PM - 74

If they didn’t want to be condemned for treason for all eternity, they needed a justifiable reason. King Jing and the Empress Dowager’s righteous justification was the Crown Prince’s eldest son. But now, that foundation had been pulled out from under them. The arrow that pierced Lingjun also brought down all the triumph and euphoria of their successful uprising, collapsing it all onto the ground. The Empress Dowager’s voice rose like a sharp bamboo pole, cutting straight into the air—

“Yan Xiangru, you have killed the legitimate grandson of Emperor Wen. You are a criminal for all ages in Da Yin!”

Fierce flames flickered in his eyes as he surveyed the crowd, sneering coldly: “Do any of you believe the lies of Empress Dowager Liang? The Crown Prince’s son, Emperor Wen’s legitimate grandson? It’s astonishing how such an absurd story could even be fabricated!” He gestured toward Lingjun, who lay on the ground, with his bow. “All of you lords have seen Crown Prince Jiang. The prince was frail and often ill. Is it really believable that before his untimely death at sixteen, he could have impregnated Concubine Liang and fathered this so-called son? A miracle indeed! At that time, Emperor Wen was still alive. If the prince truly had a posthumous child, why would it need to be secretly raised in Changmen Palace? Could Emperor Wen not have accepted the child? Second, the empress is my adopted daughter. After Nie Yun’s death, I took in her and her brother and raised them in my estate at Yebanli. The empress is naturally shy, dislikes meeting outsiders, but is gentle and virtuous—a perfect candidate for the central palace. She and her brother are twins; though they look alike, their personalities are worlds apart. This person… is not the empress, but my younger foster son, who inherited the title of Lord Duhou.” Bending down, he continued, “I don’t know what kind of lies they told you to make you harm your own sister. But one thing I can confirm is that you are indeed the son of Nie Yun—without a doubt.”

A wave of endless confusion washed over Lingjun’s defeated face as blood gushed from his mouth. He struggled to wipe it with his sleeve, but there was too much—it couldn’t be stopped. Finally, he fixed his gaze on him, mustering every last ounce of strength to grab the hem of his robe. “You’re lying!”

Seeing his former student end up like this was truly heartbreaking. He still remembered the child standing in the corner of the room, holding a grasshopper. The Nie clan’s relatives had entrusted these siblings to him. Hand in hand, they walked up to him, looking up and asking, “Are you our new guardian?” He gently patted the soft tuft of his hair—the tender touch still lingered on his fingertips.

Reflecting on everything now, perhaps it had all been wrong from the very beginning. He shouldn’t have allowed him to accompany the emperor. He and Shangguan Zhao were somewhat similar—both had no way out. When walking along the precipice alone, he believed others’ lies and wove himself an elaborate dream, only to find it was all for nothing. Even if their rebellion had succeeded, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the throne for long.

Empress Dowager Liang was greedy, willing to prop up outsiders to secure the Liang clan’s glory. Had she foreseen the outcome after the dust settled, she would have realized that everything was merely paving the way for King Jing. The empire would eventually return to the Yuan clan’s hands. They were all mere passersby, mere pawns—once used up, they would be discarded like stray dogs.

The Chancellor crouched down, looking at him with pity. “How could someone as intelligent as you believe these falsehoods? If Concubine Liang was already pregnant when the crown prince passed away, then the supposed eldest son of the crown prince should be older than Your Majesty. Was it worth sacrificing your life for an empty title that wasn’t even yours?”

The truth was always cruel. Lingjun collapsed in despair, falling silent. The Chancellor raised his hand and closed Lingjun’s eyes.

Thus, the final verdict emerged: if the empress was a fraud, then the young emperor’s identity was beyond question. The officials, having endured a fierce battle, were left somewhat bewildered—even the royal lords.

The floral hairpins on the Empress Dowager’s head trembled faintly in the evening breeze. Unable to accept reality, she glanced at the captured King Jing and Hulü, screaming hysterically to the assembled court: “She’s a woman! A woman! Why don’t you believe me?”

