PM - 23

She couldn’t help but frown. “What does Father Chancellor mean by this?”

The man blocking her path remained expressionless. “The Yong’an Palace is implicated in the assassination attempt. Until its innocence is proven, Your Majesty should not meet with the Empress Dowager.”

The more he insisted, the more her rebellious instincts flared. “Does Father Chancellor also believe the mastermind behind this is the Empress Dowager? She and I have always been close, with unrestricted access to the palace. If she wanted to harm me, she could have done so at any time—why resort to hiring an assassin? More people knowing about a plot only increases the risk. Are there really such fools who enjoy making unnecessary moves?”

The Chancellor’s eyelids lowered as he coldly replied, “Would Your Majesty personally take action if you were determined to eliminate someone? There are plenty of desperate men in this world. Those of noble birth—who among them would willingly stain their hands with blood? The imperial lineage comes first, familial ties second. In my eyes, nothing matters more than Your Majesty’s safety. As for others—even the Empress Dowager—they do not factor into my considerations.”

His words seemed flawless, yet they made Fu Wei acutely aware of how cold and ruthless he truly was. In his world, there were only calculations—no room for familial affection, let alone love. When she had tried to save Shangguan Zhao, he had refused her with righteous indignation. Now, even her desire to visit the Empress Dowager was met with obstruction. She knew that his professed loyalty to her was merely a facade; what he truly cared about was not her safety but the Great Yin dynasty that lay behind her.

Refusing to yield, she stubbornly argued, “I merely wish to comfort the Empress Dowager. She has endured much over the years. And surely, Father Chancellor knows her character?”

The Chancellor shook his head. “I need not know. I only wish to remind Your Majesty that, seated upon the throne, maintaining a clear mind at all times is paramount. During the reign of Emperor Xiaozong, the empire was divided among the vassal states. Were not all those relatives of royal blood? And what came of it? Brothers fought each other to the death over succession—how much less would an unrelated person be spared?”

She stared at him incredulously. “So, in your heart, only yourself truly matters, is that it? I have no family left—only this mother figure. Though she is not my birth mother, I once received her care during my childhood. Over the years, you have suppressed the influence of the maternal relatives. Among the Liang clan, the highest-ranking official is merely a junior minister. As for my maternal family, the Lou clan, not a single member holds office—was this not to ensure I had no power to rely on? I am alone, bereft of allies, and I have endured all of this. But now, even the Empress Dowager is not spared. Chancellor, what exactly do you intend to achieve?”

This was the first time in years that she had vented her anger at him so openly. In the past, no matter how upset she was, she still addressed him as “Father Chancellor.” But now, she directly referred to his official title—a clear sign of her fury.

Finally, the Chancellor raised his eyes, his crescent-shaped brows casting shadows over his piercing gaze. His eyes resembled a bottomless abyss, exuding an inscrutable aura.

“Everything I do is for Your Majesty…”

Fu Wei abruptly waved her sleeve. “I’ve heard too many such words! You claim to act in my best interest, yet you push me step by step into a corner—it’s all because of you!”

Her mercilessness—how could anyone connect her to the smiling, affable person she had been just days ago? She was an emperor, her thoughts deep and calculating, perhaps even somewhat cold-hearted. She never wasted effort; every move she made had a purpose. If before it was merely to win him over, then what now? Had he not yet fallen into her trap that she was already losing composure and revealing her true nature?

The Chancellor felt a surge of anger rising within him. Fortunately, he had long been aware of her tactics and never took her words outside the court seriously. Now that she was bored, she could lash out at him—but he could not retaliate. He could only restrain himself, reminding himself that every word and action must conform to the dignity of a chancellor.

He bowed to her. “I have matters to report, Your Majesty. We have interrogated all two hundred forty-six palace maidens in the inner court and found no suspicious points. Han Yan is gravely injured and unable to speak for now, but the prison physician is treating her. If she survives, we may extract some clues from her. In my opinion, this matter should not be publicized. Your Majesty can appoint a few trusted ministers to investigate discreetly—whether it is Han Yan, Lady Liu, or even the Empress Dowager… The fewer people involved in the court, the greater flexibility we will have in the future.”

