Chapter 1089 The Real Plot
The jingling of copper bells under the eaves dispelled the silence in the room.
Jiang Xue looked at the withered jasmine on the desk. It was the last branch Xiao Wei had sent her.
"How is the Lan Mansion doing now?"
"General Lan is vomiting blood and can't get up. The old lady has damaged her eyes from crying."
Xiao Zhan took the heater and stuffed it into her arms: "The court has sent the Ministry of Rites to assist in the funeral affairs, and Brother Lan Feng is supporting the mourning hall, but..."
He suddenly fell silent and looked at the woman's face which had lost all its color.
"This is the knife I handed to you myself."
Jiang Xue twitched her lips, and the silver bell on her wrist rang out in sorrow: "If I hadn't saved Ateli's life back then..."
"Huangfu Shang has more than a thousand assassins!"
Xiao Zhan suddenly raised his voice, startling the birds outside the window:
"Even if Ateli wasn't there, they would still use Xiaowei to set up a trap. Why do you think the poisonous insect chose the Lan Mansion? Lan Feng holds the Northern Border Military Token, this is their real plan!"
Suppressed sobs were heard in the rain, and the phoenix embroidered with silver thread on Jiang Xue's shoulder was soaked with tears.
She remembered the night before Xiao Wei left, the gentle girl tied a peace amulet to her pillow and said, "Don't be afraid, Sister Yun. The Buddha will surely protect us."
Xiao Zhan wiped away the tears on her cheeks, and his palms were still calloused from years of holding swords: "Xiao Wei asked me to tell you something before she left. She said that the jasmine flowers on the outskirts of the city should bloom soon."
The moonlight shone through the window onto Jiang Xue's pale face. She clutched the quilt tightly until her knuckles turned white. "Xiao Wei treated me like a sister. How can I let this blood debt go so easily?"
A rusty sweet taste rose in her throat, and she seemed to see again Jiang Xiaowei's skirt stained with blood before her death.
Xiao Zhan placed his warm palm on the back of her hand, and the candlelight cast a shadow on his brow:
"Atai Li has been imprisoned in the water dungeon, and all of Hong Lian's secret agents have been eliminated. On the seventh day after Xiao Wei's death, I will personally send her off."
He paused and said, "The Dali Temple has already confiscated seven mansions last night, and three of the salt ships Huangfu Shang sent to Jiangnan sank this morning."
The cold light in Jiang Xue's eyes was like a poisoned silver needle: "I want them to experience the pain that Xiao Wei went through, and let those termites know what it means to be skinned and have your tendons pulled out."
The knife wound on her abdomen suddenly stabbed in pain. She remembered that her blood had soaked three brocade quilts during childbirth, but she bit the cork and refused to cry out in pain - compared to Xiaowei's half body being burned alive, what did this matter?
"Yaoyao's title has been decided."
Xiao Zhan moved the brocade swaddling clothes half an inch closer to her pillow: "Heng'er specially chose Anyang as his fiefdom, saying that there is a hundred acres of peach forest there, and Princess Yongzhao will be able to enjoy the flowers when she reaches the age of marriage."
He looked at his wife's frowning brows, his Adam's apple rolling, "The Ministry of Justice has drawn up a list of 28 people, and they will be paraded through the streets before the autumn execution."
There was the sound of drums outside the window. Jiang Xue looked at her sleeping daughter, her eyelashes casting a butterfly-like shadow under her eyes: "When I was in charge of the Black Armor Army, Heng'er was still babbling in her cradle."
She stroked Yaoyao's hair, which was still fragrant with milk. "Now he knows how to use amnesty to check and balance the court. I'm afraid those old foxes will have trouble sleeping and eating."
Xiao Zhan scooped up a spoonful of the medicinal food, tested the temperature at his lips before handing it over: "This morning, the Privy Council sent a secret report that three of the six military governors that Huangfu Shang secretly contacted have defected."
He wiped the sweat off his wife's forehead as gently as if he was touching porcelain: "When you are out of confinement, I will take you to Yanmen Pass to see the snow, just like the year we first met."
Jiang Xue sipped the ginseng soup from his hand, and suddenly remembered something: "Xiao Wei loves plum blossoms the most, remember in front of her coffin..."
Before he finished speaking, Xiao Zhan had already taken out a jade bottle from his sleeve: "The plum blossoms are fragrant. I picked them this morning at Shanglin Garden."
