Your Highness, the delegation from Liang Prefecture has entered the palace.”
Wenren Lin raised his hand to acknowledge, finally withdrawing his gaze from the slender youth below in the corridor.
Still too inexperienced in the ways of the world. The Sichuan bandit chief and Prince Yong’s people were either fools or villains, not kind-hearted like him—feigning illness wouldn’t be enough to escape calamity.
The “kind-hearted” Prince Su looked up at the surging ink-like clouds in the distance, his smile cold and unfathomable.
In the palace corridor, the observing officials showed great concern for the weak and pitiful Crown Prince before gradually dispersing.
Committed to the act, Zhao Yān took the opportunity to rest on the beauty couch, suddenly feeling curious.
“When I feigned illness to deal with Zhao Yuan’yu, why didn’t you advise against it?”
Zhao Yān looked at Liu Ying who was standing attentively before her, with bright laughter in her eyes. “Such cooperation feels a bit strange.”
Liu Ying was silent for a moment before saying softly, “He insulted the Crown Prince.”
Zhao Yān was quite surprised. She had thought Liu Ying only cared about orders and the bigger picture, never imagining she would show such understanding.
…
…
Liu Ying, however, misunderstood something and said apologetically: “This servant knows her error.”
Zhao Yān casually smoothed Liu Ying’s habitually furrowed brow, smiling lightly: “What error? You protect your master, I protect what’s mine—nothing could be better.”
The gentle touch between her brows was brief. Liu Ying froze, faint shards of light appearing in her usually downcast, rational eyes.
All the world’s hustle and bustle is for profit. Those with direct conflicts of interest are most suspicious. Prince Yong’s faction was arrogantly aggressive, like large rats sniffing out carrion. Even if they weren’t the primary culprits in Zhao Yǎn’s death, they were likely involved.
Uncle Prince Yong appeared to immerse himself in landscapes daily, seemingly detached like a wild crane with empty sleeves, but his son was far from sensible. Zhao Yuan’yu was foolish and malicious, easily provoked to anger. Such people were both hateful and prone to revealing weaknesses.
Outside Shanchi Garden, Zhao Yuan’yu was seething with resentment.
The brutal succession struggle eighteen years ago had killed nine out of ten princes. In this generation, the Zhao family heirs were even more sparse.
Previously, his father’s people had memorialized the Emperor, suggesting he adopt Zhao Yuan’yu as a son in case of emergencies. But his imperial uncle had rejected the proposal on the grounds of his recklessness and lechery, citing that he was in the prime of his life.
This wasn’t an issue—after all, the Emperor had produced no more sons in all these years. Once Zhao Yǎn died, his father could be named Imperial Brother and succeed to the throne, making him the next Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace!
It should have been a certainty, so why was that sickly wretch appearing perfectly fine before him, causing him such great humiliation?
Growing increasingly dissatisfied, Zhao Yuan’yu angrily punched a lacquered pillar.
Seeing this, one of his attendants carefully advised: “Young Master, please calm down. Today is the Winter Festival palace banquet, and the Governor of Liang’s people has entered the palace for negotiations, which His Majesty takes very seriously. At such a critical moment, it’s best not to create additional issues.”
Zhao Yuan’yu’s eyes flashed with malice as he addressed the person who had just spoken: “Your father is the Deputy Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial. Isn’t he worried about who will be sent to negotiate with the Sichuan troops in Liang? Tell him to inform the Liang Prefecture Judge that I strongly recommend someone.”
He then whispered a name in the man’s ear.
The man’s expression changed slightly, anxiously saying, “Young Master, this may not be appropriate. The Crown Prince’s person is too precious—how could His Majesty bear to let him enter such a den of wolves? Moreover, with Prince Su serving as the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor, it’s unwise for Young Master to target someone he has his eye on…”
“What do you mean by ‘his person’? Do you think Prince Su truly wants to assist the Eastern Palace? He’s just sharpening his knife! I’m helping him solve a major problem—he should be thanking me!”
Seeing his companion still trying to persuade him, Zhao Yuan’yu exploded in anger: “When I tell you to go, you go! Don’t forget who secured your father’s career!”
The man could only anxiously accept the order and go to make arrangements.
Inside Yonglin Hall, wine cups clinked as beautiful palace maidens carrying fruits and fine drinks filed in continuously.
The Chief Eunuch announced the arriving nobles in his high-pitched voice. Dukes, marquises, earls, ministers, princes, and heirs arrived one after another, all richly dressed and ruddy-faced. At first, Zhao Yān patiently tried to match names with faces, but eventually became dizzy and blank-eyed from the effort.
With so many imperial relatives and dignitaries, even Zhao Yǎn couldn’t have matched them all, so she simply gave up trying.
