Chapter Fourteen: Schemes in the Shadows and Strategies in the Light

In her heart, Weishao Qianyu had come to a conclusion about Luo Yanqing: Luo Yanqing was not a simple person, and perhaps the great fire at the Shuiyue Pavilion was not as straightforward as it appeared, either.

She had once thought that through the palace banquet, she might find a way to connect with Luo Yanqing and glean some information, but now she realized she would have to devise another plan.

Not regarding Yun Ming as an outsider, Weishao Qianyu shared her thoughts openly: “Today’s imperial betrothal—it seems, no matter how you look at it, as if Luo Yanqing orchestrated the whole affair. Huangfu Xi was interested in marrying Luo Yanqing, but I suspect it was Luo Yanqing herself who persuaded Huangfu Xi to withdraw from the engagement.”

“And Luo Yanqing, while appearing to plead for Huangfu Xi, actually seemed more to be exonerating her, as if to mitigate the unfavorable impact of the broken engagement.”

“She’s clever. When she first knelt, it looked like a moment of panic, frightened that the Empress Dowager might punish Huangfu Xi. Quickly, she realized her plea was having the opposite effect and immediately conjured up an intended suitor. Once the Empress Dowager promised her a better match, Yun Ming’s name slipped right from her lips.” Weishao Qianyu mused that Luo Yanqing’s performance was exceedingly convincing.

If there were truly deep feelings, nothing would flow so seamlessly and flawlessly, she thought. “It all seemed so natural, as if Luo Yanqing was deeply in love with Huangfu Xi, but was excusing Huangfu Xi for breaking the engagement, then resignedly chose a husband at random—one who is sickly and frail at that.”

Weishao Qianyu now held Luo Yanqing in higher esteem; her cunning was leagues beyond the likes of Lu Yanran, that simpleton. “If people chatter about it over tea, they’ll surely laud her as selfless and great!”

Feng Jinye and Yun Ming both nodded, finding Weishao Qianyu’s analysis quite reasonable.

Feng Jinye’s mind went even further than Weishao Qianyu’s; he wanted to hear more of her thoughts. “Was her request to marry Yun Ming intentional or not?”

Weishao Qianyu shook her head; even she found it difficult to discern. “If I hadn’t seen her with Huangfu Xi on the day of the Laba Festival and noticed she held no interest in Huangfu Xi, even I would have believed her love was noble and selfless!”

She was not so perceptive as to see through another’s heart at a glance. “As for whether she has feelings for you, Yun Ming, I truly cannot tell.”

There was another matter Weishao Qianyu could not understand: “If she truly has such depth, why didn’t she cooperate with me today?”

Indeed, if Luo Yanqing were so calculating, there would be no advantage to offending the Princess of War or the War Prince’s household.

As Weishao Qianyu spoke, Yun Ming seemed lost in thought. “Before entering the palace, she was outside the palace gates.”

Weishao Qianyu’s eyes widened as she sized up Yun Ming, as if to ask, “You actually noticed her?”

Yun Ming ignored her surprise, instead turning to Feng Jinye. “Did you not think her attire today looked remarkably like…”

His gaze shifted to Weishao Qianyu.

Feng Jinye’s eyes followed, but he shook his head. He didn’t see the resemblance.

“Like me?” Weishao Qianyu was stunned. “Impossible!”

“It’s rather unsettling, to be honest!” she exclaimed, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at imaginary sweat on her forehead.

Thinking back, Luo Yanqing had worn mist-gray robes, her hair in the simplest style, a pear blossom hairpin, straight brows, and the lightest pink on her lips. Weishao Qianyu felt a chill run over her, goosebumps prickling her skin, her stomach turning with disgust.

She almost wanted to curse. When she first arrived in this world, she was only thirteen and played up her youth, always choosing plain dresses—many in mist-gray, always opting for the lightest shades of rouge, unable to draw crescent brows like Yueya, and settling for straight brows now and then simply because she couldn’t manage anything prettier.

And Luo Yanqing was nineteen—well past the age of marriage in this era, where fifteen was considered a grown woman, and to be unmarried at nineteen was to be a spinster. And yet…

Weishao Qianyu was too disgusted to speak.

Luo Yanqing’s attire truly was a copy of Weishao Qianyu’s—more precisely, how Weishao Qianyu used to dress.

For a moment, the three of them fell silent, each pondering the events tied to Luo Yanqing.

In Yue Capital, people spoke of Luo Yanqing first as the foremost lady of talent, then as one with a “phoenix’s fate.” But whenever Luo Yanqing was mentioned, the first thing Feng Jinye thought of was someone whose beauty and wit could not compare to another.

“She’s mentioned you several times,” Feng Jinye remarked, his slender fingers tapping the table—a habit of his when deep in thought. “At a poetry gathering a year ago, she claimed her talent and looks couldn’t match yours. At Shuiyue Pavilion two years ago, she said she had seen you.”

Weishao Qianyu had no desire to discuss the woman any further; even the mention of her made her want to retch. But the topic was far from over…

“There’s one more thing.” Feng Jinye paused, looked at Yun Ming, and uttered four words: “A phoenix’s fate.”

Weishao Qianyu suddenly understood. “In the past, there was talk that Luo Yanqing broke off with Huangfu Xi because of this rumor—she wanted to be Empress! If that is true, how could she possibly be content to marry Yun Ming?”

“Unless…” Her words trailed off as she looked up, her gaze falling silent upon Yun Ming.

A chill spread through her, full of suspicion and dread. How many plots and schemes were at play?

