The Love-Brained Empress (17) Duke Cheng’en had entrusted the children remaining in the capital to Prince Lu. There was no way Prince Lu wouldn’t take that seriously—but the fact that he personally came to escort the Empress and Little Princess Zhuzhu out of the palace was absolutely because he had seen the battle reports from the south.
And he was… deeply shaken.
Back in the day, Duke Cheng’en Xiao Jingzhou had risen to fame by charging into chaotic enemy ranks and, in a single assault, beheading the opposing commander who had been caught completely off guard.
Once the commander fell, the army more or less collapsed like a landslide. Anyone who could still maintain formation and retreat under those circumstances counted as elite troops. And so, Xiao Jingzhou—barely in his early twenties at the time—won unquestioned first merit.
More than twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye. Duke Cheng’en had also taken the opportunity to retire for nearly ten years, and many people no longer believed that his blade was still sharp.
But Prince Lu had always believed that the outcome of Duke Cheng’en’s southern campaign would decide the future political landscape.
And the facts proved him right.
In just over a month, Duke Cheng’en consecutively wiped out one of the four southern princes’ private armies—and conveniently killed two of that prince’s illegitimate sons who happened to be supervising the battle in the stronghold, along with numerous confidants.
Prince Lu remembered it vividly. A secret letter from his own man embedded in the suppression army said that the Duke had effortlessly neutralized an assassination attempt, then—smiling and chatting—raised his bow and casually took the enemy general’s head.
Between the lines, Prince Lu could feel his subordinate’s excitement, awe, and utter conviction.
Prince Lu himself had fought on battlefields before. He understood all too well what a peerless, ever-victorious general meant for morale—and how completely such a figure could command soldiers’ loyalty.
No need to say it: whoever wins battles is who the soldiers will follow.
So the Emperor’s fantasy of having Marquis Antai poison Duke Cheng’en with a secret edict, then smoothly reap the rewards?
Pure daydreaming.
Likewise, Prince Jing—still in the capital—was also completely losing it.
Prince Jing practically had “I’m going to rebel” written across his face, yet the Emperor, muddled by Noble Consort Qi’s pillow talk, pretended not to see a thing.
Thinking of this, Prince Lu let out a cold laugh and simply stood to the side, smiling without comment.
Meanwhile, Second Miss Xiao took charge as if she owned the place, calmly instructing the eunuchs and palace maids attending the Empress to pack things in an orderly fashion.
The Empress covered her face and cried—without saying a single word.
Just as the packing was nearly finished and Second Miss Xiao was about to take her elder sister and leave, the Empress suddenly sprang up and bolted for the door, crying as she ran:
“I don’t believe it! How could His Majesty abandon me! Without me, who would give him benefits?!”
Hearing this, Second Miss Xiao showed no mercy at all. She launched herself forward and kicked—straight into her elder sister’s back.
Watching her sister crash to the ground, she steadied herself and barked orders to the attendants:
“Wrap the Empress up and tie her securely. Carry her out later—so she doesn’t keep getting in the way.”
Then she looked down coldly at her sister and snapped,
“Don’t push me into knocking you unconscious. The Emperor? The Emperor already fled out the north gate with what little of the Imperial Guard he could scrape together. Qi Langhuan left with the Sixth Prince and followed Prince Jing. The other consorts—including the new Virtuous Consort—were all taken away by their families! Use your brain for once. If the palace weren’t in chaos, how could I just barge in here like this? And you still haven’t woken up? Absolutely ridiculous!”
By now, the Empress was wrapped so tightly she could barely speak.
Prince Lu nodded to himself. So that slap earlier wasn’t accidental. Second Miss Xiao really did take after her father—the more he looked at her, the more pleasing she became…
A sudden realization struck him. Am I… interested? Watching her hit people just now had felt strangely satisfying. I’m a widower. Second Miss Xiao is divorced. Doesn’t that actually fit quite well? Prince Lu looked at Second Miss Xiao again—and his gaze had completely changed.
Second Miss Xiao, of course, had no idea Prince Lu had set his sights on her. Right now, she was so furious at her elder sister that her head was buzzing. Every time she thought about her aging father still leading troops in the south… her heart ached unbearably.
If not for her elder sister squandering the family fortune so recklessly, how would Father have been forced to go to war at his age?!
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She forced herself to calm down and looked at Prince Lu.
“Your Highness, let’s go.”
Prince Lu answered crisply, “Alright.”
The Commander-in-Chief of the palace guards was the Clan Minister; the Deputy Commander was Prince Lu.
