Forbidden to Bully the Storybook’s Heroine – Chapter 76

A Face Like Dead Ashes¹

Murong Qing² knew the Old Duke Cheng³ would no longer stand with him. His attitude toward Li Xiting⁴ shifted, the usual gentleness replaced by a faint, chilling coldness. “Yes,” he admitted. “That was before I was betrothed to you.”

Of course, Li Xiting knew it was before her time. She just never imagined that the man she had finally managed to win—the lofty prince—had been in love with Song Muyun⁵. That he had been rejected, and that his love had turned to hate, driving him to torment her.

No wonder Song Muyun was always so rude to the Seventh Prince⁶. No wonder Jiang Yao⁷ also harbored a strange dislike for him. She understood. She understood everything now.

Li Xiting couldn’t accept that the man she loved cherished another woman most. She couldn’t accept that his rejection had driven him to madness, even to the point of kidnapping her. Her face went deathly pale. She knelt there, suddenly burying her face in her hands and sobbing.

The Old Duke Cheng then gave a demonstration of being old but vigorous.⁸ He strode forward, grabbed his granddaughter, and hauled her back. “What have your father and mother taught you about decorum!” he snarled. “To lose one’s composure before the throne⁹ is a grave crime! Do you want to drag down all the girls of our clan with you?!”

The accusation was a weight too heavy to bear. Li Xiting quickly stifled her sobs, her eyes red and swollen as she whimpered softly.

Back in the main hall, the proceedings continued. The Emperor looked at this son, whom he had once thought somewhat decent, and his voice turned to ice. “So, you did kidnap Song Muyun, but you pushed all the blame onto your elder brother?”

He glanced at his eldest son, thinking the boy was so stupid he could hardly bear to look.¹⁰ How could a man his age be so easily manipulated by his younger brother?

Naturally, Murong Qing had no intention of shouldering the blame alone. He kowtowed, not hesitating for a moment. “It was Imperial Brother¹¹ who ordered men to kidnap Song Muyun and imprison her in his residence. Your Child-Subject¹² knew of this but failed to speak up. Instead, I chose to help King Zhou do evil.¹³ It is my fault!”

Murong Chun¹⁴ was speechless. I’ve never met someone who could twist words like this! Thick-faced and shameless!¹⁵

“You’re full of it!” Murong Chun roared. “It was clearly you who told me to kidnap Song Muyun, saying you had a way to make Jiang Heng¹⁶ stop investigating the Song family’s case. And now you turn around and bite me? Murong Qing, have you no shame!”

He had thought himself shameless enough, but Murong Qing was on another level entirely.

Murong Qing’s face was ashen. He looked at the Emperor with a fragile, wavering gaze, trying to win a shred of pity from a father who had never cared for any of his sons.

But the Emperor’s expression was frigid. “Is what your elder brother said the truth?”

Murong Qing immediately shook his head. “No. Your Child-Subject never said such a thing.” His plea was earnest, his eyes brimming with tears. If all these charges were confirmed, he would not escape death. This was merely the instinct for survival, a desperate attempt to put up a stubborn resistance in a corner.¹⁷

“Hmph!” Murong Chun sneered. “Then you can’t deny you came to my dungeon to beat Song Muyun! I only had her taken. I never touched a hair on her head. You were the one who beat her!”

Murong Qing had no rebuttal for this. He could only remain silent.

Soon, the eunuch guarding the entrance came in again. He bowed low, his expression respectful. “Your Majesty, Princess Heyi¹⁸ requests an audience.”

“Why is she here?” The Emperor looked puzzled. Seeing this, Hai Gonggong¹⁹ leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Princess Heyi is on very good terms with the Seventh Prince.”

Ah, so another one here to plead for Murong Qing.

“Have her wait outside as well.” These people had nothing to do with the Song family case. He had no intention of letting them in to cause trouble.