After venting her anger, Fu Wei gradually calmed down. Reflecting on her actions, she realized she might have indeed acted impulsively. His last few words finally seemed to align with her interests. Even if the worst-case scenario unfolded and the Empress Dowager was implicated, sparing her life would naturally minimize the fallout.

She raised her hands, pressing them against her face in frustration. “I was too agitated just now, Father Chancellor, forgive me…” She forgot about the wound on her cheek and scraped it roughly, drawing a sharp intake of breath from the pain.

The Chancellor frowned deeply as he watched blood seep from the fine cut. Unable to see it herself, she could only pull out her handkerchief and press it against her face.

“That Han Yan—if it weren’t for needing her alive, she would have been executed and her head displayed in the marketplace long ago.” His tone was indifferent, yet a trace of barely concealed hatred seeped through his words, unnoticed even by himself.

Fu Wei remained silent. Catching the faint scent wafting from his sleeves, she inexplicably felt her anger dissipate, leaving her feeling oddly unsettled.

“I’ll handle it myself… It’s fine…” How strange—it had become so habitual for him to remain aloof that when he occasionally showed concern, she found herself unable to adjust. Covering her face with one hand, she quickly turned away. “The Wuling case has also implicated the Yan and Jing Princes. Father Chancellor, don’t neglect the most crucial matter while focusing on this. Whether Han Yan has any connection to Yuan Heng or others remains unclear. Since she cannot speak, we must delve deeper into Lady Liu. Anyone from their extended families, regardless of proximity, must not be spared.”

The Chancellor acknowledged her words. “Does Your Majesty still insist on visiting the Yong’an Palace?”

Perhaps her life truly required further cultivation. Others could be ignored or slighted, but not the Empress Dowager.

She turned back to him, her voice tinged with despair. “I lost my mother at the age of three and have always regarded the Empress Dowager as my own mother. Although I couldn’t be close to her over the past decade, as long as she is here, I don’t feel alone.”

After all, she was still a girl. No matter how ruthless her heart, she could not be as callous as a man. He paused briefly before relenting. “Very well. Your Majesty should not go alone—I will accompany you.”

This could have been an excellent opportunity to strengthen their bond, but alas, her mood was poor, and she lacked the enthusiasm.

If he wished to accompany her, so be it—at least for now, he wouldn’t harm the Empress Dowager. She stepped out of the Yuecheng Gate, a straight, seemingly endless road stretching before her. The palace roads, remnants of the pre-Qin era, were wide and unobstructed. The neatly laid blue bricks ensured that even after the previous night’s heavy rain, her shoes would remain clean.

The sovereign and minister walked slowly, one ahead of the other. The air was misty after the rain, crisp and mingled with the scent of earth and grass, reminiscent of the ever-burning osmanthus incense in the Quefei Hall. Fu Wei took a deep breath. “It has been a long time since I last walked with Father Chancellor. This outing is thanks to Han Yan.”

The Chancellor remained silent for a moment before responding. “Shouldn’t Your Majesty increase the number of guards? More hands would better ensure your safety.”

He was like this—when she sought to express her feelings, he would steer the conversation toward politics. Fu Wei sighed despondently. “No number of guards can penetrate the hearts of men. Assassins don’t have their roles tattooed on their faces—who knows who is acting on whose orders?” Of course, security measures needed to be tightened, but she had her own plans. The positions of Attendants and Chamberlains must be filled by trusted individuals. If even these appointments were controlled by others, she would truly be at their mercy for life.

The Chancellor, intelligent as he was, surely understood her intentions. She was consolidating power, and many plans were unfolding methodically—he couldn’t have missed it. But she was no longer as malleable as she had been ten years ago. To control her now would require considerable effort.

Her words were deliberately ambiguous, offering no direct response. Her heart raced as she waited for his reaction, but silence stretched on. Just as she began to relax, his voice suddenly cut through the air: “Did Lord Nie enter the Eastern Palace last night?”

Fu Wei’s heart skipped a beat. Indeed, nothing escaped him. Jianye, useless as he was, had stood guard under the corridor all night, yet he was no match for the Chancellor’s keen awareness.

She swallowed nervously. “How did Father Chancellor know?”