The Chief Eunuch’s voice changed from initially sharp and clear to gradually hoarse and weak. As Zhao Yān discreetly shifted her stiff body out of boredom, she heard the eunuch hoarsely announce: “Deputy Minister of Personnel, Lord Shen, enters the hall—”
Personnel Department, Lord Shen?
The title and surname sounded familiar. Zhao Yān suddenly realized—wasn’t this the father of Shen Jingming, who had drowned?
Zhao Yān’s interest was immediately piqued. Looking toward the voice, she saw a dignified civil official with slightly frost-tinged temples.
Still not recovered from the pain of losing his son, Lord Shen looked haggard, his eyes cloudy, starkly contrasting with the jovial guests around him.
Zhao Yān’s eyes shifted as she instructed Liu Ying behind her: “Go invite that Deputy Minister Shen over. I’d like to speak with him.”
Deputy Minister Shen soon arrived.
He bowed deeply, hunched over. Zhao Yān quickly said: “Minister, please rise. I called you over regarding your son Shen Jingming’s matter.”
Hearing this name, Liu Ying, standing behind, felt her heart tighten.
Remembering the gentle touch that had lingered between her brows earlier, she didn’t intervene, merely changing her position while pouring wine to prevent others from approaching and disturbing her.
When Deputy Minister Shen heard his son’s name, the weathered despair on his face faded, transforming into the stern dignity of a father disappointed in his son.
“Thank you for the Crown Prince’s concern.”
Deputy Minister Shen endured his pain and said firmly, “However, my unworthy son was incorrigibly frivolous, idling away his time. This misfortune was his own doing! He doesn’t deserve Your Highness’s inquiry!”
With another bow, he retreated to his seat, unwilling to say another word.
Zhao Yān was stunned.
She hadn’t anticipated that Deputy Minister Shen would react this way, treating his son’s death as a disgrace. Had she overthought things? Was Shen Jingming’s death unrelated to the Crown Prince’s death?
Empress Wei, accompanying the Emperor, entered the hall just in time to see Deputy Minister Shen’s pained departure.
She looked at her troublesome “son,” her moth-like eyebrows slightly knitting together.
“Long live His Majesty, a thousand years to Her Majesty.”
A clear, rich male voice interrupted her thoughts from behind.
Empress Wei turned to see an elegant, handsome man in moon-white robes, accompanied by a female family member entering the hall, bowing to her.
The man was quite handsome, carrying a natural three-part smile for everyone he met, with features somewhat resembling Empress Wei’s. Beside him, the woman had elaborate hair adorned with flowers, and though she wore no makeup, her natural beauty was unmistakable, surrounded by what seemed like a halo of moonlight.
Such an outstanding, well-matched couple was unforgettable to Zhao Yān—Uncle Marquis of Ningyang, Wei Yan, and Aunt Rong Fuyue.
While at Huayang Palace, Zhao Yān had heard her grandmother, the Empress Dowager, speak of the Wei clan’s past.
When her maternal grandparents died, the Ningyang Marquis’s household was already declining, leaving behind a financial mess. Uncle Wei Yan became the head of the family at just fourteen, while Mother Wei Ling was only sixteen. The siblings were disregarded everywhere they went, suffering cold treatment and mockery.
From that time on, the siblings vowed to revitalize their family. Wei Ling entered the palace with her reputation as a “martyr’s descendant,” climbing from an obscure beauty to the position of Empress, mother of the nation.
Meanwhile, Wei Yan studied diligently outside the palace, building wide connections with worthy scholars. In ten years, he transformed from a despised, impoverished youth into the renowned young Marquis of Ningyang, whose call could summon hundreds.
In terms of family background and connections, the Wei clan now flourished, undoubtedly the foremost among the capital’s noble families.
Yet looking at his demeanor, who could imagine that such a legendary figure who had weathered storms would be a mild-mannered, accommodating man obsessed with his wife?
They say nephews resemble their uncles—Zhao Yǎn’s good nature, gentle as a doll, was indeed remarkably similar to Marquis Wei Yan’s.
Empress Wei, holding her lofty position, wasn’t overly warm toward her brother, merely nodding slightly before taking her phoenix seat above.
Wei Yan then looked toward Zhao Yān and asked: “This subject has been resting with Lady Moon in the suburbs and only returned yesterday, without time to pay respects to the Crown Prince. Has Your Highness’s illness greatly improved?”
In the past, when she was in the palace, though Aunt was aloof and quiet, she would always bring her snacks, and Uncle would also laugh while carrying her on his shoulders to play. Though they had lost contact over the years, Zhao Yān still maintained a fondness for them.
So she rose to return the greeting: “Thank you for your concern, Uncle. I am much better.”
Wei Yan said gently, “That’s good.”
Before they could say more, a eunuch outside the hall suddenly announced in a long, high-pitched voice: “The Judge from Liang Prefecture enters the hall—”
The lively atmosphere in the hall instantly froze.
