There cannot be two suns in the same sky, just as there cannot be two rulers in the same court.
And now, in the Great Sheng, the new Emperor Li Shu had seized the throne through opportunism and claimed legitimacy, yet Princess Imperial Li Bingsheng still held firm control over military and financial power and refused to relinquish it. The court’s factions were fractured, and the situation remained murky and unsettled.
The Zhang Family had served emperors loyally for generations — by rights, they ought to support Li Bingsheng as the rightful heir of the Eastern Palace. Yet a few stubborn clan elders obstinately believed that whoever sat upon the imperial throne was the one they should serve.
These people would bring ruin to the Zhang Family, and they would bring ruin to Zhang Ting’an as well.
Li Bingsheng paced back and forth in fury. “Chu Yan was unworthy of his position, so Lu Shouhuai deserves it? He occupied that post for so many years without a word from you, yet the moment I replace him with my own person, you come here to lecture me. What exactly do you think you are? Push me far enough and I’ll have you dragged out and beheaded along with the rest!”
Zhang Ting’an straightened his kneeling posture, removed the iron helmet from his head, and set it neatly before her.
This was his way of saying he did not fear her blade.
“Fine, fine, fine.” Li Bingsheng laughed through her fury. “Someone — drag him out!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
A nearby subordinate official watched as Zhang Ting’an was simply dragged away without further punishment, and frowned as he stepped forward with clasped hands. “Your Highness, this man has defied and disrespected you. Without severe punishment, I fear it will damage your authority.”
Li Bingsheng’s fury had not yet subsided. She turned to him coldly. “And how would you have him severely punished?”
The official faltered and quickly tried to recover. “Your Highness, forgive this servant. I merely thought that this man belongs to the new Emperor’s faction, and has repeatedly provoked Your Highness…”
“Who told you he belongs to the new Emperor’s faction?” Li Bingsheng disagreed. “Must one who serves Great Sheng be labeled with a party?”
The official hesitated. “But Your Highness, the new Emperor has arranged multiple marriage alliances — this is clearly an effort to draw the Zhang Family under his banner.”
Setting aside that Cheng Huaili was to wed a Zhang daughter, even Zhang Zhixu was about to be bestowed in marriage to Princess Rouyi. With this, would not the Zhang Family be irrevocably bound to the new Emperor, their fates intertwined?
Li Bingsheng swept her sleeve and turned away. “Until the dust has settled, do not bolster others’ spirits and deflate your own.”
A cool breeze swept across Qingfeng Terrace. Her magnificent phoenix robes brushed past the scattered cushions as she walked composedly into the inner chamber.
·
Word spread from Mingzhu Tower: the military official Chen Baoxiang, peerless in courage, had single-handedly fought off a hundred opponents, defeating the most domineering guards of Baoxin Palace. This drew applause from Princess Rouyi, who on the spot recommended her to Xiaoyong Fang — known as the Imperial Guards’ training ground — a place that, once entered, put one not far from being promoted into the Imperial Guards.
Chen Baoxiang was tending to her own wounds when she heard the news. Even the corners of her eyes curved up in a smile.
Zhang Fengqing truly understood what she wanted and cooperated splendidly. Originally she had only managed to break through a three-way losing situation, but with his push to fan the flames, her reputation for martial prowess had instantly spread far and wide.
In the talent-rich court of Great Sheng, the path to distinction was swift — fame mattered even more than ability. If her wounds were not still healing, she would have gone to show her face at Xiaoyong Fang this very moment.
While she was rejoicing, Bi Kong returned with a bag of buns. “Here, the soy-braised pork filling you wanted.”
Chen Baoxiang took one and bit into it, and in a rare show of generosity said, “I’ll treat you to a proper meal tonight.”
“Came into money?”
“No, but I’m happy.” She smiled. “I get to go to Xiaoyong Fang.”
Just happy enough to go to Xiaoyong Fang? Bi Kong’s expression grew complicated. “If you succeed in what you set out to do, Her Highness can send you straight to the Ministry of War.”
“You can’t become fat from a single bite — take it slowly.” She didn’t take it to heart at all. “Zhang Zhixu’s birthday is still a long way off.”
