Read Novel Full CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 54
The emperor’s heart gave two heavy thumps, and, unbidden, his thoughts turned to Gu Mingjing.
Twenty years ago, that day in Kunning Palace—Gu Mingjing, clad in scarlet, had died. Her eyes were tightly shut, as if merely asleep.
The emperor had not thought of that memory in a long time. But now, recalling it, it felt as though it were only yesterday. His chest rose and fell violently.
Princess Chang’s voice was low and steady: “If the Xie family is innocent, Your Majesty—are you willing to bear the curse of infamy for all eternity?”
She had abruptly changed her address, no longer calling him “Er Lang,” but “Your Majesty.” Each word rang like iron, filled with an awe-inspiring authority that surged like a raging firestorm.
The emperor’s fingers trembled with fury. Through clenched teeth, he spat: “The Xie family is guilty.”
Princess Chang locked eyes with him, refusing to back down, pressing further: “And if they are not guilty?”
The emperor: “……”
He wanted to say—impossible. But under Princess Chang’s overwhelming presence, the words stuck in his throat, unable to be spoken.
Inside the private room, silence reigned. The air itself seemed to crackle with sparks.
No one dared to speak, save for the emperor and Princess Chang.
Until a cool, detached male voice cut through the tense standoff between aunt and nephew: “If the Xie family is innocent, would Your Majesty issue an edict of self-condemnation?”
That voice fell like a sudden bolt of lightning splitting apart the storm-laden night sky.
The emperor’s head snapped toward the window, gaze like blades, fixed on Gu Feichi.
At once, the small room was thick with danger, the atmosphere taut as drawn steel.
Unflinching, Gu Feichi met the emperor’s glare. His fox-like eyes tilted upward as he declared boldly: “For generations, the Xie family shed their blood for this nation. And now their entire clan has been exterminated. If they are innocent, then the one in the wrong is Your Majesty himself!”
The silence deepened—so profound it seemed even breathing had ceased.
Even the Crown Prince, Tang Yueze, dared not speak. Several others secretly marveled at Gu Feichi’s audacity.
Only Princess Chang’s lips curved, tugging at the wrinkles of her face.
Gu Feichi’s voice grew slower, sharper, colder: “And if you were wrong, should Your Majesty not issue a self-condemnation edict?”
The emperor’s icy stare locked onto him. His face darkened like a storm, his jaw grinding audibly.
The standoff dragged on, thick and oppressive as storm clouds gathering before a downpour.
Only after a long, long moment did the emperor force out a reply, each word heavy:
“Very well. If the Xie family is innocent, I will issue an edict of self-condemnation.”
“Remember your words, Your Majesty,” Princess Chang said coolly.
“But, Aunt,” the emperor’s tone was frigid, “if the Xie family is guilty—will you lay down command of the hundred thousand Yangyan troops?”
His chin lifted in challenge, eyes cold and menacing, his whole body radiating sinister intent.
All gazes fixed on the two—the emperor and Princess Chang, aunt and nephew, locked in battle.
Everyone present was a close minister of the Son of Heaven. Nearly all knew that the emperor was scheming to transfer military power into the Liu clan’s hands.
First he had ordered Duke Cheng’en, Liu Chuan, to guard Lanshan City in the north. Then he sent him to Youzhou to take over the remnants of the Xie family’s forces. And now, he set his sights on Princess Chang’s Yangyan Army—stretching his grasp toward the southwest.
The atmosphere grew even heavier, suffocating.
This was no mere quarrel—it was a game of power, a contest over the very balance of the Great Jing court.
The others sat stiffly, bowed low, not daring to move, their nerves drawn taut.
“Lay it down?” Princess Chang let out a scornful laugh. “To give to you?”
“Or to this Liu?” She jerked her chin toward Duke Cheng’en, Liu Chuan, who was dripping with sweat.
Liu Chuan’s jowls quivered, his lips trembling.
“That Yangyan Army was bestowed upon me by the Taizu himself. And he”—her voice dripped with disdain—“is worthy?”
On the surface, the words seemed to strike at Liu Chuan, but everyone could hear the true meaning: it was the emperor who was unworthy to covet her army.
The emperor’s face stiffened. “Imperial Aunt… mind your words!”
