The phrase “living together in Yuluan Palace” echoed in Jiang Nong’s ears like a ghost that wouldn’t let go.
She even suspected Yu Lingxin of doing it on purpose—but he still smiled so innocently, and she could find no reason for him to be deliberate. What could he possibly know?
Still, it was indirect proof that Yuluan Palace had most likely been remodeled from Xuan Shi Hall.
If Yu Lingxin hated her enough to want her dead, why would he convert his own palace for her to live in?
She couldn’t figure it out, so she could only chalk it up to him being delusional—after all, he did occasionally lose his mind in front of her.
During the seven-day honeymoon, Yu Lingxin stuck to her like glue. Even when Grand Tutor Lü requested an audience, he held onto her hand with reluctant attachment.
Jiang Nong assumed he was afraid. A surge of heroic resolve welled up in her—a sense of duty and responsibility that made her grip his hand firmly in return: “I’ll go with you!”
Since the previous dynasty, the empress’s power had been second only to vassal kings. Beyond managing the inner palace, she could also participate in political affairs. In the late years of the previous dynasty, most of the last several emperors had been weak and sickly, with empresses ruling behind the curtain.
If Yu Lingxin had no objection, Jiang Nong was willing to face the difficulties of the court alongside him.
Yu Lingxin seemed hesitant: “You’ll be wronged.”
“That’s all right. Since we’re husband and wife, we should support each other—share joys and hardships. Before I came, I prepared myself to face everything with you.”
Yu Lingxin appeared pensive. After a moment, he said meaningfully: “Sister, you taught me to be a good person, and I’ve always kept that in mind. But the world is unpredictable—I will have to fight and seize power, or rather, to survive. I may have to do some bad things. I’m truly afraid that when that time comes, you’ll be disappointed in me.”
Before coming, Jiang Nong had already considered this—it was unavoidable. She chose her words carefully: “Fighting for power to survive is only natural. As long as you don’t deliberately harm innocent lives, how could I be disappointed? I only hope you can live.”
Jiang Nong thought: someone who would risk his life to save Chao Ning, who fed stray cats and dogs—how bad could he really become?
Yu Lingxin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes: “That’s wonderful. I hope Sister will always remember those words, and never break my heart. All right?”
She’d never seen that expression on him before. She hesitated, then nodded.
The next day, Lü Chengchen requested an audience to discuss the year-end military pay.
Before the late emperor’s death, the princes had squandered the treasury in their competition for the crown. Factional struggles had siphoned off more profits, and funeral rites had consumed three years’ worth of tax revenue. The wedding had come with a three-year tax exemption, leaving the treasury already showing signs of deficit.
Lü Chengchen stood at the foot of the steps with his hands clasped, his eyes lowered: “Your Majesty, have you considered this winter’s military pay? The Grand Minister of Agriculture has surely submitted the year’s tax revenues and expenditures.”
Tan was in the north, where winters were harsh. Military pay was more than double that of summer. Based on the budget, the best solution was to reduce the army to cut costs.
But Tan had always been weak. Cutting the army immediately upon Yu Lingxin’s ascension would only invite more aggression from other states.
Yu Lingxin sat above, looking down at Lü Chengchen. The man’s chest heaved violently—only he knew the difficulty of his position.
After a long pause, Yu Lingxin spoke with a gentle tone: “Then let the Court of the Imperial Treasury supplement the state treasury. There are only the empress and me in the palace now—we can cut expenses.”
Lü Chengchen was taken aback. Cautiously, he glanced up at the empress seated beside the emperor and pressed further: “I’m afraid the Court of the Imperial Treasury is not particularly well-off either.”
Yu Lingxin seemed ready to concede further, offering to take from his private treasury. But Jiang Nong spoke first: “Grand Tutor Lü! If both the state treasury and the inner court are empty, what then? Are you suggesting cutting the army—or using my dowry to fill the coffers? This year’s salt and iron revenues haven’t even been recorded yet. Has the Minister of Agriculture already submitted the books?”
“Excellent! I’ve only just married in, and already you have your eyes on my dowry. I’ll write to my father—let him see how you scheme against our Xi Kingdom!”
By escalating the matter, she shifted the blame back to the Minister of Agriculture.
Lü Chengchen was like the dumb man eating bitter herbs—unable to voice his distress. Caught between the couple as the villain, he could only cast a pleading look toward Yu Lingxin and bow: “Your servant would never dare?”
Yu Lingxin, as a prince, had been so loathed by the late emperor that he’d been sent off to Xi early on. Lü and his faction had heard he was weak-natured and decided to install him as their puppet. But the one they retrieved was no pushover—he was a powder keg that nearly blew up the entire court.
When they were eliminating the other princes, Yu Lingxin played along obediently. When the factions were locked in mutual strife, they had no time to watch this useless fool. He used their momentum to kill the Commandant of the Guards, taking control of the palace garrison. Then, turning the tables, he laid siege to the ministers’ mansions. In half a day, a swift and decisive series of maneuvers secured Fengye completely. By the time they realized what had happened, it was too late—even the normally nimble Northern Army’s Golden Guard hadn’t arrived in time.
Since ancient times, seizing the throne had always been about speed, precision, and ruthlessness—whoever controlled the army first won.
From this single act of killing, seizing troops, and forcing the palace, it was clear Yu Lingxin was no ordinary man—decisive, swift, ruthless, and skilled at biding his time. He could even be called a madman who staked everything on a single throw.
