In the seventeenth year of the Kaihuang era, I wrote my will in the examination hall.

Chapter 73 The Heavenly Family's Hard-to-Take Meal

However, some things are like Murphy's Law: what you fear most is what happens most often.

The prophecy came true.

As soon as the two walked around the screen and entered the warm chamber, a faint aroma of food wafted over.

It wasn't the aroma of delicacies unique to the imperial kitchen, but rather an extremely simple, even somewhat rustic, flavor.

Inside the warm pavilion, there was no long table that symbolized imperial majesty, but a simple small square table.

Emperor Yang Jian, the founding emperor of the Sui Dynasty, and Empress Wenxian, Dugu Jialuo, were sitting opposite each other, each holding a bowl and having a meal.

Yang Yan glanced at the desktop subconsciously.

Even though he was a time traveler with a modern soul and a thorough knowledge of history, his pupils couldn't help but tremble slightly at this moment.

There were only three dishes on the table.

A plate of neatly cut pickled radish strips, the color of which was somewhat dark.

A plate of stir-fried cabbage, with hardly any oil.

The only meat dish was a bowl of steamed mutton, a very small portion, just enough for two people to eat a few bites.

The rice in that bowl was golden yellow, just as Yang Jun had said; it was millet rice, also known as millet porridge, with some mixed beans mixed in.

Is this the dinner of the person in charge of the "Kaihuang Prosperity"?

This is hardly the life of an emperor; it's clearly the standard of living of a slightly wealthier landlord in Guanzhong!

Although historical records have long documented this, stating that Yang Jian "ate no more than one piece of meat at a time" and "did not set up music except for banquets," words are ultimately cold and impersonal.

When this scene is truly unfolding before your eyes, the visual impact is enormous.

A complex sense of respect welled up in Yang Yan's heart.

Regardless of how suspicious and bloodthirsty Yang Jian became in his later years, at least at this moment, as an emperor who ended three hundred years of chaos, his self-discipline and restraint were truly moving.

In contrast, Yang Yan felt that Yang Jun's body stiffened noticeably.

"Your subject pays respects to Your Majesty and Your Majesty!"

"Grandson pays respects to His Majesty and His Majesty!"

The two knelt down and bowed in respect.

Yang Jian did not shout immediately, but slowly picked up a strip of radish, put it in his mouth and chewed it with a crunching sound, as if it were some kind of delicacy.

The only sound inside the hall was chewing; the atmosphere was so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

After a long while, Dugu Jialuo finally put down her chopsticks. Her sharp phoenix eyes swept over the two of them, finally landing on Yang Jun's still slightly trembling shoulder, a barely perceptible sigh flashing in her eyes.

"You two, you've been kneeling for so long, do you know you were wrong?"

Dugu Jialuo's voice was soft, yet it was like a bucket of cold water in winter, instantly extinguishing the last remaining warmth in the warm pavilion.

Yang Jun trembled and subconsciously turned his head slightly, glancing at his nephew beside him out of the corner of his eye as if pleading for help.

Yang Yan did not reply immediately.

He didn't look at Yang Jun, nor at the two high and mighty saints. Instead, he slowly adjusted his kneeling posture, folded his hands on the ground, and bowed down again.

"Thump."

His forehead slammed heavily against the cold, hard gold brick, producing a dull thud.

This posture of kneeling and not rising is itself a silent statement.

"Go back to the imperial grandmother."

Yang Yan's voice came through the ground, sounding deep and firm, without the slightest explanation or excuse.

"Grandson knows he was wrong."

Dugu Jialuo paused slightly in her teacup, but instead of pressing for answers, she waited quietly for what was to come.

Yang Yan straightened his upper body, his gaze falling on the small area in front of his knees, his tone heavy with sorrow:

"My grandson was wrong; he shouldn't have acted rashly and impulsively."

"My grandson was well aware of the turbulent situation in the court, yet he failed to consider all aspects, resulting in a lack of comprehensive strategies despite his patriotic heart. He failed to anticipate the wickedness of people's hearts beforehand, and he failed to properly handle the aftermath, leaving many openings for others to criticize."