Look at the overwhelming forces surrounding them. At this moment, whoever held the military power spoke the truth. In her madness, the Empress Dowager shook each of the royal uncles one by one. Fearing they might be implicated, Princes Yan and Linzi hastily pushed her away.

The Chancellor turned his gaze away in disgust, pointing to the kneeling attendants and eunuchs. “The Longyu and others failed to protect their master, causing the central palace to suffer unjustly. Execute them all.” Then, glancing at the Chief Eunuch standing among the officials, he added, “And you—you’re still standing? The empress’s private secretary and you bear undeniable responsibility. Arrest him and throw him into the palace prison for rigorous interrogation. As for the Empress Dowager, attempting to seize the palace and usurp power—her crimes are unforgivable…” He bowed to Fawei. “How to deal with her is entirely up to Your Majesty.”

Everyone turned to look at the young emperor. Jin Yi Marquis Lian Zheng tried earnestly to coax the severed head from the emperor’s arms, but to no avail. The emperor tightened her embrace, yet her mind remained clear. “The Empress Dowager is ultimately the mother of the nation. Though she may have been unkind to me, I cannot be unrighteous to her. Order her to be sent back to Yong’an Palace—I have many questions to ask her face to face.”

With the tide turned, losing meant nothing more than a single life. Empress Dowager Liang’s smile still carried a hint of sarcasm. “Yuan Fawei, you may deceive the whole world, but you can’t deceive me. I will watch how long you can remain seated on this throne.”

Fawei’s face betrayed no emotion. Ignoring her, she strode toward Hulü Puzhao, her Lu Lu sword in hand. Hulü, being a military man, possessed an indomitable spirit. Even with his hands and feet restrained, he continued to resist. She looked at him coldly, unsheathed her sword, and pressed its sharp tip against his throat.

“Ziqing, I always trusted you. Until today’s palace coup, you and Azhao were my most capable close ministers. Have I ever mistreated you? Did Azhao ever mistreat you? When you swung your sword to cut off his head, didn’t your heart ache?” She gestured for him to look at the lifeless face in her arms. “He once told me that he spent more time with you than with his own family. He truly regarded you as a blood brother, yet you… killed him.”

Finally, a trace of guilt appeared on Hulü’s face. Avoiding her gaze, he said, “I’ve lost, and I have nothing to say. Please, Your Majesty, give me a swift death.”

Everyone assumed the emperor wouldn’t act or would temporarily spare his life until Shangguan Zhao’s funeral, where his blood could be offered as a sacrifice to the departed soul. But they were wrong. The emperor was vengeful to the extreme, and when hatred reached its peak, she showed no mercy.

The Lu Lu sword, symbolizing imperial authority, plunged into Hulü’s chest. She looked down at Azhao and said, “Did you see that? I avenged you.” Then she turned to King Jing Yuanbiao, who had been paralyzed with fear.

“Revoke the title of the Kingdom of Shu and strip King Jing of his title. The entire household of Yuanbiao, including his wife’s and mother’s clans, shall be executed. Tomorrow at noon, drag Yuanbiao to the cattle and horse market and execute him by dismemberment.” Having issued her orders, she turned, lifted her robes, and ascended the steps, speaking word by word: “I once wanted to be a benevolent ruler, but now that path is closed to me. Being a tyrant doesn’t matter either. Excessive kindness invites betrayal. Since my ascension, countless plots have surged beneath the surface—I’ve lost count. There are always those who covet this empire and wish to replace me. Now I stand here. My royal uncles, my kinsmen—if anyone is dissatisfied, step forward and challenge me.” Her gaze swept sorrowfully across each face. “Stop playing games. If I wish to be emperor, I will forever remain emperor. If one day I grow weary, no one will be able to keep me here. Why are you in such a hurry? You’ve all witnessed King Jing’s fate today—not to scare you like killing a chicken to warn the monkeys, but simply to show you the consequences of opposing me.”