He would not reveal that the Eastern Palace was entirely under his control; instead, he was displeased by their blatant disregard for protocol.

Fu Wei glanced back, her deep black robes unable to conceal her anxiety, which quietly blossomed into a flicker of hope… He did seem genuinely upset. Why was he upset? Could it be that he cared for her after all?

Summoning all her composure, she struggled not to lose her demeanor and casually asked, “Why is Father Chancellor angry?”

The Chancellor’s lips pressed downward. Though his face was clouded, his tone betrayed no insincerity. “I am not angry. If Lord Nie and Your Majesty get along well, I feel reassured. The emperor and empress are one entity; sharing a bed is natural and beyond reproach. However, Lord Nie’s impulsiveness worries me. These are extraordinary times—if anything goes awry…”

Fu Wei felt utterly discomfited. How did he even know about them sleeping together? Unable to think of a way to deflect, she lamely replied, “Lord Nie is your esteemed disciple—he knows what he’s doing. Besides, no eunuch in the Zhangde Hall noticed him last night. I believe no mishap will occur.”

“The eunuchs may not know, but I do. Does Your Majesty not find this troubling?” His face was etched with frustration. “Just two more months, and he will officially enter the palace. If his identity is exposed before then, the consequences could be severe. Must I spell this out for Your Majesty?”

She felt a quiet sense of disappointment. Why didn’t he simply admit to being jealous or regretting his role in fostering their relationship? Was the irritation on his face truly directed solely at Nie Lingjun’s presumptuousness? Sometimes, she felt like a fool in his eyes—he only knew how to lecture her from the stance of a loyal minister or elder.

Frustrated, she sneered. “With Father Chancellor to clean up after me, I’m not worried. I was actually grateful to you for grooming Lingjun so well, but now you blame him. This puts me in a difficult position. My empress, unwilling to let me dwell alone in an empty chamber—is that a crime? If Father Chancellor refuses to stay with me, must I forbid him from coming?”

Ahead lay the Yong’an Palace. With a flick of her sleeve, she strode through the gates, leaving him no chance to retort. The Chancellor watched her depart, a swirl of emotions churning within him, and reluctantly followed.

The Empress Dowager’s tears were genuine. The palace attendants lifted the pearl curtain to usher Fu Wei into the inner chamber. She paused before the mica screen at the entrance and reported softly, “Mother, I have arrived.” Contrary to her usual practice of granting Fu Wei a jade stool to sit on, the Empress Dowager did not appear. Instead, hurried footsteps echoed from within, and the Dowager emerged from behind the screen, her frantic appearance and tear-streaked eyes wrenching Fu Wei’s heart.

“Your Majesty…” She moved to approach but suddenly caught sight of the Chancellor bowing beyond the curtain. Her words caught in her throat, unspoken.

The dignity of the imperial household could not be compromised, especially in the presence of an external minister. Empress Dowager Liang composed herself, nodding gracefully to him and instructing the attendants: “Grant Lord Yan a seat.”

The Chancellor thanked her and quietly knelt outside the curtain. The conversation between the young emperor and the Empress Dowager was none of his business—he merely listened.

Wary of his presence, the Empress Dowager tightly grasped Fu Wei’s hand, her gaze repeatedly sweeping over the wound on her left cheek. “Is it deep? Avoid water for the next few days; once it scabs over, it will heal.”

No elaborate words were necessary. From these few sentences alone, Fu Wei knew the mastermind could not be the Empress Dowager. Her heart ached, though she dared not show it, and she murmured softly, “I understand. For now, Mother must endure staying within the Yong’an Palace. Once the case is resolved, I will lift the restrictions immediately.”

The Empress Dowager nodded slowly, remaining silent for a long while before speaking. “Do not let those who love you grieve, nor give your enemies cause to rejoice.”

Fu Wei understood the deeper meaning behind her words. As she sought to dismantle the invisible power alliances within the court, they were plotting how to clip her wings. Though the Liang clan had fallen from prominence, the Empress Dowager’s connection still provided her with some usable allies. If even the Empress Dowager were implicated, the path to fully assuming power would grow immeasurably more difficult.

“I will… protect Mother,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know in my heart that without her, I would not be where I am today.”

