The Love-Brained Empress (8) Although the emperor truly did become a fallen ruler through his own talents, to be fair—he wasn’t actually an idiot. Before appointing a general to lead troops south to suppress the rebellion, he wouldn’t issue an edict without at least “giving the person a heads-up.”
Granted, the emperor’s version of “giving a heads-up” was barely distinguishable from coercion.
Qin Jingzhou thought it over again. In the original timeline, only after the original owner died did the so-called “rebellious forces” under Prince Jing’s control strike—taking advantage of the other feudal princes’ restlessness to march straight on the capital. Now that he had transmigrated into this body, as long as he stayed in the capital, Prince Jing probably wouldn’t dare act rashly.
He looked at the emperor, whose eyes were full of expectation mixed with barely concealed helplessness, and thought: With acting like this, you’re really not even trying. At the same time, his love-brained daughter—staring at the emperor with eyes practically screaming “my poor brother”—also entered his field of vision. Damn it. I’m tired. Just end it all. The emperor, thick-skinned as a city wall, ignored the empress’s concerned gaze and focused solely on Duke Cheng’en Xiao Jingzhou’s thoughts. It was obvious the duke was in a foul mood.
After all, getting Duke Cheng’en to agree to lead troops south wasn’t the end of it. He’d still need the duke to work wholeheartedly, clearing out most of the southern “water bandits and mountain brigands.” Then, once the mission was complete, the emperor planned to borrow strength to strike again—perhaps uniting the battered feudal princes to eliminate Duke Cheng’en.
Rationally, the emperor knew this was the time to keep soothing the empress, so she could later persuade Duke Cheng’en properly. So he turned to her and asked, “Zitong, why are you crying?”
Empress Xiao wasn’t exactly sharp, but relying on a woman’s intuition, she finally sensed something was wrong. First, His Majesty must have taken up with another woman again. Second… the way Qi Langhuan looked at Prince Jing was not right.
His Majesty was handsome—how many women under heaven wouldn’t fall for him?
She’d long known the emperor didn’t truly love her; the marriage itself had been something she forced through. But now, when he needed her father, he still hurt her heart without a second thought. Having just been scolded by her father for being useless, she couldn’t help feeling miserable.
Even seeing that the Noble Consort seemed close to Prince Jing, she was too disheartened to cause a scene.
For a moment, Empress Xiao sank into self-pity, her whole body screaming Do Not Engage.
The emperor took a deep breath. This was the first time he’d openly shown goodwill and gotten brushed off—it had to be because Duke Cheng’en was backing her! Absolutely shameless. But no matter how annoyed he was, he didn’t dare flip the table. He said deliberately, “Zitong, whoever wronged you, I will give you an explanation.”
Empress Xiao dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “The Noble Consort plotted against my father. Your Majesty should give that explanation first.”
The Noble Consort shot Prince Jing a lightning-fast glance, her eyes full of grievance. Facing the emperor, she instantly switched to helpless submission and knelt neatly. “This concubine knows her fault.” That’s pushing your luck. The emperor knew perfectly well that the Noble Consort meeting the Marquis of Antai’s eldest son was about scheming—having him stir trouble for the Duke Cheng’en household. She was “sharing his burdens,” and yet he still had to punish her first…
Lowering his eyes, he ordered, “The Noble Consort privately met an external official. She is to reflect for three days and have half a year’s stipend docked.”
Qin Jingzhou laughed outright.
Meeting an external official—since when was that even a real crime in Great Jin? He couldn’t even bring himself to accuse his beloved consort of illicit collusion. Compared to earlier, this performance was even more perfunctory—utterly lacking sincerity.
So he spoke before his love-brained daughter could. “I’ve seen Your Majesty’s sincerity.” With that, he hugged his still-sleeping granddaughter and strode off.
Empress Xiao, her IQ having recovered a sliver, saw how her father’s sarcastic jab had flushed the emperor red with anger. She didn’t undermine her father, only gave a perfunctory salute and hurried after him.
Qin Jingzhou returned to the lively banquet in the Imperial Garden and resumed drinking with the Minister of the Imperial Clan and several elderly princes, though he said little.
Soon after, Empress Xiao and the emperor returned one after the other, both looking unhappy. A while later, Prince Jing also reappeared—but the banquet’s other star, the Noble Consort, never came back.
After the feast dispersed, no matter how dissatisfied he felt, the emperor still had to pinch his nose and go to Kunning Palace to keep comforting the empress.
