Surviving the Succession (A Transmigration Fantasy)

Character Index

Sima Qi: A former Investigator who was assigned to Zhou Kuang as a second poison tester.

Li Que: A Senior Investigator. Kayla's ally but primarily loyal to the new Emperor.

Zhou Kuang: The deceased Third Prince. Formerly the primary contender for heir.

Cao Shuyi: The Third Princess Consort. Now a widow, she lives in Kuang's posthumously assigned fief with her young son Zhou Chenqian.

Zhou Yunqi: The former Fifth Prince and current Emperor.

Wise Consort: Yunqi's birth mother, she was posthumously titled an Empress though she never held that position in life.

Zhou Ying: The deceased former Emperor, posthumously titled Emperor Xuanzong.

Zhou Xianchun: The Seventh Prince, now titled an Archduke. Lost the succession battle but was spared in the aftermath.

Lin Yaoguang: The Grand Duke's money launderer and one of the conspirators involved in Kuang's death. He had hoped to gain immensely from the Fifth Prince's coronation, but hadn't expected it to happen the way it did.

Sir Yang: A senior eunuch who served Emperor Xuanzong and Yunqi.

Qiu Jinwei: Yunqi's loyal but cluelessly abrasive advisor. Seemingly at odds with Kayla, holds her in great suspicion.

Zhang Dingyong: Minister of Justice. Formerly Kuang's supporter, he has since allied with Kayla.

Yao Gongzhuo: Minister of War. Formerly Kuang's supporter, he allied with Kayla out of consideration for Yunqi and because he agrees with the reforms.

Extra 1: The Misadventures of Sima Qi

[This is set right after Sima Qi leaves the capital at the end of Book 2, and right before he goes on a serial killing spree that eventually lands him in Kayla's unofficial employment.]

Sima Qi stood over the cooling body of his opponent, trembling with the rush of adrenaline that had kicked in only seconds ago. It had all happened so fast. He'd only left the capital one day before. He'd kept his head down and moved fast. Then he had bumped into the wrong guy and everything had gone to hell.

Sima Qi had tried apologizing and tried walking away, but then the man's hand had gone to his sword, and Sima Qi had moved faster.

Dejectedly wiping blood out of his ear, Sima Qi felt a little like crying. Was it weird for him to cry when he'd killed someone? He glanced at the blank stare of the corpse below, its intact look of shock and the bloody gape in its throat, and his tear ducts decided that weird or not, they were crying.

After the worst two months or so of his life, Sima Qi found himself sobbing his way into the start of the third worst month of his life.

It'd all started with a job that promised to launch his career. Following years of grueling training, he'd become an Investigator proper. He was no longer bound to his violent drunkard of a mentor. He was making his own money. He had good coworkers and supervisors, and Sima Qi loved the feeling of accomplishment he got when he had a chance to help them out or repay their many kindnesses.

Sima Qi was well-liked, and he liked to be liked, feeding into the positive cycle. Everything seemed to be finally stepping onto the right track, and then Senior Investigator Li Que had recommended him for a post in the Third Prince's household.

It was an opportunity that Sima Qi couldn't have even dreamed of holding so early on in his career. Sure, it was as a poison tester, but Sima Qi had partial immunity to a lot of poisons, and was well-versed in identifying the right antidotes. He would be fine, and likely to see a quick promotion just for eating poisoned food. It was a great honor for an orphan brought up off the streets, and Sima Qi knew it. He was determined to do well.

And then the Third Prince was poisoned.

It was all so sudden that Sima Qi couldn't even believe it. Faced with the fury of the Third Princess Consort, the crying servants, the grim-faced Investigators, Sima Qi's head spun round and round as he struggled to accept the horrifying reality.

He saw it in the Princess Consort's eyes–he was going to die. It didn't matter that he'd tried to do his job, it didn't matter that Sima Qi was innocent. This is what his drunken lout of a mentor had once warned him about–no matter how hard you try, they can crush you under foot like a bug.

And then Duke Zhao had arrived, his face pale and drawn and accusing. Sima Qi had known right there and then that he was doomed. The Duke had given him an opportunity and Sima Qi had not only failed to live up to expectations, but he had botched it beyond repair. It would only be fair for the Duke to cast him off in turn.