Only she would think it was still a long way off. In Her Highness’s eyes, it was already a matter of pressing urgency.
Bi Kong watched her eat four large meat buns, then suddenly asked, “Did you go see Zhang Zhixu today?”
“Not yet.” Chen Baoxiang said. “I was planning to go a little later.”
“Don’t wait until later — go now. I heard he was also injured yesterday. If you go now, he’ll certainly be pleased to see you too.” Bi Kong helped her up and started ushering her out the door.
Chen Baoxiang gave her an extra look.
Rather than Bi Kong understanding her, these days of living together had made her the one who understood Bi Kong better. This person, whenever her conscience was uneasy, would move to help her up — and when their eyes met, the corners of her mouth would unconsciously press downward.
What scheme was she cooking up now?
Chen Baoxiang discreetly looked around. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she left the small courtyard and headed toward Mingzhu Tower.
The skies over Shangjing were growing noticeably colder. The wind at the high floors was too strong to be good for healing injuries, so Zhang Zhixu had moved into the courtyard below, where silver-thread charcoal had already been lit in the room.
The moment Chen Baoxiang stepped inside she felt rather warm. She glanced at the charcoal brazier, and her jaw nearly dropped. “It’s not even winter yet.”
If it had been anyone else saying this, Zhang Zhixu wouldn’t have bothered to respond — what did the start of winter have to do with when one lit the charcoal, if the room was cold it ought to be used.
But meeting Chen Baoxiang’s gaze, he inexplicably felt a touch of embarrassment, and touched the tip of his nose as he instructed Jiuquan, “Take it away.”
“No, wait — it’s already lit, don’t waste it.” She pulled two sweet potatoes from inside her robe and, using the tongs beside the brazier, buried them into the remaining embers.
Jiuquan: “……”
Zhang Zhixu shot her a sideways glance. “You carry those around with you?”
“Mmhm, it’s habit.” She said. “Wherever I go I need to have something to eat on hand.”
He pressed his lips together, wanting to ask something, then glanced at the person nearby.
Jiuquan slapped his own forehead and immediately dragged Ningsu along. “Right, so — the old matron said she went to buy things, and at this hour she still hasn’t come back. We’d better go check, maybe she has too much to carry.”
“You make a fair point.” Ningsu nodded, and together they vanished through the doorway in an instant, thoughtfully pulling the door closed behind them.
The room grew quiet. Zhang Zhixu then asked unhurriedly, “Did you use the medicine Ningsu brought over?”
“Didn’t need to. The ones from before still aren’t finished.” Chen Baoxiang made no ceremony of it — she stood and went to the bedside, tugged open her collar and showed him. “Look, just this spot on my shoulder that’s more serious. The rest are only surface wounds.”
Zhang Zhixu’s eyelid twitched.
What manner of conduct was this.
The two of them shared certain unusual experiences, and so he knew her body well, but to have this spring on him so suddenly without warning — it was entirely improper.
He couldn’t help but reprimand her. “You cannot behave like this in front of others.”
“You’re not ‘others.'” She replied openly and without guile.
One could see clearly that Chen Baoxiang harbored not the slightest improper intention. Her words carried no hidden meaning, no veiled declaration — her eyes were as clear as spring water.
Yet hearing those words fall upon his ears, Zhang Zhixu, rather shamefully, felt heat rise to the tips of his ears.
“How are your wounds?” She propped a hand on the edge of the bed and leaned in to look at his back.
“Fine.”
“Let me see.”
“There’s nothing to see, you don’t need to—” He tried to dodge, but she was faster. In an instant she had taken hold of his wrist.
Her scorching palm pressed against his skin, burning like fire.
Zhang Zhixu startled, and turned to grip her hand. “You’re running a high fever?”
“Am I?” Chen Baoxiang touched her own forehead, then smacked her lips. “It’s just that your room is too warm. The moment I came in I felt parched and uncomfortable all over.”
Warm?
Zhang Zhixu looked at the four layers of clothing on himself, then at her two thin garments.
Chen Baoxiang also belatedly sensed something was wrong.
“What a strange feeling.” She straightened, her gaze growing somewhat dazed. “It’s exactly like that time at Zhaixing Tower trying on clothes — tingly, numb, and a little itchy.”