“The Taizu once said—the flames of Yangyan are the blaze of the sun, burning away all demons and phantoms of this world!” Princess Chang’s eyes burned, old yet unclouded, her gaze searing as she faced him, her expression lofty and unyielding.
Even before the emperor’s thunderous rage, she stood proud, righteous, her aura undiminished.
To the emperor, it was as if a scorching fire was searing his face, his head pounding with pain, veins throbbing at his temples.
He quickly drew a pill from his sleeve and swallowed it down with wine. His throat bobbed, the pill sliding into his belly.
The emperor shut his eyes briefly.
Princess Chang shook her head faintly, lowering her gaze as she reached for her cup. But a frown tugged at her brow—her hand pressed against her upper abdomen.
Before long, a faint flush rose over the emperor’s pallid cheeks. The corners of his lips curled upward.
When he opened his eyes again, they were once more sharp and alive.
Suddenly, the emperor rose to his feet. Without sparing Princess Chang another glance, he shifted the subject with a cool tone: “The military report from Youzhou should have arrived. We return to the palace.”
He strode toward the door, but after two steps, he stopped, coldly turning back to call out to Gu Feichi: “You. Come back to the palace with Us!”
The words were spat out between clenched teeth.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gu Feichi rose with elegance, brushing the dust from his sleeve.
From beneath half his mask, his thin lips curved in a smile—not quite a smile, half mocking, half cold.
Behind the dark mask, his fox-like eyes gleamed brightly, their sharp edge impossible to ignore.
In that instant, the emperor thought again of Gu Mingjing—her proud, imperious gesture of flicking her sleeve, her voice from twenty years ago:
“Tang Hongzhao, from my grandfather’s time, the Gu family has sworn loyalty to the Taizu Emperor. We stood among the Ten Generals of the Lingxiao Pavilion, honored at the ancestral temple. The Taizu decreed: as long as the Gu family stands, the northwest will remain secure.”
“And now you want my Gu family to surrender the military command of the northwest—on what grounds?!”
Back then, Gu Mingjing’s gaze had been as sharp as blades, her pride blazing like the sun.
Now, those same eyes—so alike, spanning twenty years—overlapped with Gu Feichi’s, piercing the emperor’s soul like burning steel.
His pupils shrank. With a violent flick of his sleeve, he stormed out of the private room, his departing figure cloaked in shadow.
This time, he did not look back.
Gu Feichi did not hurry. He even turned to give Xiao Yanfei a parting smile, then smoothed his robe and strolled after the emperor at an unhurried pace.
Xiao Yanfei smiled faintly in return—before Ning Shu pushed her head down, dragging her back inside the room.
Three little heads ducked down quickly, afraid of being seen.
From the neighboring private room where Princess Chang sat, faint sounds of chairs scraping against the floor drifted over, followed by the footsteps of departing courtiers, echoing down the stairs until they faded away.
The three young girls exchanged glances with each other.
Their eyes all carried the same unspoken praise: Remarkable.
Soon, silence fell again next door.
When Xiao Yanfei and the others peered out the window once more, the emperor’s retinue had already vanished through the teahouse doors.
The first-floor hall was eerily quiet, not a sound to be heard.
The students either stared blankly at the now-empty doorway or exchanged uncertain glances. That the “emperor”—or someone very like him—had departed in displeasure left them uneasy, wondering if they had said something wrong. None dared to speak.
The three young girls looked toward the adjoining room again. It was empty now, save for Princess Chang.
She lounged lazily against the window, one hand holding her cup, the other pressing against her upper abdomen. Smiling, she beckoned to the three: “Come over.”
Since the emperor was gone, the girls skipped happily into the private room, calling out “Your Highness” and “Grand-aunt,” their voices bright with laughter.
Just looking at these three lively, blooming little girls lifted Princess Chang’s spirits. Her smile softened with rare affection, entirely different from the imperious force she had shown the emperor earlier.
She picked up the wine pot to pour herself another cup. But just as she lifted it, Xiao Yanfei spoke up: “Don’t drink.”
Princess Chang arched a brow.
“Your Highness, isn’t your stomach bothering you?” Xiao Yanfei asked.
She had noticed earlier that Princess Chang looked uncomfortable, her hand twice pressing against her upper abdomen.
On the table there was nothing but wine, a few plates of candied fruits and dried snacks—no real food.
Xiao Yanfei pressed gently, “You’ve been drinking on an empty stomach, haven’t you?”
