BSI Chapter 69 Changsun Wuji
Chapter 69 Changsun Wuji
Although it was just a child's innocent remark, it still made Chang Le panic. She quickly covered her face with her sleeve and could only whisper to cover it up: "No, eldest sister is perfectly fine, she's not sick. The reason she looks like this is probably... from being in the sun."
She dared not linger any longer, fearing that if she stayed any longer, her heart would pound so hard that even a rhinoceros could hear it.
She bent down, took Sizi's little hand, and said softly, "It's getting late, we should go back now, don't disturb Guoguo while he's working."
Sizi nodded obediently, but then broke free from her sister's hand, ran to the stone table, waved her little hand at Huahua, and whispered:
"Hua Hua, I have to go now. Be good and don't fight with Ah Huang, okay? I'll come see you again next time—"
After saying that, he was reluctantly led by Chang Le to the donkey cart.
Wang Zhi also wrapped the prepared medicinal herbs in burlap and handed them to Chang Le. Chang Le carried the heavy medicine bag, keeping her head down the whole way, not daring to look up at him again.
The donkey cart slowly drove away from the farm. Sizi clung to the window, her little head sticking out, waving incessantly at Wang Zhihuan, her childish voice carrying on the wind: "Goodbye, buddy! Remember to put in less salt!"
Chang Le leaned against the carriage wall, clutching the Poria cocos cloth bag and medicinal herbs tightly in her arms.
His fingertips repeatedly rubbed the rough linen, and the look in his eyes when he recited that line of poetry kept replaying in his mind.
The clouds yearn for her garments, the flowers for her face; the spring breeze caresses the balustrade, heavy with dew. If not seen atop Mount Qunyu, she will surely be met beneath the moon on the Jade Terrace.
She grew up in the palace and heard countless flattering words. Court officials praised her for her dignity, and noble ladies lauded her for her gentleness.
But those words were all spoken from a distance, polite and considerate. No one ever looked at her with such eyes, nor did anyone use such verses to describe her.
She looked down at the cloth bag in her arms, her lips unconsciously curving into a smile. She buried her face in Sizi's little cloak and secretly laughed.
A gentle evening breeze lifted the carriage curtain, carrying the fresh scent of the mountains and fields. She pulled the cloth bundle closer to her chest, silently reciting that line of poetry over and over in her mind.
It turns out that being looked at like this by someone is such a good thing.
Unbeknownst to her, an undercurrent surrounding the farm's fine wines was already quietly brewing within the elite circles of Chang'an. A storm was brewing, and the peaceful rural life was destined to be shattered.
On the third day of the sixth month of the ninth year of Zhenguan, Chang'an was as hot as an upside-down steamer.
The locust tree leaves on both sides of Zhuque Street were curled up, the cicadas' chirping had died down, and only the cicadas were still screeching at the top of their lungs.
Changsun Wuji sat in his study. The ice mirror in front of him had melted more than half of its contents. Water droplets condensed on the edge of the copper basin dripped down, hitting the blue brick floor, and were quickly evaporated by the summer heat.
He didn't look through the documents or review the memorials from the Secretariat; he just sat quietly, his fingers pressing on a thin secret report for a long time.
The handwriting on the secret report was extremely neat, only a few lines long, yet he had been reading it since dawn.
"Cheng Chumo has been making frequent trips to the residences of nobles and dignitaries, bringing his privately brewed fine wines to place high-priced orders. Yuchi Gong, Qin Shubao, and Fang Xuanling have all placed orders with hefty sums."
The source of the wine points directly to an unnamed farm outside Lantian City. Furthermore, Cheng Yaojin has close ties with the farm owner, entrusting his eldest son with full management; the details remain unclear.
His face was expressionless.
The old steward, who had served him for over a decade, brought in freshly brewed tea, glanced at him, and then quietly withdrew—he had followed Changsun Wuji for so long that he knew all too well what this absolute tranquility meant.
