Chapter 248: The Atmosphere Of The New Dynasty

“What did he say after he cursed?”

In the gambling den, everyone was engrossed, forgetting to place their bets. When he paused, they grew anxious and pressed him to continue.

Xiao Dingfei’s lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes, forcefully tapping the gambling table with his fingers, loudly reminding the “idle” gamblers: “Get it straight, we’re here to gamble! Do you think I’m some storyteller under the bridge? ‘What happened next’? Place your bets already, what are you waiting for?!”

This was the largest gambling den in the capital.

It attracted all sorts—people from every walk of life.

Xiao Dingfei had long been a regular here, even making a few fair-weather friends. Before the Heavenly Sect and the Xinzhou Army stormed in, the den’s owner, fearing for his life, had packed up and fled the capital. It wasn’t until things settled down recently that he dragged his family back to reopen the place.

No doubt, Xiao Dingfei, bored out of his mind at home, was the first to show up when he heard the news.

The gambling den regained some of its former liveliness.

The crowd, who’d once made merry with him, ignored his protests and urged him to keep talking: “You were the only one in the palace that day, right? We didn’t even dare stay in the capital, let alone witness it. Just tell us, what happened after Lu Xian cursed him?”

Xiao Dingfei glanced around—nobody was betting.

He wished he could go back half an hour and slap himself: *Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut instead of bragging? Now look, no one’s gambling!*

With no other choice, he said irritably, “What else? Yelling like that at a time like that, he nearly got beaten up. No real skills to back it up, just a few moves, and he was dragged out.”

Someone sighed, “To dare curse that person, his guts are something else…”

Another was skeptical: “I’ve been to Youhuang Pavilion before. Boss Lu’s a money-grubber, a sly merchant. ‘Harmony brings wealth,’ right? Cursing someone doesn’t sound like him. You sure you didn’t make this up?”

Xiao Dingfei rolled his eyes, thinking. Truth be told, his memory wasn’t great. Nearly two months had passed, and he couldn’t recall exactly what Lu Xian had said—just the man’s furious face, as if he’d been betrayed.

The questioning made him a bit guilty.

But he was a thick-skinned rogue who’d begged and brawled in the streets. Xiao Dingfei wouldn’t admit it. With a few words, he tried to brush it off, feigning anger: “You want to hear it, but you don’t believe me? Why’re you so hard to please? I said he cursed, so he cursed. If you don’t like it, go find someone else to tell you! Think I’m your storyteller?”

He made a show of leaving.

The crowd in the gambling den wouldn’t let him go.

They quickly pulled him back, coaxing him with kind words.

Xiao Dingfei smoothly played along, resisting a bit before returning to the table.

Finally, the group started gambling again.

But even as they played, their mouths didn’t stop.

After all, what happened two months ago when the Heavenly Sect stormed the capital and entered the palace had spread like wildfire among the common folk. Most of the tales were exaggerated or fabricated, with everyone having their own version of that day.

Some said the emperor was killed by the Heavenly Sect’s leader.

Others said it was Xie Wei himself who did it.

There were even whispers that Princess Leyang had schemed to seize power and orchestrated his death.

But the gamblers weren’t most curious about that.

Someone still couldn’t wrap their head around it: “Sure, the second Miss Jiang being a femme fatale is a given, but why would Lu Xian say she was ‘deceived’?”

Xiao Dingfei thought, *If I knew that much, I’d be a strategist, not sitting here gambling with you!*

He was about to dodge the question when a scholar sitting nearby chuckled and said, “If what Young Master Dingfei says is true, it’s not hard to deduce. For Grand Tutor Xie to take the realm would be as easy as reaching into his pocket. Princess Leyang, with reinforcements at the time, also had the strength to fight. The second Miss Jiang saved the princess, so no matter what, the princess wouldn’t betray her by harming her. But with Grand Tutor Xie, it’s different. If Xie holds the realm, the world might not know peace; if the princess holds it, Xie might not fare well. So, didn’t Miss Jiang have to choose? If she married Xie, the princess, out of love for her, would know her heart belongs to him. No matter how much she dislikes or fears Xie, she wouldn’t settle scores later.”

Xiao Dingfei listened and actually thought it made sense.

The speaker was none other than Weng Ang, a scholar who’d placed second in the imperial exams a few years back and had once had a feud with the Xiao clan. Free-spirited and unconventional, he mingled with butchers and peddlers, never acting like a lofty scholar—an oddity.

But his reasoning hinged on Xiao Dingfei’s story being true.

