The Chief Astronomer observed the night sky—it was exceptionally good. But if His Majesty said it was bad, then bad it was.
He closed his eyes and spun his tale: “This humble minister observes that tonight, the four murderous stars—Qingyang, Tuoluo, Mars, and Lingxing—are in opposition, casting dire illumination. This is an inauspicious omen portending discord between husband and wife, leading to quarrels and separation…”
Yu Lingxin felt a wave of relief upon hearing this: “Then why did you not report it sooner?”
The Chief Astronomer wiped cold sweat from his brow: “I, I have only just observed this. The constellations are complex, and the stars tonight are faint and elusive—if not for Your Majesty’s keen eye, I fear I might have overlooked it.”
What murderous stars in opposition—he was simply playing along with His Majesty’s mood. Before he arrived, Eunuch Xunliang had already given him a hint.
Yu Lingxin signaled for him to continue, asking if there was any remedy.
“One must let nature take its course. If the couple’s bond is as strong as gold, they will surely weather this storm.”
As strong as gold.
Yu Lingxin stared at him, saying nothing—just fixing him with that cold gaze. The Chief Astronomer’s skin crawled, and he could barely keep from trembling, until Yu Lingxin let out a cold laugh, tinged with self-mockery: “As strong as gold?”
Had he said something wrong?
As the Chief Astronomer pondered this, Yu Lingxin waved him away.
He retreated to the door, wiping his sweat in panic, when he heard His Majesty’s faint, melancholic recitation drifting through the heavy door gap.
“The lord should be as a bedrock stone,
The lady as reeds by the river’s side.
Reeds are supple as silk thread,
But bedrock does not shift or slide…”
…
Yu Lingxin had slept in the side chamber of the study last night—the first time they had slept apart since their marriage.
Jiang Nong had not rested well. In the morning, she used an orange-tinted concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Yu Lingxin, seeing her busily moving her things, looking utterly unaffected, was seized with anger. He coughed theatrically as he dressed himself and left for court.
Last night’s quarrel—the smashed vase, the uproar, even the replacement of the palace attendants at Xuan Shi Hall—had been too conspicuous. Anyone with ears could glean the story. Word had it the Empress had moved back to Jiaofang Hall, her favor seemingly waning. And with Yu Lingxin’s obvious displeasure, the rumors only gained traction.
At court, after state affairs were concluded, the faction that had long held grievances against Jiang Nong—led by Lü Chengcheng—struck first.
“Your Majesty has been married for over a year and a half, yet no joyous news has come from the palace. The imperial heir is the foundation of the state—Your Majesty must make early preparations.”
“Since Her Majesty the Empress cannot bear children, she should not monopolize Your Majesty. For the sake of the succession, she ought to be virtuous and yielding, opening the harem widely to extend the royal line.”
Yu Lingxin’s expression grew even darker. As if Jiang Nong wanted to monopolize him—if she could push him away, she’d likely be the first to celebrate.
Or maybe not. Jiang Nong cooled toward him or warmed toward him as she pleased. Perhaps she might even be displeased at losing such a useful dog to command—so much so that she couldn’t even be bothered to tease him occasionally.
“Yes, Minister Lü is right. The succession concerns the very foundation of the state—it must indeed be taken seriously.”
Lü Chengcheng’s heart leapt with joy, and he repeatedly nodded in agreement.
He had long been dissatisfied with Empress Jiang’s monopoly over the harem—and even more so with His Majesty’s attitude toward her. A foreign woman, using charm to bring chaos to the court—it always filled him with dread. In his view, His Majesty should not devote his heart to a single woman. If the harem were fuller, his feelings for Empress Jiang would naturally fade.
If his mentality resembled that of a meddlesome mother-in-law—well, it was not far off.
“Minister Lü, how many sons do you have?”
“Your Majesty, only two—born of my late wife.”
“Since Minister Lü is so concerned about my succession, why not enter my family registry? I will make you Crown Prince—then I’ll have a son, grandsons, and great-grandsons all at once!”
Lü Chengcheng turned pale with fright and dropped to his knees: “Your Majesty! Th-this is absolutely unacceptable! It violates all propriety! It overturns the very order of things! Besides, how can a sovereign inherit from his subject? And this old minister is already sixty!”
Old enough to be Yu Lingxin’s grandfather, and then some.
“If you know it violates propriety, then why bring it up!” Yu Lingxin’s voice suddenly exploded—as if all his pent-up rage had finally burst forth. He grabbed the imperial seal and hurled it. Lü Chengcheng’s head split open, blood streaming down as he bowed low, not daring to make a sound.
“Whoever mentions the succession again can come be my son! Since you’re all so concerned about my heirs, isn’t this a fine opportunity to show your loyalty! From now on, you can change your name, and bring glory to your new lineage!”
Yu Lingxin’s furious voice echoed through the entire main hall. No one had expected him to say such a thing—he was clearly determined to shield the Empress. Could one woman truly be that important?
Lü Chengcheng, believing he was acting for the good of Tan’s state and for Yu Lingxin himself, felt deeply wronged. He thought His Majesty was too young, placing love above all else—he would regret it sooner or later. But the Emperor would not appreciate his minister’s earnest devotion.
Unable to hate his sovereign, he could only direct his resentment toward Empress Jiang, the enchanting seductress, and nursed his silent grievance.