She remembered eight years ago when Lord Dingcheng, under the pretext of protecting the young ruler, had brazenly demanded entry into the palace guard. Lord Dingcheng, the youngest son of Emperor Wen, had once openly contended with Prince Linzi for power, a struggle known to all. Due to his lineage, the three regents had no authority to stop him. It was the Empress Dowager who had stepped forward, sternly rebuking him at the Sima Gate and driving him back to his fief.

To say she supported Fu Wei was undeniable. On the surface, it was a testament to the deep bond between mother and son, the Empress Dowager safeguarding the sole heir of the late emperor to preserve the Great Yin dynasty’s stability. On a personal level, their fates were intertwined. Without a son or grandson, the Empress Dowager’s options were limited. Should another take the throne, she might be demoted to mere empress or relegated to the position of Grand Empress Dowager—neither path preferable to her current standing. Why provoke conflict and pave the way for others’ gain?

Though Fu Wei’s partiality might seem obstinate, she was far from reckless. She weighed the pros and cons carefully, and those she chose to protect wholeheartedly were undoubtedly the most deserving.

After hearing her words, the Empress Dowager gradually calmed down. The anxiety on her face slowly faded as she exhaled softly and said, “Whether it’s talent or virtue, within these palace walls, what truly matters is the emperor’s heart. As long as Your Majesty trusts me, no amount of slander or defamation from others can shake me.” She then turned to the Chancellor. “The ruler was attacked within the palace; the Commander of the Palace Guards and the Chief of the Imperial Household share responsibility. The assassin came from the inner court, so the northern palace guards must be replaced. These matters will require your attention, Lord Yan. If any of the attendants in the Yong’an Palace are involved, it is beyond what I anticipated. Please investigate thoroughly without leniency. If there are any interrogations that require my testimony, you may send someone to the Yong’an Palace at any time. Until the mastermind is brought to justice, we all remain under suspicion. Since you have inherited the late emperor’s mandate, you may act with full authority. We dare not oppose.”

The Chancellor bowed to the Empress Dowager, outwardly accepting her words while inwardly pondering them deeply. Her repeated use of “we” encompassed everyone present, including him. Arresting suspects wasn’t just about stabilizing the empire—it was also about clearing his own name. In this palace, who was truly simple? Even the usually silent Empress Dowager was not to be underestimated.

As they left the Yong’an Palace, Fu Wei remained preoccupied. Her steps faltered, and after walking for a while, she slowed down and tilted her head to ask, “There are still two months until the grand wedding. If we can’t resolve this case during that time, even holding the ceremony will feel awkward. With so many things happening, what if another assassin sneaks in among the palace staff? How many lives do I have to endure such risks?”

The Chancellor replied, “Your Majesty, please rest assured. I will ensure the ceremony proceeds as planned.”

“Then I hereby order you, Chancellor, to uncover the truth within two months,” she raised her hand, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t endure this wound for nothing. It could have been on my hands or feet, but it had to be on my face… In Father Chancellor’s eyes, I’m already an ugly creature. Now, with this scar, you’ll have even more reason to silence me.”

Serving a ruler was like walking beside a tiger—though there was no immediate threat to life, the Chancellor was always prepared for her sharp and unpredictable jabs. The recent storm had only just subsided into eerie calm, leaving him uneasy. Her words carried a trace of melancholy. Was it because he hadn’t pardoned Shangguan Zhao, or was it due to last night’s assassination attempt?

After careful consideration, he said, “In fact, Your Majesty is not unattractive. Compared to the women in the palace, none can rival Your Majesty.”

Having spoken the truth, he felt an unexpected lightness. To him, this was the highest compliment. The women chosen for the palace were the cream of the crop—if she surpassed them all, what more could she ask for?

But his poorly worded praise backfired. Praising someone so insincerely reinforced the Chancellor’s notorious reputation for being merciless.

Fu Wei forced a dry laugh. “Thank you, Father Chancellor, for your kind words. I have something else I’d like to arrange, and I wanted to inform you beforehand. Let’s take this opportunity to release all the women from the inner court. What use are these palace ladies to me? Should they wither away in the depths of the palace? A girl’s youth is precious—eighteen or nineteen, blooming like flowers… I wonder what I was like at that age. If I don’t grow a beard or Adam’s apple, perhaps I should raise the throne a bit higher so the officials can’t see my face clearly…”

His voice turned icy. “Your Majesty seems troubled lately. Why speak so dishearteningly?”

