PFC Chapter 55: Is there kinship within the royal family?
Chapter 55: Is there kinship within the royal family?
Yang Yong opened his mouth, the words "I am his son, how could I possibly have such thoughts? My father must understand me" were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't utter them.
During the three hundred years of chaos in the Northern and Southern Dynasties, how many times were there bloody massacres of the imperial city over that chair, with fathers and sons killing each other and brothers fighting amongst themselves?
Emperor Wen of Song, Liu Yilong, was murdered by his crown prince, Liu Shao, and blood splattered on the spot; the Northern Qi royal family was even more like a breeding ground for poison, slaughtering countless people.
Yang Jian's ascension to the throne was illegitimate; he usurped it from his own son-in-law!
Faced with supreme imperial power, what about the bond between father and son?
That was nothing more than a thin veil covering a steel knife; it would be torn apart by a gust of wind.
Yang Yong felt a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head, and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably.
He knew it all too well.
As long as he holds those 100,000 troops in his hands, as long as he steps out of the gates of Daxing City, regardless of whether he wants to rebel or not, in the eyes of his old father, who is prone to suspicion in his later years, he is the biggest threat!
That's a sword hanging over the crown!
At that time, there would be no need to wait for the Goguryeo people to make a move. In order to ensure the eternal stability of the Sui Dynasty and to prevent the slightest possibility of the "Crown Prince returning to defend the emperor," the Emperor would definitely strike first.
Should we cripple him?
No, perhaps it is... a cup of poisoned wine and a white silk ribbon.
So that's how it is...
It turns out that all his caution, all his adherence to teachings, and all his "ambition" over the past twenty years were misguided from the very beginning.
Moreover, his original ignorant plan was tantamount to sending his own neck to the guillotine at the gates of hell!
"Heh...hehe..."
Yang Yong forced out a few dry laughs from deep in his throat; the laughter was even more unpleasant than crying.
A tremendous sense of absurdity and despair overwhelmed him instantly, leaving him barely able to breathe.
He slowly raised his head and looked at his eldest son, who was usually quiet and reserved and often read in the corner.
In the candlelight, Yang Yan's shadow was stretched long. His young face was calm as water, but he had a pair of eyes that seemed to be able to see through to the deepest hell.
At this moment, Yang Yong didn't seem like the Crown Prince of the Sui Dynasty; he was more like a lost child shivering in a stormy night.
"Then... what should I, as your father, do?"
Yang Yong's voice trembled, tinged with an undisguised sob. He reached out, trying to grasp Yang Yan's sleeve as if clinging to a last piece of driftwood: "To advance is death, to retreat is death... Could it be... could it be that my Eastern Palace is already doomed?"
Looking at his father, who was on the verge of collapse, Yang Yan felt no joy, only a deep weariness.
But he knew the time was right.
Only by completely shattering Yang Yong's unrealistic fantasies can we make him obedient.
Yang Yan grasped Yang Yong's cold hand in return, the warmth of his palm firm and strong.
"Father, the dead end is not yet decided, and there is still a way out."
"Your child is already thinking of a solution. What you need to do is, as I said before, to respond to all changes with constancy."
Yang Yan's voice softened, carrying a strange, soothing power:
"Of all matters of national importance, maintaining stability is paramount. What my grandfather seeks now is 'peace,' not 'change.' Therefore, being the eldest son is the only answer."
"As long as you don't make mistakes, don't seek credit, don't touch military power, and don't associate with outsiders, no matter how high your second uncle jumps, he's still just a 'subject,' while you will always be a 'ruler.'"
"Father, at this critical juncture, mediocrity is not a mistake; the mistake lies in 'doing things right.' As long as you do things right, the Crown Prince's Palace will not collapse."
Yang Yong stared blankly at his son.
He didn't know when, but the eldest son of a concubine, who he remembered as timid and submissive, had actually grown into a shrewd and far-sighted veteran of the court, even one who could make his father feel afraid.
The light in those eyes made him feel at ease, yet also made him feel like a stranger.
After a long silence, the suffocating silence in the study was finally broken.
Yang Yong felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and he slumped back in his chair, nodding weakly.
"well."
"Father, I will listen to you. Tomorrow at court, I will only bring my ears, not my mouth."
After calming the still-shaken Yang Yong and instructing his personal eunuch to prepare a calming soup, Yang Yan returned to his residence as the Prince of Changning under the cover of night.