The Emperor handed over the rest of the questioning to the Minister of the Dali Temple.²⁰

The Minister first bowed to the two princes, murmuring apologies for the offense his duty required. Then, his demeanor shifted, and he began to interrogate them as if they were common criminals.

As princes who had never faced such a situation, they inadvertently grew flustered. After just a few questions, Murong Qing began to reveal the horse’s hoof.²¹

The young Minister of the Dali Temple narrowed his eyes at Murong Qing. “How did you know that the tokens of those death-sworn soldiers were all engraved with the character ‘Chun’²²?”

In his haste, Murong Qing had said the tokens were marked with the character ‘Chun’. If they had been his own men, he would never have engraved another’s name on their tokens. That one sentence was his undoing. The color drained from his face, and he stammered out a defense. “It… it was during the Autumn Hunt. The tokens hanging from those death-sworn soldiers had the character ‘Chun’ on them.”

Murong Chun was now triumphant. He glared at Murong Qing. “Bullshit! I never ordered those men to carry tokens with the character ‘Chun’ on them. Am I an idiot? Engraving my own name? It was clearly you who did it deliberately to frame me!”

Murong Qing swayed on his feet. He could only bite his lip and say nothing, his mind still clinging to one thought: They have no proof. They can’t convict me.

But when the Minister of the Dali Temple turned to question Meng Xia,²³ the Prefect²⁴ pulled an account book²⁵ from his robes. “This… this details the whereabouts of the disaster relief funds. What was purchased is recorded clearly. The Seventh Prince also made a few entries. My lord will know with a single comparison.”

Murong Qing’s composure shattered. He hadn’t written much in that account book, just casually jotted down a few days’ expenses. He never thought that in such a desperate escape, Meng Xia would have brought it with him.

The Minister had someone bring a sample of Murong Qing’s handwriting. When the two were compared, the evidence was irrefutable.

Yet Murong Qing refused to accept his fate. Large beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, soaking the ground where he knelt. His back was slick with a cold sweat. “Perhaps someone forged my handwriting in an attempt to frame me! I beg Father-Emperor²⁶ to investigate thoroughly!”

The corner of the Emperor’s mouth twitched. How absurd. All this evidence is laid out before you, and you still won’t admit it? This thick skin of his could rival that of the new concubines in my harem.

Just then, Jiang Heng spoke up. “Since the First Prince claims he did not order the death-sworn soldiers to carry such tokens, then what of the assassination attempt on His Eighth Highness²⁷ during the Autumn Hunt?²⁸ Perhaps that matter also requires re-examination.”

He merely offered his opinion, then fell silent and stepped back, leaving the rest to the Emperor and the Minister.

The two men were speechless.

At the reminder, Murong Chun immediately recalled that frame-up. He began to plead his own case again, his eyes wide with fury. “Father-Emperor, I did not do that! How could I have such power? I was confined in the capital, yet I could command death-sworn soldiers to assassinate my eighth brother? If I had that kind of cunning, why would I have agreed to let Murong Qing keep Song Muyun in my residence, just waiting for him to frame me? Father-Emperor, I don’t have the brains for that!”

If nothing else, the Emperor believed that part. He truly felt Murong Chun didn’t have the brains for much of anything, having been made to carry the pot²⁹ for others time and time again.

With another crime dragged into the light, Murong Qing’s face blanched. A flicker of fear finally appeared on his face. Song Muyun, nestled in Jiang Yao’s arms, watched him with hatred in her eyes. In that moment, she felt a profound sense of satisfaction.

The evidence Meng Xia produced was enough to prove that Murong Qing was inextricably linked to the dam’s collapse. In fact, he had done even more than Murong Chun, including training the death-sworn soldiers. They were initially trained at Meng Xia’s home; a few questions to the Meng family servants would confirm it. Since the death-sworn soldiers with the ‘Chun’ tokens were trained by and answered to Murong Qing, and he had also attended the Autumn Hunt, it was far more likely that he was the one who ordered them to attack Murong Ci.³⁰

At that moment, Jiang Yao remembered something else. She wrapped an arm around Song Muyun’s slender waist, patting her reassuringly before turning her gaze to Li Xiting, who was silently weeping beside the Old Duke Cheng.