“Just half a cup,” Princess Chang replied with a light laugh, sidestepping the question.
“Grand-aunt never listens.” Gu Yue frowned, her small face serious. “Father said so—you’re always disobedient, drinking on an empty stomach, skipping meals.”
So it really was her stomach. Xiao Yanfei was sure of it now.
Pretending to rummage through her pouch, she secretly opened the emergency kit hidden in the birthmark on her left palm, and drew out a tablet of Daxi antacid.
Wrapping the small tablet in a clean handkerchief, she handed it over with a smile:
“Your Highness, this needs to be chewed.”
Princess Chang gazed straight at her, smiling faintly.
She knew Gu Feichi had recently procured some strange “pills” for treating soldiers’ sores and wounds—remarkably effective.
Could it be that those “pills” had all come from this girl?
Her eyes flicked to the tiny white tablet, no bigger than a fingernail. Picking it up, she placed it in her mouth and chewed with interest.
The taste was faintly sweet, with a trace of minty bitterness.
After a few bites, she swallowed it down.
Xiao Yanfei poured her a cup of warm water, tested the temperature, and offered it:
“Drink more warm water—it’s good for the stomach.”
Warm water neutralizes stomach acid, easing discomfort.
Princess Chang obediently drank, her warm gaze never leaving Xiao Yanfei.
Within a few words’ time, the hall downstairs had returned to its lively clamor—students drinking tea, debating, chattering away.
When Xiao Yanfei mentioned warm water for the stomach, Ning Shu hurried to order another pot. She personally poured Princess Chang a cup and pressed it into her hands with eager attentiveness.
Slowly, Princess Chang drank two full cups. Already the stabbing pain in her stomach was easing, the discomfort lessening.
Hm?
Her brows lifted slightly. The tablet really was effective—quick, convenient.
Seeing her expression, Xiao Yanfei knew the pain had subsided. She smiled and added gently: “You mustn’t drink on an empty stomach again. It harms the stomach. You can also drink more black tea—black tea nourishes the stomach too.”
Privately she thought: She must have neglected meals when she was younger.
Most stomach ailments come from years of wear and tear.
Princess Chang read her thoughts in an instant, smiling without a word.
In her youth, she had spent years campaigning on the battlefield, often skipping meals, days and nights reversed. Her stomach had never been good, plagued by illness. The imperial physicians had prescribed remedies for years, with acupuncture and medicinal diets alike—but the problem persisted, neither better nor worse.
In time, she stopped caring. With one foot already in the grave, what did it matter?
Using her pouch as cover, Xiao Yanfei secretly slipped out another strip of tablets, pressed one into a small empty porcelain vial, and offered it to Princess Chang without hesitation.
“You don’t need to take these every day. Just chew one or two when your stomach hurts.”
Then, firmly reminding her again: “But no more drinking on an empty stomach. The stomach must be cared for.”
Suddenly, the cry of an eagle pierced the air outside.
Xiao Yanfei looked up. Against the azure sky, a snow-white eagle soared, circling loftily, a figure of arrogant freedom above all below.
So familiar! Her eyes lit up with recognition.
Princess Chang, too, glanced outside. At once she noticed the slim bamboo tube tied to the eagle’s left claw. A sharp light flickered in her gaze.
She tucked away the small porcelain vial Xiao Yanfei had just given her and smiled:
“I should be going. You three can have this room—it’s far more spacious than next door. Enjoy yourselves.”
Under the eagle’s impatient cries, Princess Chang departed swiftly.
The private room was left with only Xiao Yanfei, Ning Shu, and Gu Yue.
Ning Shu’s eyes followed Princess Chang’s retreating figure, shining with admiration, until she saw her board a carriage outside the teahouse. Only then did she reluctantly look away.
“Yanyan, you know medicine too?” Ning Shu exclaimed, astonished. To her, this best friend might have questionable taste in aesthetics—but in everything else, she was perfect!
“Of course.” Xiao Yanfei lifted her delicate chin proudly. “I’ve bought an entire bookshelf of medical books!”
At that, Ning Shu’s eyes filled with awe. She, who could barely look at a book without feeling drowsy, could only sigh.
“Yanyan, my mother consort will definitely like you,” she said earnestly.
As they were speaking, the main hall below grew noisy again.
