An elbow rammed right into Shan Si's side, forcing him to direct his attention to the culprit, Wan Mie.
He sat next to Shan Si, as still as a statue, and it was as if he hadn't just inflicted damage against this small, shivering creature. Hands placed on his knees, Wan Mie's eyes rolled toward Shan Si, knowing fully well his intent.
Those eyes read: "Keep it up, and it won't just be me on the emperor's mind tonight."
"Ugh…" Shan Si broadened his shoulders and upheld his posture enough that his back felt like it would snap in half at any moment. Nonetheless, he still had to play the part of a proud prince. Enough to bore his father into looking elsewhere.
"Back straightened, posture upright, and wipe that wretched scowl off your face! Show no emotion," Wan Mie whispered through his teeth, his eyes turning back to the ceremony. He managed to keep his voice so low, Shan Si wasn't sure if he heard his uncle speak or misconstrued the inaudible prayers murmuring through the Hall.
"Are you or are you not the Crowned Prince, Your Highness?" Wan Mie added.
Clumsily, Shan Si adhered to Wan Mie's orders, but he was lacking in all areas of poise, especially given how horribly his side throbbed after impact. His hands trembled against his knees, and his face scrunched like a man trying to swallow the world's most bitter tea.
A gentle sigh blew past Wan Mie's lips at Shan Si's struggle. "Awful. I'm a dead man at this point. My beloved nephew wishes to see his old uncle dead."
Directing his attention back to the prayer led by Weng Jing, Shan Si took Wan Mie's defeat as permission to speak. In an attempt to mimic Wan Mie's volume, though not as elegantly, he said, "It's been three days already. How much longer do we have to sit here, Uncle Mie?"
"Master. Uncle's preserved for when it's only the two of us," Wan Mie instructed, sending a pulse through Shan Si's already throbbing head. "This should be the last day. Ugh, even looking at the back of his head makes me writhe in disgust. I might actually have to dip my head into a pot of sacrificial blood after this, perhaps find a charming demon lady and ask her to take me."
Shan Si's entire body froze before his lip lifted. No thanks! He didn't want to hear this! So, he directed his eyes straight at the source of Wan Mie's displeasure.
Prostrated ahead of the mass of nobles sat Weng Jing. He was stationed just before a statue, and it was his duty to lead this so-called glorious occasion.
A procession, so said his father—a ceremony which had been held for three days and three nights, necessary for any Daoist priest who wished for the title Imperial Preceptor. Even worse was the outfit he wore, which barely complimented Weng Jing in the slightest.
Shan Si didn't quite grasp the entire fuss, but if there was one thing he understood, it was that this entire ordeal was fucking bothersome.
Wan Mie glanced at Shan Si from the corner of his eye, watching his face scrunch with complete disgust. Unsure whether it was directed at the Daoist bastard or himself, he simply let out a hollow laugh.
A wry smile curled his lips for a split second, only to simmer back to reality.
"Tsk, seems liquor'll have to suffice this old man."
Like his uncle, Shan Si also couldn't stand Weng Jing, so half of his disgust was truly positioned toward him, the other half at his Wan Mie. The problem with Weng Jing, in Shan Si's opinion, was that he was nothing more than an uptight bootlicker with grimy hands. Since being appointed by his father a few years prior, this good-for-nothing Daoist often used that superiority to push past boundaries.
Shan Si's lips tugged into another short-lived scowl, slumping forward in his detest as he delved deeper into his unpalatable thoughts.
"!!" Another jab to his bruised ribs and Shan Si was forced to snap back into place. He snarled under his breath, "I get it! Stop!"
Wan Mie didn't blink once and feigned nonchalance, muttering, "The sage has in the world an appearance of indecision, and keeps his mind in a state of indifference to all."
Bullshit scriptures. Muscles stiffening, Shan Si's expression twitched at every attempt to keep a straight face. He was simply reaching his wit's end! "I still have two years before I can even join you all in court. Why do I have to be here? I don't see any of the princesses or Second Brother Han here, so why me?"
"Oftentimes I find myself yearning for a reality where His Highness acted more his age and not like some old geezer with a bad back. I swear, it's uncanny,' Wan Mie muttered under his breath before answering, "You're the Crowned Prince, which means you're in line to succeed the throne. Given Master Weng's promotion then he'll be your Imperial Teacher and guide you through every single decision you make. This is merely to show face, think nothing of it, Your Highness."
The twitching increased. "Okay. If I'm meant to be emperor, then I'll just fire him. Is there any point to me being here if he's going to be canned? Huh? Sounds dumb now, doesn't it?"
