The hall was so silent one could hear the crackling of candle flames.
Emperor Ying Zheng’s question hung in the air.
Like a sword waiting to fall.
Ying Ziye did not answer.
He did not even look at Ying Zheng.
“Ah—”
He opened his small mouth and let out a long, exaggerated yawn.
A few physiological tears squeezed out from the corners of his eyes.
Then—
Under Ying Zheng’s cold gaze, he slowly walked over to the soft couch on one side of the hall.
And flopped straight onto it.
His entire body collapsed like a puddle of mud.
Sprawled out carelessly, without the slightest princely decorum.
Ying Zheng’s face darkened.
A surge of anger rose from his chest.
What kind of attitude was this?
Was this even answering his question?
This was provocation!
“Ying—Zi—Ye!”
His voice was squeezed out from between his teeth.
On the couch, Ying Ziye rolled over, turning his backside toward him.
His lazy voice drifted over.
“Father Emperor.”
“What exactly are you trying to ask?”
Ying Zheng took a step forward in anger.
“I’m asking you! What are you plotting!”
Ying Ziye rolled once on the couch and finally sat up.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked utterly confused.
“Plotting what?”
His little face fell.
“Father Emperor, you don’t actually think your son wants to become emperor, do you?”
Ying Zheng said nothing.
But the tight line of his jaw revealed everything.
Ying Ziye looked at his expression as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.
He spread his hands and began to complain.
“Becoming emperor?”
“What’s so good about being the emperor?”
“You wake up earlier than chickens!”
“You sleep later than dogs!”
He counted them off on his chubby fingers, listing grievance after grievance.
“Every day you have to read so many bamboo slips your eyes practically go blind.”
“And you still have to listen to a bunch of old men arguing in court until your head’s about to explode.”
“This one says ancestral laws must never change, that one says rituals are collapsing and morals are declining.”
“Isn’t that annoying!”
He gave his final conclusion, his little face full of disgust.
“So tiring.”
“That job— even a dog wouldn’t do it!”
Emperor Ying Zheng’s anger froze on his face.
Instead of rage, he felt like laughing at this utterly outrageous blasphemy.
He had spent his entire life fighting for this throne—how many people he had killed, how much blood had been spilled.
In this world, who did not covet this supreme power?
And yet, in his own son’s mouth—it had become a miserable job even dogs would refuse?
Absurd!
Utterly ridiculous!
“Pfft…”
In the end, Ying Zheng couldn’t hold it back and actually laughed.
It was a short, cold laugh.
Strange, indescribable.
Ying Ziye, seeing him laugh, climbed down from the soft couch.
He walked up to Ying Zheng and lifted his small face.
This time, his expression was serious.
“Father Emperor.”
“What I said is true.”
“What I want is very simple.”
“I just want Great Qin to become strong—so strong that no one dares to bully us.”
“And then, I can peacefully be a carefree prince.”
As he imagined it, he almost started drooling.
“Sleep until I wake up naturally every day, eat all the delicacies under heaven.”
“If anyone dares to mess with me, Father Emperor, you can just send the army to flatten their home!”
“This throne is bitter and exhausting. You should keep sitting on it—you’re doing just fine!”
Ying Zheng’s laughter stopped.
He looked at his son’s face filled with longing.
That was not an act.
That was real—an instinctive rejection of power, and a sincere craving for a life of ease.
A faint shift occurred in Ying Zheng’s heart.
But he still did not fully believe it.
“I will grow old.”
His voice rang out softly and distant.
“I will die.”
“This vast empire, this supreme authority—sooner or later, someone must inherit it.”
“When that time comes, can you avoid it?”
“Who says you will die, Father Emperor?”
Ying Ziye immediately jumped up and retorted loudly.
He looked like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
“Father Emperor! Have you forgotten what the immortals said?”
“Pills and immortal mountains are all trivial paths!”
“The true road to immortality has only one!”
He ran to the world map that had been split in half.
His small finger traced across those vast, unknown lands.
“National fortune!”
“It is national fortune, Father Emperor!”
Ying Ziye turned around, his eyes shining with an almost frightening brilliance.
“Father Emperor, you were born a conqueror!”
“Your destiny is not to be trapped within these four walls of Xianyang Palace, buried under trivial memorials and endless reports!”
“Your battlefield is there!”
He pointed at the map.
“There—in the endless grasslands, the towering snowy mountains, the vast oceans!”
“You should be riding on horseback, leading the invincible elite of Great Qin, planting the black dragon banners across every corner of this world!”
Ying Ziye’s breathing grew rapid.
His little face flushed red with excitement.
“Father Emperor, let’s divide the work!”
“Divide the work?”
Ying Zheng repeated the unfamiliar term.
“Yes! Divide the work!”
Ying Ziye ran up and hugged Ying Zheng’s leg.
“You! The greatest emperor of Great Qin! Handle the external affairs!”
“You go conquer the world! You go expand the empire! You go forge your immortal legacy!”
He pointed to himself.
“I! Your most filial son! Handle the internal affairs!”
“I’ll stay in Xianyang and be your chief logistics manager!”
“You want money, I’ll print it!”
“You want grain, I’ll grow it!”
“You want weapons, I’ll produce them for you!”
“I guarantee it—wherever your army goes, the best weapons and fullest granaries will follow right behind!”
“You only need to conquer! Everything in the rear will be left to me!”
These words—were like a bolt of lightning.
They split apart the last trace of fog in Ying Zheng’s heart.
What was he, deep down?
A warrior! A conqueror!
Rather than scheming with ministers in court, he preferred hearing the screams of enemies on the battlefield!
Rather than reviewing bamboo slips, he preferred using his sword to carve out new territories on the map!
Ying Ziye’s proposal…let him do what he loved most, what he was best at.
And it took all the most tedious, most boring affairs of governance and pulled them onto itself.
And even called it—“chief logistics manager”?
Ying Zheng’s breathing grew heavier.
His chest rose and fell violently.
In those imperial eyes, a fire capable of burning the world began to reignite.
This proposal was too tempting.
So tempting that it was almost impossible to refuse.
He slowly lowered his head.
His towering figure completely enveloped Ying Ziye.
“You…”
His voice was hoarse.
“You truly don’t want the throne?”
This was the final test.
And the most dangerous one.
Ying Ziye looked up and shook his head without the slightest hesitation.
He looked as if he were rejecting some hot potato.
“No.”
He answered cleanly and decisively.
Then he grinned, revealing two rows of small, white teeth.
“Of course, there is one exception.”
“Unless…”
“Unless one day, Father Emperor, you get tired of fighting, don’t want to anymore, and decide to retire.”
“Then your son will reluctantly help you look after the house.”
“At that time, I’ll build you the largest ship in the world—so you can sail and travel wherever you like!”
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