Chapter 113

Edited By: Mim

Since the emperor first caught a cold, morning court had been suspended for fifteen days.

This was unprecedented in Xie Shencong’s reign.

Although the emperor was known for his diverse interests—sometimes indulging in woodworking, sometimes immersing himself in painting, and occasionally losing himself in the company of beauties—he had always been diligent in governance. Since ascending to the throne, he had never missed court, not even on his birthday, unless seriously ill.

Now, his health had become the central concern of the court officials. Regardless of their personal motivations, one memorial after another urging the emperor to name a crown prince flooded into Ziwei Palace.

But such pleas struck a raw nerve for Xie Shencong.

This time, however, his illness was severe and showed no signs of improvement. Even after punishing several officials, he couldn’t stop the rising chorus of voices demanding a crown prince be named.

Enraged and humiliated, Xie Shencong personally ordered the flogging of an outspoken censor, who dared to submit a memorial urging him to appoint an heir. The censor was beaten to death in front of Ziwei Palace.

Punishing a palace servant might have been a minor issue, but flogging an official to death was a major one.

By the time Gao Shan reported the censor’s death, Xie Shencong already regretted his actions.

In a fit of anger, he slammed his hand on the bed and questioned Gao Shan’s subordinates about why they had beaten the man so mercilessly. He seemed to forget that it had been his own order to administer thirty heavy strokes.

For a younger official, or a military officer, thirty strokes might not have been fatal.

But for a civil servant in his fifties, with graying hair and a frail body, thirty strokes was a death sentence.

Even if the emperor wanted to cover it up, how could he possibly succeed?

The news of the emperor flogging a censor to death spread quickly through the streets. Not only were the common people unsettled, but the officials in court were also gripped by fear.

“I don’t care what you have to do, but you must make me better, and quickly!”

Xie Shencong’s furious voice echoed through Ziwei Palace, where dozens of imperial physicians knelt trembling at the foot of the dragon bed.

“Your Majesty still has a lingering cough, and the symptoms have yet to fully clear up. Rest and recovery would be best—” the head of the Imperial Medical Bureau dared to suggest.

“Do you think I can rest in peace with the state of things as they are now?!” Xie Shencong roared. “If it weren’t for you useless fools, I wouldn’t—” He stopped mid-sentence, overcome by a fit of coughing.

Lu Yao, sitting beside him, hurriedly patted his back to soothe him.

Once he caught his breath, Xie Shencong continued, “Such a trivial illness, and the Imperial Medical Bureau is stumped! Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

The imperial physicians knelt there silently, trembling under his wrath, too afraid to speak.

How many elderly people had been taken by a “simple cold”?

The emperor might look young, but he was aging nonetheless…

“It’s because you’re all too cautious, afraid to take any risks, and unwilling to prescribe the proper medicine for His Majesty’s condition!” Lu Yao interjected. “Yes, medicine is three parts poison, but what good is stuffing His Majesty with tonics if they don’t address his illness? The longer this drags on, the more harm it’ll do to his health!”

“Well said, Consort De,” Xie Shencong agreed, his eyes sweeping over the physicians. “No matter what, I must attend court tomorrow. If I can’t—then it’ll be clear you’ve been derelict in your duties. And I won’t spare you!”

The physicians hurriedly bowed and retreated from the Ziwei Palace, their robes brushing the ground as they left.

Xie Shencong began coughing again, his face turning red from the effort.

“It feels like something’s stuck in my throat,” he said hoarsely, looking pitifully at Lu Yao. “Beloved consort, could I have contracted a serious illness?”

Lu Yao leaned against him like a delicate bird, smiling sweetly.

“Your Majesty is still in your prime, not even a strand of white hair on your head. How could you have a serious illness? The change of seasons always brings colds. Don’t overthink it. Once you recover, I’ll still be waiting for you to grant me a little prince!”

Her coaxing made Xie Shencong laugh, and the trace of worry in his heart dissipated.

“Time is truly merciless,” he said with a sigh. “I remember when I first came of age, I would swim every day, rain or snow, to strengthen my body. I never got sick. But now…this year, I’ve fallen ill twice already.”

As if to punctuate his words, he began coughing again. This time, he spat out a mouthful of phlegm, which landed in Lu Yao’s palm.

Lu Yao smiled and said, “This must mean Your Majesty will feel better for a while now.” Her face was full of concern and tenderness as she walked out of the inner hall with her hands clasped together.

But the moment she stepped outside, her smile vanished.

When Gao Shan brought her a basin of water, she scrubbed her palms so vigorously it seemed she might peel off an entire layer of skin.

“Your Grace, there’s no need to fret,” Gao Shan’s voice suddenly came from above her. He spoke softly, “News has arrived from outside the palace. Tomorrow, everything will be in motion.”

Lu Yao’s eyes lit up with excitement, and a fierce glint flashed across them.

It was finally happening.

If nothing had come soon, she might have taken matters into her own hands.

This news renewed her patience. When she re-entered the palace, her steps were noticeably lighter.

“Beloved consort, why do you seem so much happier after stepping out for a moment?” Xie Shencong asked, pulling her into his arms.

“While washing my hands, I saw a bluebird fly across the sky,” she replied with a smile. “Surely it’s a sign of good fortune for Your Majesty. Perhaps your illness will be gone by tomorrow!”

“Is that so? If it’s true, that would be wonderful,” Xie Shencong said, his spirits lifting.

Soon after, the imperial physicians brought in a new prescription of herbal medicine.

Xie Shencong drank the medicine with a frown, holding onto hope that he would feel better by the next day. Nestled in Lu Yao’s embrace, he eventually drifted off to sleep.

That night, he had a nightmare.