Just as he was about to give up, stumbling over his impassioned pleas for mercy, the Duke had stepped in. Sima Qi was whisked out of the Princess Consort's sight and kept firmly locked inside a fully enclosed cell as the world flipped on its head outside. The Third Prince died. The Fifth Prince, for some reason, became Crown Prince. Investigations began, Sima Qi was questioned with shockingly little violence or even intimidation, and then immediately whisked into a safe house where he was kept for another few weeks of terrible anxiety.

The only thing he was sure about, that the interrogator quietly said to him in a whisper, was that Duke Zhao had already decided he was innocent.

Was it compensation for the troubles Sima Qi suffered? He felt tears fill his vision before the words had even been fully spoken. The heavens were kind enough to give him this chance. He'd been the one to fuck up, and yet the Duke and his colleagues were doing all they could to save him from the consequences.

Yet the unsaid words lingered in the air–if things didn't go well, all of them were done for. There was still time for an upset. The Seventh Prince could take over. The Emperor could change his mind. There could be a bloodbath. And Sima Qi couldn't do a thing but wait for the outcome.

The world outside kept flipping and flopping, and Sima Qi only felt its tremors in bits and pieces. The Empress Dowager died, and then another woman of some sort died–an Empress? Did they have an Empress again? Then the Emperor died and for a few horrible days Sima Qi was sure that something had gone terribly terribly wrong and that the Duke, the only force that was keeping him alive right now, was also dead.

But then the Fifth Prince was enthroned and Sima Qi, magically, was subjected to the general amnesty their new Emperor issued. Senior Investigator Li Que had filled him in afterwards, and escorted him out of the capital with a kindness that brought tears to Sima Qi's eyes.

And Sima Qi had wanted to repay that kindness, and of course the kindness of the Duke as well, and left the capital with the determination to make something of himself–only to end up here, bawling in an empty alleyway over the body of a dead man.

He'd killed a man. It was an extrajudicial murder, no matter how you looked at it.

Sima Qi paced back and forth, unsure of what to do next. Did he go and turn himself in? That was the right thing to do, obviously. But it wasn't fair–it wasn't! He hadn't wanted to kill the man, he'd wanted to walk away, it just happened and the guy was dead. Why had the man died so easily? Sima Qi was a trained martial artist, but so was the corpse on the floor. And yet Sima Qi had been able to kill him so easily.

Belatedly, Sima Qi realized that he was no longer in the capital. Of course, he'd known this, but now it actually kicked in–he was not in the capital, where the best and worst of everything was concentrated all in one place. People outside the capital simply weren't up to the same cutthroat standards, apparently, which meant Sima Qi had gone too far against an opponent who wasn't strong enough to warrant it.

But how was he supposed to know? The guy looked strong!

If Sima Qi turned himself in, he'd probably be executed. Which was unfair, but it was the law. But wouldn't that be a waste of all the Duke's efforts to keep him alive? And a smear on the Duke's good name?

Still crying and also hiccuping a little, Sima Qi began going through the man's pockets. He found a small pouch of silver, a really nice dagger, and a few snacks. Then, digging through the man's inner robe, he found a letter.

Addressed to the man by a name that had come up during Sima Qi's interrogation.

Lin Yaoguang.

Sima Qi blinked, and then thought, what the hell? Maybe it was heaven's will after all. Wasn't Lin Yaoguang involved in the Third Prince's death? Wasn't the man Duke Zhao and Senior Investigator Li Que's enemy?

A dangerous thought took root in his mind before Sima Qi even realized it, and his tears dried up rapidly. Completely calm now, Sima Qi tucked his loot into his pockets and left the alleyway with a new goal in mind.

Humming, he re-entered the marketplace, and was greeted with a smile by an unsuspecting peddler. Beaming back in return, Sima Qi sauntered off and melted into the crowd.

Extra 2: Sir Yang and Qiu Jinwei

[This is set right after one of the arguments between Kayla and Qiu Jinwei over the reforms, with Yunqi as the exhausted mediator and Sir Yang as an unwilling witness. This takes place around the time of Book 3 Chapter 4. The Emperor's staff and supporters are increasingly alarmed by the rising tensions between Kayla, the Emperor's most powerful supporter, and Qiu Jinwei, the Emperor's must trusted advisor. Having become entangled in the Emperor's life after helping Yunqi kill Emperor Xuanzong, Sir Yang briefly attempts to intercede.]

Sir Yang fell into step with Qiu Jinwei as the advisor left the Imperial Study. It wasn't that he intended to interfere after hearing Zhao Wenyuan's veiled concerns, just that Sir Yang detested not knowing what was going on. If you didn't know, then you might end up dead without even knowing how it had happened. Other than that, he preferred to stay out of these things–to a point.