So the moment the Emperor fled, Prince Lu knew immediately. He had no interest in guessing what that coward was thinking—only that the Emperor was extremely uneasy, and at this moment was surely hiding in the suburban military camp, trembling, with whatever Imperial Guards he could still command.
After escorting Second Miss Xiao and the others back to Duke Cheng’en’s residence, Prince Lu went to confer with imperial clansmen and senior ministers about repelling the enemy. They couldn’t possibly allow Prince Jing to snatch such a massive advantage for free.
But after this crisis, even if the Emperor wasn’t deposed, he would never again hold much real power.
When parting at Duke Cheng’en’s gate, Prince Lu’s expression was notably gentle.
“I’ll come visit again this evening. Wait for me.”
Second Miss Xiao watched him mount his horse and leave with his guards, then frowned suspiciously.
“What’s wrong with him?”
The maids around her were all seasoned elders. One glance was enough for them to roughly grasp Prince Lu’s intentions: Duke Cheng’en was still mighty and unyielding in old age, and a daughter of his could match any noble.
Second Miss Xiao looked at them—and instantly understood.
She didn’t think the realm would fall into total chaos this time, but the Emperor would probably be replaced. As for what Prince Lu was after—did it even need saying?
She thought about it and felt neither surprised nor uncomfortable… nor disgusted.
A forthright Prince Lu was far better than an Emperor who wanted everything both ways.
Thinking of the Emperor inevitably led her to think of her elder sister.
Second Miss Xiao glanced at her sister, now wrapped up like a spring roll, and specifically instructed the nannies not to loosen the bindings—better let her reflect for a while.
Then she extended her arms toward Zhuzhu, who was watching her timidly.
Little Princess Zhuzhu was young, but perceptive. She knew her aunt would only punish her mother, not truly harm her. So she wobbled forward and threw herself into her aunt’s arms.
Second Miss Xiao caught her in a single motion.
Everyone present—the stewards, guards, nannies, and maids—smiled.
They all understood clearly: with Duke Cheng’en’s battle achievements known, while he was away, this household belonged to the eldest young master and Second Miss Xiao. And there was no place for a wayward Empress who sided with outsiders.
By evening, Eldest Young Master Xiao returned as well, bringing five hundred able-bodied men after consulting with the clan elders. Duke Cheng’en’s ancestral home was in the capital’s outskirts, not far from the suburban military camp.
In fact, ever since the Emperor ordered Prince Jing and his wife to divorce and welcomed the former Princess Jing, Lady Mi, into the palace, many had guessed that Prince Jing might not swallow this humiliation.
This sudden, organized, efficient gathering of “rebels” marching on the capital—anyone with eyes could see what was really going on.
But to those in the know, no matter who won between the Emperor and Prince Jing, they would still be the powerful elite. Still, basic precautions were necessary.
Thus, the capital was loose outside but tight within. Relying on his father’s reputation, First Young Master Xiao easily brought the trained clansmen into the vast Duke Cheng’en residence.
After settling the clansmen, he went to the inner courtyard to see his sister and his niece Zhuzhu. As for his actual elder sister—sorry. He and Second Miss Xiao thought exactly the same way: let the love-brained sister who had been decisively abandoned by the Emperor cool her head first.
After seeing Zhuzhu and chatting with his sister for a bit, First Young Master Xiao returned to his room to write a letter to his father.
Meanwhile, Prince Jing, after confirming the Emperor’s escape, sent someone to bring Qi Langhuan back to his residence—no more pretense necessary.
Qi Langhuan comforted her son for a while, handed him to the wet nurse, then cautiously asked her lover,
“What exactly are you planning?”
Her lover killing the Emperor in the chaos, coercing the imperial clan, becoming a powerful regent while making her Empress Dowager—versus her lover proclaiming himself Emperor and openly announcing their long affair—were two completely different outcomes.
If her lover was determined to overthrow the dynasty, it wasn’t that she was undermining him—it was that she might still end up only a consort.
Her maternal family simply wasn’t strong enough. Everything she had now came from the Emperor’s forceful elevation. If the Emperor died, her family wouldn’t be much help—or rather, not causing trouble would already be helpful.
Prince Jing looked at her with a half-smile. “We’re already this far. There’s no turning back.”
Qi Langhuan’s heart sank. Her throat went dry. “So… you’re really going to change heaven and earth?”
Prince Jing said calmly, “Anyone with eyes knows those so-called rebels outside the city are my troops. I’ll take advantage of everyone thinking I just want to replace the Emperor and become regent—then seize the entire north in one move.”