Thus, the gathered royal relatives, nobles, civil and military officials all raised their sleeves and bowed deeply, proclaiming, “Your Majesty’s wise judgment commands our complete submission.”

She cast her gaze around. The Thousand-Year Hall had just endured a great calamity. What was once a venue for grand banquets had become a slaughterhouse. She stood there for a long time, suddenly feeling a chill, suspecting this nightmare was all her imagination. But Azhao’s head was right there. Trembling, she touched his face—it was icy cold, sending a bone-chilling sensation through her. Finally, she couldn’t hold back her sobs. Large teardrops fell onto his face, but alas, he could no longer be by her side, gently consoling her with “Aying, don’t cry.”

As the chaos and panic slowly subsided, the troops withdrew, and the officials dispersed. This year’s celebration for the Empress Dowager’s longevity was certainly unconventional.

The emperor clutching the severed head of her Grand Secretary wasn’t sustainable. Following Jin Yi Marquis’s suggestion, Jianye approached and addressed her as “Master.” “Let Master Shangguan’s body reunite with his head. It’s been too long—if we delay further, he may lose his way below.”

Standing on the vast, empty avenue, she began to wail uncontrollably, disregarding all imperial dignity. Only now did she release her pent-up anguish—perhaps her heart had already shattered into pieces.

Jianye waited patiently for her to calm down before lifting his robe to receive the body. She placed Azhao upon it, mournfully instructing, “Order the Ministry of Ceremonies to conduct the funeral rites for Lord Guannei with full military honors—feathered banners, ceremonial drums, and grand processions. Posthumously bestow him the title of Lord Ji Hou. Select one of the descendants of Lord Pingchang to inherit the title of Lord Ji.”

“Yes,” Jianye acknowledged, quickly departing for Qingsuo Gate.

The spring night wind blew fiercely, lifting her robes as if they were flying banners. Everyone had left, leaving only her, the Chancellor, and Lian Zheng standing in the empty square. Lian Zheng nudged the Chancellor, hinting for him to console her, but he kept his lips tightly shut, unmoving.

Fawei turned around, her face illuminated by the remaining firelight in the stone pavilion. “Before coming, Father Chancellor must have endured immense torment. Whether it was worth rescuing the man who killed thirteen of his own kin, whether it was worth rallying to the throne—you deliberated deeply. In the end, though you came, you arrived late. One step later, and the situation would have been irreversible.”

He remained silent. She was right—he had come late, both to capture the rebels in one fell swoop and because he hesitated outside the city gates. His indecision tore at his heart. After all, thirteen lives—all elders of his paternal clan—had perished. Their deaths left the Yan clan facing total collapse, tantamount to extermination. Love had led to this tragic point. Never did he imagine that even a hero like him could have his family destroyed by the entanglements of love.

She was no ordinary girl—skilled in both strategy and decisive action. Regarding the deaths of the thirteen members of the Yan clan, he saw clearly: at this critical juncture, no matter how ruthless she appeared, she wouldn’t harm them. Surely someone forged an edict, using her as a tool to kill, aiming to sever any thoughts he might have had of rallying to the throne. Yet, though she hadn’t killed Bo Ren herself, Bo Ren had died because of her. If it weren’t for the struggle for power, why would the Yan clan have been dragged into this? Connections between noble families and royalty were nothing new, but in her case, it was emphasized because she trusted no one—not even him.

He stepped before her, lowering his body humbly, and asked, “Ayin, did you ever love me?”

She raised her head, her eyes filled with surprise and grievance, but in an instant, the emotions faded. Nodding, she replied, “I did love you—once very much. I have no right to blame you. I hate myself for my stupidity, which caused the deaths of the thirteen members of the Yan clan and Azhao. Whether you resent me or not, I don’t know. But I must tell you that the secret decree was not issued by me. With your intelligence, I trust you can unravel the truth behind it.”

