His true colors were revealed, and he secretly plotted.
Zhu Liji glanced at Zhiwei, then looked closely at the portrait, and snorted.
"I had heard before that this woman was gentle, kind, frugal, well-educated and reasonable. I only hope that after she marries into the royal family, she can give the Crown Prince some advice."
“The Crown Prince needs to learn the rules,” Zhu Liji added.
Zhiwei remained silent, only rubbing her face against his palm.
Zhu Liji was in a better mood and carried her toward the imperial bedchamber behind the imperial study.
The candlelight in the imperial bedchamber was dimmer than in the imperial study. Zhu Liji called for water, and Zhiwei's long hair was draped over her shoulders, the ends still damp.
Zhu Liji saw this and suddenly became interested. He took a peach wood comb, sat in front of the bronze mirror, and combed her hair.
Zhiwei obediently sat in front of the mirror, the bronze mirror reflecting her blurry face, revealing no emotion. Only the teeth of the comb brushed against her hair, occasionally catching a knot, causing Zhiwei to tremble slightly with a slight pain.
Beneath the bronze mirror, Zhiwei's hand, hidden in her sleeve, quietly clenched.
She's not really stupid.
When Zhu Liji had someone bring her that bowl of strangely smelling medicine that day, alarm bells went off in her mind. For the first few days, she pretended to drink it and secretly vomited when no one was around. Later, she found it difficult to completely avoid it, so she drank a small amount, sometimes real and sometimes fake, enough to make her react slowly and her thoughts sluggish, but still retain a clear mind.
Like struggling through a thick fog, this disguise was extremely exhausting and required constant vigilance, but she had no other choice.
Fortunately, Zhu Liji liked this perfectly timed "muddling through," and Zhiwei forced herself to remain still, suppressing her nausea, until Zhu Liji combed her long black hair.
Her hair was almost combed into tassels, it was time to rest, Zhiwei thought impatiently. Zhu Liji finally stopped what he was doing.
"Yan Niang," Zhu Liji leaned down and called her affectionately. His breath brushed against Zhiwei's ear, his tone tinged with a hint of teasing, "Look at you, you're not young anymore, almost thirty?"
Zhu Liji pondered for a moment and said, "In other families, she should be a mother of several children by now, but she's become an old maid who can't get married."
"It's all thanks to you!" Zhiwei blinked, her expression remaining unchanged.
Zhu Liji stared at her profile, gradually closing the distance, his fingers brushing across her neck, bringing an indescribable tingling sensation.
Zhu Liji smiled again. Lately, the person in front of him had been acting like a New Year's picture doll in his presence.
Zhu Liji parted his thin lips, carrying a faint, delicate fragrance.
"Yan Niang, why don't you stay by my side forever?"
"It's better for me to support you than for you to marry into another family and have to put up with their attitude."
Before Zhiwei could answer, Zhu Liji's fingers slid down a little further, almost touching Zhiwei's collar. Zhiwei's heart jumped into her throat, but thankfully he only paused for a moment before withdrawing his hand and continuing to comb her hair.
So, should she react? Zhiwei blinked again.
Zhu Liji picked her up horizontally and gently placed her on the dragon bed, carefully tucking the corners of the quilt in place.
"Go to sleep." Zhu Liji tucked the blanket around her, leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I still have some memorials to review, I'll come see you later."
The footsteps faded into the distance, and the palace doors were gently closed.
Zhiwei opened her eyes, raised her hand to touch the kiss mark on her forehead, stared at the hand that had touched her forehead for a long time, accompanied by a chill on her back.
——
Floating Clouds Tower, Dark Room.
The flickering candlelight illuminated the detailed layout of the palace on the wall, as well as several solemn faces.
From left to right, Li Tai, Zhu Mingyu, and Zhu Sheng stood in order. In the shadows to the side was Wan Qi, the Grand General who had not attended court for many days. He stood with his arms crossed, not saying a word, but his imposing aura was like that of a lurking tiger. His sharp eyes swept over every mark on the drawing.
This was the "trust" he had fought for with his whole life, a map of the capital's defenses that could be called a military secret. He used to think that he could only keep this secret in his heart for the rest of his life. He never thought that one day he would present this map to the world, and as an aid to his rebellion.
Emperor, countless families, half a lifetime of military service...
Power devours people; he had no choice but to take this gamble.
He thought a lot before taking out the defense map, but what moved him in the end was just a figure in a wedding dress, tearfully saying goodbye.
Many years have passed since his first visit to his ancestral estate, where he encountered and took the initiative to bring that woman back to the Wan family's remote farmland.
More than twenty years have passed in the blink of an eye.
He still remembered the stubborn sister who refused to marry, thinking all night about his future, and finally signing the marriage certificate with tears in her eyes. He also remembered how, on their wedding day, he carried his sister, who shared half his body and the same bloodline, step by step into the cannibalistic palace, following the custom.
The zither has fifty strings for no reason; it was all in vain back then.
The oil lamp was still burning.
"The key lies in the timing of the palace gates opening, and... whether there is anyone inside the palace to meet us," Wan Qi finally spoke, his voice deep and serious.
Following Wan Qi's gaze, Zhu Mingyu shifted his eyes from the layout map to his nephew, whom he hadn't seen for many years.
Zhu Sheng's profile appeared particularly cold and hard in the candlelight, completely different from the boy in the Eastern Palace whom he remembered who would occasionally show vulnerability and dependence.
"Your Highness, everything is ready. Evidence of Wang Miaoxiao and his cronies' crimes, loopholes in the capital's defenses, and connections within the palace... everything is prepared, except for the final push."