"Sure, sure, save me the trouble." Wan Mie's expression still remained straight-faced, despite his ever-growing urge to burst out laughing. "Let's just hope he's not favoured by the nobles before you become emperor. All good men are wise men, but not all wise men are good men. Once we attend Imperial Court, it'll be easier to make a fool out of him."
"What's the point of being an emperor if the emperor is just bound by demand? If I don't like something, then I should be allowed to get rid of it." Shan Si sulked. "Besides, what use are demands? What good does it offer me?"
"Hm." Wan Mie asked, "Why do we pray?"
"…" Shan Si paused. "Because we're scared?"
It was getting harder and harder for Wan Mie to remain composed. He cleared his throat cautiously before speaking.
"That's one reason. Most prayers are stationed around wants, specifically desires. Desire is something dictated by circumstances, fuelled with authority," Wan Mie explained. "A God is granted the ability, depending on their position, to heed the prayers that mortal man cannot fully realise themselves."
"But what does any of this have to do with canning Master Weng? Do I need heaven's permission to beat someone?"
Wan Mie ignored him. "How are gods established?"
"…" Shan Si had no answer because he didn't know the answer. Therefore, he kept his mouth shut. None of this was about beating that Daoist bastard up, so what was the point?
"They're established based on their worshipers," Wan Mie finally answered. "Now tell me, Your Highness, how should a god keep his worshipers?"
"…" Shan Si still didn't have the answer; he just pursed his lips and squinted at his uncle. Naturally, his uncle would be so kind as to answer for him. Such was the curse of hardly paying attention to certain lessons.
"You answer their prayers and make them happy. What happens if the god does as he pleases, ignoring the wishes of his followers?"
"…They die?"
"More or less—they cease to exist. This can happen in a number of ways: replacement, a new god, or one land killing off the worshipers of the other land; war. Gods are reliant on mortal man to survive, but would you say mortal man is above a god?"
"Then yes, they are if they hold the power to kill a god."
"Aha! Right on track!" And yet somehow so far away from the point. A smile swept Wan Mie's lips. "The same goes for an emperor. If you wish to get rid of Master Weng, you'll have to kiss the asses of all those nobles first. Do you understand now, Your Highness? Do you see why your father is a loved man?"
Slightly dumbfounded, Shan Si turned his head back down to his hands. Though he barely understood the explanation, it was clear he had to start gaining the favour of the people around him. Annoying, but not difficult.
Nobles loved people with power, and more so did they love people with power who offered them slivers of it.
Just as the ceremony was coming to a close, Wan Mie made one final statement before ending their conversation. "Your Highness, there's a bit of advice I want to leave you with, between uncle and nephew."
Shan Si paused, bending his neck to look up at him, one hand propped on his knee, ready to push himself off the ground.
Not a trace of emotion ruptured Wan Mie's graceful complexion, yet every word was said with sincerity—as if designed to admonish. "You must remember one thing. You will never be above a god. Understood?"
Shan Si felt his heart throb at Wan Mie's words, and it was the first time he'd ever heard his uncle speak with such disdain. As if possessed.
"Do you understand?" Wan Mie's voice dipped an octave lower, and his stare could have pierced holes through Shan Si.
"I-I get it! Stop that…it's creepy…" Shan Si stammered, shooting up to his feet and turning away from his uncle. Nothing more was said between the two, but the icy chill Shan Si felt remained latched.
As they made their way toward the exit of the Main Hall, Shan Si passed by Empress Wan, Rucun, and Zhuan.
He offered his mother a single sidelong glance, one that was hopeful her smile could warm him up from the frostbitten conversation.
That, however, wouldn't be the case.
Up close, Empress Wan seemed a lesser version of herself, thinner and aged. Though her head was dipped and her lashes sagged, it was strikingly clear that she was anything but happy. The only person to offer Shan Si even a smidgen of a glimpse was Zhuan.
In that very glance he could feel a sense of pity, and he didn't blame her one bit for it one bit.
As the two locked stares, Shan Si's eyes reddened, but he dared not cry in the company of his already withering mother. Darting his head away, he bit down on his tongue and finally came to a decision as he left that hall.
Fuck gods, fuck his father, fuck anyone who tried to intervene. He didn't like the system, and he certainly didn't care for the gods.
In his mind, he only cared about a few things in a world designed to torment him, and those very things stood nearby, yet remained out of reach.
So...if he wanted to give them a good life, then it started with taking his studies seriously and winning over the nobles. Or, in Wan Mie's words, kissing the asses of nobles.
Once he succeeded the throne, he would then gut it from the inside out so that no more suffering could exist in Zhonglai. That's right, he could cleanse the plague that was suffering within this country.
A powerful motivation for a child who had yet to see the state of the world and the complications that existed within it. All he understood was what prevailed within the walls of Jianlai, a city plated in gold, brimmed with beauty.
Chapter end.