Changsun Wuji carefully folded the secret report and placed it into a locked sandalwood box, his movements unhurried and deliberate.
Then he picked up the teacup, stirred the tea gently with a teaspoon, and took a small sip. The tea was this year's new tea, made with snow water transported from Zhongnan Mountain, and had a refreshing taste.
As he sipped his tea, the corners of his mouth even curled up slightly, as if he were enjoying this moment of leisure.
But his thoughts were no longer on the tea.
More than half a month has passed. Ever since Chang Le first took the baby out of the palace, ever since the Empress started drinking those medicinal teas of unknown origin, ever since Cheng Yaojin's old fox son, Cheng Chumo, suddenly started running towards Lantian—he has been watching.
He remained silent, offering no further questions, simply observing. Having stood in the imperial court for so many years, his greatest skill lay in discerning every single piece on the chessboard before anyone else could react.
But looking doesn't mean not moving.
He has to move. But how to move, and to where to stop, is what really needs to be considered.
The current situation in the court is both complex and simple.
Since His Majesty ascended the throne, the most crucial power struggle in the court has involved only two forces.
One group consists of the Guanzhong nobility—the old guard who followed His Majesty from Jinyang to the Xuanwu Gate.
Cheng Yaojin, Yuchi Gong, Qin Shubao, Fang Xuanling, and Changsun Wuji. This force, holding military power and occupying key positions, is the foundation upon which Your Majesty secures your rule.
Another group consists of the powerful clans of Shandong—the Cui, Lu, Li, Zheng, and Wang families—which have existed for hundreds of years.
They held sway over the local areas, controlled the cultural traditions, and formed their own independent entity in the imperial court. Even His Majesty's compilation of the "Clan Records" could not truly break their backs.
These two forces, outwardly serving as co-rulers, have been secretly vying for power for decades.
The newly rich in Guanzhong disliked the old aristocratic families for being conservative, pedantic, and arrogant; the old aristocratic families disliked the newly rich in Guanzhong for their humble origins and nouveau riche manner.
Your Majesty's methods have always been brilliant—using talented people from aristocratic families to enrich the court and counterbalance the expansion of the Guanzhong military group, while using the military power of Guanzhong to deter aristocratic families and prevent them from becoming too powerful.
With both sides checking and balancing each other, the imperial power remained as stable as Mount Tai.
In this game of chess, Changsun Wuji's position is extremely special. He is both the core of the Guanzhong region and the head of the imperial relatives.
His Majesty's trust in him was earned through decades of sharing life and death hardships. This trust is his core source of confidence.
However, the Guanzhong Plain was never a monolithic entity.
He and Cheng Yaojin fought side by side for decades.
From fighting Wang Shichong to fighting Dou Jiande, from the Xuanwu Gate Incident to the Zhenguan era, their camaraderie was genuine.
When dealing with the powerful families of Shandong, their stance was genuine—they, like Cheng Yaojin, looked down on the aloofness and arrogance of those families who believed in marrying women from five prominent families.
When His Majesty wanted to compile the "Genealogy of Clans," the Cui family ranked the imperial family genealogy in the third category, causing an uproar throughout the court. It was he and his old brothers, including Cheng Yaojin, who stood before His Majesty and strongly advocated suppressing the Cui family.
In this matter, they are comrades-in-arms, allies, and fellow countrymen who jointly defend the foundation of Guanzhong.
But everyone has selfish desires, and he knew that his selfish desires were even stronger.
What Changsun Wuji wanted was His Majesty's unique trust, a trust that could be passed down to the next generation and the generation after that, allowing the Changsun family to forever remain at the core of the court.
Cheng Yaojin, that seemingly rough and shrewd old fox, is actually more cunning than anyone else.
What he wanted was for his Duke Lu's mansion to remain safe and sound, for his sons to be able to stand firm in the court, and for his brothers in Guanzhong to not be at a disadvantage in the next round of power reshuffling.