“Was it a coincidence that Miss Li appeared in the hunting grounds at that time? My Muyun knows no martial arts and always stays far away from the hunting forest. Miss Li is the same, yet you had the courage to enter. It truly impresses me.”

Li Xiting’s tears stopped. Her face went pale, her body rigid.

The Old Duke Cheng wanted to kill his granddaughter. How on earth did she get mixed up in so much trouble?

Everyone else turned to look at Li Xiting. Under the weight of so many gazes, she felt her legs were about to give out.

It was the Old Duke Cheng who, having always doted on his beautiful, jade-like granddaughter, shifted slightly to block many of the stares. He lowered his voice. “What exactly happened? What were you thinking at the time? Tell us everything. If you’ve done nothing wrong, no one can blame you.”

Li Xiting’s legs were trembling violently. She instinctively looked toward Murong Qing in the center of the hall and met his pleading gaze.

The Old Duke Cheng narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping over Murong Qing. His voice suddenly grew stern. “If you do not tell the truth and bring shame upon our family, then even if it pains me, I will have no choice but to send you to a nunnery, to be constantly accompanied by a green lamp and an ancient Buddha.³¹ Don’t blame your grandfather for being cruel then!”

Li Xiting looked up in disbelief, crying out, “Grandfather!³²” She was heartbroken. Today she had lost the man she loved, and now her grandfather was saying such things to her. She certainly didn’t want to live a monastic life. What kind of life was that?

No matter how much her heart ached for the pale-faced Murong Qing, she had no choice but to speak the truth.

Finally managing to stifle her sobs, Li Xiting slowly parted her lips, her eyes shimmering with desperate tears. “It… it was the Seventh Prince…”

All strength seemed to drain from Murong Qing, and he collapsed onto the floor.

Song Muyun felt even more gratified. She exchanged a look with her family, and they all saw the joy of vengeance reflected in each other’s eyes.

Everyone heard Li Xiting’s words. “It was the Seventh Prince who said His Eighth Highness was always trying to get ahead. He said his own archery was poor, but still better than the Eighth Prince’s, and that His Eighth Highness, unwilling to be last among the princes, might have his guards hunt for him and claim the kills as his own. He asked me to pretend I had wandered into the hunting forest and was too scared to move, to lure his guards away. I… I didn’t know so much would happen afterward. If I had known, I would never have dared… sob…”

Li Xiting started crying again.

A massive, unspoken “Are you serious?” was practically carved on the forehead of everyone present. You believed that? You dared to do that?

After a burst of fury, the Emperor looked at the Old Duke Cheng with a complicated expression. In that moment, he felt a strange sense of equilibrium. It turned out his sons weren’t the only fools; someone else’s granddaughter was just as stupid. Good, that’s good.

The Old Duke Cheng was so angry his white beard trembled. He pointed a finger at Li Xiting, speechless for a long moment before finally forcing out through gritted teeth, “Kneel!”

Li Xiting obeyed instinctively, immediately dropping to her knees, her eyes brimming with tears.

Without another word, the Old Duke Cheng knelt trembling beside her, his face full of remorse. “It is this old subject’s failure to educate my descendant, leading her to be so blind and ignorant as to do such a brainless thing. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness!”

Jiang Yao, holding Song Muyun, made a sarcastic comment from the side. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. To deceive the sovereign³³ is a major crime.”

She hadn’t forgotten how Li Xiting had bullied her wife on the street earlier. She wouldn’t let any opportunity to make Li Xiting suffer pass by.

The Old Duke Cheng’s body went completely rigid. He cursed Jiang Yao internally for being so good at adding oil to the fire.³⁴ He had deliberately avoided the phrase ‘deceiving the sovereign,’ fearing the Emperor would seize upon it. Taken seriously, it was a grave offense. But taken lightly—she hadn’t arranged the assassins, and the Eighth Prince was not seriously harmed—the consequences were minor, and so should be the punishment.

