Yuxiang did not know what the woman had seen, but she knew clearly that whatever could cause a palace veteran with years of experience to scream in fright had to be serious in the extreme. She leaned close to the Empress Dowager and whispered a few words. The Empress Dowager’s expression cooled. She swept the room with her gaze. “The princes remain. Everyone else — wait outside.”

The consorts rose and withdrew with their heads bowed, not one of them daring to cast so much as a sideways glance at Hao Yue. In this palace, the safest way to live long was to know as few secrets as possible.

“Noble Consort Xu — you are hardly an outsider.”

Noble Consort Xu’s footsteps halted. Her body gave a small, barely visible tremor. She did not even have the courage to turn around. Some things, once done, left no way back.

Hua Zhi was also called to remain. “You and Gu Yanxi lack only a formal title between you. Open your eyes and bear witness to all of this on his behalf.”

Hua Zhi had no wish to stay — but she also had no means to refuse. Words from the Emperor’s mouth were imperial edicts; words from the Empress Dowager’s mouth carried the same unassailable authority.

“Now — explain what happened.”

Yuxiang glanced at the only person present who knew the truth and walked toward her.

The old palace maid’s face had gone white. By the palace’s longstanding way of handling such things, she knew she could not be allowed to live.

Shooting a look of hatred at Hao Yue, she reached down and yanked up the hem of Hao Yue’s skirts with force, revealing the child lying small and still in a pool of blood on the floor, the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck — though that was not what Yuxiang noticed in that moment. When she saw the child’s face, even she — who had weathered countless storms — barely managed to suppress a cry. This child — this child — had no features. Only the faintest suggestion of a shape where a face should have been.

Yuxiang clenched her fists tightly. She looked toward the Emperor and the Empress Dowager, at a loss for how to speak. This was imperial blood — no matter whose it was — whether the Emperor’s or the prince’s — this was the blood of the imperial Gu family.

The expressions of the old palace maid and Yuxiang alike told a story that needed no words. If it had merely been a stillbirth, the reaction would not have been like this — an infant born too early had far too little chance of survival; that alone could not account for what they were seeing. A cold premonition settled over Hao Yue. She forced herself upright and looked down.

“Ah—!”

One look was all it took. Hao Yue let out a scream and scrambled backward in horror. Without her skirt to cover it, the child came into the sight of everyone present.

The Empress Dowager’s expression shifted. She said clearly, “Bring it here.”

Yuxiang had not yet answered when Hao Yue, with startling speed, crawled back and forced herself to reach past her own revulsion and fear, using her skirts to cover the child again. She could not let the Emperor see. She absolutely could not let him see. If the Emperor learned she had given birth to something like this, then…

Hao Yue shuddered. She looked up, ready to press on his weakness as she always had — and found herself meeting a pair of eyes utterly without ripple or feeling. Her mouth fell open. Not a single word came out.

The Empress Dowager gave a cold sound. “Bring it up here.”

The old attendant was a woman of considerable strength, and knowing at this moment that her life was in the Empress Dowager’s hands, she needed no instruction from Yuxiang. She stepped forward and shoved Hao Yue aside, lifting the child — placenta and all — and carried it toward the head of the room. Hao Yue lunged to stop her; Yuxiang shifted sideways to block her path, cast her a frigid look, and followed swiftly.

Hao Yue crumpled to the floor. She could only watch helplessly as the expressions on the faces of the most powerful people gathered above — each one — shifted into shock and revulsion. The Fourth Prince retreated step after step, even raising a hand to cover half his face, making clear with his actions that he did not wish to look for even a moment longer.

The Emperor, by contrast, stared fixedly at the child — and then burst into a roar of laughter, his voice rolling out without restraint.

Retribution. This was retribution. He had allowed children to be consumed. Heaven had answered by delivering to the imperial family a child such as this. The laws of Heaven were clear and impartial — no one could escape them.

He signaled for the palace maid to take the child away. The Empress Dowager clasped her son’s hand. Neither of them knew whose hand was trembling — only that both gripped the other with extraordinary force.

In these past years, this was the moment their hearts and spirits had been closest to each other.

“Imperial Mother — I have disappointed you.”

The Empress Dowager let out a long sigh. Yes — disappointed. How could she not be? She had watched him walk to this point, helpless to do anything. She could not pull him back. She could not protect him. Now she could not even hold onto his life.