At this point, Yang Yan suddenly looked up, staring directly into Yang Jian's cloudy yet sharp old eyes, his gaze filled with regret and sincerity: "My sin is not merely taking the exam for someone else, but also that, as the eldest grandson of the royal family, I failed to tread carefully, failed to be cautious in my words and actions, thus tarnishing the royal family's reputation and forcing my grandparents to clean up the mess caused by my recklessness, even suffering humiliation in court!"

"This is unfilial! It is a grave crime!"

Upon hearing this, Yang Jun's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

He screamed inwardly: "Nephew, what are you saying? Weren't you punished for 'deceiving the emperor' and 'cheating'? How did it turn into 'failing to be careful with your words and actions' and 'not handling things properly'? Isn't this a bit too tricky in your way of admitting your mistake?"

This answer preserved the royal family's dignity and demonstrated the responsibility expected of the eldest grandson of the emperor. Of course, the most important thing was that Yang Yan had to test Yang Jian. His answer put himself in the position of the heir to the throne. If Yang Jian did not condemn him outright, that would speak volumes.

After much deliberation, Yang Yan concluded that although Yang Yong was not a foolish ruler, it would still be too difficult to change him. Moreover, considering the case of the "good grandson" in the Ming Dynasty, he still planned to create this persona to help Yang Yong obtain the throne.

Your son is no good, but your grandson is capable. You should pass the throne to your son, since he will also be passing it on to someone else!

"clatter."

Yang Jian gently tapped the ivory chopsticks in his hand on the edge of the porcelain bowl containing millet rice, producing a crisp sound.

The sound was extremely soft, but in the warm room where you could hear a pin drop, it sounded like some kind of signal.

Dugu Jialuo, who had been observing her husband's expression, had a knowing look in her eyes.

"King of Qin"

Yang Jun, whose name was called, shuddered and almost lost his footing: "Your son, Your Majesty, is here!"

Dugu Jialuo looked calmly at her third son, the one who caused her the most worry yet whom she had no control over, her tone revealing neither joy nor anger: "And you? Do you know your crime?"

"Your subject...your subject knows his crime!"

Yang Jun nodded his head like a chick pecking at rice.

"Oh?" Yang Jian snorted through his nose, slowly picking up a slice of radish and putting it in his mouth. "Since you know you're guilty, then tell me, what is your crime? And how do you plan to correct it in the future?"

This was the last test Yang Jian gave to his son.

He thought that if his son could say something like "I've really changed my ways" and "I'm determined to serve the country and its people," perhaps... the trip to Lingnan could be postponed a little.

Yang Jun knelt on the ground, his mind a complete mess.

He didn't even dare to look up at his father's expectant eyes.

All he remembered was the set of words the chief secretary of the Prince's mansion had taught him before he came—those universal self-criticisms that could be used no matter what mistake he made.

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling, and began to recite the lines he already knew by heart: "Your subject... Your subject should not have indulged in pleasure, should not have been obsessed with strange skills and frivolous crafts, and neglected state affairs."

"While I was in Bingzhou, I engaged in large-scale construction projects, wasting resources and causing hardship to the people. I built a water palace solely for my own selfish desires. I have truly failed my father's teachings and the people's support."

"Your subject will... will definitely repent and correct my past mistakes, never again touch those carpentry mechanisms, never again... never repair the garden. Your subject will... will seclude myself to reflect on my mistakes, eat vegetarian food and chant Buddhist prayers, and pray for the blessings of Father and Mother..."

Yang Jun spoke more and more fluently, and even his voice trembled with genuine emotion, almost as if he were about to cry.

However, this time, the air in the warm room did not warm up because of his repentance; instead, it became increasingly heavy and oppressive.

Yang Yan, who was listening nearby, frowned.

Yang Jun, are you writing a self-criticism? But the problem is, Yang Jian doesn't want to see you writing a self-criticism.

really.

"That's enough!"

Yang Jian slammed his chopsticks on the table, causing the bowl of mutton soup to rattle and spill a few drops.