Zhu Mingyu paused, locked eyes with Zhu Sheng, and asked the most crucial and unavoidable question one last time:
"Purge the court of corrupt officials, rectify the government, and seize the throne through coup. Sheng'er, once you take this step, there is no turning back."
Are you truly ready?
The question landed heavily in the silence, and Zhu Sheng did not answer immediately.
He turned around, and Zhu Mingyu's hoarse voice, rasping from the smoke of the fire, lingered in his ears. In a daze, he suddenly remembered something from long ago.
At that time, Zhu Liji was still a hostage trapped in the capital, while Zhu Mingyu followed his father outside the palace and could only enter the palace during festivals. However, he never forgot to bring his little nephew, whom he had not seen for a long time, some trinkets from outside the palace.
Sometimes it's a meticulously crafted wooden sword, sometimes it's a small model of a horse-drawn carriage.
When Zhu Liji saw this, he would always scold him in front of others with a stern face for "wasting his time on playthings," but when he turned around, he would personally assemble the little carriage for him, and even hold Zhu Sheng's hand to teach him how to draw the bow and aim, with an unusually patient tone.
The young Zhu Mingyu stood to the side, looking at his elder brother with eyes full of trust and reverence.
Zhu Sheng always thought that he and his father had never had a good time, but that was not the case. The temptation of power was too great. Being in the royal family, he was always on edge and had to scheme and plot.
Zhu Sheng felt a pang of sadness, but his voice remained as steady as a rock: "The arrow is on the bowstring, how can we turn back?"
He paused, then asked Zhu Mingyu the same question in return.
Zhu Mingyu was silent for a moment, and whether he was truly pleased or not, he smiled and said, "Your current demeanor is just like your father's back then."
"Like him?" Zhu Sheng scoffed, his laughter devoid of any warmth. "Perhaps, after all, we're blood relatives. I just don't know if this 'resemblance' is a good thing or a bad thing."
"Who cares about good or bad!" Li Tai, who had been silent all along, tapped his knuckles heavily on the table, interrupting the two. "We can talk about insights later, after we've succeeded. Right now, we only have one chance. If we fail, it will be utter ruin."
His failure to leave the capital as ordered was already an act of deceiving the emperor, and burdened with the grudge of his adoptive father, Li Tai's eyes were filled with even more ruthlessness.
Wan Qi shared the same sentiment; behind this battle lay the weight of his entire family.
“I have already submitted a memorial to His Majesty, requesting to be stationed permanently in the northern border to atone for the sin of failing to properly discipline the families. This would please him, and with Consort Ling about to give birth and the Crown Prince’s wedding approaching, his vigilance will certainly be less than before.”
"The grand wedding banquet is a melting pot of all sorts of people. The guards may seem tight, but they are actually rotated frequently. This is the perfect opportunity for you to make your move."
Wan Qi was a smart man. He knew that the Wan family's predicament didn't necessarily require a coup, so he only provided the city defense map and didn't intend to use his own family's power. He had thought things through very thoroughly. If the coup succeeded, Zhu Sheng would ascend the throne, and the Wan family would be spared. If it failed, he would request to leave the capital. His compromise would be equivalent to cutting off one of the family's arms, but it would also protect the Wan family.
Wan Qi slowly traced the lines on the map, as if deploying troops on a battlefield, assigning routes to everyone. However, there was one route where Wan Qi's finger lingered, unwilling to move away.
That route requires first forcibly breaking through Wang Miaoxiao's heavily guarded government office, killing him, and then turning to break into the flank of the palace. It is the most dangerous, the most difficult, and the route most likely to encounter fierce resistance. It can be described as a nine-out-of-ten chance of death.
——
Inside Yonghua Palace, the lights had been on for quite some time. Palace servants bustled about carrying cloths, ginseng soup, and other items, while imperial physicians took turns on duty, making thorough preparations for Consort Ling's impending childbirth, who was nine months pregnant.
An atmosphere of tension and anticipation permeated the entire palace.
Inside the palace, the quilts that were originally intended for a midday nap had cooled down considerably. The woman, who was being pampered like a national treasure, quietly moved step by step to the Chuxiu Palace with her large pregnant belly.
Before dusk, the Chuxiu Palace was lit up early, but unfortunately only one lamp was lit in the main hall, and the light was infinitely dim when viewed through the window.
Compared to the hustle and bustle of Yonghua Palace, this place is like a forgotten corner, so quiet that you can hear the wind blowing through the bare branches.
Wan Zhen'er sat alone at the table, without makeup, her hair loosely tied up. On the table were only a few dishes of plain porridge and side dishes, a far cry from the jewel-encrusted, delicacies-filled feasts she once enjoyed as a noble concubine.
The door creaked open, and Consort Ling, supporting her back and carrying a large pregnant belly, walked in. Her magnificent skirt brushed against the dusty threshold, and her face showed undisguised disgust as she surveyed the desolate place.
Wan Zhen'er raised her eyes, glanced at her indifferently, and still scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to her mouth.
Seeing this expression, Consort Ling understood perfectly.
Clang—!
Consort Ling suddenly raised her hand and precisely knocked the porcelain spoon out of Wan Zhen'er's hand. The spoon hit the ground, and the porridge splashed onto Wan Zhen'er's skirt.
Wan Zhen'er paused, slowly raised her head, and finally her eyes showed a hint of disdain.
Consort Ling looked down at her, finally removing the mask of her usual virtuous and docile demeanor. Her voice was soft and cold as she parted her lips slightly:
"Sister, you have such a good attitude. You can still eat when you're about to die?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
