Chapter 21 – Past Life: Resentfully Fighting for the Throne

Over the past few years, the Prince of Qi had been indulging himself in pleasures within his princely estate, occasionally sending off a few treasures—gifts offered by sycophants trying to curry favor—to his concubines.

One day he would invite retainers and advisors to drink wine and discuss life, and the next he’d take his personal guards up the mountains to hunt. He was truly enjoying himself so much that he had no thoughts of returning to court.

As for opening the granaries to release grain? That was completely out of the question.

The common folk of Qizhou were suffering bitterly. Their fields could no longer produce food, and the highest-ranking man in the province—who should have cared for their lives—completely ignored their plight.

Those with some savings could barely hold on, but the poor, who had no money to buy food elsewhere, had no choice but to wait for death or flee their homeland in search of survival.

Eventually, even the wealthy couldn’t buy food anymore.

The Prince of Qi directly seized all the grain in Qizhou. The rice shops ran out of stock and shut down—where could people go to buy food?

Desperate, the people turned to the government for answers. Just as luck would have it, the authorities had put up public notices.

No food? No problem—join the army! You’ll receive twenty jin of rice a month.

What choice did the people have? The gates connecting Qizhou to the outside had, at some unknown point, been tightly sealed—people could enter, but not leave. If they didn’t enlist, they would starve to death.

The smarter ones realized what was going on: the Prince of Qi was preparing to rebel!

Otherwise, why would a mere regional prince be recruiting and building an army so aggressively? According to the law of the current dynasty, a feudal prince could only maintain eight thousand personal troops.

Upon investigation, people discovered that the old emperor in the capital was already in failing health.

That’s why the Prince of Qi was panicking. Once a new emperor ascended the throne, his chance at taking power would become virtually nonexistent.

For all these years, he had never been able to figure out: compared to the Crown Prince, where did he fall short?

They were both sons of the emperor—he was even the emperor’s favorite! So why couldn’t he be Crown Prince, or even Emperor?

Fueled by this resentment, he spent the past four years enjoying life in his domain while also secretly scheming.

Forget everything else—for the Crown Prince alone, he had tried to poison him more than twenty times.

Yet not once did he succeed. All he could do was fly into rages within the palace, venting his anger by killing subordinates who failed him.

Of course, the emperor’s deteriorating health had nothing to do with him—he wasn’t that much of a beast.

The Prince of Qi hated only one person: the Crown Prince—his third brother. As for his father, he still held a deep sense of admiration and respect.

But it was precisely because of this admiration that he couldn’t understand: “You say you love me so much, yet you wouldn’t give me your most treasured throne?”

This only twisted him further.

So when he heard that the emperor was dying, he decided he couldn’t sit idly by any longer.

He raised the banner of “cleansing the court of traitors” and declared his intent to enter the capital to “rescue” the emperor, who was supposedly being “controlled” by the Crown Prince.

He even wrote an emotional manifesto.

Its main message was how kind the emperor had been to him over the years, and now that the emperor was imprisoned and harmed by villains, as a dutiful son he could no longer remain idle! He must return to the capital to save the father he admired most.

One had to admit—the person who wrote the article was a genius.

For a while, the unaware common folk across the land were moved to tears and raised their hands in support of the Prince of Qi’s “righteous cause.”

But public opinion alone wasn’t enough. A rebellion required money, food, and people!

Money? He had plenty. Over the years, the emperor had often rewarded him, and even exempted Qizhou from paying taxes to the court.

Before the drought, Qizhou had actually been extremely prosperous and wealthy, so the taxes that had landed in his pocket were a massive sum.

As for Qizhou’s granaries—if he said not to open them, who dared to defy him?

So, with money and food secured, what about manpower?

Officially, he only had eight thousand personal troops. But in secret, he had raised no fewer than thirty thousand soldiers.

Over the years, he had quietly expanded his forces. Half a year ago, he even “suppressed” a nearby bandit stronghold and absorbed its men. Of course, his motivation wasn’t about helping the people—it was about building his army.