In fact, the court’s official stance was: Xie Wei and Yan Lin, leading the Xinzhou Army, were loyal forces rushing to the capital to aid the throne. They joined Princess Leyang to crush the tyrannical Heavenly Sect and restore the dynasty. Thus, Xie Wei became Grand Tutor, Yan Lin was made Great General, and the princess temporarily assumed regency.

History books? The victors write them however they please.

Common folk, busy with their lives, didn’t care to question it.

The illiterate gamblers fawned over a scholar like Weng Ang.

After all, that was true insight.

So someone glanced around, leaned in, and whispered, “So, who’ll be emperor in the future?”

Weng Ang, an official in the Hanlin Academy, glanced at the man but didn’t answer.

Xiao Dingfei snorted, “The court’s always bickering—who knows!”

The past two months had brought many changes to the capital.

For instance, the Xiao clan was raided, and everyone surnamed Xiao—except the impostor Xiao Dingfei—met with disaster.

For instance, the body of the former State Preceptor, Monk Yuanji, was found in a mass grave outside the city. No one could trace who killed him, but it turned out he wasn’t a holy monk at all—linked to numerous murders and even guilty of violating women, a beast in human form.

And then…

The emperor’s throne in the Forbidden City had sat empty for two whole months, an unheard-of anomaly in centuries of dynastic history.

Logically, with Shen Lang’s death and the imperial seal in Princess Leyang’s hands, she should have propped up a royal, even a child from the imperial clan as a young emperor, rather than leaving the throne vacant.

But with Xie Ju’an looming, who dared?

Many royals had witnessed the bloody scene in the Taiji Hall that day, scared witless, and dared not act rashly. Besides, with the regent princess above them, they’d need her consent to claim the throne.

So, no one was chosen.

Yet, every day, the realm’s provinces had countless matters needing the court’s mediation. After a war, the people needed recovery—from household registries to taxes to the military, everything required handling.

What to do?

The civil and military officials had to sit down and sort it out together. Led by a few senior cabinet ministers and joined by various department heads, they met daily in the cabinet’s duty room to discuss and draft proposals. Without the emperor’s vermilion brush to approve or stamp, the drafts went to Princess Shen Zhiyi for a cursory review, then were sent unchanged to the ministries and provinces.

At first, the officials found it strange.

But within a month, they realized the emperor’s absence wasn’t as critical as they’d thought. Decrees issued from the Secretariat, bypassing the emperor, were just as effective. Without needing imperial approval, morning memorials could be sent back to localities or subordinates by afternoon—far faster.

With an emperor, even the best ideas got nitpicked, and the emperor’s kin and favored courtiers always needed consideration.

Now? None of that.

Though ranks existed, no one truly dominated. Factions formed quickly, but everyone had a voice, preventing any single authority from monopolizing.

Moreover, a month ago, a cabinet dispute over “whether to plant potatoes or rice in northern Qinhuai” led to such heated arguments that officials grabbed “weapons” and fought. Afterward, the Ministries of Justice and Rites jointly drafted a temporary *Cabinet Ordinance*, changing “proposal drafting” to “voting.”

All in the cabinet had a vote.

Decrees required a majority vote to be issued from the Secretariat to the ministries and provinces, with “brawling” strictly banned, including using rulers, inkstones, tables, chairs, or vases.

Whether the cabinet still fought, Xiao Dingfei didn’t know.

But he figured the emperor’s chances were slim.

At first, the old foxes cried, “The state cannot be without a ruler!” and pushed for an emperor. But this past month, they’d gone silent.

After all, if they could handle everything, why prop up an emperor to lord over them?

It’d just be asking for trouble.

Conveniently, the princess seemed uninterested in legitimizing her half-foreign son, so they all tacitly “forgot” the “earth-shattering” matter of enthroning an emperor.

Xiao Dingfei hadn’t read much and didn’t know what this meant, but since court politics didn’t affect his gambling, he didn’t bother thinking too deeply. He opened his dice cup with a laugh: “See that? Four fives, two sixes! Big win—these coins are mine!”

The crowd cursed.

But a loss was a loss, and they could only watch as he swept the table’s coins into his arms.

Outside, the north wind howled, and a vendor called out, selling hot wontons.

Feeling hungry, Xiao Dingfei leaned out the window to call the vendor for a few bowls. But as he opened his mouth, his gaze shifted, and he froze.

It was Lord Zhang from the Ministry of Justice.

On this cold day, dressed in plain clothes, hands tucked in, he walked down the street.