Who didn’t know that the Judge from Liang Prefecture, nominally there to discuss pacification with the court, was a pawn sent by the rebel leader to test the waters?
Wei Yan also became slightly more serious, no longer exchanging pleasantries, and escorted his beloved wife to take their seats.
A short, thin man wearing the moss-green sixth-rank civil official uniform entered the hall with a face full of flattery, bowing and nodding to the various nobles and officials on both sides, naturally presenting the demeanor of a lackey.
With such a fence-sitter sent by the court to supervise and assist the Governor of Liang, it was no wonder Liang had rebelled.
A burly warrior with a face full of brawn followed closely behind. He entered the hall wearing armor marked with sword scars, his eyes flashing with ferocity. He was no good person—presumably, He Hu, the personal guard under the Governor of Liang.
The banquet seethed with undercurrents.
This year, the capital experienced extreme cold. The Sichuan rebels appeared fierce but had exhausted their provisions, with countless soldiers frostbitten after the heavy snow. Though the Great Xuan could have counterattacked, years of treasury deficits and unstable military morale meant they were also passively avoiding battle.
Both sides needed a breathing space, but how to negotiate was a problem.
The Sichuan side clearly wouldn’t easily give up the fatty meat in their mouth. If they couldn’t take it by force, they would still bite off a piece, skin and bone included.
He Hu was not satisfied with the conditions proposed by the Great Xuan and coldly snorted: “We brothers have followed the Governor, clearing out bandits, drinking blood and eating flesh, risking our lives. The Emperor merely bestows a title on the Governor and considers the matter settled—this shows too little sincerity!”
Hearing this, Zhao Yān scoffed coldly.
What “clearing out bandits”? The Governor of Liang had been attacking cities and occupying territory under the pretext of supporting the Emperor, bringing pressure to the capital with two hundred thousand Sichuan troops. His disloyal heart was evident—he was the biggest bandit!
The Emperor showed no emotion: “What does the Minister wish?”
He Hu said: “The military provisions for this journey, the compensation for our fallen brothers—will the Emperor not provide them?”
In the dead silence, some officials were speechless, some were spectating, but most felt the indignation of being mere fish meat.
Rebelling against the Great Xuan and then demanding money from them—could there be anyone so shameless in the world?
Seeing the Emperor’s silence, He Hu said gruffly: “Since the Emperor lacks sincerity, we might as well continue holding our position outside the city.”
“We have sincerity, we have sincerity,” the Deputy Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial smoothed things over, wiping cold sweat and signaling to the Judge from Liang, who was drinking wine by himself.
Understanding the signal, the Judge put down his wine cup and stood up.
“To demonstrate our Great Xuan’s sincerity in pacification, this subject has a suggestion.”
The Judge from Liang stepped forward and bowed, his rat-like eyes glancing toward the Crown Prince’s seat. “The Crown Prince is the heir apparent, the second most noble person in the Great Xuan, and best represents His Majesty’s imperial authority. If the Crown Prince could personally enter the camp to respond to the Governor of Liang, demonstrating the Great Xuan’s respect for worthy men, the Governor would surely appreciate His Majesty’s sincerity and gladly accept!”
With these words, the entire hall was shocked.
Zhao Yān raised her weary eyes and slowly sat upright.
She had merely come to be a decoration, not expecting to become the center of attention.
Across from her, Zhao Yuan’yu tossed a dried fruit into his mouth, his eyes full of schadenfreude.
It seemed this play largely had Prince Yong’s heir to thank.
Fine, she would remember this.
He Hu, in collusion with them, quickly realized: holding the Great Xuan’s only seedling as a hostage—wouldn’t that be more useful than those trifling silver and gold?
He immediately slapped the table: “It’s settled then! Let the little Crown Prince come with us!”
“Your Majesty, this must not happen!”
Empress Wei’s expression changed severely, her voice trembling slightly.
Wenren Lin stood with his hands behind his back at the side door of the hall, his fingertips lightly caressing his dark iron ring, hearing everything inside clearly.
Zhang Cang wiped sweat nervously, unable to hold back a curse: “Your Highness, these dog thieves are so bold. They dare target someone you have your eye on!”
Wenren Lin glanced over, his eyes like black ice.
“…This servant misspoke.”
Zhang Cang awkwardly backed down, but continued grumbling in his heart: But it’s true! Master’s interest in teasing the little Crown Prince even exceeds that of the palace cats. Why is he displeased when it’s mentioned…
Seeing the atmosphere in the hall intensifying, Zhang Cang couldn’t help chattering again: “Won’t you step forward to restrain those dog thieves?”
“Not yet.”
Wenren Lin’s expression remained indifferent, as if the person suffering in the fire pit was not his daily student.
He wanted to see what posture the Crown Prince would use to faint this time.