Chapter 11 — TVF Chapter 11

The Love-Brained Empress (11) In sharp contrast to the emperor’s performative concern, the worry on Empress Xiao’s face was genuine.

For several days now, she had sent trusted aides home with letters every single day. Qin Jingzhou’s response remained unchanged: he read them—and did not reply.

As the saying goes, compare goods and you throw them away; compare people and someone dies of shame. Empress Xiao truly did not resemble Xiao Dalang, Second Miss Xiao, or Third Miss Xiao at all—despite sharing the same parents.

Qin Jingzhou felt that since transmigrating, he’d only done a tiny bit of work. And yet Xiao Dalang, Second Miss Xiao, and Third Miss Xiao had all developed strong “dad-fan” tendencies. Only Empress Xiao remained steadfastly unchanged.

Empress Xiao wanted to be a devoted boot-licker. She wanted to suffer for the emperor. And so, in her mind, it was perfectly reasonable that her natal family should also kneel and lick boots along with her.

Qin Jingzhou had deliberately smacked some sense into her at the Sixth Prince’s hundred-day banquet. She seemed to wake up a little—but that awakening was apparently limited to publicly worrying about her father.

What a headache of a daughter.

Then again, if she weren’t this level of problematic, she probably wouldn’t have summoned both the system and him.

The system chimed in right on cue: “Although the mission target Empress Xiao is… rather hopeless, the rest of your children are performing quite well.” Qin Jingzhou readily agreed. “True. Not only are the kids to my liking, but thanks to the original host, the trusted personal guards he left behind are all solid as well. It’s just that his taste in in-laws was catastrophically bad… Though I suppose the headache daughter choosing her own husband doesn’t count.” The system immediately soothed him. “No one is perfect.” The original host had left behind a generous ‘inheritance’—and plenty of room for Qin Jingzhou to maneuver. Smiling, he replied, “Gains and losses go hand in hand. You can’t expect everything. What more could I want?” That meme is ancient. Qin Jingzhou actually laughed.

That smile meant different things to different people.

Seeing the empress’s worried expression, the emperor felt that Duke Cheng’en must be full of helpless frustration—and Duke Cheng’en’s unhappiness made him happy. He continued instructing the Antai Marquis, “Assist Duke Cheng’en well…”

The emperor’s words carried subtext. The Antai Marquis understood perfectly.

Having once served as Duke Cheng’en’s deputy, the Antai Marquis knew how terrifying Duke Cheng’en’s prestige in the army had been. But years had passed, and emperors had changed twice. Did Duke Cheng’en still think he could call and have everyone answer like before? Pure fantasy. Yes, Duke Cheng’en had returned to the capital and immediately made an example of the Antai Marquis’ household—but so what?

He could simply say he hadn’t taught his eldest son well, that his own household was in the wrong, and accept the ridicule. But warfare was another matter entirely. He, too, was a battle-hardened general with real influence in the army.

Most of the generals under the emperor and the Qi family had been promoted far above their stations. Calling these “young and promising” generals armchair strategists wasn’t unfair at all. Clearly, the emperor and the Qi family knew their own shortcomings—hence this sudden willingness to spend lavishly to recruit a “fine horse.”

With the emperor’s assurances and the Qi family’s promises… the Antai Marquis might one day become King Antai. The risks were great, but if it succeeded, Duke Cheng’en would be nothing more than a stepping stone.

As he listened to the emperor’s pointed, faintly mocking instructions, the Antai Marquis seriously considered how to eliminate Duke Cheng’en once the army left the capital.

Qi Er, meanwhile, simply smiled and said nothing.

His smug satisfaction rivaled the emperor’s. As long as the hoe is swung well, what wall can’t be torn down? Even an old subordinate like the Antai Marquis had been tempted into drawing blades against Duke Cheng’en. If the Antai Marquis was the first to stand against him, a second surely wouldn’t be far behind.

The Antai Marquis had only one legitimate son. Even though that son had been completely led astray by his sister, Qi Er still considered him utterly useless.

Once Duke Cheng’en was dead and his sister became empress, the Antai Marquis would surely deal with his current wife and eldest son as well. After all, the marchioness was Duke Cheng’en’s cousin—better to kill by mistake than let one slip through.

Qi Er was already planning further: he himself had concubine sons and daughters. Perhaps he could arrange a marriage with the Antai household, to soothe the marquis’ heart.

After all, he knew his own family well. His sister had sacrificed the Antai Marquis’ eldest son just to disgust Duke Cheng’en on Prince Jing’s behalf. The marquis hadn’t said much, but surely resentment lingered.

If you needed someone’s service, you had to treat them well—at the very least, keep up appearances.

Qi Er’s abacus clacked loudly, and he even shot the emperor a meaningful look.

The emperor smiled faintly.

Seeing this silent agreement, the Antai Marquis felt even more confident. Thinking of the consort who had just borne the Sixth Prince only strengthened his resolve.

Meanwhile, Official Wu—the designated military advisor—frowned, his expression growing increasingly troubled.

He wasn’t optimistic about the emperor, the Antai Marquis, or the Qi family’s scheme. His willingness to lean toward the Qi family had been predicated on Duke Cheng’en remaining aloof from worldly matters until death. But now… Duke Cheng’en looked very much like he was ready to flip the table.

So why was the emperor so convinced Duke Cheng’en would obediently submit just because of Emperor Taizong’s past favor?