It was hypocritical, Sir Yang supposed, especially for someone who had helped to kill Emperor Xuanzong. But that was how eunuchs lived. To live as an eunuch was a series of castrations. The physical castration was the first and least painful. The castration of his humanity would be a series of deep and painful cuts that continued until his death. Men and women alike looked down on him, superior simply because they weren't eunuchs. Sir Yang observed this, and went from resentful to detached, understanding that it spoke more to their lack of humanity than his own.

Sir Yang had been castrated at a young age, sold off to the palace by a widowed mother with far too little money and far too many mouths to feed. Even after casting aside her modesty, she soon found that her fading looks were not enough to keep her children alive. The youngest, who would be a burden for the longest, was given to a theater troupe. Sir Yang, the second youngest, was sent off to the palace with many bitter tears of regret from his mother and eldest sister.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He would not learn of this until many years later, but his mother didn't make it through that winter, and his eldest sister would disappear into a nameless sea of painted faces in Jiangnan's red-light district. The other siblings, faces and names blurry in memory, Sir Yang never found any information on, not even his little brother in the theater troupe. Once, in his fiftieth year, he went out for an errand by carriage and saw in passing a face that much resembled his own, with a child happily seated on the man's shoulders. Stunned, he had called too late for the horseman to stop, and the man was gone.

Family tragedies and all, his tale was the tale of many eunuchs. The moment he recovered from his castration, he was put to work, all kinds of menial and degrading tasks. A handsome youth, Sir Yang endured the fumbling gropes of his mentoring eunuch until the man made a big enough mistake to be cast out of the palace, and then was free to eagerly make passes at old palace maids who were desperate enough to consider any man, however incomplete. Then, briefly in middle-age, a stint with a fellow middle-aged eunuch, more out of loneliness than any kind of attraction for the pleasant but pockmarked fellow–the poor man died falling off a ladder, and left thirty years of solitude in his wake.

Now, in his seventies, Sir Yang had kept in good shape. Like most eunuchs, he was ambiguously ageless in appearance and flattering in manner, liked if not respected by his superiors, respected if not liked by his subordinates. He himself felt little real affection or respect for anyone. It was to his genuine surprise that Sir Yang found himself liking the new Emperor and his two most trusted men. Qiu Jinwei was brilliant, but almost childlike in many ways, aware of but unable to comprehend the hierarchies that placed man above eunuch. Yunqi was kind to everyone–his benevolence was genuine. Zhao Wenyuan was…well, the man was dangerous and seemed to know that both very clearly and not at all. Nice enough though.

His strange fondness for them prompted Sir Yang to actually intervene when the whispers in the palace began to grow louder after that early morning meeting in the Emperor's study, which he did by approaching the easiest target–Qiu Jinwei.

"Do you find it hard to get along with Duke Zhao?" Sir Yang asked gently. "He's a bit of a difficult character to deal with, isn't he?"

Qiu Jinwei blinked at him in confusion. "No?"

"No?" It was Sir Yang who was confused. "Many of the palace staff seem to think you don't like him."

"I don't."

"I can understand if you dislike him," Sir Yang said, trying to guide the conversation towards mediation. "But–"

"I don't," Qiu Jinwei said, seeming all the more confused.

Sir Yang paused. "Oh? It seems I've misunderstood."

"I don't like him. I don't dislike him," Qiu Jinwei said earnestly, like a child explaining an incomprehensible painting to a tolerant parent. "I just don't trust him. I'm not supposed to, Sir Yang. It's my job not to, isn't it?"

"Not supposed to?"

"I'm the Emperor's advisor," Qiu Jinwei said, sounding a little surprised that Sir Yang didn't understand. "I'm meant to watch out for him. How can I trust Zhao Wenyuan, or anyone else? Trust blinds one's judgment. It makes you want to come up with excuses, overlook signs of darker tidings, all out of blind faith. I can't do that if I'm to complete my duties to the Emperor."

"I see," Sir Yang said. This hadn't been what he'd expected. How did one mediate this? Jealousy or resentment were easy sentiments to ply, but Qiu Jinwei was an entirely different breed.