She glanced at him with drooping lips. “After hitting one wall after another, even Father Chancellor wouldn’t be happy, would he? My heart isn’t made of iron—am I not allowed to feel disappointment?” If he showed some sign of empathy now, she might have impulsively embraced him. But he didn’t. His gaze wavered, and finally, he averted his eyes. Disheartened, she chuckled self-deprecatingly and continued walking, muttering, “I’ve been thinking: if I had someone by my side, I wouldn’t have fought so desperately last night. I once said my martial skills were nothing special. Last night was sheer luck—I suspect Han Yan has neglected her training over the past year. If it had been someone stronger…” She raised her sleeve and pointed to the towering White Tiger Tower. “There would already be white banners hanging there, and the Chancellor would be wearing mourning attire instead of official robes today.”

Without seeking comfort or indulging in coquetry, the young emperor’s behavior appeared normal yet somehow lacking. The Chancellor felt a void within himself. “Wait a few more days—Lingjun will soon enter the palace.”

He expected her to seize the chance to ask him to fill the gap and stay with her for the next two months. But she didn’t.

She merely nodded calmly. “He’s wonderful. I must thank you, Father Chancellor, for sending him to me. At least when I’m lonely, I’ll have someone to talk to, and my spirits will lift.”

The Chancellor casually responded, “It’s part of my duty.” Then he turned to gaze at the sky. The sun had risen, and the sky was a brilliant blue. Without last night’s incident, today would have been perfect for enjoying the lakeside scenery.

Neither ruler nor minister spoke as they walked along the vast straight road, which eventually came to an end.

Fu Wei stepped through the Yuecheng Gate, where Jianye and Bu Hai greeted her. She glanced back briefly and said, “Father Chancellor has worked all night—go home and rest.”

The Chancellor bowed. By the time he looked up, she was already far ahead.

The emperor’s heart was unfathomable, leaving the Chancellor utterly perplexed. Exiting the palace through the Central East Gate, he wondered how much the young emperor had changed overnight. Had he failed to truly understand her, or had the shock of last night’s attack affected her mind?

The household steward met him, holding an umbrella as he escorted him to the carriage. Once seated, he steadied his thoughts and asked, “Were there any documents delivered to the residence this morning?”

The steward replied, “Yes. The Chief Secretary has received them on behalf of Lord Yan, including the verdict and sentencing recommendations for the Wuling case, all sent to your quarters.”

“Verdict and sentencing—this is too hasty.” Irritated, he waved his hand and ordered the carriage to move. The city’s wide, flat roads were lined with shaded trees, offering relief from the heat. However, the carriage lacked suspension, and every small bump transmitted directly to his neck. He had to steady his head and suddenly thought of Nie Lingjun. Half-opening his eyes, he asked the steward, “Did Young Master Nie visit the residence?”

Originally, he had taken in two orphans—a brother and sister. The plan was to send Nie Lingjun into the palace, with his sister serving as cover. Publicly, she was presented as an adopted daughter, while he became a student under the Chancellor. After Nie Lingjun’s sister passed away prematurely, he took on both roles, moving freely in and out of the chancellor’s residence without hiding his identity.

The steward replied, “When I left, Young Master Nie was paying respects to Lord Yan. I informed him that you were temporarily unavailable, and he said it was fine. He should still be in the residence now.”

Good. Presumably, after acting rashly last night, he had come to apologize today. Children were impulsive, disregarding consequences. The young emperor’s stubborn temperament was predictable, but Lingjun, raised under his tutelage, behaving so recklessly—it was damaging his reputation!

Despite the shade, the heat was oppressive, leaving the Chancellor feeling restless and irritable. He hadn’t slept all night, and though his eyelids were heavy, his mind couldn’t settle, like someone who had starved beyond hunger.