Once loved, deeply loved—but now, it seemed she intended to bring things to an end. The Chancellor stood there like a statue, his sleeves hanging limp. “I understand everything. There’s no need for explanations. So… let us talk about you and me.”

There was no tension, no endless accusations. Lian Zheng, witnessing this, was seeing something unprecedented—a couple arguing not with shouts but with calmness. Your family is dead, and my closest friend is gone because of your hesitation. Where do we go from here? Let’s discuss it calmly.

These two individuals, too smart and too composed, knew that shouting wouldn’t solve anything, so they chose the most efficient approach. Calmly, for better or worse, they negotiated and agreed on a plan. But they forgot the principle that excessive wisdom brings injury. Lian Zheng fretted on the sidelines, unable to interject, pacing anxiously.

“I know you can’t get past the deaths of your clan elders. Blood ties are unbreakable, even if you weren’t living among them—it doesn’t change your origins.”

The Chancellor responded, “I hesitated outside the palace walls, even entertained the thought of standing idly by. That’s why I came late—so late that Shangguan Zhao was killed, and your true identity nearly exposed. Though I managed to turn the tide in the end, you won’t forgive me.”

She slightly turned her face, her hollow eyes gazing at the golden drums in front of the Thousand-Year Hall. “We both made mistakes, causing countless deaths and injuries. These failures can’t be undone. Regardless, I must thank you—for coming at the critical moment.”

His smile was bitter, the twisted lines of his lips revealing the immense pain he bore.

“Because my love for you far exceeds your love for me. Lian Zheng once said long ago that if I dismiss my feelings for you today, I will surely regret it a hundredfold in the future. He was right.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, and through her blurred vision, she looked up at him. “So now you regret it, don’t you?”

His heart ached as he took a step back. “I do not regret the path I’ve walked; I only regret how fleeting it all was.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears, but they spilled over like a breached dam. “I know... I am ultimately alone. That is my fate.” She removed the jade pendant from her waist, holding it out to him with both hands. “Returning this to its rightful owner. Thank you, my lord, for once granting me boundless joy.”

There was no need for further words. Thus began their tumultuous argument and ended in quiet resolution.

Did he feel reluctant? Immensely so. He watched her solitary figure slowly recede into the distance, and no one knew how deeply he loved her. But what did love matter? Life wasn’t just about romance.

Lian Zheng couldn’t bear to see them tormenting each other like this. He wanted to console his old friend but stopped himself when he saw the Chancellor already weeping uncontrollably. This sight shocked him—after all these years of knowing him, he had never seen him lose composure like this. Risking his life to enter the palace and suppress the rebellion, yet ending on such bad terms—it was all so unnecessary.

He patted the Chancellor’s shoulder. “Ru Chun, blaming yourself because of others’ schemes is utterly foolish.”

The Chancellor turned toward the palace gate, his voice cold as ice. “Thirteen members of my clan were executed publicly. If it were you, could you act as though nothing happened? My misguided love has implicated my entire family—I even considered taking my own life.”

He had been deeply shaken, his thoughts chaotic. Lian Zheng followed behind, correcting him: “It wasn’t your love that implicated your family—it was power. Don’t let anger misdirect you. She isn’t feeling any better than you are. You still have me by your side, but what about her? How will she endure this long night?”

Slowly, his steps faltered, his heart nearly shattering under the strain. After a long pause, he finally said, “She isn’t as fragile as you think. After tonight, she will once again be the sovereign emperor, and no one will dare question her authority. She has the ability to protect herself. As for us, we should separate and cool off. Don’t try to persuade me anymore. If you do, I might end up killing someone.” He hurriedly ran out of the Zhuque Gate, mounted his horse, and galloped into the darkness.

