My father ordered me to kill the emperor, but His Majesty bestowed a princess upon me instead.

Pei Shen requested to resign as Grand Secretary, but the Emperor did not immediately grant his request. The reason was simple: resigning from office could not replace writing down what one had done. Pei Shen stood in the Imperial Study with his resignation letter in hand and asked, "Can I leave after I finish writing this?" The Emperor replied, "Read the page." I think he's been using those two words quite often lately.

In the past, emperors would say, "I know." Now they say, "Let's see." It's not necessarily more sophisticated, but it's certainly slower. Pei Shen's forte used to be "first." First, seal the doors. First, continue the medicine. First, keep the people in line. First, prevent chaos in the court. Then, once things stabilized, slowly investigate who was right and who was wrong.

This method has saved many lives in emergencies, but it has also burdened many people. The late Empress's second dose was one of the most severe cases. Pei Shen ultimately did not leave by resigning. He first listed all the old precedents, lockdowns, imperial pronouncements, and drug controversies he had handled.

Some of these actions weren't crimes. Some were mistakes. Some even seemed like the safest solutions at the time. But being safe doesn't mean avoiding the consequences. After reviewing the documents, the emperor dismissed him from his position as Grand Secretary. He was barred from holding any important post for three years. A portion of the related assets was used for the restoration of the nineteen children and the victims of the old palace.

When Pei Shen received the imperial edict, he only asked, "Can the old precedents still be followed?" The emperor replied, "You can consider it. One person can't make the decision alone." Pei Shen actually smiled. "I'm used to it." "Change it." "Yes."

On the other side, Seventeen was also preparing to leave Yong'an. He sat in front of that blank name page for three days. In the end, he didn't use Shen An. Nor did he continue to call him only Seventeen. He wrote: Qing Gui. A Liu asked, "What does that mean?" Qing Gui said, "I don't know."

Ah Liu was stunned. "You don't even know the meaning of a name?" "I like it first." "That's fine too." "Qing" was a character he chose himself. "Gui" doesn't mean returning to the Shen family or the Wang family. He said he just wanted that in the future, if someone asked, "Where are you from?", he could answer, "From my own side."

I find it a bit convoluted. But it's his name, not my concern. His mother didn't acknowledge him as her son. Qinggui didn't ask any more questions. He only asked if he could stay in Yong'an to work. "What can you do?" Cao Shun asked. "Make boxes." "What kind of boxes?"

"The dark layer can't be opened," Cao Shun thought for a moment. "That's exactly what we need." So he stayed. A person raised to live for me, ending up as a transparent wooden box. It's kind of funny. It's also good. Shi Ping returned to Qingxia. Not as "the second Shen An."

His father gave him a restricted military post. He was only allowed to check routes, not contents. There had to be another person present. On the first day, he missed an hour, and his father returned the entire page. Shi Ping asked, "Why can't I make it up?" His father replied, "You used to be too good at making things up."

When this news reached the capital, I read it three times. My father's scolding is starting to have some merit now. Shen Lu's situation is even more troublesome. He used the genuine seal to travel through many official post stations, knowing that some of the procedures were suspicious, but still used the excuse of "fear of delay" to get people to let him pass. Just because the seal was eventually returned doesn't mean that nothing happened in between.

He was sentenced to prison. But for the first time in prison, he was allowed to write letters using his own name. He wouldn't hang Shen An's name. He wouldn't use box number nine. Every letter was simply addressed to: Shen Lu. Ah He had no criminal record. He had been confined to the voice room for a long time and had also answered many questions for the "Emperor".

Some of these actions had consequences. But he didn't choose to leave at the time, nor did he know their full purpose. Therefore, all those consequences cannot be attributed to him as his crime. What he truly needed was to leave. On his first trip out of the palace, he didn't go to Yong'an. He went to the riverbank outside the capital.

I walked with him for a while. Ah Liu went too. The river wasn't wide. In autumn, the water was shallow, and there weren't even any boats. Ah He stood on the bank and looked for a long time. "Is this the river?" "Yes." "Wider than a copper pipe." Ah Liu wanted to say something, but I stopped him. That was enough.