A few barefoot beggar children with cracked bowls approached him. He paused, looked at them, then pulled out a small amount of silver and some copper coins from his sleeve, placing them in their bowls.

He pointed in a direction, saying something.

The children’s faces lit up with joy. They bowed to him and ran off together.

Xiao Dingfei knew that, after the war’s recovery, the city had many displaced people. In such cold weather, Princess Leyang Shen Zhiyi and the cabinet had proposed setting up porridge shelters funded by the treasury, while re-registering households and resettling refugees.

After discussion, the plan was voted on and passed.

Now, a porridge shelter stood in the city’s east, and the yamen reissued household registries and travel permits for resettlement.

But this Lord Zhang…

Now promoted to Minister of Justice, yet still so unassuming.

Seeing him, Xiao Dingfei couldn’t help but recall two months ago—

In the palace, after a heart-stopping ordeal, the clash of blades faded into nothing.

That young general, after watching for a long time, seemed as if in a dream. Without a smile, he turned and walked against the crowd, not calling a single guard, bearing a weary, weathered air, slowly exiting the palace gates.

When Jiang Xuening saw him, he was already far off.

She didn’t chase after him, just watched from afar, her eyes shimmering with faint light.

Xiao Dingfei still couldn’t describe the strange feeling of that moment: it was as if she wasn’t just watching a person, but gazing at a fading past and former life…

The black-armored troops and Xinzhou Army withdrew from the Forbidden City.

The Heavenly Sect’s rabble was, of course, arrested.

Xie Wei, Shen Zhiyi, and the court officials stayed to discuss matters on the spot, while others couldn’t wait to leave the bloodstained palace. Xiao Dingfei, naturally, slipped away faster than anyone.

But outside the palace, in the streets, chaos reigned.

The bustling capital had become a ghost town.

Inn and pharmacy signs lay shattered on the ground; ornate windows of pleasure houses gaped with holes, a mess; wine shop banners, once fluttering, were trampled in the street, stained with dirty footprints…

It was then that Xiao Dingfei saw Zhang Zhe.

In an abandoned tavern, doors and windows flung open, tables and chairs toppled, dishes smashed on the floor—yet amid the wreckage, a small oasis of order.

One square table, one cup of clear wine.

Lord Zhang sat alone at the table, slowly drinking a pot of wine. After a while, he rose, left a few coins on the dusty counter, and walked out.

The wind-swept streets were empty.

The desolate city felt like a dream.

Yet Zhang Zhe, as if it were any other day, walked through the ruins, turned into a quiet alley, called out, “I’m back,” and pushed open a door to step inside.

That day in the capital, storms brewed, and danger lurked, shifting in an instant.

The fearful either fled or hid at home.

What kind of person, on such a day, would find an empty tavern, quietly sip a cup of wine, leave a few coins, and return home as if nothing had changed?

Xiao Dingfei was lost in thought for a moment.

Someone called, “Young Master Dingfei, what’s up? Still gambling?”

He snapped back.

Looking again, the street was empty—no Lord Zhang, no beggar children, no wonton vendor.

He turned back with a grin: “Nonsense, my luck’s hot today—of course I’m gambling! This time, I’ll have you all stripped to your pants before you leave!”

The crowd jeered.

He didn’t care, happily pocketing his coins and preparing to bet again.

Someone suddenly asked, “By the way, you were always called Xiao Dingfei, fine. But now everyone knows you’re a fake—why keep the name?”

Xiao Dingfei froze.

Who was he?

Rootless, drifting wherever life took him, even his name was scavenged from someone else’s discard.

The gambling den fell briefly silent.

The speaker realized his mistake, growing uneasy.

But the next moment, Xiao Dingfei propped his leg up, smirking shamelessly: “What else? Call myself Zhang Ergou or Li Erdan? How tacky! The name doesn’t matter—what matters is if it gets me free food and drink! This name sounds damn good when the girls at Cuihong Pavilion call it.”

The tense crowd burst into laughter.

The talk shifted to which girl at Cuihong Pavilion was best.

Xiao Dingfei gambled until dusk before planning to head back, mulling over what gift to send for the upcoming wedding of the great beauty and that Xie fellow. But before he could step out of the gambling den, he heard a waiter from the teahouse across the street rush back, excitedly shouting, “News from the court—the second Miss Jiang is to take residence in Kunning Palace!”

“Pfft!”

Xiao Dingfei spat out his tea.

What a joke? They hadn’t even settled on an emperor yet!

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