Chapter 102

 

After resigning from his position as Left Minister of State, Xie Lanxu began spending his days at home in quiet leisure.

And by “home,” this meant the house in Hulu Alley—Li Zhi’s residence.

Li Zhi now found herself seeing Xie Lanxu’s face every morning as she woke up, and every evening when she returned from her duties.

For an unmarried couple, even one with a formal betrothal, living under the same roof was considered scandalous in the conservative circles of the capital. However, the whispers around the city had no impact on either of them. For Xie Lanxu, the only individuals qualified to dictate his life—his parents—were long gone. The one remaining authority, his grandfather, seemed to thoroughly approve of his indulgence in domestic bliss.

As for Li Zhi, she was a woman who believed that to accomplish great things, one couldn’t be bound by petty conventions.

Both of them had settled easily into their shared life.

Meanwhile, in the palace, the Six Ministries and the Palace Affairs Bureau were busy assisting Noble Consort Yi in preparing for the Emperor’s consort selection. Noble Consort Yi, despite being the driving force behind the selection, was perpetually indecisive. Every three days, she would change her mind, resulting in delays that only added to the workload of the Palace Director.

For more than three exhausting months, Li Zhi juggled the constant demands of these preparations. Just as it seemed the preliminary stages were about to conclude—with the list of candidates finalized—the Emperor, in a moment of indulgence with several palace maids, caught a severe cold. His persistent coughing and congestion forced him to halt court sessions and remain bedridden.

Enraged, Noble Consort Yi immediately ordered the offending maids to be executed by flogging.

With the Emperor unwell, the selection process was postponed indefinitely.

While the Emperor’s sudden illness brought chaos to the court and harem, it was a fortuitous turn of events for Li Zhi and Xie Lanxu.

The workload for the Palace Director lightened considerably, and Li Zhi finally found some respite. Xie Lanxu, on the other hand, grew busier. Night after night, Qian Yiwang visited their home, bringing updates from the court.

It wasn’t long before another upheaval shook the imperial palace.

One evening, flames erupted in Ziwei Palace. But the fire wasn’t one of destruction—it was the fire of imperial fury.

“This court of ministers—are they mine, or are they Prince Feng’s dogs!?”

The Emperor’s roar echoed through the inner halls, striking fear into all who were present. Everyone in the inner chamber dropped to their knees in terror, including Zhang Zhizhen, the current Chancellor and one of the most powerful figures in the empire.

The floor was littered with discarded memorials, and not one official dared to move or speak.

The only exception was Consort Lu, who, as always, remained unfazed. Calmly, she crouched to gather the scattered documents, seemingly unaffected by the Emperor’s wrath.

Zhang Zhizhen, still kneeling, cautiously broke the silence. “Your Majesty, you are the Son of Heaven, the supreme ruler of Great Yan. Naturally, the ministers are loyal to you and no one else.”

The Emperor’s face, though still flushed with anger, betrayed no sign of illness. However, much of the redness was from his indignation rather than good health.

“Ha! I don’t believe that for a second!” Xie Shencong sneered. “If they were truly loyal to me, why would they start talking about my successor the moment I sneezed!? Already discussing my funeral plans as if I’m on my deathbed!”

Zhang Zhizhen, ever the shrewd and cautious man, furrowed his brows in apparent distress. To stay neutral, he wisely refrained from speaking further.

At this point, Consort Lu had finished picking up the memorials and returned to the Emperor’s side. She smiled as she spoke, her tone light and soothing, “They truly are a foolish lot, Your Majesty. Even commoners know that catching a cold is a trivial matter. And with so many skilled imperial physicians by your side, it’s only a matter of days before you’re fully recovered. I can’t understand why they’d choose this time to add to your worries.”

Her clear stance and comforting words only highlighted Zhang Zhizhen’s deliberate silence.

As an observer of the court’s inner workings, Zhang Zhizhen understood the game all too well. Many of the officials petitioning for Prince Feng to be named crown prince weren’t even part of the Prince Feng’s faction.

It was the Emperor’s own paranoia clouding his judgment.

Petitions urging the Emperor to name a crown prince had flooded Ziwei Palace like snowflakes in a winter storm. To Xie Shencong, such requests, while couched in concern for the empire’s stability, were tantamount to cursing him to an early grave.

The Emperor’s growing dissatisfaction with Prince Feng had become increasingly apparent. Prince Feng, recently released from confinement, had already endured multiple public reprimands during court sessions.

While this escalating discord didn’t benefit many, it was clear to Zhang Zhizhen who stood to gain. Still, no one dared to tear through the thin veil obscuring the truth from the Emperor’s eyes.

