The Battle of the Noble Ladies (Book 2)

Chapter 177 - Imprinted

When Noble Consort Xian received the news that evening, the eunuch delivering the message kept his gaze firmly on the floor, not daring to look at her. Pixiang Hall was eerily silent, with only the crackling of candle flames in the glass lanterns breaking the stillness.

The Ninth Princess glanced up quickly. She had been on edge these past days, but now it felt as if her spirit finally returned to her. Yet, in this moment, she almost wished she had gone mad instead. After a moment of numbness, she found her voice, hoarse, to ask again, "What did you just say?"

How could it be? Her brother was a prince, the Emperor's son—how could he die just like that, and over a woman, no less? Even if all of Qin's women and the women in his household had died, he wouldn't have blinked. To hear that he died of heartbreak was absurd—only a fool would believe it. She recalled her pride when they had set off for the spring hunt, confident that her brother and mother were untouchable. And yet, in the span of just over a month, she had fallen from bliss into a nightmare.

The young eunuch dared not reply, his head still lowered, his legs trembling as if he might collapse from fear any second.

The Ninth Princess no longer needed his answer. She dropped her head onto Noble Consort Xian's lap and started to cry, her body wracked with shudders.

Noble Consort Xian was only jolted from her shock by her daughter's sobbing. Eyes wide, she reached out as if to stroke the girl's head but found herself frozen. After all these years at the Emperor's side, she knew all too well what sort of unforgivable crime Prince Duan must have committed to incur the Emperor's wrath to this degree. And because of this, her fear grew so intense that her teeth chattered.

She couldn't believe that Prince Duan's retainers could be so useless as to allow him to even consider something so reckless as targeting the families of court officials. Did they not understand what it meant? Even if it had succeeded, those families would have torn him to shreds. And with Chen Xiang imprisoned as well, Noble Consort Xian felt her hands and feet go cold—especially since this incident had exposed their collusion with members of the Emperor's inner circle. How could Emperor Jianzhang ever let him live?

The Ninth Princess clung to her mother's knee, trembling with an unfamiliar fear. Though she wasn't truly naive, she had been living in a dream state, oblivious to the consequences until now. Her brother's death was too strange, and the reasons for it were unsettling.

She remembered the gifts her brother had sent her over the years—the furs made into cloaks for the winter, the smooth pearls from the East Sea, the gemstones mined from the mountains. She knew the luxury of these gifts was far beyond the means of a prince living off his stipend alone, yet she never questioned it. The Emperor had turned a blind eye, and so had Noble Consort Xian, so it had always felt justified. Now, however, she realized these things had all been nooses around his neck, ready to tighten the moment someone wanted to pull on them.

Thinking of the future and her father's likely wrath, she saw only darkness. Prince Duan's death would impact them all, and although she still had another, more compliant brother, she couldn't know the extent of the Emperor's anger.

She imagined herself like her elder sister Rong Cheng, once hopeful for a grand marriage and a groom of her dreams. But if Emperor Jianzhang's displeasure extended to her, all dreams of a lavish wedding and an ideal match would fade like a reflection in water.

A chill washed over her, mixed with a burning resentment. The lead judge in the Yangzhou corruption case was Song Chengru, and it was the Song family that had driven her brother down this doomed path, one step at a time.

Song Family... Sixth Miss Song... Eleventh Princess... She lowered her head, her eyes dark with venom. A strange, grim laugh escaped her throat, sending shivers through the eunuch, before she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Shocked, Noble Consort Xian, now too numb to grieve, quickly called for the imperial physician.

Meanwhile, when the news reached Qingning Palace, the Empress had just finished her bath. She placed an offering before the Buddha, seated herself on the couch as Zhi Lan, the chief palace maid, dried her hair, and gazed at the smoke curling from the incense with an unreadable expression.

Xie Siyi brought in a bowl of lotus soup. The Empress accepted it, asking casually, "Fell ill from fright?"

It was about time for them to feel fear. They'd had too many years of ease and comfort, to the point of forgetting what true terror felt like, and now had repeatedly acted beyond reason.

She had known for three years that the poisoning of the Crown Prince had been orchestrated by someone more sinister than the Grand Princess, and that the princess had been a mere pawn. But her long years of marriage to Emperor Jianzhang had taught her how deeply ingrained his patience was. Only when truly cornered would he act, even in the case of a rival to his throne. Without concrete proof, how could he bring himself to move against another of his own blood?

And so, she watched Prince Duan's ambition grow unchecked, while Noble Consort Xian, once so considerate, became increasingly inflated with pride. People's greed, she thought, knew no bounds. And look at that—Prince Duan had destroyed himself.

Tingxiang confirmed softly, "Yes, Your Majesty, she's running a high fever and seems in very poor condition..." She hesitated, then added, "Perhaps it would be best to keep the news from the Emperor, given his current state..."

The Empress shook her head slightly. There was no need. Prince Lu had always been obedient and unambitious, and Noble Consort Xian, a woman of the inner court, had endured alongside the Emperor for many years. Even now, despite his anger, Emperor Jianzhang would spare them. There was no use in stoking the flames further.