"Zhao Wenyuan needs to be watched," Qiu Jinwei said. "Even the Emperor agrees. He already has two counts of murder that we know of for sure, and one is of his patriarch, one of his liege. The reasons don't matter. Plenty of people are pushed further without ever crossing that line, and those who will cross it will do so again. The moment he feels that he needs to, that it's necessary for him or for the country or for whatever justification presents itself or is fed to him by a retainer, he might move against the Emperor as well. It doesn't matter if that never occurs, but that it can. To leave someone like that unattended at the Emperor's side, is to foolishly trust in the best of human nature. In a place like the palace, a place like the court, to do so would only invite disaster."

Yunqi agreed as much–reluctantly, but reasonably, he knew that no one could be trusted not to make the right decision every time. If Zhao Wenyuan ever made a fatal mistake because Yunqi had enabled him to do so, that was as much on the Emperor as it was on the Duke. And in terms of likelihood, Qiu Jinwei thought that a fatal mistake was very likely for Zhao Wenyuan.

Even if one put aside the very tangible reality that Zhao Wenyuan was a murderer with a record of backstabbing, in a prodigious amount of debt, and unsettling to any ruler worth his salt, there was one fatal flaw to the man. Most people crawled up the pyramid of power by mercilessly stepping on people beneath them. Zhao Wenyuan climbed by grabbing the ankles of those above and yanking down. How many people were left above Zhao Wenyuan? Far too few for comfort.

Yunqi had accepted Qiu Jinwei's arguments with a troubled look, followed by a heartfelt sigh. The Emperor was thinking of his own act of patricide, of how easy it really was to dirty one's hands and then to justify it, though Qiu Jinwei had no way of knowing that. Oblivious to the mental torment his arguments inflicted upon a much beloved liege, he only knew that Yunqi had agreed–Zhao Wenyuan couldn't be let to run loose.

Sir Yang didn't know of the interaction, but the nuance of the situation was not beyond him.

"I certainly suppose that is true," Sir Yang replied. "Advisor Qiu truly is farsighted…I only ask because others are starting to wonder, including your political opponents. After all, there are all kinds of rumors…" He trailed off, entirely unable to discern if Qiu Jinwei understood his point or not.

"I see," Qiu Jinwei said, in a way that gave Sir Yang no confidence that he indeed saw. Sir Yang hovered a moment longer and then beat a temporary retreat back to his post outside the Emperor's study. He had already crossed too many lines for the day–Sir Yang didn't want to be seen as Duke Zhao's man, which he certainly was not.

But this won't end well, Sir Yang thought grimly to himself. He felt it in his bones. It didn't matter how innocent the intentions, how pure-hearted the motives. This would end in blood one day, and Sir Yang could only hope that he didn't live long enough to see it.

Extra 3- Zhang Dingyong and Yao Gongzhuo

[This is set right after Kayla recruits Zhang Dingyong and Yao Gongzhuo to support her reforms. This takes place after Zhang Dingyong speaks with Kayla in Book 3 Chapter 9.]

Zhang Dingyong strolled beneath the swaying willows, keeping pace with Yao Gongzhuo. It was quiet section of the Outer Palace, one where Imperial Investigators didn't tend to frequent given the instability of willow trees as launching points.

Finally satisfied with their privacy after obsessively squinting at every branch around him, Zhang Dingyong finally got down to business.

"Sir Yao, I'm surprised that you're willing to side with Zhao Wenyuan," Zhang Dingyong said, smiling in amusement.

Yao Gongzhuo shrugged impassively. "The Emperor trusts him for a reason."

"Oh? Yet I hear that the elders of the court think that the Emperor's trust is ill-placed," Zhang Dingyong shot back.

Yao Gongzhuo remained unflappable–for now.

"He's a promising youngster, and close enough in age to the Emperor that he can easily serve as a confidant," Yao Gongzhuo said thoughtfully. "I don't see any reason why the Emperor should not wish to keep him in good repute."

Zhang Dingyong frowned, squinting at his colleague's face. There was something about that impassivity from the staunch and stolid Minister of War that had snagged onto Zhang Dingyong's attention. Yao Gongzhuo leaned away from Zhang Dingyong's encroaching stare.

"What?"

"You like him," Zhang Dingyong said accusingly.

"He's decent enough," Yao Gongzhuo agreed. "It's easy to like him. It certainly makes working together more comfortable as well."

"You're actually defending him! You didn't like him back in the day," Zhang Dingyong said in shock. "You speak with him in private once and you're changing your mind? That's not like you at all!"