To cheer her up, the emperor even did something unprecedented—he picked up the eldest princess and bounced her lightly.
The little princess was sharp for her age. Sensing her father’s reluctance, she said on her own, “Father Emperor, are you tired? You don’t have to hold me.”
The emperor immediately felt his daughter had far more sense than the empress. He set her down smoothly, watched her leave with her nanny, then said to the empress, “Zitong, I truly have no choice… aside from Duke Cheng’en, I don’t know whom I can trust anymore. There’s no one left I can use.”
Empress Xiao stared at him—and suddenly felt that he looked a little uglier than before.
She felt dazed. When she’d first seen him, it had been love at first sight, like beholding a celestial being. Nearly twenty years had passed—her feelings hadn’t changed, but the emperor had gone from an unremarkable crown prince’s son to ruler of the realm.
She finally began to seriously wonder: was the man before her still the same one who had captivated her at first glance?
At the same time, inside the Noble Consort’s palace, the Noble Consort was facing Prince Jing.
She cried so hard she could barely speak. “Anyone else would have been fine—why her? I trusted her so much, had her pass messages to you… you’re stabbing me in the heart!”
Prince Jing carefully wiped her tears and explained softly, “She threatened me… She knows I’ve bought off many people. If I didn’t satisfy her, she’d report both of us to the emperor.”
The Noble Consort gasped. “What?!”
“I had to stabilize her first—get her out of the palace and into my hands. Then we could talk,” Prince Jing said in a low voice. “You don’t trust me at all?”
The Noble Consort instantly stopped crying and smiled. “Then why didn’t you say so earlier!”
Prince Jing looked aggrieved too. “In Chang Le Palace, in front of the emperor, the empress, and Duke Cheng’en—how was I supposed to signal you? The emperor and empress are one thing, but Duke Cheng’en isn’t deaf or blind. That old fox was impossible to fool from start to finish.”
He patiently whispered in her ear. “You know I bought off two of the servants attending Duke Cheng’en, right? Unfortunately, even though Duke Cheng’en barely had more breath going in than out after taking pills, his accumulated authority was too terrifying. The two men I bought only dared stuff him into the coffin—and even sealing it, they half-assed it. After that… well, you saw it. Not only did Duke Cheng’en survive, he became instantly alert.”
The Noble Consort reluctantly continued, “Didn’t Duke Cheng’en report it to the authorities… He must already suspect my family and you.”
“Of course,” Prince Jing sighed. “There are barely any veteran ministers and generals left who fought under Emperor Taizong. Duke Cheng’en is universally acknowledged as someone who can fight and command loyalty. At our son’s hundred-day banquet today, which member of the imperial clan wasn’t polite to him? To be honest, my father once served as Duke Cheng’en’s deputy. He only voiced a few doubts, and Duke Cheng’en shot him a cold look—every general present seemed ready to chop my father down the moment Duke Cheng’en gave the word.”
The Noble Consort was stunned. “Is it really that serious?”
“It really is,” Prince Jing replied bitterly. “Don’t be fooled by your eldest brother becoming commander of the Imperial Guards. His orders might not matter as much as a few words from Duke Cheng’en. If the guards turn coat…”
Thinking it through, the Noble Consort felt a chill. If Prince Jing was right, Duke Cheng’en was terrifying. “Then we really need to get rid of him—or at least send him far away from the capital.”
“I think so too,” Prince Jing said. “The emperor’s acting up again, wanting to casually shove him out. The empress is easy to deal with, but Duke Cheng’en isn’t. That old fox won’t move without seeing the bait.”
The Noble Consort asked sincerely, “Then what should I do?”
“Persuade the emperor to show real sincerity—give Duke Cheng’en ample troops and supplies. The weaker the capital’s Imperial Guards are, the better our chances.”
The Noble Consort finally smiled and even clapped softly. “Then once Duke Cheng’en is out leading troops, too far away to intervene, we’ll have his sons and daughters in our hands. He won’t dare disobey.”
Prince Jing smiled as well. “Duke Cheng’en is excellent at war. I think he can even help us quell the feudal princes’ rebellion.”
“Once the birds are gone, the good bow is put away; use people to their fullest,” the Noble Consort said softly. “Very fitting. When the emperor comes tomorrow, I’ll tell him.”
The Noble Consort and Prince Jing exchanged a smile, flowers blooming in their hearts.
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