The struggle for succession, reignited after the fall of Prince Jing, showed no signs of abating. Instead, it grew fiercer by the day.

“Troubles within the court, and troubles beyond our borders!” Xie Shencong fumed. “The tribes under the Yaxiu King have repeatedly invaded us in recent years. This time, taking advantage of my illness, they’ve seized control of Baisha. My ministers are all urging me to send troops to reclaim the region. Even the Prince Feng has volunteered to lead the army. Tell me, Zhizhen—who should I send?”

Zhang Zhizhen knew that the loudest voices in court were advocating for Prince Feng to lead the campaign.

And that was precisely why he couldn’t suggest Prince Feng. Even though, by all measures, Prince Feng was indeed a capable choice.

“General Li Ting is brave and skilled in battle,” Zhang Zhizhen began cautiously, “but he’s been stationed at the Western Frontier for years. If we pull him away, I fear the remaining forces won’t be enough to deter the Rakshasa Kingdom.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Xie Shencong agreed with a sigh. “There’s also Fu Cheng. Though his experience is unparalleled, he retired last year due to ill health. I can’t bear to send an old man like him back to the battlefield…”

“How about General Huang Tailai of the Yiwei Guards?”

“Huang Tailai is talented, but his lack of seniority might make it hard for him to command the respect of the troops,” the Emperor countered.

“Then perhaps Commander Li Mingke of the Imperial Guards? He is both talented and brave.”

“Li Mingke served as one of my personal guards in his early years. He’s excellent in every way, but he’s too rigid—too bound by rules. The wild tribes of the steppes are cunning and unpredictable. If we stick to principles and protocol, the Yan army might suffer significant losses.”

Zhang Zhizhen shook his head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I cannot think of a suitable candidate.”

The Emperor leaned back on his dragon throne, tapping his fingers against the armrest. A shadow of contemplation passed over his face.

“I have someone in mind,” Xie Shencong finally said, “but I’m not sure if they’re suitable. I need you to consider it carefully for me.”

“Please share, Your Majesty,” Zhang Zhizhen replied, his head bowed.

The Emperor smiled faintly. “I’m thinking… of Prince Langya.”

“Prince Langya, Xie Lanxu.”

Zhang Zhizhen pondered for a moment before cupping his hands in a bow and replying, “Indeed, Prince Langya possesses the royal prestige necessary for this mission. He has already proven his capabilities, leading the triumphant battle of Mingyue Tower and defeating Moqi Chuanmin with a smaller force. His experience in unconventional warfare makes him a perfect choice. Furthermore, the geography and climate of Baisha bear an 80% resemblance to the terrain of Mingyue Tower. Compared to Li Ting, Yiwei General Huang Tailai, or Li Mingke, the Prince Langya is indeed a more suitable candidate.”

Smart men speak carefully, revealing little while saying much.

From start to finish, Zhang Zhizhen never expressed his own opinion outright, yet his words still left the Emperor thoroughly satisfied.

Emperor Xie Shencong nodded in approval, visibly pleased. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Zhang Zhizhen bowed again, adopting a humble and deferential posture.

There were certainly others in court who were more qualified for the role, but to the Emperor, none were as politically advantageous as Xie Lanxu.

After all, with a father infamous for treason, Xie Lanxu could never legitimately claim the throne. No matter the circumstances, the line of succession would never pass to him.

Thus, in the Emperor’s eyes, Xie Lanxu was the perfect choice: effective against external enemies, yet completely harmless within the empire.

At that moment, Chief Eunuch Gao entered silently, like a ghost, and approached the dragon bed. Bending low, he spoke in a hushed voice, “Your Majesty, Noble Consort Yi requests an audience.”

Xie Shencong waved his hand impatiently. “I won’t see her.”

Gao Shan bowed and was about to leave to relay the message when the Emperor changed his mind.

“Summon Prince Langya to the palace.”

Acknowledging the command, Gao Shan retreated from the inner chambers of Ziwei Palace.

Zhang Zhizhen, ever perceptive, recognized that his role in the conversation had concluded. He bowed and excused himself, carefully walking backward out of the chamber.

News of the Emperor summoning Prince Langya to the palace quickly reached Li Zhi, as she was a Palace Director.

Shortly after Xie Lanxu’s private meeting with the Emperor, Li Zhi herself was summoned to Ziwei Palace.

When she arrived, she noticed that Consort Lu was seated by the Emperor’s bedside, tending to him. Catching Li Zhi’s eye, Consort Lu gave her a subtle glance, signaling that the Emperor was in a good mood.

