Chapter 106: Driven by Greed Alone

The matters that Wei Linglan referred to as right or wrong were far from trivial.

The origin of the trouble lay with Zhao Hengyi. It was because his earlier poem, "Jade Green Tune: Eternal Legacy," had spread to the capital that some opportunists began to entertain bizarre ideas.

On that day, Su Shenchang, the magistrate of Jiangling Prefecture, publicly celebrated Consort Chen’s birthday from afar. The entire city of Jiangling was festooned with lanterns and decorations, more festive than even the New Year, becoming something of a laughingstock in official circles.

Yet Su Shenchang achieved his goal. Despite countless people’s disdain—whether sincere or feigned—he won favor with the sovereign and firmly attached the label of Consort Chen’s supporter to himself. In the court of the Great Yan Kingdom, he was almost invincible.

But the true sensation that day was not this magistrate who shamelessly tossed aside his dignity, but rather Zhao Hengyi, the poet behind the "Jade Green Tune."

The impact of this poem extended far beyond scholarly circles, surpassing what later generations would call cultural domains. Opportunists used it as a tool for political maneuvering.

These opportunists earned their name precisely because their methods were more outrageous, more unorthodox, and more unpredictable—defying conventions and propriety!

However, when they succeeded, the benefits they reaped far exceeded those of ordinary people.

Within the court, a group of officials—whether blinded by greed or deliberately incited by hidden forces—submitted a memorial to the sovereign, citing Zhao Hengyi’s "Jade Green Tune: Eternal Legacy" as proof that Consort Chen was the true choice of the people, urging the sovereign to depose the empress and establish a worthy successor.

The memorial bore the signatures of twenty-eight officials of varying rank. The entire court and capital were shaken. Even the barbarian invasions on the frontier, the pillaging of the people, and the seizure of granaries and wealth were overshadowed by the issue of deposing the empress.

Those who demanded the empress’s removal had no real intention of stopping there—their true aim was to secure Consort Chen’s complete ascendance, granting her control over the harem.

Such a matter—deposing and installing an empress—was, after all, a private affair within the sovereign’s household. For it to become so incendiary was unprecedented in the history of the Great Yan Kingdom.

In its three centuries since founding, never had an external official so brazenly interfered in the affairs of the harem.

These officials who submitted the memorial had indeed opened a historic precedent for the Great Yan Kingdom.

Though Consort Chen enjoyed exclusive favor in the harem, her foundation remained unstable. She lacked powerful relatives to back her, and the sovereign was young, having recently ascended the throne. Therefore, the effort to depose the empress stood no chance of success.

Even those officials who signed the memorial likely understood this. Their goal was not to succeed immediately but to manipulate the momentum. By placing the topic of deposing the empress before the court for formal discussion, what once seemed impossible might find an opportunity to succeed.

The biggest obstacle was that the empress had committed no misconduct. There was no legitimate pretext under ritual law to remove her.

Although the memorial sparked a moderate debate, it was swiftly rejected by the Three Departments, and all twenty-eight signatories were reprimanded.

Nevertheless, this did not diminish Consort Chen’s arrogance. It also provided her with a new strategy.

A poem written by a country nouveau riche, no matter how brilliant, would ultimately have limited influence among scholars.

But if this country nouveau riche were to transform into a leading literary figure of the age, then the weight of his "Jade Green Tune: Eternal Legacy" would be entirely different.

The early summer moon-viewing poetry gathering was, in essence, Consort Chen’s deliberate move to build momentum.

If Zhao Hengyi truly possessed unparalleled talent, she would find a way to bring him into her fold, letting him rally support for her outside the court.

If the poem was merely a brilliant but solitary work, then under Jiangling Prefecture’s governance of Su Shenchang, she would cultivate a group of literati who would champion her cause.

Consort Chen’s strategy was cunning. Riding the wave of Su Shenchang’s recent pledge of loyalty, she sought to unify the voices of Jiangling’s literati, eventually enabling the lower ranks to influence officials from Jiangling, shaping their thoughts and words.

Consort Chen’s power was evident to all with insight. As long as the young sovereign reigned, this favored consort would remain glorious. The empress’s throne was hers to claim sooner or later, and the officials who sided with her would inevitably form a considerable faction within the court.

Yet Consort Chen’s eagerness proved somewhat excessive. What should have been a smooth and natural process turned into a fierce court dispute, arousing the displeasure of seasoned ministers who deemed her reckless and imprudent.

As a woman likely to dominate the harem for decades, she naturally attracted clever minds to her side. It was only after their counsel that Consort Chen dispatched a special envoy to Jiangling.

Though the envoy traveled under another pretext, the true purpose was the early summer moon-viewing poetry gathering held that evening.

The intricacies of this arrangement gave Zhao Hengyi a headache, but also made him understand the connections. He even felt that the envoy and Consort Chen could be of use.

Now that he and his companions had safely arrived in Jiangling, while his personal bodyguard—among the few equals in the Great Yan Kingdom—had not yet returned to report to Prince Qi, as Prince Qi likely suspected.

Meanwhile, Jiangling Magistrate Su Shenchang, involved behind the scenes in dealings with the barbarians, was intent on eliminating Zhao Hengyi. Under such circumstances, Jiangling was nothing less than a den of dragons and tigers for Zhao Hengyi.

This was the domain of Su Shenchang and Prince Qi, and they had countless means to deal with him.

To gain official protection and prevent Su Shenchang and Prince Qi from openly targeting him, establishing a connection with Consort Chen’s envoy was a prudent safeguard.

Yet there was a hurdle: Consort Chen’s own brother, Chen Yongzhong, had taken military honors from Zhao Hengyi in Yonggu City. A normal person would assume Zhao harbored resentment.

Zhao Hengyi’s paramount task was to shape his image as a man devoted to climbing the ladder of power and fortune, rather than a resentful adversary.

If the outside world saw him as a self-serving opportunist, his kowtowing and alliance with Consort Chen would seem natural—even admirable—as a shrewd man recognizing the times.

Looking at Wei Linglan’s half-smile, Zhao Hengyi suddenly felt enlightened.

Such a formidable lord of Xiangcheng sat right before him, yet he had been racking his brains for other solutions—a sheer folly!

“County Lord, are you interested in the business of Nine-Flower Jade Dew? The family urgently needs funds. Would you kindly help and take a thirty percent stake?”