Even if he added local militias from across Qizhou, he had just over sixty thousand men. Facing the court’s four-hundred-thousand-strong army would be like an egg smashing against a rock—suicidal.

So how could he quickly recruit more troops?

The Prince of Qi was so anxious in his study that he wasn’t even interested in his concubines.

Just then, a “Yangzhou thin horse” named Yilian—a delicately trained courtesan in his residence—saw an opportunity to rise and rushed to the study, offering to ease the Prince’s worries with a plan.

The Prince originally wanted her dragged out and beaten to death—for the study was a heavily restricted area, and she had violated a taboo.

But when he heard she wanted to help, he grew intrigued. A beauty with a plan? Interesting. He allowed her in.

Could someone like her, groomed only for pleasure, really offer anything useful?

She babbled on, mixing in personal thoughts, most of which were unhelpful.

But there was one line that caught the Prince of Qi’s attention.

“I heard people outside are so hungry they’re selling their children. If you give them food, won’t they serve you with their lives?”

She knew this because a recent batch of new maids had been sold to the prince’s household by families too poor to feed them.

Food, huh? He became thoughtful.

Though the Prince of Qi lusted after beauty, he wasn’t foolish when it came to major matters.

After caressing her and saying he’d visit her that night, he had her sent back to the rear courtyard. Then he immediately summoned his advisors and retainers to discuss a concrete plan.

Meanwhile, Yilian smiled sweetly as the prince’s men escorted her out. Entering a courtyard filled with women the prince had slept with but never officially favored, she gave a triumphant smirk to those who had once mocked and bullied her.

Then she gave a malicious grin that sent shivers down their spines. No one dared meet her gaze.

In a place like the prince’s estate, filled with beautiful women, favor was everything.

In truth, the Prince of Qi had previously considered forcibly conscripting one male per household in Qizhou. But he was stopped by a retainer he had come to trust deeply.

“Forced conscription has always been a taboo in military affairs. It breeds disunity and hidden dangers, and one misstep can lead to backlash. My lord, you have money and grain—why risk something so dangerous? Please reconsider.”

This retainer was actually one of the mountain bandits he had absorbed. Though he’d only been under the prince for a few months, he had already gained significant favor. He was also the one who had written the emotionally charged manifesto.

The Prince of Qi didn’t want to spend money—he didn’t think the lowly people were worth it. But food, on the other hand… it spoils if stored too long. Recently, there had been many reports of moldy grain being discarded.

So why not…

Thus, the Prince of Qi finalized his plan.

He would seal off all routes to the outside, confiscate all grain, and prohibit market trade. That way, if the people wanted to survive, they’d have no choice but to enlist.

So the following spring, Qizhou was gradually locked down. Rice shops and grain stores shut their doors. A month later, the recruitment notice was posted, turning military service into the people’s only lifeline.

He Yanyan took a sip of water before continuing.

The original host of this body also understood that joining the Prince of Qi’s army meant a near-certain death.

But looking at his wife and children, who had grown terribly thin from only eating once a day, he still went. Along with him went Wu Dalang from next door.

Wu Erlang should have gone too. With so many mouths to feed, it was impossible for just the eldest to support them all with twenty jin of rice.

But Lady Li absolutely refused, saying that if her son went, she would hang herself at the Wu household. So he didn’t go.

Wu Sanlang did go, though he was stationed at a different camp and they never met again.

Barely a month after the Prince of Qi launched his mass recruitment drive, the aging emperor—who learned his youngest son was staging a rebellion—was so agitated that he died. Before passing, he wrote a secret edict for his son.

The message was essentially: “How could you rebel? You’ve truly disappointed me! I’ll have your third brother spare your life. So immediately—at once—stop what you’re doing. Don’t let your father die with regrets.”

The Prince of Qi wept bitterly after reading the letter and hearing the news of his father’s death.

Then… he sped up his rebellion.

(End of Chapter)