“Rise,” Xie Shencong commanded, motioning with his hand and smiling faintly. “I was just discussing state matters with Prince Langya, but he claims he dares not make decisions alone. Isn’t that amusing?”

Li Zhi remained silent, her demeanor cautious.

“You may be in the harem, but as a court official, you must have some knowledge of state affairs,” the Emperor remarked. “Are you aware of the recent invasion by the Yaxiu King’s forces, who have seized Baisha during my illness?”

“I have heard of it, Your Majesty, but I am not well-informed on the matter,” Li Zhi replied humbly.

“I intend to send Prince Langya to reclaim Baisha,” the Emperor continued. “However, there is one complication: civil officials of the previous dynasty are forbidden from marrying palace women, even if they are generals stationed outside the capital…”

His voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken implications hanging in the air.

Li Zhi understood his meaning immediately.

She now also understood why Xie Lanxu had told the Emperor that he “dared not decide on his own.”

Only one of them—herself or Xie Lanxu—could hold an official position.

Raising her head, she looked toward Xie Lanxu. He was already watching her, and upon meeting her gaze, he smiled faintly, like a loyal dog seeking its master’s approval.

“…When faced with external threats, the affairs of the court must take precedence over those of the harem,” Li Zhi said firmly. “I am willing to resign from my position as Palace Director.”

“You see? I told you, Palace Director Li is not an unreasonable or willful person,” Xie Shencong said with a grin, turning to Xie Lanxu.

“Your Majesty is wise,” Xie Lanxu replied with a respectful bow. “However, I am accustomed to consulting internally before making decisions. Perhaps Your Majesty is unaware, but the great victory at Mingyue Tower was largely due to Director Li’s contributions. Without her strategic insights, I would feel uneasy about leading the campaign in Baisha.”

Xie Shencong chuckled at this, though his laughter was soon interrupted by a bout of coughing. Accepting a handkerchief from Consort Lu, he dabbed at his mouth before continuing, “So it seems that while other generals bring their sons to battle, you intend to bring your wife. Very well. Historically, you wouldn’t be the first general to bring a woman to the frontlines. Once Li Zhi resigns her position, she will be an ordinary woman. Wherever you wish to take her will be your choice.”

Returning the handkerchief to Consort Lu, the Emperor fixed his gaze on Xie Lanxu.

“I have only one demand: Baisha must be reclaimed in victory.”

There was an unmistakable edge to his voice—a chilling undertone that served as both a warning and a threat.

To him, Xie Lanxu was merely a tool. And tools were only valuable when they served their purpose.

“Your Majesty will not be disappointed,” Xie Lanxu replied smoothly.

The Emperor, looking fatigued, waved them off. “Enough. You’re dismissed.”

As Li Zhi and Xie Lanxu exited Ziwei Palace, they passed Noble Consort Yi, who stood resolutely outside, stubbornly waiting for an audience.

Prince Feng had suffered consecutive reprimands and punishments, leaving his mother with no one else to turn to. Yet, the one she sought to appeal to was also the orchestrator of her son’s decline. From the very beginning, Noble Consort Yi had sought help from the wrong person.

After the fall of Prince Jing, both Noble Consort Yi and Prince Feng had become the Emperor’s primary adversaries.

To Xie Shencong, all those who drew too close to the throne—whether they were sons he once favored or loyal allies—were enemies to be guarded against.

Li Zhi didn’t fully understand Prince Feng’s character, but she knew Xie Lanxu’s all too well. It was clear to her that he had played a subtle but crucial role in the brewing chaos surrounding the crown prince’s succession.

Walking side by side along the palace path, Xie Lanxu maintained a calm, almost ethereal demeanor, untouched by the mortal world. Yet, hidden from view, he discreetly hooked his finger around Li Zhi’s.

Li Zhi coiled her finger around his in return. He squeezed her finger gently, and she squeezed his back.

“Once Baisha is pacified, I have a surprise for you,” Xie Lanxu said suddenly.

The word “surprise” made Li Zhi wary. For the two of them, surprises were rarely good things. Her guard instantly went up.

“What kind of surprise?” she asked.

“You’ll find out when the time comes,” he replied with a mysterious smile.

Li Zhi didn’t like waiting. She preferred to know things in advance.

But no matter how much she pressed him, Xie Lanxu remained resolutely tight-lipped, leaving her increasingly uneasy.

The date for the army’s departure to Baisha was soon finalized. The night before they were set to leave, Li Cien knocked on her door—a rare occurrence—bringing with her a heartfelt request.