The Old Duke Cheng’s heart pounded with anxiety. Jiang Heng glanced at Jiang Yao and told her quietly to be silent.

Jiang Yao wasn’t dead set on destroying Li Xiting. Hearing her father, she said no more, focusing all her attention on her wife, who had grown increasingly quiet.

This was the scene Song Muyun had been waiting for since her past life. She felt a deep satisfaction, but beyond that, the thought of her wrongly deceased parents brought a wave of sorrow. All for power, for money, Murong Qing had killed her parents.

He killed my parents and still dared to approach me!

At this thought, Song Muyun’s eyes couldn’t help but turn red again.

Jiang Yao looked down and noticed, quickly whispering words of comfort. The Song family watched anxiously, afraid the Emperor would see and charge Song Muyun with the crime of losing her composure before the throne.

Fortunately, the Emperor was too busy feeling his heart ache with anger at his two sons to bother with them. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the two—no, four—kneeling figures in the center of the hall.

At this point, the matter was crystal clear. The Emperor didn’t deal with Li Xiting immediately. Instead, he asked, “Did you use all of that disaster relief money for raising death-sworn soldiers?”

The crime of raising death-sworn soldiers was less severe than raising a private army. He saw the account book Meng Xia had presented. It detailed the expenses for maintaining the soldiers and forging weapons. The sight made his vision go dark.

Murong Chun had been agitated before because Murong Qing wouldn’t confess. Now that he had, fear began to creep in. He didn’t know how his father would punish him…

Father-Emperor is benevolent. He… he should spare my life, right? I don’t care about being emperor anymore. As long as I’m alive, being an idle prince would be fine, too. Anything is better than endlessly taking the blame for others!

Murong Chun was confident he would live. Even though they had stolen disaster relief funds, causing so many deaths in Luzhou, and had killed the dedicated official Song Yunqian to divert attention, he didn’t think his father would kill him. He was his father’s eldest son! At worst, he could just pay the money back.

The Emperor truly couldn’t bear to have them killed. His expression was a mask of conflict, his brow furrowed in distress.³⁵ Once his initial rage subsided and he calmed down, he found himself at a loss. Even if he had never doted on them, they were still his own flesh and blood.

The Emperor’s features were drawn into a tight knot of indecision. In the end, he could only order Murong Chun and Murong Qing to be temporarily confined in the Dali Temple Prison, leaving the officials to debate the outcome.

As for Li Xiting, out of respect for the Old Duke Cheng, the Emperor did not punish her severely. He only ordered her to be taken home and disciplined properly. Once she was taught her lesson, she was to go to the Eighth Prince to carry thorns on one’s back and ask for punishment.³⁶

Hearing this punishment, Li Xiting’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.

Murong Qing and Murong Chun had stolen disaster relief funds, a grave crime that warranted death. Yet the Emperor said he would consult with his officials, a clear sign that a heart of compassion³⁷ had been stirred.

So be it. Jiang Heng had his own plans and raised no objections. Murong Qing slumped to the ground, all his former pride and confidence gone. As Murong Chun was being led away, he snuck in a kick at his younger brother.

News of the day’s events spread through the palace as if on wings, and soon even the common people in the capital heard rumors and began to curse Murong Chun.

Why only Murong Chun? Because he was known for bullying the common folk and had a terrible reputation.

Murong Qing was different. His mother’s family was noble and full of scholars. He himself usually presented the image of a handsome, jade-like young master. It was said his mother was in the palace every day, washing her face with tears³⁸ and proclaiming his innocence. This led many commoners to believe that the face is born from the heart;³⁹ perhaps Murong Qing had truly been framed.