The Emperor looked toward Physician Yu. “How long do I have?”

Physician Yu looked at the grey pallor spreading across his face and gave a slight shake of his head. He stepped forward to remove the golden needles. “The quarter-hour has already passed.”

The Emperor closed his eyes. His expression was, beyond all expectation, calm. He looked in turn at the Empress Dowager and at each of his sons. Even Hua Zhi, standing at some distance, received a glance from him — only Noble Consort Xu and Hao Yue were excluded from his gaze entirely.

“Then — summon the court officials.”

The hall doors opened once more. The sky pressed down in darkness. Rain crashed in sheets. The court officials, every one of them in a bedraggled state, knelt along the corridor outside. They looked up and saw the familiar figure of Laifu emerging from within.

Laifu fought to steady his voice. “His Majesty decrees — summon the court officials to the hall.”

The officials helped one another to their feet, exchanging quiet glances. In their hearts, most of them already understood.

The cry of ten thousand years of blessing rose. For an instant, the Emperor felt a flicker of disorientation. He had heard those words so many times in this lifetime — and had truly wanted to live ten thousand years. But what right had he to dream of outliving the heavens? Even the Founding Emperor had lived only past fifty, and this life of his had been without a single worthy achievement. Not one.

“Cough — cough, cough, cough—”

“Your Majesty!”

The Emperor coughed and waved away those who moved to approach, forcing himself upright and drawing himself straight. In a voice rough with hoarseness, he said, “My life has been one without merit and filled with fault — far beneath the late Emperor.”

“Your Majesty!”

“My only hope is that the new sovereign will bring Great Qing renewed vitality and make amends for my failures.”

The officials cried out again in unison.

The Emperor gripped the edge of the couch to keep himself from falling back. Strength was draining from his body moment by moment. He knew he had very little time left.

“Decree — Our Sixth Prince is named Crown Prince, to inherit the rightful succession of Great Qing’s rivers and mountains.”

Sixth Brother stepped out of line on instinct and dropped to his knees, forehead to the ground. His mind was ringing — was it truly… settled?

“Decree — Shizi Gu Yanxi is named Prince Regent. The Duke of Founding is named Imperial Tutor to the Crown Prince. Together they shall serve as co-regents.”

The Duke of Founding stepped forward. “This old subject — accepts the decree.”

“Decree — Hua Zhi is named Imperial Tutor to the Crown Prince. She need not attend court and shall not participate in governance.”

At these words, the entire hall was stunned. It was common knowledge that Hua Zhi was Sixth Prince’s teacher, but to have it bestowed by imperial edict was an entirely different matter. To say it plainly — this was the first female court official in the history of Great Qing.

Even without power, she was still an official — and given how close she and the new sovereign were, who in the future would dare look down upon her?

Hua Zhi herself was utterly taken aback. She had assumed that given how poorly the Emperor regarded her, it would already be a mercy if he did not seek to find trouble with her or sentence her to death at the last moment. Yet he had bestowed her an official title?

Her instinct was to refuse, but she raised her head and knew at once that her instinct was wrong. There was no room for refusal here. For this was a deathbed command.

She could only step out from her position at the side of the room, kneel, and accept the appointment.

The Emperor coughed several more times. When he spoke again, his weakness was unmistakable. Laifu crawled forward on his knees and offered his own shoulder for the Emperor to lean against, terrified he might fall.

“Decree — Noble Consort Xu and her son are guilty of bringing chaos to the inner palace. They are sentenced to death and shall not be interred in the imperial mausoleum. All those complicit in this matter shall not be spared. Decree — the Xu Family is to have its property seized and its clan exterminated.”

Breathing in rapid, labored bursts, the Emperor paused before continuing. “Posthumously honor Consort Zhen as the First Empress. She shall be interred with Us. Sixth Brother is thereby Our legitimate-born son — Great Qing’s rightful and legitimate Crown Prince. All Our beloved subjects must give him their full support and aid him in becoming a wise and enlightened sovereign.”

“Your subjects accept the decree. Long live His Majesty — ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years!”

He raised a limp hand and waved it. “Withdraw. Hua Zhi — come forward.”

“Long live His Majesty — ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years!”