As the emperor, Qi Er, and the Antai Marquis plotted like snakes in the same pit, Qin Jingzhou thought: Killing them one by one wouldn’t be unjust at all. Official Wu’s shifting expressions, however, were… interesting.

Still, if he wanted to eliminate “obstacles” like the Antai Marquis and Qi Er at the right time, he first needed to re-establish authority. Without a victory, past glory meant nothing—your words would smell like fart.

The emperor droned on. The Antai Marquis and Qi Er swore loyalty and made promises. On the surface, ruler and ministers were in harmony, while Empress Xiao and Official Wu looked increasingly worried.

Then Qin Jingzhou spoke: “What about military pay and provisions?”

The cheerful atmosphere froze instantly.

Had the emperor handled disaster relief properly, southern princes and nobles wouldn’t have seized the chance to open soup kitchens everywhere, recruiting strong laborers and buying popular support.

But did the emperor want to mishandle relief?

Of course not. He understood perfectly that winning hearts meant winning the realm.

Yet on one hand, the officials he sent were loyal—but corrupt, skimming and embezzling relief funds without exception. On the other hand, the emperor’s available funds were genuinely limited.

If he pinched pennies even for disaster relief, how much could he really afford to supply fifty thousand troops marching south?

The emperor hesitated briefly. “The army won’t go hungry.”

Empress Xiao added, “At least half a year’s pay should be sufficient.”

Qin Jingzhou: … How exactly do you people see me? You think I won’t submit easily—so you threaten me with Empress Xiao. Then you assign me three men who either hate me or have direct conflicts of interest, just to restrain me. And yet you still believe that once I accept the post of Pacification General, I’ll obediently work myself to the bone, silently swallowing shortages in pay and supplies?

So in your minds, once I agree, I have to endure whatever you throw at me?

Qin Jingzhou studied the emperor for a moment. Ah. So idiots really do cluster together. The system helpfully added, “Think about the Jingkang Humiliation back in your old world. This is nothing. I bet they think you’re eager to take command and leave the capital, rush south to slaughter the princes, and then get jointly wiped out—mutual destruction at its finest.” “Makes sense,” Qin Jingzhou chuckled. “Then I should demand more money and grain before leaving. How much do you think Prince Jing would be willing to pay to get me out of the capital?” Once he reached the south, even if the emperor cut off supplies to force him into battle, Qin Jingzhou wasn’t worried. There were plenty of rich local magnates—he wouldn’t starve.

So he didn’t press the issue. After leaving the Hall of Mental Cultivation, he didn’t even see his troublesome daughter and went straight home.

When Consort Qi heard that Duke Cheng’en hadn’t gone to see his daughter, she was delighted. “So he got angry again?”

Prince Jing, who had come through a secret palace passage to see her, was furious. “He won’t even keep up appearances! Why does the emperor think Duke Cheng’en would swallow this humiliation? Once he leads troops south, what if he claims ‘the general in the field need not obey imperial orders’? Isn’t he afraid Duke Cheng’en will entrench himself? I want Duke Cheng’en to fall out with the emperor and cut down a few arrogant old princes—but his strength can’t grow too much, or dealing with him later will be a headache.”

Consort Qi frowned. “Isn’t the Antai Marquis and my second brother enough? With blades at the Xiao family’s throats, he’ll have no choice. If we weren’t certain Duke Cheng’en values his children, how would we dare let a tiger loose?”

That was true.

Prince Jing said sincerely, “We still want him to work hard for us. This level of coercion isn’t enough.”

Consort Qi leaned against her lover, thinking for a moment. “Then… what about sending the eldest princess to marry abroad?”

The emperor’s only surviving daughter—Princess Zhu—was barely four or five years old.

Prince Jing believed in being ruthless when necessary, but hearing his beloved consort suggest plotting against a small child…

He showed no reaction on his face, but inside, his thoughts churned.

After a moment, he pulled her into his arms and sighed. “Forget it. Coercion and temptation—let me handle the temptation. We’ll form goodwill first. When we stab him in the back later, Duke Cheng’en won’t be on guard.”

He directly instructed a trusted aide, “Send a card to Duke Cheng’en. This prince wishes to speak with him.”

He lingered affectionately a while longer before leaving.

The emperor had already declared he would spend these days in the Empress’ palace, so Prince Jing had originally planned to stay overnight.

Watching her lover disappear into the secret passage, Consort Qi collapsed onto the couch and burst into tears. “So now he thinks I’m vicious! I’m just repaying tooth for tooth! When the empress almost forced me to drink abortifacients, why didn’t he say anything then?!”

Her trusted nanny hurried to console her. “Your Ladyship is too sincere. Men… once they have you, they stop cherishing you…”

After a long silence, Consort Qi said, “I have been too good to him. Which is why I can’t let Prince Lu slip away either!” She turned and ordered a palace maid, “Send word to Prince Lu. I need to see him—there’s urgent business.”

Consort Qi’s palace contained eunuchs bought by Prince Lu. Though he didn’t know exactly how Prince Jing and Consort Qi had parted on bad terms, he learned everything else clearly: Prince Jing wanted to see Duke Cheng’en, and Consort Qi was contacting Prince Lu.

Prince Lu, aware of the villains’ schemes, conveniently passed word along to Duke Cheng’en.

After receiving the news, Qin Jingzhou commented, “What a match made in heaven. They should really lock themselves together and stop harming others.” He then pondered how to arrange for the emperor to accidentally catch Prince Jing and Consort Qi together. The emperor’s reaction upon realizing he was wearing a green hat would surely be entertaining.