When these words reached the ears of Murong Chun and Consort Meng⁴⁰ in the palace, both of them cursed loudly. Every day, the palace attendants and the prison guards could hear their shouts. Suddenly, everyone knew: the First Prince’s faction and the Seventh Prince’s faction had reached a point where the two cannot exist together.⁴¹

Meanwhile, rumors swirled among the people, all aimed at trampling Murong Chun into the dirt. The reason was that a court official had proposed that one of the two princes must be executed⁴² to appease the public. Otherwise, with so many wrongful deaths in Luzhou and the unexpected disaster⁴³ that had befallen the Song family, the people would not let the matter rest.

The moment this was said, before the Meng family could even act, Murong Qing’s maternal relatives began spreading their own rumors.

The Emperor was still deliberating. The officials were still arguing. Some said the First Prince was of higher status and had done less wrong than the Seventh Prince. Others argued that the Seventh Prince was always like bathing in the spring breeze,⁴⁴ had even helped commoners catch thieves, and had a reputation a hundred thousand miles better than the First Prince, who was known to rely on one’s strength to bully the weak.⁴⁵ If the Seventh Prince were to die, the people might not agree.

The court was in endless debate. Jiang Heng never personally joined these arguments; he simply brought the news back for Jiang Yao to hear. Jiang Yao, in turn, would relay the news to Song Muyun in their courtyard.

The fact that the two princes were not yet dead made Song Muyun very unhappy. Her eyes were constantly brimming with unshed tears. Jiang Yao approached, lifted her from the soft couch, and settled her onto her own lap.

She wrapped an arm around that soft little waist and asked in a low voice, “Why are you unhappy? Can I cheer you up?”

The little girl was in low spirits. Her eyes were downcast as she listlessly shook her head. “You can’t,” she whispered.

“Then what would make you a little happier?”

Song Muyun couldn’t say. What she was thinking was that if she could kill Murong Qing with her own hands, she would be very happy indeed. She had replayed that scene in her mind countless times. But… she couldn’t. Murong Qing was locked in the Dali Temple. She couldn’t get in, and he couldn’t get out.

Seeing her silence, Jiang Yao didn’t press further. She just gently patted her thin, slender back, comforting her without words.

After a long while, the tearful little girl finally rested her head on Jiang Yao’s shoulder and asked in a hoarse voice, “Will the Emperor not kill Murong Qing and Murong Chun?”

Both had a hand in her parents’ deaths. She didn’t want either of them to live.

Jiang Yao’s movements paused. A dark glint flashed in her eyes, but she only comforted Song Muyun. “I will get revenge for you.”

She had always said that, and she had indeed done a fine job. It was the Jiang family that had exposed Murong Qing and Murong Chun’s true faces. But it wasn’t enough. Just exposing them was far from enough.

She wanted them to pay with their lives. To pay for the injustice her father had suffered, to die in agony, to pay for the common people who had also lost their families and been displaced. She wanted them dead.

In truth, Jiang Yao’s thoughts were not so different from Song Muyun’s. She was no stranger to killing; she had been on the battlefield and killed men long ago. She thought that if the Emperor was truly going to be this soft-hearted, she would just have to arrange for the two of them to die in “accidents.”

But she couldn’t tell Muyun about these plans. Her little girl was pure and clean, slender and delicate. She was afraid of scaring her.

Jiang Yao pressed her cheek against Song Muyun’s, unable to resist nuzzling her.

Song Muyun’s face was damp with tears. She shifted slightly, rubbing the moisture from her eyes onto Jiang Yao’s cheek.

Jiang Yao didn’t mind at all. Her smile grew even more doting. She scooped up the girl’s soft bottom, lifting her in one smooth motion. Amidst Song Muyun’s soft cry of surprise, she carried her out of the courtyard.

Song Muyun’s face flushed red. She pushed at Jiang Yao shyly. “What… what are you doing? What if someone sees? It’s not proper.”

Jiang Yao held her like a child and chuckled. “So what if they see? Who in the Jiang Residence doesn’t know you’re my wife?⁴⁶“

…That was true… At least the maids in Hengwu Courtyard were used to it. Seeing the two of them emerge like this, they didn’t even raise their eyes, simply going about their business.