The distance between the imperial city and the residential quarters gave him time to reflect. Amidst his unease, memories resurfaced. Earlier, she had mentioned how difficult it had been for Empress Dowager Liang. But upon reflection, the real hardship belonged to her. She had ascended the throne at five years old, often unable to hold her bladder during long court sessions. The eunuchs had placed a chamber pot behind the throne. Sometimes, in the middle of discussions, she would suddenly shout, “Please wait a moment!” and jump off the throne to relieve herself. The entire court watched in stunned silence—it was comical even now. At eight, she began losing teeth, sniffling while reciting texts enthusiastically, revealing gaps in her smile. The Chancellor remembered too well her awkward appearances, making familiarity uncomfortable.

Was his mood sour because of the relentless cases or due to Mars aligning with Antares? As they arrived at his residence, he opened his eyes to find Lingjun standing by the carriage. Descending the wooden steps, Lingjun quickly moved to support him, whispering, “Teacher, you’ve worked hard all night.”

The Chancellor’s expression darkened. Dismissing the servants, he said, “How can I compare to your efforts? Sneaking in and out of the palace at midnight, braving the rain, evading guards—you’re far busier than I.”

Referring to himself as “minister” startled Lingjun, who hastily bowed deeply. “If I’ve erred, teacher, scold or punish me as you see fit, but please don’t act this way.” He stole a glance. “Are you upset about my reckless entry into the palace last night?”

Perhaps. So the Chancellor reiterated the same stern lecture he had given the young emperor earlier.

“When I recommended you to the emperor, I saw a mature and prudent young man. I never expected such recklessness! Do you know how many eyes are watching the inner palace? Right after the emperor was attacked, you rushed in heedlessly. Did you not fear being mistaken for an assassin and executed? Even if spared, as a man, rumors already swirl around the court. This incident could ruin the emperor’s reputation entirely!”

Lingjun bowed his head, blushing with embarrassment. “I only… worried about the emperor.”

The Chancellor’s headache flared again. “Worried? Does worry justify reckless actions? That’s the forbidden palace! Breaking in is punishable by death—do you understand? I know you’re young lovers, soon to be married. Perhaps affection will grow over time.” He sighed, his heart heavy. “But Lingjun, remember this: never treat her as ordinary. She is the Son of Heaven, the supreme ruler of Great Yin. Others may indulge their whims, but not the emperor and empress. Empress Xiaozhao, crowned at six, governed with dignity. Are you incapable of such foresight?”

Lingjun knelt, overwhelmed with shame. “It’s my fault. I acted without considering the broader implications, nearly causing disaster. Please punish me, teacher.”

How to punish him? He was to become the emperor’s consort! The Chancellor studied his trembling back. Beneath the formal robe, did his heart harbor its own ambitions? At fourteen, he wasn’t ignorant. Approaching the pinnacle of power, once desire and ambition swelled, who knew what the future held? He hoped his gamble paid off; otherwise, he’d destroy his lifelong reputation.

Clenching his fists, he paused before relaxing. Placing a gentle hand on Lingjun’s shoulder, he softened his tone. “I’m not angry, but concerned. Acting without thought endangers the emperor. I trust you completely—I’ve shared the greatest secrets with you, showing how much hope I place in you. Just tread carefully, protecting the emperor and the realm, and you won’t disappoint my expectations.”

Lingjun stood, ashamed. “I solemnly promise. Last night was reckless; it won’t happen again. Please rest assured, teacher.”

The Chancellor nodded. “You stayed overnight in the Zhangde Hall?”

“Yes,” Lingjun replied, “but not for long. I left the palace before dawn.”

The Chancellor’s mind was muddled, unsure what else to ask. Rubbing his forehead, he said, “I need to rest briefly. You may go.” Taking two shaky steps, he suddenly stopped and turned back, his weary face questioning. “Did the emperor speak much to you last night? What did she say?”

Lingjun hesitated. Reflecting, the young emperor had fallen asleep shortly after lying down, saying nothing. But reporting this truth might not satisfy the suspicious Chancellor. He hedged, “The emperor recounted the details of the assassination attempt.”

“Just that?”

Lingjun nodded. “Only that.”

The Chancellor dismissed him with a wave, turning away with a slight curl of his lips. If they had conversed so warmly, how could it have been so brief? It seemed he was truly aging—these young ones likely thought him senile…