Though the sky was still bright, she had already retired—was she feeling unwell?
The maid curtsied and replied, "A breeze picked up after noon. Her Highness caught a chill and now suffers from a headache. She requires quiet rest."
In that case, it was inappropriate to speak directly with Princess Gesang Meiduo to confirm her presence in the carriage. Ordinarily, a single inquiry would have sufficed. After all, she was of noble birth, a woman, and part of a foreign diplomatic mission.
However, Bai Xianyu had received secret orders to monitor her movements. After today's journey beyond the city, how could he report back without confirming her identity upon return?
With this in mind, Bai Xianyu smiled and said, "Then may Her Highness rest well."
He stepped back and instructed the military guards, "Clear the way! Remove those blocking the road!"
The obstruction ahead consisted of scholars and gentlemen bidding each other reluctant farewells at the city gate. Elated by their literary exchanges, they recited verses aloud.
"'Drunken eyes and reckless hearts entwined, half bloom with laughter yet restrained.' Wonderful! But what if we change 'laughter' to 'scorn'?"
"No, no—that would spoil the charm."
They bowed to one another and stroked their beards leisurely, walking so slowly that even their tethered horses snorted in impatience.
At Bai Xianyu's command, a clever young guard dashed over to request politely that they make way, yet used the moment to slap a horse's flank. Startled, the beast broke free and charged toward Gesang Meiduo's carriage.
Bai Xianyu shouted a warning and directed the princess's coachman to swerve. Amid the brief chaos, he swiftly lifted the curtain and peered inside.
This was a common tactic among military guards to inspect the carriages of high-ranking officials reluctant to submit to scrutiny.
Sure enough, Gesang Meiduo lay within. She faced away from the window, her sapphire skirts cascading around her. Her adornments and jeweled collar confirmed her identity. Despite the noise outside, she remained sound asleep, one hand resting gently on her forehead—she truly did seem to be in pain.
Bai Xianyu let the curtain fall and ensured the carriage came to a smooth halt.
A steward from the Tibetan envoy came rushing over, and Bai Xianyu instructed calmly, "Take care on the road."
The steward grinned, speaking in rough Tang dialect, and slipped him a pouch of silver. "Thank you, Lord Marshal, for your care."
"Not at all," Bai Xianyu said with a modest gesture before casually tossing the pouch to a subordinate behind him.
Sometimes, accepting a bribe served as a tactic to lull others into complacency. It was better to appear complicit than to stand aloof.
Each day's state affairs were to be reported to the emperor. Crown Prince Li Zhang and Chancellor Fu Qian jointly presented a matter: the construction of irrigation works in Jinzhou had sparked an uprising among the commoners.
Quelling a revolt was not difficult. The true concern was that military crossbows had fallen into rebel hands.
The emperor, in the midst of taking his medicine, set down the bowl. Though his tone was calm, his presence exuded imperial authority. "The Great Tang was forged through martial strength—our weapons are the soul of our army. This matter must be thoroughly investigated. Leave no room for negligence."
Li Zhang responded, "Your son has already ordered Prince Chu to Jinzhou, both to suppress the disorder and to trace the flow of crossbows."
The emperor's half-closed eyes snapped open, sharp with insight. He regarded Li Zhang with a gaze both scrutinizing and enigmatic, unsettling in its weight.
Sensing the tension, Fu Qian stepped forward. "Your Majesty, this subject finds it improper to send Prince Chu. First, the Armory Bureau is linked to Physician Ye; second, Prince Chu's wedding draws near. If something delays the auspicious date—"
Li Zhang turned to Fu Qian, puzzled by his sudden objection when he had remained silent during court. But seeing the gravity in the chancellor's eyes, he understood.
He feigned realization, drew in a breath, and said in apparent remorse, "The matter was urgent, and your son only considered Prince Chu's competence, not his political stance—nor did I recall his upcoming nuptials. I shall head to the Zhao Prince's manor at once to halt him and dispatch someone else."