Lü Chengchen had originally thought he would die—the victor takes all, the loser is lost. But not only did Yu Lingxin spare them, he also didn’t strip them of their offices. He even married a princess of Xi as his empress, demanding that they maintain their old attitudes before her.
This new ruler was hard to read. Lü suspected he was using this foreign princess to deceive Xi, feigning weakness and puppet-like incompetence to lull neighboring states, while secretly using her dowry to build up military strength for a bid at supremacy.
Now it seemed this empress was also no pushover—clearly on guard. Lü’s probe had failed.
“Grand Tutor Lü, what don’t you dare to do? With that kind of energy, better to sort out the accounts properly before reporting them again.” Jiang Nong gestured for Rong Mian to return the ledgers.
Xi bordered the sea and had always been wealthy, far richer than Tan. As a noble bride married off for alliance, she could afford to act a little willful. It wouldn’t do for the emperor and empress to both be pushovers—everyone would take advantage.
Lü Chengchen carefully observed Yu Lingxin’s expression. The emperor looked up at his empress with an adoring gaze—a perfect portrait of a coward. Lü could discern nothing. He was inwardly shaken, marveling that this new ruler of just seventeen possessed such depth—it seemed Tan might truly be on the path to revival.
And yet, this willful, overbearing princess was surely no match for him—she would be played like a puppet.
The moment they returned to Xuan Shi Hall, Jiang Nong’s tense expression crumbled. She let out a long breath, patted her chest, and silently screamed: “Oh my god! That was terrifying! You have no idea—that was the first time I’ve ever spoken like that to anyone, let alone a minister with such power! Back in Xi, I hardly ever even saw our own Grand Chancellor.”
Of course, she’d never imagined she’d one day be an empress.
Yu Lingxin handed her some water, amused: “If you were so scared, how did you dare speak up?”
Jiang Nong downed it in one gulp, checked carefully that there was no one else around but her trusted attendants, closed the bedchamber door, and whispered: “When I thought about protecting you, the fear just went away. Didn’t you hear what he was really saying? ‘The treasury is empty, the inner court is empty’—he just wanted your private funds! You’ve only just taken the throne—how much money could you possibly have? Shameless!
The accounts are such a mess—he’s clearly taken a cut himself. Now the treasury is empty, salt and iron revenues aren’t even recorded, and they want you to patch the hole.
So I had to turn it back on them and pin a label on them. By now, I’m probably just a willful, shrewd-but-not-too-shrewd princess in their eyes. Anyway, I was brought here as a marriage alliance to help stabilize your rule—so Lü not only can’t harm me, he has to protect me. If we keep playing it this way, step by step, we’ll eventually root him out.”
Yu Lingxin’s eyes reddened. His voice caught as he rested his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled her: “Sister, I’m so useless—I need you to protect me. But I know exactly how deep the inner court’s deficit is. I’ll handle this.”
Jiang Nong had truly done everything for him—scheming on his behalf, even willingly drawing hostility onto herself. He ought to give her something in return.
A little shock, perhaps?
After all, she’d promised herself: even if Yu Lingxin did something bad, she would still accept it.
If Yu Lingxin slowly turned bad, would she still love him?
She had no idea what he meant by “knowing how deep” or “handling it,” but Yu Lingxin wasn’t stupid—she trusted him. So she patted his back in encouragement.
The next afternoon, after her nap, Jiang Nong couldn’t find Yu Lingxin. None of the attendants had seen him—not even Xunliang.
Only a young eunuch stammered that the emperor had gone to the side courts with Xunliang at noon. There had been quite a commotion—they’d arrested several officials from the Court of the Imperial Treasury and some Yellow Gate attendants, and were now interrogating them there.
This was Yu Lingxin’s solution?
Worried, Jiang Nong hurriedly took her people to the side courts.
The palace was sparsely populated; the side courts were usually quiet. But as she stepped in, she could sense an uneasy atmosphere. Attendants trembled as they greeted her, respectfully reporting: “Your Majesty, the emperor is interrogating people in the Punishment House.”
She’d heard they were Yellow Gate attendants and treasury officials—they weren’t sent to the Supreme Court, but tried directly in the Punishment House.
The Punishment House had originally been used to punish offending palace servants at the dyeing workshops, but over time, torture chambers and prisons were added at the back—becoming the bloodiest, filthiest place in the palace.
Jiang Nong still believed Yu Lingxin was kind. She entered without caution—and was nearly knocked over by the stench of blood.
Two rows of tall candles lit the dim torture chamber, casting a ghastly scene. Over a dozen eunuchs were strung up like slabs of cured meat, pierced through with hemp ropes. Thick, sticky blood dripped from them, pooling into a brown-red sea on the blue brick floor. They were barely breathing.
Yu Lingxin stood in black robes, hands clasped behind his back, facing away from her. He raised a hand to signal Xunliang, who nodded and waved his arm—the dozen men dropped to the ground with a series of thuds. Young eunuchs hurried over with yellow papers, pressing each man’s thumbprint to them.
Jiang Nong’s breath caught in her chest. The thick, cloying smell of blood made her nauseous. It took her a long moment to find her voice: “A Xin.”
Yu Lingxin had known she was coming all along. But he acted as if caught off guard—spinning around, his eyes meeting hers in a panic.
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