When Consort Xian received the news, it was already evening. The eunuch who came to deliver the message kept his eyes lowered, staring straight at the ground, not even glancing up at her. Pixiang Palace was eerily quiet—one could hear the crackling sound of candlelight inside the glass lamp shades.
The Ninth Princess quickly raised her eyes. These past few days she had been distracted and unsettled, but now she finally felt her three souls and seven spirits had returned to their proper places. Yet at this moment, she would rather she had truly gone mad and insane. Her mind went numb for a while before she finally recovered. Her voice hoarse, she asked again, “What did you say?”
How could this be possible? Her elder brother was a regional prince, the Emperor’s son—how could he have died like this over a woman?! Even if all the women from the Qin family and all the women in his rear courtyard died completely, he wouldn’t even blink an eye. Now they were saying he died from excessive grief over Qin Zhi’s death—only a fool would believe that. She remembered how proud and pleased she had been before setting out for the spring hunt. At that time, she had been filled with joy, thinking her brother and mother were omnipotent. But before and after, adding it all together, it had only been about a month. In just about a month’s time, she had fallen from a beautiful dream into an endless nightmare.
The little eunuch didn’t dare answer at all. He hung his head, his legs shaking like chaff being sifted. He only felt that in this brightly lit great hall, it was as if countless evil spirits might rush out at any moment to claim lives. His legs went weak and he fell to his knees on the ground, unable to move.
The Ninth Princess no longer needed his answer. She lowered her brows and eyes, kneeling before Consort Xian, burying her head in her knees, sobbing.
Only at this moment did Consort Xian awaken from her daughter’s crying. She stared wide-eyed, wanting to raise her head to stroke the Ninth Princess’s head but unable to do so—having been Emperor Jianzhang’s companion for so many years, she naturally knew what kind of unforgivable grave error Prince Duan must have committed to provoke Emperor Jianzhang’s killing intent. Precisely because of this, she was so tense that her teeth were chattering.
What on earth were those retainers and advisors kept at the regional prince’s residence there for?! They actually allowed Prince Duan to do something like massacring officials’ family members?! Didn’t they know what this truly meant? Even if this matter had succeeded, Prince Duan would have been attacked by these people en masse and torn apart until not a scrap of flesh remained! Thinking of how Chen Xiang had been immediately imprisoned, she felt her hands and feet go weak even faster—moreover, something like colluding with a close minister at the Emperor’s side had been exposed because of this foolish attack. How could Emperor Jianzhang possibly spare him?
The Ninth Princess lay prostrate on Consort Xian’s knees, her whole body trembling slightly. For the first time in all these many days, she felt truly afraid—she wasn’t truly naive to the point of ignorant stupidity. Of course she knew her brother’s death was suspicious, and as for the reason, she didn’t dare investigate deeply.
In ordinary times, she would always hear her mother say what gifts her brother had sent from his fief, how good the windproof furs from winter were for making cloaks and capes, how round and smooth the pearls newly bought from the East Sea were, how suitable the gemstones newly produced from the mines were for making hair ornaments. She wasn’t ignorant that this silver was far too extravagant for a regional prince who only received his fief’s stipend.
But Emperor Jianzhang didn’t care, Consort Xian didn’t take it seriously, so naturally she also thought it was perfectly normal. Now looking back, these things were precisely the rope around Prince Duan’s neck. In ordinary times it seemed like nothing, but when someone truly wanted to make an issue of it, once this rope tightened, Prince Duan’s life was gone.
She trembled with fear, thinking of the future, thinking of her father the Emperor, feeling only that the road ahead was a vast blur with no exit visible—Prince Duan was dead, and this would affect them more or less. Although she still had one well-behaved brother, who knew exactly how angry Father Emperor was?
If Father Emperor blamed Prince Lu and them because of Prince Duan’s actions, how should they conduct themselves from now on? She still dreamed of having a grand wedding with a ten-mile bridal procession like her eldest sister Rongcheng. If Emperor Jianzhang truly distanced himself from her because of Prince Duan’s matters, what ten-mile bridal procession, what ideal husband—all of it would only be the moon in water, flowers in a mirror, forever unrelated to her from this point on.
Her heart felt ice-cold, yet bitter hatred surged within. The chief judge who tried the Yangzhou corruption case was Song Chengru. It was the Song family who forced her brother to take extreme measures and cooperate with the Japanese daimyo. It was the Song family who pushed him step by step onto a path of no return.
The Song family, Song Sixty-one, the Princess Consort—she hung her head, her eyes full of murderous intent, emitting a strange laugh from her throat that made one’s hair stand on end. Then she collapsed headfirst onto the ground.
Consort Xian was so shocked that she was finally exhausted to the point of having no strength left even to grieve. She hastily called for someone to summon the imperial physician.
When the news reached Qingning Palace, the Empress had just finished bathing. After offering incense before the Buddha, she sat on the couch while the senior palace maid Zhilan wrung out her hair. Her features were hidden in the mist, appearing hazy and indistinct, making her expression difficult to discern.
Xie Siyi personally brought up a bowl of hibiscus and fresh vegetable soup. She reached out to take it and casually asked, “She fell ill from excessive shock?”
They should indeed be shocked. These past few years they had lived too comfortably, probably long ago forgetting the taste of fear and terror, which was why they didn’t know when to stop, again and again.
Three years ago, regarding the Crown Prince’s poisoning incident, she wasn’t unaware that Princess Shijia was merely a scapegoat, with an even more black-hearted mastermind behind her. But having been husband and wife with Emperor Jianzhang for these many decades, her understanding of him had long since penetrated to the bone marrow. To make him deal with an Empress Dowager who wasn’t his birth mother and whose son had once competed with him for the throne still required pushing him to the brink before he would act. How much more so would it be to make him deal with another biological son without evidence?
She had coldly watched Prince Duan’s ambitions grow larger and larger, coldly watched the formerly generous and humble Consort Xian from the hidden residence gradually inflate, remaining unmoved as a mountain throughout—human greed has no limit. Look, hadn’t Prince Duan now destroyed himself?
Tingxiang respectfully replied yes. “She developed a high fever, and the situation is quite poor.” She paused, somewhat hesitantly voicing her thoughts. “Should we keep this news hidden? His Majesty right now—”
Right now, he probably had no mind to care about the current situation at Pixiang Palace.
But Empress Lu slowly shook her head—this was nothing yet. Prince Lu was truly honest and proper, never involved in anything improper. In all these years, there had never been a more law-abiding regional prince. Consort Xian had also shared hardships with Emperor Jianzhang for many years and was moreover a deep palace woman. Emperor Jianzhang had just lost one son—his fury could no longer burn toward them.
Since it couldn’t burn toward them, to add fuel to the fire now would merely be futile and pointless, with no meaning whatsoever.