Chapter 7: The Assessment Duel

In recent years, the old emperor’s health had steadily declined. Though he tried to conceal his condition, everyone could tell from his increasingly gray hair and hunched frame that he was far from well. Should the emperor suddenly pass from this world, the vast realm of Great Qin could never be entrusted to a crown prince who was foolish, dull-witted, and weak.

That was why, in today’s court assembly, all the ministers and officials had united to earnestly implore the old emperor to appoint a new crown prince. He vehemently resisted their petitions, arguing until he coughed up blood. Yet the court showed him no mercy—the weaker his health, the more urgent they deemed the need to change the line of succession.

Now, upon hearing the emperor broach the matter of the regency, everyone present brightened, already calculating who might be entrusted with such power. The Grand Secretary, Li Chengyun, exchanged glances with the Grand Preceptor, Grand Tutor, and Grand Guardian; the meaning in their eyes was unspoken, yet clear. Though each of them harbored their own ambitions and favored different candidates for the crown prince, they would all oppose with all their might if the emperor sought to make the crown prince, Zhao Su, regent.

Three years of idiocy had rendered the crown prince unfit for governance, even if he appeared recovered today. Who could say the malady would not recur? The empire of Great Qin could not be placed in the hands of a fool.

The emperor did not immediately declare who would act as regent; instead, he announced, “Su’er, Fourth, Sixth—there are brushes and ink on your desks. Within one hour, each of you shall write your policies for governing as regent. Whoever excels in this contest shall be granted the authority of regency.”

At these words, Fourth Prince Zhao Yu and Sixth Prince Zhao Heng’s eyes lit up with excitement. For three years, they had often entered the cabinet to learn statecraft, their handling of memorials frequently earning their father’s praise. Meanwhile, the crown prince had languished in his illness, neglecting his studies and never managing affairs of state. This examination, then, was a clear advantage for them.

Zhao Su was at a loss—how was he to compose national policy, when he could barely write the script, much less the archaic style required?

The Duke of Wei noticed the prince’s troubled expression and hurried forward. “Your Majesty, His Highness the Crown Prince has not participated in state affairs these past three years. Is it appropriate to test him in this way…?”

He hoped the emperor might alter the examination, for the current method placed the crown prince at a clear disadvantage.

Before he could finish, Grand Secretary Li Chengyun interjected, “Duke of Wei, is there any fault in His Majesty’s command that the three princes write their policies for governance?”

Just as the duke was about to retort, the emperor said, “Yuchi, step back. The examination shall proceed as planned.”

The old emperor had spoken, and the Duke of Wei dared not object further. He withdrew, troubled. He had believed that with the prince’s recovery, the regency would be a matter of course. He had not expected this turn of events.

In his mind, the crown prince, after three wasted years, could never compare to the clever Fourth and Sixth Princes. It seemed that not only would the regency slip away, but even the title of crown prince was in grave jeopardy.

“So, Father wishes not to let the crown prince become regent either,” thought Zhao Yu and Zhao Heng, exchanging glances and sharing the same realization. Seeing Zhao Su’s forlorn expression only made them more self-assured, eager to seize this opportunity and become regent in their own right.

For years, the Sixth Prince had studied statecraft under the Grand Guardian, Yu Wen Chengshun, even participating in cabinet affairs. Thus, he approached the examination with complete confidence. The Fourth Prince was no less prepared, considering only the Sixth Prince a true rival—Zhao Su was already dismissed in their minds.

The three princes seated themselves at separate desks. Zhao Yu and Zhao Heng immediately unfurled their papers and began writing, their years of immersion in the cabinet making them fluent in the art of governance. Their pens flew across the page, filling thousands of characters within half an hour.

By contrast, Crown Prince Zhao Su struggled even to hold the brush, as though he had forgotten how to write. Seeing this, the other two princes grew even more complacent. In their minds, Zhao Su was no threat; so long as they outperformed each other, regency and the crown prince’s title would fall into their hands.

Grand Secretary Li Chengyun watched as the Fourth Prince’s brush never paused, nodding in satisfaction as he stroked his beard. On the other side, Grand Tutor Yu Wen Cheng, hands clasped behind his back, regarded the Sixth Prince with approval. After three years of careful instruction, the Sixth Prince’s progress was evident to all.

But when he looked at Zhao Su, still hesitating over how to begin, he could not help but shake his head and sigh. Though he was meant to be the crown prince’s teacher, at this moment, he could only say: Sixth Prince Zhao Heng possesses the bearing of a true emperor.

The Duke of Wei was anxious to the point of despair. If he could, he would have written the policy essay for Zhao Su himself. It was over, all over. Daughter, forgive your father—for I have failed to protect your son’s place as crown prince. Tears welled in his eyes as guilt for his departed daughter overwhelmed him.

An hour can feel both long and short. When two sticks of incense had burned to their end, Eunuch Li looked to the emperor and, upon receiving a nod, announced, “Time is up. Your Highnesses, please put down your brushes.”

All three complied. Fourth Prince Zhao Yu and Sixth Prince Zhao Heng stood, their clothes spotless, while Crown Prince Zhao Su’s face was smeared comically with black ink.

The courtiers, seeing this, struggled to suppress their laughter, their bellies aching with the effort.

Duke Yuchi of Wei sighed, knowing the outcome was sealed.

Eunuch Li hurried forward, offering a towel for Zhao Su to wipe the ink from his face. The prince blushed, cleaning himself slowly. He had never practiced calligraphy; to have written anything at all was an achievement, and the ink-splattered face could be overlooked.

The old emperor watched, torn. Though he doted on Zhao Su and wished to pass the throne to him, for the sake of Great Qin he could only choose a ruler capable of righting wrongs and making up for his own failings.

He knew he was not suited to rule; he knew his people had not prospered under his reign. But what could he do? He had tried his best. The late emperor had left him as the sole heir; though he never wished to rule, he was forced onto the throne.

If there is another life, he would rather roam the rivers and mountains, savoring the beauty of Great Qin.

He looked over his three sons. “Which of you will present your essay first?”

The three exchanged glances. Custom dictated the crown prince should go first, but hope in him had faded—thus, the emperor did not call on him.

Fourth Prince Zhao Yu stepped forward eagerly. “Father, please review your son’s essay first,” he said, presenting his work with both hands for the emperor to read.