The twelve white plum blossoms in the porcelain vase contain ice crystals, just like the person in plain clothes holding a book.
As the night bell rang, Xiao Zhan opened the "Classic of Mountains and Seas" and read aloud. When he came to the story of Jingwei filling the sea, he found that his wife had fallen asleep with her head resting on the corner of his clothes.
The moonlight moved over the carved bed rails, illuminating the two people's clasped fingers beneath the brocade quilt. The similar calluses on their knuckles showed the bloody storms they had gone through together.
Under the dim yellow candlelight, Jiang Xue grasped Xiao Zhan's cracked fingertips.
There were dark blue bruises on his eyelids, the stubble on his chin made her palms itchy, and his dark collar was still stained with blood from three days ago.
"Come up and rest." She pulled him towards the quilt, her fingertips touching the bony outline of his shoulder blades.
After galloping 800 miles from Luoshui City to Beijing, this body has already been overdrawn like a taut bowstring.
Xiao Zhan's Adam's apple rolled twice, and finally he placed his sword beside the pillow.
The anxiety of the past few days suddenly eased the moment he confirmed that she was fine, and the overdrawn physical strength now came flooding back.
He remained in a protective posture as he fell asleep, with his right hand clenched into a fist and pressed against Jiang Xue's waist.
When a few rays of morning light leaked in through the carved bed curtains, Jiang Xue was staring at the spider webs between the beams.
Lan Feng should have received the urgent message from Eight Hundred Miles Away by now. The letter stained with the scent of Jiang Xiaowei's rouge would eventually crush the last glimmer of luck.
Yun Zhen was wiping the black iron dagger in the courtyard, and the blade reflected his slightly furrowed brows.
His eagerness to save people exposed his flaws, and the hidden pieces on the chessboard that should not have been revealed in advance have now become visible pieces.
He dipped the brush in cold tea and drew three horizontal and two vertical lines on the table - a map of the navy's deployment in the southeast. The tip of his pen left a blob of ink on the word "Zhao".
On the day when the bluestone of the execution ground was dyed ochre brown, Jiang Heng personally broke the sandalwood tablet that symbolized the privileges of the gentry.
Xiao Zhan stood in the dungeon of the imperial prison, watching Jiang Xiaoan sprinkle the bone-rotting powder into Ateli's wound. The screams hit the stone wall and bounced back to his eardrums.
The chains on Ateli's wrists jingled, and she suddenly laughed out loud: "How does this pain compare to when Miss Xiaowei died?"
When Lan Feng changed his eighth warhorse at the post station, the reins on his palms had already worn to the point of white bones.
When he kicked open the vermilion lacquered door of the Lan Mansion, the white silk of the spiritual flag was entangled in his staggering steps.
The tablets lined up on the altar had fine lines left by the smoke of incense. He suddenly remembered the lotus flowers that Jiang Xiaowei had pinned on his collar before he left. Now, the light pink had long since turned into green smoke from the two eternal lamps in front of the coffin.
Blood flowed like a stream along the blue brick lines. Lan Feng stared at the bloodstain on his palm and suddenly felt a fishy and sweet taste rising in his throat.
Tears hit the blue bricks and blossomed into several dark flowers. He heard his bones creaking like a trapped beast, and the draft through the mourning hall was blowing away the last "Aunt".
The candlelight flickered in the mourning hall, and Lan Feng's back, kneeling on the cushion, looked like a stone sculpture.
The old housekeeper wiped his eyes and waved to the wet nurse in the corridor to bring the swaddling clothes.
"Young General, please take a look. This is the child that Young Madam risked her life to give birth to."
The white-haired old servant tremblingly picked up the brocade swaddling clothes.
There was a hint of smile in the baby's eyes and brows, and Lan Feng's throat choked, as if a blunt knife was stirring in his chest.
The baby, who was originally sleeping soundly, suddenly burst into tears. Lan Feng subconsciously reached out to take it, and the warm water stains seeped through the clothes to his wrists.
"But are you hungry?" He patted the swaddling clothes awkwardly.
The nurse quickly explained: "The young master just drank rice soup half an hour ago, so he may have drowned."
Lan Feng looked down at his wet cuffs in a daze. The heartbeat of the little life in his arms was hitting his palm through the silk fabric.
Just as the wet nurse was about to take over, he suddenly held the old housekeeper's arm and said, "Inform grandfather, this child is called Lan Zheng."
Every word seemed to have rubbed blood in my throat: "The iron bones are so strong."
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