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He Yue looked left and right, making sure there was nobody else in the room before letting out a soft sigh. “That’s all talk, really. Everyone knows His Majesty has a soft ear. When Father speaks with passion, he believes Father; when others weep and wail, he pities them. Have you forgotten how the new policies and reforms ended up failing?”
He Lingchuan shrugged.
It was not that he had forgotten; he simply had no memory of it at all.
This was not really his fault, though. The former He Lingchuan had never cared much about matters of state.
“When those failed, a lot of people were disappointed. I imagine the Minister of War was one of them.” He Yue sighed again.
He Lingchuan pressed a finger to his lips and gave a quiet “Shh.”
This younger brother of his was sharp, but far too idealistic. He Lingchuan decided to change the subject. “Hey, tell me, of all times to die, that Old Li just had to kick the bucket right before we reached Dunyu. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious? Almost as if heaven itself lent us a hand?”
“He was already seventy, after all. He was practically a candle in its final flicker.” Even if that candle had looked thick and sturdy a few days earlier. “Even if he was killed by some...
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