This Emperor Zhou of Zhou Wu Year One wore his laughter, anger, and curses openly, while the arrogance in his bones still lay dormant. He felt like a stranger to Wu Junji.
Wu Junji was more familiar with the old bastard from Zhou Wu Year Sixteen onward.
By then, Emperor Zhou had reigned for sixteen years and was thirty-seven.
He was in the prime of his life, his ambition vast enough to swallow mountains and rivers.
He was domineering, tyrannical, convinced that he alone reigned supreme.
He was suspicious, arrogant, a peerless master longing for a worthy opponent.
He manipulated power and balanced factions, treating the harem, the court, and every force under heaven as pieces on a board for his amusement. He was so conceited that he believed no one in the world could escape his palm.
He enjoyed watching people flatter him and bow before him for his favor, for a scrap or two of his grace, turning brothers against brothers, kin into enemies, and friends into strangers.
When the familiar faces in Chang'an City could no longer amuse him, he dug up a loach to stir life into the pond.
Wu Junji was that loach.
The transformation from a lowly beggar who never had enough to eat into the exalted heir to the throne-from loach to dragon-had been arduous and painful.
To say he bore no hatred would have been a lie.
Without that hatred, he would never have poisoned the old bastard, then soaked the timber in the imperial mausoleum until it rotted. Once the old bastard was buried, one heavy rain would send him swimming down the river.
He only hoped Number Eight wouldn't bury him with the old bastard. It would be pretty revolting if their coffins drifted together halfway through their swim.
When Wu Junji learned that the old bastard had given birth to him, his hatred suddenly had nowhere to anchor itself.
He couldn't deny that, in his previous life, he had been thrilled and happy when he was named Crown Prince.
He no longer had to fear falling ill, worry about his next meal, dread the bitter winter cold, or hide from constables rounding up men for forced labor digging rivers.
There was no free lunch under heaven. He had known there would be a price, yet swallowed it as gladly as honey. When he later became trapped in the struggle for the throne, he had no right to blame anyone.
Someone changed his clothes and swaddling blanket while the capable eunuch watched from the side and teased him.
"Oh, our little Highness is still feeling wronged."
Only then did Wu Junji realize that tears were running from his eyes.
Emperor Zhou picked him up and wiped his face with a look of distaste.
"You're already this big. How can you be so unable to take a little teasing?"
Wu Junji shuddered and raised his hands, babbling for the capable eunuch to wipe them clean.
His gestures were so obvious that it would have been hard not to understand.
The capable eunuch said playfully, "Your Majesty, our little Highness is asking someone to wipe his hands."
Emperor Zhou was amazed. "He even knows to have his hands wiped?"
Wu Junji babbled in protest. He was little, not stupid!
Emperor Zhou asked curiously, "What's he saying?"
The capable eunuch racked his brains to serve as interpreter.
"Perhaps our little Highness is disagreeing with Your Majesty?"
The little prince kicked his legs excitedly, his cries rising even higher.
Yes, yes, yes!
Emperor Zhou clicked his tongue and said in displeasure,
"You dog of a servant, all you do is make things up. Even I can't understand him, but you can?"
The capable eunuch slapped his own mouth. "Your Majesty is right. This mouth of mine has long deserved a lesson."
Emperor Zhou was twenty-one that year and could wield a forty-jin halberd with tigerish vigor. Holding Wu Junji's little weight was like carrying a plate of food.
He was softer than food and more entertaining, too. Once Emperor Zhou picked him up, he found himself reluctant to put him down.
"I'll stay here tonight and return to the palace tomorrow."
"Replace all three wet nurses. Find new ones at once."
The capable eunuch immediately went to carry out his orders.
Emperor Zhou carried him around everywhere. Wu Junji had never left that room before, so everything he saw was a novelty. Whenever something caught his fancy, he babbled for Emperor Zhou to linger until he'd seen enough.
When he disliked something, he hummed impatiently to hurry him along.
After he repeated this a few times, Emperor Zhou learned to follow his cues with perfect understanding.
Wu Junji admired the scenery; Emperor Zhou admired his reactions.
When he was hungry, had pooped, or had peed, he grumbled and let out a couple of cries. Otherwise, he neither cried nor fussed.
An entire morning passed as they played.
The little head against Emperor Zhou's chest began to nod.