The students had stopped talking about Duke of Cheng’en and turned instead to the bandit uprising in Youzhou. They said the unrest had begun after last winter’s snow disaster, when the people of Youzhou suffered terribly—houses crushed under heavy snow, cattle and crops frozen to death, corpses littering the wilds. The imperial relief had been slow to arrive, forcing many refugees to flee south. One group of these refugees had gradually turned into bandits.
Some blamed the Youzhou officials for their inaction and poor disaster relief; others accused the Youzhou garrison of incompetence, for letting mere vagrants grow so powerful.
The students each voiced their own opinions, while in the upstairs private room three young ladies leaned against the window, still watching the commotion with amusement.
Xiao Yanfie listened with keen interest, trying to glean whatever useful information she could from their words. Relying only on the cheap books she had bought, her understanding of this Great Jing dynasty was still far from enough.
Ning Shu pressed her cheek against Gu Yue’s and whispered, “Yueyue, do you think they’re speaking as if His Majesty left people behind to keep listening in?”
“Nothing of substance,” Gu Yue remarked coolly.
Though the students were discussing the current state of Youzhou, not one of them put forward any truly constructive suggestion. Likely, having angered the Emperor earlier, they now dared not speak their minds too freely.
Ning Shu nodded in wholehearted agreement, then yawned lazily, bored out of her wits.
Her eyes rolled mischievously. “On the way here I saw Qingluan Workshop on the next street had new hair ornaments. How about we go see the pearl flowers later? And then we can invite Third Miss Lu to play leaf cards.”
Pretty ornaments and leaf cards were Ning Shu’s two great delights.
But Gu Yue corrected her: “Cards first, then pearl flowers.”
Both Xiao Yanfei and Ning Shu turned to look at her, eyebrows raised in unison, as though asking, Why?
Gu Yue took her time sipping her tea, then said with solemn earnestness, “She always loses.”
“She” was of course Princess Ning Shu.
Xiao Yanfei instantly understood, struggling to hold back laughter.
What Gu Yue meant was that if they played cards first, they could use the money they won off Ning Shu to buy pearl flowers at Qingluan Workshop.
Ning Shu: “…”
She shot to her feet at once, nearly overturning the table, stamping hard on the floor.
“Gu Yue!”
I’m not friends with you anymore!
Her fair, rosy face all but had those words written across it, her cheeks puffed up like a goldfish, just waiting for Gu Yue to coax her.
“Such racket—are you trying to stir up a riot?!”
Suddenly, a voice like thunder boomed from the teahouse entrance, full of innate authority, instantly drawing Ning Shu’s attention.
She rushed to the window to look, completely forgetting she had just been sulking, and beckoned Xiao Yanfei and Gu Yue to join her.
A mass of black-armored soldiers from the West City Constabulary filled the entrance of the Four Directions Teahouse. The tall, imposing figures blocked out the daylight, casting the hall into sudden gloom.
At their head strode a burly middle-aged man, short whiskers bristling along his philtrum and chin, a long blade hanging at his waist.
He entered the hall with chest thrust out and head held high. Instantly the noise died, the whole place falling into dead silence.
Pointing a commanding finger at the students, the whiskered man barked, “You scholars! Instead of staying home to study properly, you gather here to wag your tongues. Outrageous!”
“Out, out! Go home at once!”
As he spoke, the constables filed in behind him, each with a sword scabbard in hand, rudely driving the tea guests out. The waiters dared not intervene.
Clattering crashes and rough shouts rang through the hall, chaos breaking out like a boiling pot.
Most of the students looked pale and uneasy.
“What right do they have to drive us out? We’re only here drinking tea—how is that a riot?” one young student protested, trying to argue, but his friend quickly dragged him back.
“Don’t be foolish, come on!” the friend hissed, giving him a warning look. Commoners can’t fight officials.
From above, Ning Shu stared wide-eyed at the turmoil, blurting in disbelief, “Is it His Majesty?”
Could it be the Emperor himself had sent the constables to disperse these students?
“No.” Xiao Yanfei shook her head with certainty.
The emperor could never be that foolish. For him, there was simply no need.
“It was Duke Cheng’en,” Gu Yue cut in. “My father says the Commander of the Five City Garrison is one of the Liu family’s men.”
Xiao Yanfei rested her chin in her hand, looking down loftily at the main hall below, her lips curved in a half-smile. “But… I wonder how many people will believe this to be the emperor’s doing?”