He crouched down and put his hand in the water. The water flowed past, leaving nothing behind. That evening, Qinggui also arrived. The two had lived in the same windowless room when they were children, but hadn't seen each other for many years. Upon meeting, there was no hug. Nor was there any crying. Ahe asked first, "Are you Seventeen?"

"Before." "I was one." "Before." "Now?" "Qinggui." "Ahe." Then there was silence. A-Liu was getting impatient. "You haven't seen each other for eleven years, don't you want to say more?" Ahe said, "I haven't said anything before either."

Qinggui picked up a stone and threw it into the water. The two sat for half an hour. Neither of them was forced to transform their "shared suffering" into brotherly affection. They could decide for themselves whether or not to continue their relationship. This could be considered a form of repayment. The first page of Nineteen Tong's story was reopened.

Eleven individuals have been found so far. Two are highly confirmed dead. Two are suspected to be the individuals in question, but refuse to be identified. One has left the country. Three are missing. Three spaces remain empty. Ah Liu looked for a long time. "After investigating for so long, it's still empty?" "Yeah." "What should we do?" "Leave it empty."

This time, he didn't ask why. Because we'd seen far too many dead names stuffed in to make the paper look nicer. One child, confirmed dead, had his old name, Liu He, retrieved. Another had no surname. He'd only written two characters on the back of his loose-leaf paper: Chunshi.

The clerk asked if they wanted a surname added. No one agreed. He only kept Chunshi, so he wrote Chunshi. Surnames unknown remained unknown. The nineteen people didn't become a family. Nor did they become a team of witnesses. They were merely nineteen people who had been used together.

Not because all the cells are filled. Precisely because someone finally left it empty.

It rained the day the last batch of grain from Jiangbei arrived in Yong'an. Not a heavy rain, just a drizzly, annoying downpour. The grain sacks had to be wrapped in an extra layer of oilcloth, and the scales had to be moved into the porch. My mother stood at the warehouse door, checking each sack. My father was there too. The two of them didn't stand together.

This is normal. The thing they agree on most right now is that they don't think others should stand together again. The emperor's debt of one thousand shi to Jiangbei has finally been paid. When the last ten shi were put into the granary, someone from the Ministry of Revenue came to ask if they wanted to erect a plaque that read "Imperial Grace Repays Grain".

My mother said, "No need." "Then what should I write?" "The owed grain has been repaid." "Should I express gratitude?" "I repaid the debt with grain, what is there to thank?" The official from the Ministry of Revenue looked at me. I lowered my head and drank my tea. It's best not to speak at times like this. The emperor himself was not present, but after hearing the report, he only wrote one word.

Accurate. Ah Liu was deeply moved after reading it. "His Majesty also writes short ones." "He used to write even shorter ones." "What did he write before?" "Kill." Ah Liu felt that things were better now. The grain requisition for his father's military tent had also been settled. The most troublesome thing was his mother's personal debt.

She participated in the grain transfer back then, and the Southwest Army actually received forty-nine shi (a unit of dry measure) of it. Her father had always wanted to return it on her behalf, but her mother had always refused. This time, the matter was finally resolved. The forty-nine shi received by the military was returned by the military accountant. Her mother's responsibility for making the grain transfer decision back then remained.

She only needed to pay her own share. In the end, there were seventy-eight bushels left. After reading the new page, the father asked, "Does this count as a payment?" "No," the mother said. "Why?" "You should pay yours back." "You should pay yours back," the father nodded.

Then I took out the second piece of paper. Marriage certificate. Ah Liu wanted to back out as soon as he saw it, but I stopped him. "Young master, this is a family matter." "You've already heard over two hundred chapters about family matters." "What chapters?" "Nothing much." After his mother was written to be dead, his father never remarried.

So in some old records, as long as Mother's name was changed back to "alive," she automatically became Mrs. Shen again. Mother never acknowledged it. Father used to think that since the marriage certificate wasn't dissolved, she was still considered alive. Now he finally brought it to correct it.