He turned to take his leave, but the emperor called out, "No need."
He accepted a handkerchief from Gao Fu and wiped his lips, saying coolly, "State matters outweigh private ones. Prince Chu understands the greater good, and the Duke of Anguo's household will surely comprehend."
Li Zhang bowed, murmuring assent. The emperor stepped forward, stopping directly before him.
"Even if the wedding must be delayed, it changes nothing," he said, voice heavy with deliberate emphasis. "This marriage was decreed by my own hand. Whether or not the ceremonial rites have been completed, as of the twenty-ninth of March, Ye Jiao is the Princess Consort of Chu."
This daughter-in-law was his chosen match. No one would be allowed to interfere.
Li Zhang responded with trembling reverence, "I have already instructed the Ministry of Rites to prepare thoroughly."
The emperor grunted, a sound laced with displeasure and cold certainty. "Go, then," he said slowly. "I feel weary. Summon the imperial physician for acupuncture and massage."
As Li Zhang departed, he cast a covert glance at his father's expression. His fingers curled unconsciously.
Since Prince Wei, Li Chen, had returned to convalesce, the emperor had not mentioned him once. Even though the imperial physicians' techniques were inferior to Li Chen's, he never inquired.
This silence began the night Consort Shun was driven mad by threats from Yan Jide. That same night, after summoning Li Zhang and the Empress for questioning, and after Prince Zhao, Li Jing, was beaten for storming the palace, the emperor received a secret letter.
Li Zhang did not know its contents—only that the emperor had changed.
His illness worsened with rage. During that time, only the Empress and Lady Lu were summoned to his side. Just yesterday, he issued a decree elevating both: Lady Lu became Virtuous Consort, and Consort Shun was granted the title of Worthy Consort.
In one day, two low-ranking consorts rose to the rank of fei.
Amidst the joy of the harem's promotions, the emperor also instructed Li Zhang to draft an edict recalling General Bai from his post in Jiannan Dao.
Each action hinted at the gravity of that night's secret letter. And Li Zhang, after much reflection, was convinced the target was not himself.
Perhaps those currently basking in favor had no idea just how adept their sovereign was at wielding sudden authority to lull others into ease.
After a long day of state duties, Li Ce entrusted urgent matters to his aides and returned home by carriage. The court physician, concerned for his health, rarely permitted him to ride except on clear, mild days.
He had yet to tell Ye Jiao about his assignment to Jinzhou. He wondered how she would react—would she scold him, or bid him take care?
Her every smile and frown lingered in his thoughts, tugging at his heart. He longed to turn back, to beg the emperor to let him remain until after their wedding.
But the court could not wait. If the unruly masses in Jinzhou were not calmed in time, greater chaos could ensue. Jinzhou's garrison was strong—if suppression came by force, how many lives would be lost?
Li Ce sighed heavily as the carriage halted before Prince Zhao's manor.
The steward awaited him and invited him in to talk. News of his departure must have reached them.
"Another time," Li Ce declined. "Tell my fifth brother to focus on his recovery and not concern himself with state affairs."
Qingfeng handed the reins to the doorman and followed Li Ce through half the estate to the eastern courtyard.
His attendant, Yan Yun, wasn't waiting at the door but slipped out from within.
Seeing Li Ce, he glanced furtively toward the inner chamber.
Li Ce tilted his head slightly, frowning. "What is it?"
"N-Nothing," Yan Yun stammered, scratching his head. "Supper is ready, Your Highness."
Li Ce nodded and washed before taking his seat at the table.
His evening meals were usually light, but today included braised pork knuckle. The steamed elm seeds were scant. He noticed that his chair hadn't moved from its usual place—it felt a bit cramped for his long legs.
He set down his chopsticks.
A faint smile played on his lips, candlelight warming his gaze with tenderness and joy.
He rose, circled the screen—and to his surprise, the room was empty.
The light in his eyes slowly faded. He shook his head and turned back to continue his meal—when suddenly...