That evening, Yu Lingxin summoned the Imperial Clan Minister and ordered him to select several clever children from the imperial clan to be raised in the palace. This move was like dropping oil into boiling water—it sent waves through the court. Though there was precedent for this old custom, the fact that he had rebuked his ministers in the morning and summoned clan children to the palace by evening inevitably sparked talk of adopting an heir through the clan.
Did this mean that even if the Empress bore no children, he would never install a concubine?
If the harem held only one Empress, how could anyone know the Empress was barren—and not His Majesty?
Could it be that His Majesty was the one unable to produce heirs, using the Empress as a pretext to justify adopting children?
And yet, according to the Imperial Medical Office’s pulse records, His Majesty’s body showed no abnormalities…
Jiang Nong was the last to hear the news—later even than those outside the palace. Usually, whenever Yu Lingxin was about to do something, she was the first to know.
But today, from his smashing Lü Chengcheng in the court to summoning clan children into the palace, Jiang Nong could only feel that Yu Lingxin had gone mad. How could he just do whatever he wanted? Always acting on impulse.
Rong Mian saw she was unhappy and didn’t quite understand: “In that case, all the attention has been drawn to His Majesty. What is there for Your Highness to worry about?”
Jiang Nong held her head, burying her face in the table, and said in a muffled voice: “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Now who was still concerned about Yu Lingxin’s harem? No one cared anymore whether she was a seductive empress bewitching the sovereign. The ministers were all speculating about Yu Lingxin’s true intentions—some even secretly probing into his medical records, suspecting that his lonely childhood might have left him… incapable.
Jiang Nong found it hard to articulate, her thoughts in turmoil.
She felt Yu Lingxin had done it on purpose—he didn’t care about his reputation at all, so he’d diverted everything onto himself.
What kind of reaction was she supposed to give?
Gratitude? Delight? Sympathy? None of them seemed right.
Yet she couldn’t deny that secret, dark pleasure. A man devoted to her, willing to sacrifice his own name—still treating her the same even when she was cold. She couldn’t let herself like Yu Lingxin—she couldn’t get past that barrier—but she also couldn’t bear it if Yu Lingxin stopped liking her.
The thought barely surfaced before she crushed it in fear. It was too sinful—such things had no place in her heart. Jiang Nong was supposed to be a good person.
Jiang Nong always had too many thoughts, circling round and round until she lost herself in them.
Yu Lingxin wandered through the bedchamber of Xuan Shi Hall and realized Jiang Nong had left cleanly—even the blue bed curtains he’d never liked were gone. The vast chamber felt hollow and cold, as if even his breath had frozen midair. The faint fragrance drifting through the room was the only hint that she had once lived here for a considerable time.
He lay on the bed for a long while—so long that without the bed curtains to block it, even the pale moonlight could creep in and mock him.
Yu Lingxin buried his face in the bedding that still held her scent. After a long pause, he straightened his sleeves, rose, and made his decision.
He would have to be harsher than he’d originally planned.
Within three days, Dang and Tan had jointly delivered a declaration of war to Song.
No one would let such an opportunity pass—Song had practically handed them a weapon. The other two kingdoms were eager to join in and claim their share.
Morally, they held the advantage. Militarily, two against one—another advantage.
The commander of Dang’s forces was Chao Ning. Yu Lingxin, for reasons unknown, decided to personally oversee the campaign.
Jiang Nong wrote to Chao Ning, urging him to be extremely careful and to take care of himself.
Before the letter was sent, Yu Lingxin read it first—he was the first recipient of every letter Jiang Nong sent out.
He memorized every word of Jiang Nong’s concern for her family and friends.
Extremely careful?
Careful of stray weapons on the battlefield—or careful of him?
Jiang Nong rummaged through her dowry and found a heart-protecting mirror—part of Empress Dowager Fu’s bridal gift to her. The Fu family had risen through military merit and had deep expertise in armor and protection. Yu Lingxin assumed she would send it to Chao Ning via the postal relay. But instead, she fastened it inside his own armor.
A hexagonal heart-protecting mirror, its edges smoothly polished, engraved with the divine beast Baize. It was weighty in the palm—a fine piece. The Imperial Treasury might have similar ones, but none so exquisite.
He still hadn’t expected Jiang Nong to give such a thing to him.
Tomorrow, Yu Lingxin would lead the troops out of the city. Xunliang was packing his belongings. Jiang Nong was wandering near Xuan Shi Hall and somehow found herself inside, sitting in her old spot, watching the servants bustling about.
The place felt emptier than when she’d lived there—even loud voices echoed. Nothing new had been added. Yu Lingxin didn’t seem to sleep here either—it lacked any human warmth, and even some of his clothes had been brought from the study.
She held her tea cup, slowly turning it in her palm.
Yu Lingxin had stroked that heart-protecting mirror several times—she’d seen it.
Honestly, she had thought of giving it to Chao Ning. But Yu Lingxin’s body was so frail in this life—his hands cold all year round, and he’d already been injured before. With the weather still unpredictable—warm one moment, cold the next—she’d worried he might fall ill at the front. She’d thought of preparing clothes, food, herbs… but in the end, she’d stopped herself, afraid of wavering without realizing it.
Yu Lingxin’s gaze circled around her several times before he clutched his chest and coughed, looking rather frail.
Jiang Nong’s heart tightened—and before she knew it, the cup in her hand was already pressed into his palm.
Whether it was her imagination or not, when her fingertips brushed his, they were warm.
Yu Lingxin’s lips curved slightly upward. His fingernail lightly scratched her palm—and she jerked her hand back, startled.
Leave a Reply