In truth, it all came down to Liu Chuan flaunting the empress’s backing and relying on the emperor’s favor for her. That was why he acted with such impunity. He knew His Majesty would never hold the Liu clan accountable for such a trifle.
As for the emperor, whether this burden of blame was deserved or not—well, one might even say he bore it “sweetly and willingly.”
“Bang!”
The door to the private room was rudely kicked open from outside, cutting their conversation short.
Two officers stormed in, fierce-faced and overbearing. “What are you three still doing here?!” one barked. “All of you, back—”
“Out!” Ning Shu snapped coldly, her delicate voice carrying even more arrogance than his.
Her little face was flushed with anger. She pulled a golden token from her sleeve and slammed it onto the table with such force that the sound carried a commanding weight.
She had only been sitting here to watch the spectacle, and yet the Liu family were like cockroaches that refused to die, coming again and again to disgust her.
The moment the West City garrison officers saw the token in her hand, their expressions changed.
This was the capital—the emperor’s very seat—filled with nobles and royals at every corner. These men had sharp enough eyes to recognize at once the golden insignia of a county princess.
And anyone ennobled as a county princess was almost always of imperial blood—exalted beyond question.
They dared not provoke such a figure. In an instant, their faces flipped as quickly as a page in a book, replaced by smiles and hurried bows. “Ah, so it is the County Princess!”
“So the County Princess is here as well,” another voice joined smoothly. A man in a teal robe stepped into the room, cupping his hands politely toward Ning Shu. “My, what an offense indeed.”
Ning Shu narrowed her eyes, recognizing him. Wasn’t this Xu Li, Liu Jia’s personal attendant?
She immediately understood. Liu Jia had been waiting deliberately for Princess Chang to leave before sending these West City men to make trouble.
Xu Li smiled thinly, bowing again. “Forgive us for disturbing the County Princess and these two young ladies’ leisure. Our young master himself feels most apologetic.”
As he spoke, he drew a small silver ingot from his wide sleeve and tossed it casually onto the table.
“This is our young master’s compensation to the three young ladies.”
The ingot spun and rolled across the table before colliding with a white porcelain wine jug and coming to a stop.
Ning Shu nearly slammed the table in fury—until she felt Gu Yue tug lightly at her sleeve.
“Look.” Gu Yue gestured toward the street outside.
Ning Shu and Xiao Yanfei followed her gaze across the road, to the Longquan Tavern.
From one of the second-floor rooms came the faint sound of a pipa, interwoven with the alluring voice of a courtesan’s song. The music drifted intermittently across the street.
Inside that private room, Duke Cheng’en’s heir, Liu Jia, lounged lazily against the railing. One hand held a porcelain wine cup, the other encircled a seductively beautiful songstress. Laughing and jesting with Ming Yi at his side, he occasionally pinched the courtesan’s cheek, his manner frivolous and arrogant.
The two of them looked down as the garrison officers herded the noisy scholars below like cattle, turning the street into chaos.
Suddenly, Ming Yi noticed Ning Shu and her companions watching. Leaning close, he whispered something to Liu Jia.
Liu Jia lifted his eyelids lazily, raised his gaze, and spotted the three of them. He bared his teeth in a broad grin—proud, brazen, utterly smug.
“Compete with the Liu family? You’re not worthy!”
He mouthed the words slowly, deliberately, his grin widening all the while.
It was a declaration of war. His meaning was clear: The Liu clan is the empress’s family.
And what are you? What are those scholars? You dared humiliate the Liu family in front of the emperor?
Overreaching fools!
“He—!” Ning Shu’s little face puffed up with fury, her fists clenched tightly.
She nearly hurled the wine jug at him, but Xiao Yanfei suddenly rose to her feet, striding toward the western wall. Reaching up, she took down the decorative bow and arrows hanging there.
She tested the string with a casual pull and smirked.
The bow was mediocre, more for show than use—but it would do.
She raised her gaze toward Liu Jia across the street, nocked an arrow, and with unhurried ease, drew the bowstring taut, aiming straight at him.
Across the way, Liu Jia saw her posture and only sneered.
The distance between the two buildings was so great—did this slip of a girl with her frail arms really think she could threaten him with a bow? Did she fancy herself Xie Wuduan?
Hah! Just another pretty-faced girl, nothing more.
***