The very rumor of a “phoenix’s fate” was itself a conspiracy.

Yun Ming must have sensed this long ago, which explained why he hadn’t resisted today’s imperial betrothal—he must have known resistance would be futile.

Feng Jinye and Weishao Qianyu, their exceptionally beautiful eyes, now stared intently at Yun Ming.

He remained unhurried, his fair hand leisurely lifting a wine cup for a sip of Tusu wine, and said, “My father once said the Empress Dowager would adopt a son from the Marquis of Xibo’s household. I always thought it would be Yun Shuo.”

With these words, Yun Ming confirmed their suspicions. But could becoming emperor really be so simple?

In every dynasty, did not every emperor ascend the throne through a bloody path?

Weishao Qianyu dared not think too deeply. The more she pondered, the more sinister and chilling it all became.

Once again, the three fell into silence.

She couldn’t help but clutch Feng Jinye’s robe. The Listening Wind Pavilion was warm—extra braziers had been brought in for Yun Ming, who feared the cold, even while eating hot pot—but her heart felt as if it stood outside, beneath the bare maples and falling snow, gripped by a deep, unshakeable cold.

After a long time, Weishao Qianyu suddenly slapped the table with force, her tone resolute: “Chu Jiu, send everyone from the Marquis of Xibo’s household home!”

“Yun Ming, from today on, you live in the Prince of War’s residence! No outsiders are to approach you!” Her voice was icy. She did not believe that, if he truly wished to protect someone, he would fail.

“Qianyu, you…” Yun Ming was dismayed by her decision, but could find no words to object.

“From now on, Dongnuan will attend you!” She brooked no argument, not even from Feng Jinye.

Two years ago, when she left Yue Capital, she never imagined her father would be killed. The regret was too great to bear. Now, she would guard against every possible threat—anyone Yun Ming cared about, she would protect.

Her voice, once gentle, was now cold and hard. “Dongnuan, when Chu Jiu returns, send him to drag Doctor Leng over! Qingxia, prepare a warm chamber in the Listening Wind Pavilion for Yun Ming!”

“You may leave now!” she said, looking straight at Yun Ming’s attendant, her tone sharp.

Yun Ming managed a helpless smile, trying to explain, “He’s been with me since childhood…”

But she cut him off, “No, if he won’t leave, then let him stay somewhere else!”

She trusted only her own people and those of Feng Jinye.

“Qianyu, what’s the point of all this?” Yun Ming did not want the Prince of War’s household to be implicated because of him.

Yun Ming understood Feng Jinye well, and suspected that Feng Jinye had already discerned the truth. He would not allow Yun Ming to be at the mercy of others. Yet, he had not expected Weishao Qianyu to be even more decisive than Feng Jinye.

She was formidable, unstoppable. “There is a point—even if an imperial edict arrives, I will shield you from it!”

“Sit down!” Feng Jinye’s cold aura enveloped the room. “Chu Jiu, return.”

All three were shrewd; Weishao Qianyu’s actions made her intentions clear.

She suspected Yun Ming had been entangled in the Empress Dowager’s schemes from the start. She had no idea what injuries Yun Ming had suffered during the assassination attempt years ago that left him so frail, but the most likely explanation was poison.

If the Empress Dowager truly wished to cultivate an emperor, why choose a sickly one?

It was clear she wanted a puppet, just as she had with the current emperor. Moreover, Yun Ming’s illness was eerily similar to the emperor’s—both injured, both falling ill, growing weaker over time.

And why, though the emperor was over twenty, did he have no heir?

Weishao Qianyu surmised that the Empress Dowager wished to monopolize power, to remain Empress Dowager rather than become Grand Empress Dowager, and to prevent another Empress Dowager from sharing authority.

Therefore, if Yun Ming became emperor, his fate would likely mirror that of the current ruler.

Of course, all this was only her conjecture.

Feng Jinye’s tone was glacial, cutting to the bone. “No movement outside—the fastest horse into the palace to fetch the imperial physician.”

His eyes, colder than his words, swept over Yun Ming’s attendant. “Disguise him as a concubine and lock him in Qinglan Court.”

He tapped the table twice. In a flash, Ye Shiyi, dressed in black, appeared. “Bring Doctor Leng here!”

The room fell silent again.

Weishao Qianyu considered herself well-versed in palace intrigue, claiming to Lu Yanran that she understood both overt and covert schemes. Yet when trouble touched her kin, she could not help but lose her composure.

She was straightforward by nature. After careful thought, she realized that, no matter what, she would have to confront the Empress Dowager’s faction. As long as she could protect Yun Ming, the rest she and Feng Jinye could handle.

Feng Jinye, however, was more meticulous; he was merely playing the same game as their adversaries—if others put on a show, so would they.

Yun Ming knew he would have to stay; with an imperial physician summoned, how could he leave? He heaved a sigh, breaking the silence. “I suppose I should go rest in the warm chamber.”

He smiled faintly and asked, “Should I douse myself with water to make it more convincing?”

Weishao Qianyu realized he was trying to lighten the mood, and replied with a gentle smile, “Silly! What need is there to suffer? All that matters is the performance, not self-torment.”

“When the doctor arrives, just say you’re cold,” she advised.

She had Qingxia bring ten warming belts, stuffing them here and there about Yun Ming’s person. By the time the imperial physicians arrived, sweat beaded his brow and his cheeks were unusually flushed, yet all he said was, “I feel very cold.”

The physicians wiped cold sweat from their own brows, unable to find any cause for his illness. Both could only shake their heads in helpless confusion.