Still, Song Muyun felt shy. She lowered her head and mumbled, “Even so… you can’t. Put me down. I can walk on my own.”

Distracted by Jiang Yao, her negative emotions gradually faded, replaced by a pure, womanly joy. She was being assimilated by the other her, feeling a thrill of delight at any of Jiang Yao’s affectionate gestures. Her heart beat faster and faster, wishing she could press even closer. But as a woman, she couldn’t bring herself to mention such things…

And yet, if she didn’t mention it, Jiang Yao never did either. Not once.

At this thought, a flicker of disappointment appeared in Song Muyun’s eyes. But she quickly rallied, silently scolding herself. Jiang Yao isn’t mine. I’m just a lonely ghost, a dove occupying the magpie’s nest.⁴⁷ I’ve already received so much kindness. How can I be so greedy⁴⁸ as to ask for more?

Song Muyun suppressed those thoughts and gave Jiang Yao another soft smile.

Jiang Yao’s heart was about to melt. She couldn’t help but hold her tighter, nuzzling her more forcefully until her soft, white cheeks were flushed red.

“My wife is so cute. Don’t you worry about revenge. I’ll handle everything. For today, let’s go out for a walk. Just be happy, alright?”

Song Muyun had indeed been cooped up at home for a long time. She had no reason to refuse and nodded obediently.

Jiang Yao then carried her all the way out of the Jiang Residence, only setting her down at the main gate. If Song Muyun hadn’t been so ashamed and indignant as to wish for death,⁴⁹ threatening to never speak to her again, Jiang Yao would have carried her right out into the open to swagger through the streets.⁵⁰ After all, she had a very thick skin.

At the little girl’s repeated insistence, she didn’t even get to hold her hand in the end. She could only walk beside her, watching as she browsed, her interest piqued by all sorts of trinkets. When Song Muyun happily trotted over to something, Jiang Yao’s only role was to obediently take out her scent pouch⁵¹ and pay.

The embroidery on the sachet was very familiar. Song Muyun recognized it at a glance—it was one she had made.

That’s nice. She has something of mine on her. That her… is also me, isn’t it?

At this thought, Song Muyun’s mood visibly brightened. Her pretty eyes crinkled as she pointed to a wonton⁵² stall. A hardworking middle-aged couple was busy at the stall. Song Muyun’s memories told her they had eaten wontons here before. The streets and alleys of the capital were filled with the footprints they had left together.

“I want to eat wontons,” the girl requested.

Jiang Yao glanced up, saw the stall, and nodded. “Alright, wontons it is.”

She led her over and called out, “Master, two bowls of fresh pork wontons, please.”

The busy couple quickly replied in the standard Mandarin of the court, “Aye, please have a seat, you two. They’ll be ready in a moment.”

“Okay. You sit.” Jiang Yao expertly wiped the stool and table with a handkerchief, then rinsed the bowls and chopsticks with hot water, acting just like a waiter.

Muyun used to do all these things. Jiang Yao, being a bit of a brute, never paid attention. But after going out together so many times, she had gradually learned. To keep the little girl from tiring her hands, she had taken over the task.

The small pork wontons were cooked quickly. The proprietress brought over two bowls, garnished with a few green vegetables and chopped scallions, the aroma savory and enticing.

“Try some.” This is the first time I’ve brought the female lead for wontons.

Steam rose from the wontons, beading on the tip of Song Muyun’s nose. She opened her small, crimson mouth slightly and blew gently, needing several puffs before she could take a bite, and even then, she could only manage half a wonton at a time. She was incredibly slow.

By the time Jiang Yao was down to just the broth, Song Muyun had only eaten two. She happened to look up and see that Jiang Yao’s bowl contained nothing but clear broth and scallions. She immediately grew anxious. “Wait for me,” she said petulantly. “Why are you eating so fast? I can’t keep up.”