The cold wind swirled withered leaves in the courtyard, much like the undercurrents swirling in Daxing City at that moment.
He dismissed all the servants, went into his study alone, and bolted the door shut.
Only at this moment did a hint of youthful weariness show on his composed face.
But he had no time to rest.
Yang Yan walked to the desk, but instead of spreading out the complicated geomantic map, he took out a few sheets of rough hemp paper.
That was his habit of organizing his thoughts.
The competition was to be held in seven days. What he needed to do was find someone. He left a name on a piece of paper, a name that would later become famous throughout the world. It would probably take another two days to reach the capital.
Yang Yan smiled slightly, then crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the charcoal brazier.
The flames surged up and instantly engulfed the secret.
Immediately afterwards, he spread out a second sheet of paper and wrote the words "selecting concubines".
Yang Yan lightly tapped his finger in the air, as if making a mark on a certain page of the roster.
"If we choose her... not only can we avoid the internal strife within the Guanlong Group, but we can also unexpectedly gain some assistance."
Having determined the direction of these two matters, Yang Yan breathed a sigh of relief and looked out at the dark night sky.
That was the darkest hour before dawn.
"Finally, there will be the morning court session tomorrow."
Yang Yan rubbed his slightly swollen temples, feeling a vague unease in his heart.
According to the course of history, the campaign against Liaodong should have been led by Yang Jian against the advice of many, with Yang Liang, the Prince of Han, ultimately resulting in a tragic end.
However, his presence has already changed the course of the war. Logically, all that is needed is to go with the flow and second Gao Jiong, but he is not sure what the outcome will be.
"Logically, there are no loopholes; everyone has been placed on a predetermined chessboard."
"But……"
As Yang Yan gazed at the flickering candlelight, the inexplicable tremor in his heart grew stronger.
It's like... he's forgotten something extremely important, or something that's outside his original understanding!
What exactly is it?
……
As dawn broke, the morning mist over Daxing City was so thick it seemed impossible to dissipate.
On the cobblestone-paved Zhuque Avenue, only the rumbling of wheels echoed.
At this moment, Yang Yong was completely devoid of the usual majesty as the crown prince. The court robe he wore, embroidered with a four-clawed golden dragon, seemed to have become a torture device binding him.
His face was pale, and there were two dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicating that he had not slept all night.
"Yan'er..." Yang Yong swallowed, his voice dry, "Are you sure... I won't say a word today?"
"What if... what if Father Emperor specifically asks me about it?"
Looking at his father, who was as frightened as a bird beside him, Yang Yan sighed inwardly, but his face remained calm and composed.
"Father."
Yang Yan reached out and gently placed his hand on Yang Yong's trembling knee. The warmth of his palm seeped through the silk, carrying a calming power.
"Hide your abilities and bide your time."
He uttered only these four words, but his gaze, through the gap in the swaying carriage curtain, fell upon the majestic palace city in the distance, which was faintly visible in the morning mist.
Daxing Palace—the heart of power in the Sui Empire, and also a battlefield where countless conspiracies and bloodshed converged.
As a history student, Yang Yan felt a mix of emotions. He was excited to be at the historical scene and witness the power center of the "Kaihuang Prosperity," but also felt a sense of trepidation as someone in the thick of it all, walking on the edge of a knife.
"As long as I don't speak, no one can force the Crown Prince to take a stand. I am the ruler, and they are the subjects."
Yang Yong took a deep breath and, as if brainwashing himself, kept repeating the "truth" his son had taught him last night.
The carriage crossed the Jinshui Bridge and slowly came to a stop in the huge square in front of Chengtian Gate.
When officials entered the court, they all had to dismount and walk.
"Father has arrived, let's get out of the carriage!"
Yang Yan said in a low voice, then stood up first, lifted the brocade curtain, and helped Yang Yong down from the carriage.
A cold wind swept in, carrying the biting chill unique to the north, instantly dispelling the warmth inside the carriage.
Yang Yong tightened his cloak and was about to step towards the palace gate.
At that very moment—
"Da, da, da."
A series of uniform, heavy, and powerful footsteps suddenly emerged from the shadows at the side.
Those weren't patrolling Imperial Guards. The footsteps of Imperial Guards aren't this hurried, nor are they this... filled with murderous intent.
Several warriors dressed in black, with swords at their waists, moved quickly and blocked Yang Yong and his son's path, preventing them from advancing.