Dragged from his bed in the middle of the night, Emperor Qiwen was already somewhat irritable. Being Emperor, he truly was in a wretched position.

And now, hearing these words from Nanmeng Rong, he grew even more displeased.

Not only had she shown not a shred of propriety in his presence — she had not even bothered with proper forms of address — and on top of all that, she expected him to do this!

“The edict has been issued. You would have me rescind it now? Throughout all the dynasties in history, when has an imperial edict ever been rescinded? Do you wish to make me an Emperor who goes back on his word and breaks his own decrees?”

“Why should it not be done? If an edict is found to be mistaken, of course it must be rescinded!”

Nanmeng Rong saw no reason to overthink it. Had it not always been this way? Whenever she wanted this spineless Emperor to do something, he never refused.

As far as Nanmeng Rong was currently concerned, having Feng Jiu’er matched with Zhan Yuheng was the most advantageous arrangement for her.

For one thing, Feng Jiu’er’s identity as a phoenix maiden might genuinely bring an Emperor’s fortune to Heng’er. As long as Heng’er became Emperor, what was there left to fear?

An Emperor’s side was never without beautiful women — the inner palace had consorts beyond counting. She was not afraid of Feng Jiu’er basking in their reflected glory. Once the girl was married into the imperial family, she would not be given the position of Empress. A consort’s rank would be quite sufficient.

And within the inner palace, she herself — as Empress Dowager — would hold supreme authority. She could torment Feng Jiu’er, that daughter-in-law of hers, however she pleased.

With the girl in her hands, as long as she did not actually kill her, there was nothing to stop her from making her suffer each and every day.

Why had she never thought of this before? Why had she spent all this time trying to prevent Heng’er from taking that wretched girl?

If Feng Jiu’er married Heng’er, the second advantage was that A’Jiu would no longer be able to have any entanglement with the girl whatsoever.

Once she was another man’s wife, could she still come out and cause trouble? Who did Feng Jiu’er think she was — did she think she had the same power and influence as Nanmeng Rong herself, free to do as she pleased?

Under all of heaven, the only woman who could act with absolute impunity was Nanmeng Rong alone.

Did Feng Jiu’er think she was fit to be spoken of in the same breath?

Emperor Qiwen said nothing. He was too incensed to speak.

His silence only emboldened Nanmeng Rong further. Had it not always been this way, every single time in the past — the spineless Emperor eventually yielded?

This time would be no different.

After a long silence, Emperor Qiwen said mildly: “Why have you suddenly decided that the ninth daughter of the Feng Family would be better suited with Heng’er?”

“Does Your Majesty not already know — when Heng’er was in difficulty, was it not Feng Jiu’er who attended to him throughout?” Was that reason not sufficient?

“Heng’er is a heaven-chosen son, with a future of boundless achievement. There will always be petty villains who seek to harm him. Feng Jiu’er is well-versed in medicine — having her remain by Heng’er’s side would be greatly beneficial to him.”

“Do you not, in fact, believe that Feng Jiu’er is one of those who sought to harm Heng’er?” Emperor Qiwen gave a cold snort.

This was no reason at all. If it truly were her reason, she would never have insisted on having Feng Jiu’er condemned to death in the first place.

Everyone knew that Nanmeng Rong despised Feng Jiu’er. Every single person in the court — even those of the Feng Family — surely understood this in their hearts.

Nanmeng Rong said dismissively: “That was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Now that the misunderstanding has been cleared up, your servant is well aware of Heng’er’s feelings toward Feng Jiu’er. So — what harm is there in fulfilling Heng’er’s wish?”

Was there anything wrong with a mother doing something to make her son happy?

Nanmeng Rong’s true intentions — though Emperor Qiwen still could not quite unravel them — certainly had nothing to do with what she claimed. That this was for her son’s sake, he did not believe for a single moment.

This woman — the person she loved most in this world had always been, and would always be, herself.

Her fortune was simply that her father, throughout his entire life, had loved not his sons or grandsons above all else, but this daughter of his.

Had that not been the case, how could she have become this brazen?

“The edict has been issued. I will not rescind it without cause. An Emperor’s word is not given lightly.” Emperor Qiwen settled into his chair, his eyes no longer willing to rest upon her.

“If the Noble Consort Rong has nothing else to discuss, please return and rest early. It is late.”

The moment Nanmeng Rong heard the title “Noble Consort Rong,” she nearly spat blood from sheer fury. And that matter — she had not even gotten around to venting about that yet!

“And what if there were a cause?” Finding a pretext to dissolve the betrothal — how difficult could that be?

Emperor Qiwen knew her nature well. He could sense that she was concocting some scheme in her mind at this very moment, though he found that he truly no longer wished to spend any effort trying to fathom it.

Nanmeng Rong had no need for him to fathom it. The two of them were husband and wife, but through all these years, there had never been a single moment when their hearts were as one.

Speaking of love to a ruler — that was the most foolish thing a person could do. She had grasped this clearly even before she had become Empress.

So — no sentimentality. If anything was to be discussed, let it be practical.

“Your Majesty — having Feng Jiu’er marry Heng’er is your servant’s greatest wish at this moment. Yet your servant does not know what Your Majesty would require before agreeing to withdraw the edict.”

Emperor Qiwen’s lips moved slightly. He looked at Nanmeng Rong once more, then did not respond at once.

Why had this woman been able to ride roughshod over him for more than twenty years? Not only because of her overbearing nature, but also because of one extremely formidable quality she possessed — she always knew precisely how to make him yield.

In truth, Emperor Qiwen was not unaware of this. He simply had no way around it. The most critical reason was that she… could deliver him benefits.

“Your Majesty — have you decided?” Nanmeng Rong pressed.

Emperor Qiwen considered for a moment, then at last said: “I want the Nanmeng clan’s thirty thousand troops reassigned to Ri’er’s Dragon Guard Army.”

Reassigning thirty thousand troops to Zhan Luori! That cunning Emperor — what a calculated move this was. What did he mean by this?

Did he truly still intend to cultivate Zhan Luori, with an eye to eventually making him Crown Prince?

Nanmeng Rong was full of suppressed rage, looking for somewhere to release it — but when she saw Emperor Qiwen’s face, that face wearing so little warmth, she found she did not know where to begin.

The Emperor had changed. He was no longer the spineless Emperor of before who could be kneaded and shaped at her will.

But did he truly think that changing slightly would be enough to alter the fate of this empire?

Simply — absurd!

Walking through the night, Feng Jiu’er’s heart still fluttered with lingering dread.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle tonight — she did not know what had come over him. Had she not struggled with all her might just now, the two of them would likely have already…

Thinking of what had nearly happened, her face flushed crimson in an instant.

She had never been so close to a man before. It had not been merely a matter of shedding clothing and lying in an embrace — they had been holding each other, the Ninth Imperial Uncle pressing down upon her, and she had distinctly felt the two of them on the verge of becoming one.

Had she not come to her senses at the moment the pain hit, and pushed the Ninth Imperial Uncle away, they would have truly crossed that line entirely.

A gust of wind came, and Feng Jiu’er shivered despite herself. The night was not cold — and yet a chilly ripple ran all across her skin.

She looked down and straightened her clothing once more, then took a step forward into the courtyard.

She had nearly bolted out without a stitch on her — it was the Ninth Imperial Uncle who had pulled her back, and only then did she scramble in a flustered rush to get dressed.

Now, her clothes were still somewhat disheveled. It was entirely the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s fault.

Only — having upset the Ninth Imperial Uncle, what was she to do now? Could she leave the Ninth Prince’s manor?

And if she left — would she and the Ninth Imperial Uncle never see each other again?