Emperor Zhou shifted from holding him upright to cradling him in his arms.
The little brat disliked the bright sunlight. Grumbling, he buried his face against Emperor Zhou's chest, sucked his fist, made two little sucking noises, and fell asleep.
The child's skin was tender and thin, the fine web of blood vessels on his eyelids showing pink and pale blue.
His breaths were soft and faint. He smelled of milk, and fine down covered his plump cheeks.
Wu Junji wouldn't take plain milk, so he was usually fed a mixture of rice broth and goat's milk. The flesh on him was soft and insubstantial, and he was clearly much smaller than other seven-month-old babies.
Emperor Zhou had only two sons. People inevitably compared, and as he compared them, his heart began to lean toward one.
His eldest son was solidly plump and bursting with health, with a fierce temper that sent him crying at the slightest displeasure.
His cries were loud enough to carry out of Changchun Palace.
He fussed before sleep and had to be held, crying the moment he was put down.
His drool flowed like a waterfall.
Only after seeing such a troublesome child did the one in his arms seem so exceptionally well-behaved and easy to soothe.
Emperor Zhou was decisive in everything he did, yet over this one matter he hesitated again and again. He couldn't get past the barrier in his heart. The little brat's existence reminded him at every moment of those humiliating, dangerous days.
Wait a little longer.
Just this one night. If the little brat fusses too much tonight, I'll throw him away.
If he behaves himself...
When Wu Junji opened his eyes again, his stomach burned with hunger. Someone was changing his diaper. Apparently, he had wet the bed in his sleep.
He opened his eyes and was just about to call for food when a flattened, round feeding bottle with a long spout appeared before him.
Wu Junji opened his mouth, latched onto the spout, and gulped down his meal.
The capable eunuch truly lived up to his name. Before sending the three wet nurses away, he had made sure to ask about every precaution involved in caring for Wu Junji.
The goat's milk and rice broth in the bottle were mixed just right.
If he didn't deserve to be the emperor's personal eunuch, who did?
After finishing his meal, Wu Junji took a close look. The old bastard still hadn't left.
Are you throwing me away or strangling me? Just give me a straight answer.
Wu Junji kicked both legs, rolled himself over, and sulked with his back to the old bastard.
The second time Wu Junji woke, his diaper was still dry and his belly felt comfortable. He couldn't tell what time it was.
Before he could think any further, the feeding bottle was brought to his mouth again.
Wu Junji latched on and kept eating.
Once he finished, he looked over. Why did the old bastard look as if he hadn't slept?
He babbled twice in greeting, then went back to sleep chewing his hand.
Emperor Zhou couldn't help stroking his little feet.
The capable eunuch approached on quiet feet.
"Your Majesty, it's the third watch. You must take care of your imperial health."
Emperor Zhou had ordered that milk be kept warm at all times and had watched over him for half the night.
Every so often, he had to touch his hands, his feet, and his face.
The capable eunuch sighed inwardly. He was his own son, after all. How could he possibly not cherish him?
"The third watch already." (11 p.m.-1 a.m.)
Emperor Zhou looked out the window.
The third watch counted as the latter half of the night.
He hadn't cried during the first half, so surely he wouldn't cry during the second.
The outcome was clear. He was the ruler of a nation, and each word he spoke carried the weight of nine cauldrons. Naturally, he couldn't go back on it.
Otherwise, wouldn't he be handing this infant something to hold over him?
He would take him back to the palace.
This was the child he had borne himself. Naturally, he should raise him.
This was something that belonged wholly to him.
The blood flowing in the child's bones was the same as his. His bones, his frame, and his hair had all been nourished by Emperor Zhou himself.
He ought to be just as noble as Emperor Zhou.
Just imagining raising this child little by little, teaching him his first word, guiding his first step, shaping his character, his literary talents, his martial skills, and his mastery of power-all of it taught by him...
No two people under heaven could ever be closer than the two of them.
Emperor Zhou's thinking quietly changed.
He would not only take him back, but give him an exalted status as well.
Everything about this child came from him. How was this any different from raising another self?
Emperor Zhou no longer hesitated.
"Dress me. We're returning to the palace."
The capable eunuch sprang into action.
When Emperor Zhou boarded the carriage with Wu Junji in his arms, the capable eunuch knew that this little prince, who had neither name nor rank, was about to ascend to heaven in a single step.
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