Jiang Yao was baffled. “So what if you can’t keep up? I’ll wait for you after I’m done.”

Seeing that she didn’t understand, the little girl grew unhappy. She tightened her grip on her chopsticks and suddenly threw a tantrum. “If you’re going to be like that, I don’t want to eat anymore.”

Jiang Yao was utterly bewildered. “Like what?”

“You ate too fast. I’ve only had a few bites, and you’re already finished.”

Song Muyun wanted them to eat together, not for Jiang Yao to watch her eat. There was no fun in that.

The little girl looked aggrieved. She lowered her head and ate her wontons quietly, nibbling only a tiny bit of the skin with each bite, eating extremely slowly. But she was ignoring Jiang Yao.

Jiang Yao couldn’t stand to see her unhappy. That cool, beautiful face tinged with sorrow was the last thing she wanted to see. She abandoned her own stool and sat down on the long bench next to Muyun to coax her, her voice soft. “I’ll eat slower next time. I’ll definitely wait for you, okay?”

“But you’ve already finished this time.”

All that was left was a little broth, while she still had a full bowl. Song Muyun’s mood suddenly soured.

Jiang Yao frowned, thinking. She glanced down at Muyun’s full bowl and had an idea. “Then why don’t you give me some? I’ll eat slowly this time.”

From what she knew of her little ancestor,⁵³ there was no way she could finish that big bowl. It would end up in her stomach anyway.

At her words, Song Muyun’s eyes lit up. She nodded eagerly and ladled more than half of her wontons into Jiang Yao’s bowl of broth.

This time, Jiang Yao didn’t dare eat quickly. She ate slowly, bite by bite, glancing at Muyun now and then to chat. Seeing the corners of her mouth lift and her eyes sparkle with bright, cheerful light, Jiang Yao felt relieved. When my wife is in a good mood, my life is good.

After finishing the wontons, they didn’t linger. Back at the Jiang Residence, when no one was around, Jiang Yao summoned four shadow guards.⁵⁴ She pointed to a bewildered Song Muyun. “From now on, this is your new master. You will obey her, follow her, and protect her well.”

The four shadow guards—two men and two women—were all among Jiang Yao’s most skilled martial artists.

Song Muyun was taken aback. The grim aura of the strangers was overwhelming. She instinctively tightened her grip on Jiang Yao’s hand and leaned closer. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

Jiang Yao squeezed her hand back. “There will be times when I’m not around,” she said gently. “I’m assigning a few shadow guards to protect you. Their skills are excellent. This way, I can rest easy.”

Hearing this, Song Muyun looked at the shadow guards again. “They will all listen to me?”

“Yes. From now on, they will all listen to you.”

“Even more than they listen to you?”

Jiang Yao glanced at the four shadow guards and commanded, “From this day forward, your new master’s orders are more important than mine. Do you understand?”

The shadow guards cupped their fists in unison, their reply firm enough to throw on the ground and make a sound.⁵⁵ “Understood!”

“From now on, just command them as you see fit. They are your people.”

Four skilled martial artists. They could be of great use. And Jiang Yao was just giving them to her?

Song Muyun’s eyes grew brighter.

In the imperial palace, Princess Heyi had been confined by her mother-consort and could no longer go out. Consort Meng and Consort Ning⁵⁶ knelt outside the Imperial Study⁵⁷ every day, begging the Emperor to spare the lives of the First Prince and the Seventh Prince.

The Emperor refused to see them, so they went to plead with the Empress, then with the Eighth Prince.⁵⁸ Both were extremely diplomatic, neither agreeing nor refusing, simply sending them back the way they came. They had no choice but to return to the Emperor, kneeling until their knees were about to break and their tears ran dry. Finally, the Emperor relented and granted them an audience. Though it was said that when the two women emerged, they both had a face like dead ashes, word got out in the capital that the First Prince⁵⁹ and the Seventh Prince would soon be released from the Dali Temple.

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