tiles. Breaking free from my embrace, Thua Huy blinked his large eyes and asked:

"Did Imperial Father get punished by his teacher today as well?"

The simmering fury frozen upon Nguyen Lang Chieu's face abruptly faltered: "Who told you that this emperor was punished?" Thua Huy knitted his delicate little brows together and pointed toward the shattered debris strewn across the floor:

"When this son wrote the wrong characters today, I also threw my brush down."

"The teacher said that whenever someone smashes objects out of anger, it is because deep down they know they are in the wrong, yet their mouth stubbornly refuses to admit it."

The surrounding attendants were so terrified that they scarcely dared to draw a full breath, and I hurriedly frowned in warning:

"Huy, you must not speak nonsense."

Yet Thua Huy had already crawled all the way to Nguyen Lang Chieu's side: "Imperial Father is the Son of Heaven."

"The teacher said that the Son of Heaven can never be in the wrong."

"If the Son of Heaven grows angry, there must surely be treacherous villains lurking with the hearts of wolves."

If such words had been spoken by an adult, they would undoubtedly have been condemned as arrogant and rebellious. But falling from the lips of a mere six-year-old child, they retained only a pristine and disarming innocence.