In his dream, countless figures chased him, trying to seize him.

The shadows swirled around him, dark and ominous. He was human, but they were vengeful spirits seeking his life.

The path to the throne—transforming from man to dragon—had been paved with the lives of many. As time passed, he had nearly forgotten the faces of those he wronged.

But tonight, the memories resurfaced.

After all, how could a man defeat ghosts?

He was pinned to the ground by the spirits. Among them, the last emperor of the Cui Dynasty appeared—a corpse riddled with sores, with empty, decaying eye sockets. The ghost opened its mouth wide, ready to devour him. Xie Shencong sobbed and begged for mercy, only to jolt awake in sheer terror.

He opened his eyes wide, staring at the canopy of the dragon bed. The only sound in the chamber was his labored breathing.

Turning his head, he realized the space beside him was empty—Lu Yao was nowhere to be seen. The palace servants had also disappeared.

Outside the window, the night was deep and still, quiet as a graveyard.

“Gao Shan! Beloved consort!” Xie Shencong called out.

Only silence answered him.

Could he still be trapped in the nightmare? A shiver of panic crept up his spine, as if the vengeful spirits might return at any moment.

But everything before him was so vivid. He could even see the intricate details on the walls.

Could a dream feel this real?

Before he could think further, a tickle began in his throat, and he started coughing violently. Perhaps he had strained himself too much, or maybe the new medicine from the previous day had been wrong for him. Unable to hold it in, he vomited onto the dragon bed.

The vomit was dark brown, reeking with a nauseating stench.

Disgusted, he tried to get off the bed to escape the mess, but his limbs were too weak. He stumbled and fell to the floor, rolling onto the black tiles, smearing himself with his own vomit. He couldn’t get up and, suppressing his nausea, shouted angrily.

“Where is everyone?! Where have they all gone?!”

A shadowy figure appeared, stepping into the hall from outside.

Squinting through the dim light, Xie Shencong tried to identify the figure.

It wasn’t Gao Shan, nor was it Lu Yao.

Suddenly, he gasped in horror. “It’s you—Prince Langya!”

“Your Majesty has sharp eyes,” Xie Lanxu said, looking down at him with a faint smile.

Xie Shencong stared at Xie Lanxu, his robes flowing and immaculate, as if he were one of the vengeful ghosts from his nightmare.

“Are you rebelling?!” Xie Shencong demanded, his voice trembling. “Where is everyone else?!”

“Everyone else?” Xie Lanxu said mockingly. “I’m afraid they’re preoccupied. Last night, the former dynasty’s secret organization, disguised as Shengzi Palace, rose in rebellion. With 400,000 well-trained troops, they’ve broken through Shanhai Pass and are marching southward. They’ve demanded Your Majesty abdicate the throne. What does Your Majesty say to that?”

“So you’ve been plotting treason all along!” Xie Shencong roared, his fury overcoming his fear. “If I’d known this, I would’ve killed you long ago!”

“Back then, Your Majesty saw me as nothing more than an autumn cicada—a nuisance doomed to die either on a sickbed or during exile. Sparing my life was an act of arrogance, not mercy. Why try to dress it up now?”

“Gao Shan! Gao Shan!” Xie Shencong shouted hoarsely, coughing as he called out for his trusted eunuch.

At long last, Gao Shan appeared, accompanied by Lu Yao.

But instead of helping him, they looked at Xie Lanxu with calm indifference, showing no intention of opposing him.

Xie Shencong’s face contorted with a mix of shock and rage. “Even you have betrayed me?! Lu Yao, you wretched woman, I gave you my heart, and this is how you repay me?!”

Gao Shan stared at him coldly, while Lu Yao’s face twisted in disgust.

Realizing the depth of his predicament, Xie Shencong stopped yelling.

“Even if you kill me, I will never abdicate,” he hissed. “You may have schemed to sway some officials, but I don’t believe you’ve turned the entire court against me. There will always be loyal subjects who will rise to defend me and put you rebels to death!”

“If Your Majesty wishes to see your officials, that can be arranged,” Xie Lanxu said with a smile. “I’ve already summoned today’s court attendees to gather outside Ziwei Palace. Since Your Majesty is so eager to govern, why not hold court here?”

Before Xie Shencong could respond, Xie Lanxu turned and walked out of the hall.

Lu Yao stepped closer to Xie Shencong. From her sleeve, she drew a silver needle and swiftly inserted it into the crown of his head.

Xie Shencong tried to resist, but in his current state, he was no match for her. He was no more than a piece of meat on a chopping block.

The moment the needle pierced his scalp, a paralyzing numbness spread through his body.

He glared at Lu Yao with a mix of terror and hatred, his mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to call for help. All that came out were guttural groans, and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Outside, on the moonlit terrace, a sea of officials stood, their faces filled with confusion.

Dressed in their court robes and holding their jade badges, they had come expecting the morning assembly at Jinluan Hall, only to be inexplicably summoned to Ziwei Palace.

“State your petitions, or withdraw,” Gao Shan announced from between the palace columns, his voice as clear as it would have been in Jinluan Hall.

The officials exchanged bewildered glances. They hadn’t even seen the emperor. What were they supposed to petition?

Suddenly, a crisp female voice broke the silence.

“Li Zhi, daughter of a convicted criminal, has a grievance and begs His Majesty for justice!”

All eyes turned toward the palace doors, where Li Zhi appeared, dressed in mourning white and holding a scroll. She stopped in front of the grand entrance.

Gao Shan turned and pushed open the tightly sealed palace doors.

Inside, under the stunned gazes of the officials, the emperor sat slumped in a chair. His face was twisted with fear, his clothes soiled with dark vomit stains, and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.