Gu Qinghe herself is alive. Her former marital relationship with Shen Lie will not be automatically renewed due to their long-term separation and her explicit refusal to resume it. Her kinship with Shen Anzhi, their son, will not change due to their marital status. After reading this, her mother asked, "Do you agree?" Her father replied, "You do not agree to renew it."

"So?" "So we won't reinstate it." "And you?" Father paused. "I agree with your disagreement." Everyone around fell silent. It was a convoluted statement. But coming from Father, it was already quite unusual. Mother signed. Father signed too.

I didn't sign. Ah Liu asked, "Young master, you don't need it?" "I'm not on their marriage certificate." "But you're their son." "A son isn't responsible for whether his parents get married or not." Xiao Lingyi later heard about this and commented, "Finally, there's a problem you don't want to deal with."

I think she was praising me. I'm not entirely sure. My father stayed in Yong'an for three days. The first day he delivered military tents. The second day he helped Cao Shun move grain for half a day. Cao Shun paid him according to the wages for an ordinary able-bodied laborer. My father held that pay slip for a long time. "Also recorded?"

Cao Shun said, "Even the general taking up a spot while moving grain takes up a person's place." Surprisingly, his father didn't get angry. On the third day, he brought nothing. He only stood under the grain ration board for a while. His mother asked, "Finished looking?" "Yes." "Then let's go." His father really left.

Before leaving, he left behind a ten-liter wooden measuring cup. His mother sent someone to chase after him and inquire about its origin. His father replied, "Shen Lie." So, the cup was inscribed on the bottom: "Made by Shen Lie, for Gu Qinghe's personal grain repayment, not to offset Shen Lie's responsibility." Only then did his mother accept it. It was not a gift for their remarriage.

It was just a measure with its origin clearly stated. The matter of Jiangbei grain was gradually being resolved, but the court still had one unavoidable problem. What if the emperor truly fell ill to the point of being unable to govern? The old precedent of three days of illness had proven too dangerous. Abolishing the old precedent didn't mean the emperor would never fall ill again.

The Court of Imperial Clan Affairs quickly split into three factions. One faction wanted Emperor Zhaoning to oversee the country. Another faction wanted the Secretariat to deliberate. The third faction urged the emperor to establish a male member of the imperial clan as heir apparent. After listening, Xiao Lingyi only asked one question: "Why are all three factions looking for the same person first?" The old official of the Court of Imperial Clan Affairs was stunned.

"Someone has to make the decision." "Ordinary government affairs are handled by government offices." "What about important orders?" "Wait if you can." "Can't wait?" "Clearly state the specific matters, deadlines, and the person responsible for review, then grant temporary authorization." "Urgent border report?" "The original commanding officer should handle it according to their existing authority. If it requires exceeding authority, then review it concurrently."

She refused to accept being automatically granted the entire power of medical care simply because her mother was dead, her father was ill, and she had investigated the case. Nor did she accept being excluded with a single word simply because she was a woman. The Emperor asked, "Do you want it?" Xiao Lingyi answered quickly, "It depends on what it is."

"If it's the world?" "Which world?" The emperor stared at her for a long time. "You and Shen An are getting more and more annoying." "Father chose the consort himself." I lowered my head beside him. This time it has nothing to do with me. The final decision was a trial period of one hundred and eighty days.

For four types of serious orders—murder, imprisonment, sealing off important tents, and large-scale troop mobilization—facts and authority must be verified through multiple channels; urgent matters can be handled concurrently, and the phrase "too late" cannot be used to skip over them. After reviewing the trial version, the emperor asked, "What if it truly is too late?"

"Then write down clearly why it's too late," I said. "You must respond?" "Yes." Xiao Lingyi smiled from the side. "He'll be upset if he doesn't respond." The emperor looked at us coldly. "You two are a good match." The court was silent for a moment.

This was the first time he publicly acknowledged our marriage. Ah Liu later asked me, "Young Master, does this count as another imperial decree?" "No." "Then why were they laughing?" "Because they were bored." Xiao Lingyi didn't laugh. After the court session, she only said to me, "Settle the remaining accounts."

"Hmm." "Don't die." "Try your best." She's more like a regent than a ruler.