He believed she was strong because she had never faced a calamity that made life unbearable. Alone on her bedchamber platform, the dazzling lights outside her thin silk curtains illuminated everything except her heart. The rise and fall of relationships—none of it was within human control. During the lively times, Azhao came, Hulü came, Lingjun came—whether sincere or insincere, at least there were people around her. Now? Two Grand Secretaries, her empress, and the Empress Dowager she had always regarded as family—some dead, some traitors. She had nothing left. What use were her hands gripping power? It was all empty!

She felt gangrene growing in her heart, too painful to touch. Her love affair with the Chancellor had also come to an end. Her future was bleak, and she no longer knew how to move forward.

It was suffocating; she struggled to breathe. So exhausted, yet her mind spun like a windmill, unable to stop, unable to sleep. She propped herself up, dragging her heavy body to the dressing table to rummage through it until she found the wooden hairpin Azhao had given her, clutching it tightly in her hand. Slowly returning to the platform, she rolled up her sleeve and began cutting back and forth on her forearm. Though the tip of the hairpin was blunt, repeated friction eventually tore the skin open. She watched blood seep from her flesh, flowing down steadily. The physical pain here numbed the anguish in her heart, making her feel somewhat better.

The next day, despite rolling down her sleeves, she could still make decisions with precision.

When the Grand Tutor and the Minister of Imperial Clan Affairs came to see her, their speech was hesitant. Fawei glanced at them and smiled. “What is this? Are Master and Minister Ding still recovering from yesterday’s upheaval? These matters are over. Compared to our ancestors’ struggles, what I face is insignificant!”

The Grand Tutor sighed deeply. “With Your Majesty’s magnanimity, we can rest assured. However, last night’s events came too suddenly...”

“I don’t agree,” Minister Ding countered. “Such rumors had circulated in the capital earlier, indicating a long-planned scheme. I suspected many, but never imagined King Jing. And Empress Dowager Liang... what does Your Majesty plan to do with her?”

Fawei hesitated before responding, “Minister Ding, tell me how I should resolve this matter?”

Ding Baiyao replied, “The Empress Dowager acted unjustly, aiding tyranny. Although there is no precedent for deposing an Empress Dowager in Da Yin, her crimes are grave. Setting such a precedent would not be inappropriate.”

Deposing the Empress Dowager would leave a mark in the historical records. Even if justified, it would provide future generations with something to criticize. She shook her head slowly. “Not yet. I have other plans.”

The Grand Tutor interjected, “After the late emperor’s passing, there were five royal lords of this generation. Now that King Jing and King Jing are both executed, what of Prince Yan, Prince Linzi, and Lord Dingcheng? Can Your Majesty trust them?”

This wasn’t a major issue since the kingdoms had been divided into smaller dukedoms, and their military forces were gradually dispersed. If doubts remained, officials could be dispatched to oversee governance. What troubled her was the land that hadn’t yet been distributed among her descendants.

“Restricting succession to direct descendants was shortsighted on my part. Order the Ministry of Ceremonies to issue additional edicts extending favors beyond siblings. For those brothers who haven’t received ancestral blessings...”

Before she could finish, the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Ceremonies entered, his face grave as he bowed deeply. “A message from the capital prefecture: Prefect Wei Shixing committed suicide this morning.”

The red brush in her hand fell with a splash, leaving a trail of broken ink marks on the silk before her. Straightening herself, she asked, “What? Is he still alive?”

Sun Mo slowly shook his head. “He accepted responsibility, unwilling to implicate his family. By the time the officials found him, he had been dead for some time, prompting them to report hastily to the ministry.”

Honor and disgrace, fortune and misfortune—all could change in an instant. Such was the nature of politics. Fawei slumped, leaning listlessly against the armrest. “He didn’t have to die...”

But she didn’t know—he had trusted the empress’s words, implicating the Yan clan in the Jing affair. His original intent was to help the young emperor, but a forged decree deceived him into eliminating those people. Knowing the emperor would punish him afterward and the chancellor would seek revenge, he foresaw no way out and chose self-sacrifice.