Qi Langhuan said urgently, “The Imperial Guards are rotten, yes—but the capital garrison, Prince Lu’s palace guards, the private guards of the princes in the capital… none of them are easy to deal with.”
“I’ve already bought over many people in the suburban camp,” Prince Jing said dismissively. “As for the princes’ guards—most of the old generation from Emperor Taizong’s time are nearly gone. Their descendants’ guards won’t be much better than the Imperial Guards. Prince Lu is indeed troublesome, but he stands alone. I’ll deal with him after I finish off the Emperor.”
Qi Langhuan fell silent for a long time, then asked the question that stabbed deepest: “What about Duke Cheng’en?”
Prince Jing answered matter-of-factly, “If I can’t beat him, we split the realm. Once he’s dead, I’ll take the south later.”
Qi Langhuan lowered her head. “…That makes sense.”
Prince Jing patted her hand. “I know you look down on Xiao Shi, but after all these years of fighting her, you’re afraid Duke Cheng’en will take revenge on you for his eldest daughter.”
That… wasn’t it.
Qi Langhuan truly looked down on Xiao Shi, but she had never simply crushed her outright because a voice deep inside kept reminding her: the more she oppressed Xiao Shi through the Emperor, the more Xiao Shi suffered, the more things went her way.
Her intuition had always been terrifyingly accurate. It was that instinct that had lifted her from the daughter of a declining minor official to the Emperor’s cherished favorite.
But once Duke Cheng’en returned, the Emperor grew wary and no longer dared to squeeze and torment Xiao Shi as before.
That was why both the Emperor and her lover had been losing control again and again lately!
Thinking of this, Qi Langhuan’s expression twisted slightly. So everything really does trace back to Xiao Shi… How do I make her suffer again? She leaned against her lover’s shoulder and said softly,
“I want to see the Emperor.”
Prince Jing smiled.
“Sure. I’ll arrange it.”
Qi Langhuan really was sensible—she knew times had changed and didn’t plan to wait around for rewards based on old affection. Instead, she chose to act and accumulate merit herself.
A smart woman. He hadn’t misjudged her, nor loved the wrong person.
So when he ascended the throne, giving her a consort’s rank would be easy enough.
Meanwhile, when news reached Qin Jingzhou that over a hundred thousand rebels had gathered outside the capital and the Emperor had fled to the suburban camp—it was already three days later.
In the central command tent, the civil and military officials were all stunned to varying degrees, including Marquis Antai.
Incidentally, regarding the previous assassination attempt against Qin Jingzhou, Marquis Antai hadn’t been fully cleared of suspicion—but there was also no solid proof he was the mastermind. What was confirmed was that Qi Er, the supervising censor, had been involved. As a result, Qi Er was confined to his tent and wasn’t present.
After discussion, Qin Jingzhou said bluntly,
“Gentlemen, prepare to march north—to reinforce the capital and fight enemies on two fronts.”
In the original storyline, the deposed Emperor had returned with foreign troops. Without Lady Mi’s family backing Prince Jing with full force, Prince Jing might also get bogged down. Qin Jingzhou needed to prepare early.
Just as he expected, Prince Jing didn’t give advance notice. He ordered his fully loyal “rebel army” to bypass the capital and strike directly at the suburban military camp.
At that time, Qi Langhuan was also there.
When the rebels arrived, the Emperor once again abandoned everything and ran—this time straight out of the borders of Great Jin.
Qi Langhuan fled back to the capital in utter disgrace.
Having missed the Emperor, Prince Jing showed no mercy. He turned back immediately, coordinating with internal collaborators to surround the north, west, and south gates—leaving one open. A classic siege of three sides, meant to pressure the capital’s elite.
Three days later, Qin Jingzhou finally received official documents from the Ministry of War, along with an imperial edict bearing the Emperor’s personal seal:
One order told him to return to the capital. The other ordered him to rescue the Emperor.
Both sides—coincidentally—used his family to threaten him.
A day later, he received a secret letter jointly written by his eldest son and Second Miss Xiao. It said that the love-brained eldest daughter had secretly left the city, heading north… to find the Emperor.
They hadn’t reunited yet—but according to the guards following her, they were close.
Qin Jingzhou understood instantly, then laughed.
Those two smart, worry-free children were clearly doing this on purpose. After all, catching the Emperor would indeed be easier to manipulate.
But once he repelled Prince Jing’s rebel army, the Emperor would definitely come back on his own—no need to chase him down.
He put the letter away, glanced at the distracted Marquis Antai, and calmly ordered,
“Break camp. We’re going home.”
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