Yao Gongzhuo straightened himself with great dignity. "I never particularly disliked him. It was merely out of duty that I held him at arm's length when his intentions towards the Third Prince were so unclear–after all, that was a time of life-or-death! But he's a man of good intentions, and he has a good head on his shoulders. I have no reason not to like him–nor any reason to answer to you on this matter!"

"Good for you then," Zhang Dingyong replied.

Zhang Dingyong shook his head slightly as he thought of the young Duke that his old ally had become so fond of. A military man through and through, with all the sentimental attachments to loyalty and discipline that it entailed, Yao Gongzhuo would probably have a fit if he realized the truth about Zhao Wenyuan.

We're partners in this enterprise, Wenyuan had said. Not of Zhang Dingyong, which would have been flattering but untrue. But of the fucking Emperor.

Partners. Partners?

He was almost amazed by the audacity. It would have been unmistakable arrogance in someone else, but Wenyuan was on an entirely different level–he didn't even see a problem with it.

That's worse, Zhang Dingyong thought, torn between absurd amusement and anxiety. He knows that it's worse, right? One mountain cannot hold two tigers, and he's already thinking of himself as the second tiger when the Emperor hasn't even come to see him as a major threat yet. And somehow he doesn't think this is a problem.

Something was seriously wrong with Zhao Wenyuan. Something that made the man worth allying with.

Either Zhao Wenyuan would end up with his head separated from his body, or he would become the most powerful man in the country.

How? Not by usurping Zhou Yunqi, for sure. Choleric as he seemed, the Emperor wouldn't let go of the reins that easily. But men aged. They fell ill. They died.

What kind of world would come after?

A world in which Zhao Wenyuan had a shot at taking the coveted seat of power.

A world in which the people closest by Zhao Wenyuan's side had a shot at taking his place. People like Zhang Dingyong.

Savoring the thought, half-amused by it, half-serious, he smiled.

Cultural Notes

步入正轨/Stepping onto the right track: An Ancient Chinese saying that means everything is starting to fall into place, starting to go right.

大赦天下/A great amnesty to all under heaven/national amnesty: It was common for Emperors to issue general amnesty to all sentenced criminals throughout the country (often with exception for particularly heinous criminals with high chances of re-offending) to garner good fortune for the country or for a member of the Imperial family (ex: for the Empress Dowager's health, for the Emperor's coronation/start of reign, naming a Crown Prince, etc.) This would also increase public support of the Emperor, as sentences back in the day were often quite harsh.

都不知道自己怎么死的/Die without even knowing how it happened: A Chinese saying that means to die clueless, or to be clueless about one's ruin. Often used in a derogatory fashion.

对食/Duishi: A practice in Ancient China that literally translates to "eat face to face", where an eunuch forms a romantic (and sometimes sexual) relationship with a palace maid. Eunuchs were unable to marry (though some richer ones did) under the social structure of Ancient China and palace maids were expected to remain chaste and of "virtuous conduct" while in service in the palace. However, it could be a harsh and lonely existence where you literally lived in your extremely hierarchical workplace. As such, these relationships offered emotional support, and often also material, financial, and personal support to both parties. Both eunuchs and maids sometimes became lovers of the Emperor, further complicating their relationship dynamics.

江南/Jiangnan: A particularly rich area of China, a hub of trade and culture with a correspondingly robust red-light district. While some women became independently wealthy and enjoyed great prestige, most women who worked and lived in the red-light district did so under varying degrees of coercion and rarely enjoyed financial success.

弑父弑君/To kill one's father and one's liege: Given that two of the three constant bonds (aka the fundamental values of morality in Ancient China) encompass the relationship with one's father and one's liege, one who breaks such bonds is seen as particularly suspect. Of course, the Grand Duke is not Wenyuan's father. He's not even Wenyuan's actual grandfather. However, even an adopted son could be executed for patricide, and in absence of one's father, one's grandfather holds even greater weight. It's based in a patrilineal system of inheritance, not the actual specificity of the relationship.

一山不容二虎/One mountain cannot hold two tigers: An Ancient Chinese proverb that means that only one dominant personality can be tolerated within a sphere of influence. The full proverb goes, "one mountain cannot hold two tigers unless one is male and one is female", in which case the two can become a power couple and all ends well. But unless the two competing forces fall in love and thereby join interests, it's not going to end well.

身首异处/Head separated from [one's] body: An Ancient Chinese proverb meaning to face a violent end, particularly by execution.