“All matters of the harem are left to the Empress to decide. What do you think, Empress?” Yu Lingxin didn’t get what he wanted—Jiang Nong hadn’t even changed her expression. He threw the question to her, wanting to hear her decision.
If she magnanimously accepted them—well, that was her choice. If not, she could easily find some excuse to decline.
The envoys seated below watched the two whispering at the head of the hall, disdain curling in their hearts. To consult the Empress over such a trivial matter—what difference was there between that and a live-in son-in-law?
Jiang Nong mulled it over. The harem could afford to support two more people. Not accepting them would be rather impolite. Besides, with more people around, Yu Lingxin would bother her less. But those two beauties were truly unlucky—sent to anyone but Yu Lingxin. “Then let’s accept them. I’ll have Tongye prepare chambers for them.”
“How magnanimous of the Empress.” Yu Lingxin’s tone was unreadable, followed by a cold laugh that made the hairs on Jiang Nong’s back stand on end, a chill racing down her spine.
Having known him for so many years, of course she could tell he was angry.
What was he angry about? What had she done wrong? She hadn’t done anything wrong!
Yu Lingxin knew—she simply didn’t care who entered his harem or how many. As if the person who had held his hand that night, blown on his wound, and asked if it hurt—as if that hadn’t been Jiang Nong at all.
Jiang Nong, what exactly do you mean?
Does it amuse you to blow hot and cold with me? What do you take me for?
The Song envoy, seeing them remain silent for so long, reminded them again: “Will the ruler of Tan Kingdom accept these two?”
Yu Lingxin was in a foul mood and wouldn’t give even a shred of courtesy: “No.”
In his previous life, this kingdom had knelt and begged for mercy. On a good day, he might grant them a sliver of face. On a bad day, not telling them to get lost was already restraint.
The Song envoy choked, staring at him in shock.
“Before the Crown Prince is born, I do not wish to take concubines.” Yu Lingxin said this while firmly grasping Jiang Nong’s hand—clearly, the words were also meant for her. Jiang Nong couldn’t help but stare at him in shock as well.
What Crown Prince?
The Song envoy sat back in frustration, thinking: Sure enough, a live-in son-in-law. He only dares to take concubines after the Crown Prince is born.
With that thought, his mood improved slightly.
The Jin envoy’s beauties were rejected in the same manner.
The Jin envoy flew into a rage, refusing to let it go: “What kind of excuse is this? Is the ruler of Tan Kingdom so arrogant? To refuse the goodwill of both our kingdoms—do you intend to make enemies of us?”
With someone else speaking first, how could the Song envoy not chime in? He said coolly: “It seems he looks down on us. Our emperor’s good intentions have been wasted.”
A heavy accusation had been laid down. Everyone held their breath, waiting to hear how Yu Lingxin would respond.
If he answered poorly, it would be a deliberate slight against both kingdoms, provoking war. The states had coexisted peacefully for years simply because no one wanted to be the first to stir trouble and become a target—giving the other four the perfect excuse to carve them up.
Even if Xi Kingdom was Jiang Nong’s homeland, with such an opportunity, they would all want to devour the spoils alone.
Yu Lingxin didn’t seem to care. He laughed lightly: “How could that be? I still hold great respect for all your rulers. Knowing that your envoys were coming, I personally supervised a sword dance performance. The palace entertainers will perform shortly. Once you see it, you’ll understand my sincerity—and your anger will surely dissipate.”
His words even carried a hint of appeasement. Though he’d lost face, the substance was preserved. The two envoys preened at his tactfulness. Like father, like son—the father was a pushover, and the son can’t be much tougher.
The ministers of Tan Kingdom fell silent, their hearts sinking—but they were used to it. The late emperor had been just as cowardly toward foreign powers.
The Song and Jin envoys looked around, seeing the Tan ministers all hanging their heads in dejection, and burst into laughter: “Very well, very well—we shall await your sincerity.”
Only Jiang Nong’s heart clenched. She stole a glance at Yu Lingxin.
Sword dance. Yu Lingxin. The combination of these two words, given past precedent, filled her with a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t possibly be insane enough to assassinate all the envoys during the banquet, could he?
Chao Ning, seated below, sighed and raised his cup with a smile to ease the tension: “The ruler of Tan and his Empress are deeply devoted—this humble official truly admires it. Come, come—allow me to toast you.”
Though he had no idea what there was to admire about it, at this moment, admire it he must.
Come on—his sister and his brother had just married, and they were doing wonderfully. Sending people into the harem was completely unnecessary. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t care if you sent eight hundred. But this is his sister and his brother! His fairy-tale couple! The sister and the puppy he loved to watch! Not allowed!
When Yu Lingxin had remained silent earlier, Chao Ning couldn’t say anything either—after all, he represented not just himself but Dang Kingdom’s dignity.
Though the last bit of Yu Lingxin’s speech was a bit spineless, it was understandable. Just ascending the throne, unstable footing, facing two powerful states—one had to be flexible.
The Xi envoy immediately followed suit: “May His Majesty and our Princess soon welcome a Crown Prince, and may their love last till old age. This humble official also raises his cup.”
He had only caught the words “Crown Prince.” A Crown Prince! Noble, the future ruler! Yu Lingxin’s meaning was clear: he wouldn’t take concubines at least until the Crown Prince was born—and that Crown Prince would be born of Xi Kingdom’s princess, carrying their royal blood. Whether for the alliance or other reasons, this was excellent news.
With the two envoys chiming in, cups were raised and exchanged, and the atmosphere momentarily warmed again.
Lü Chengcheng, holding great power and high status as Grand Chancellor, was naturally present. He felt he knew better than anyone that their emperor was absolutely not the type to fear his wife—on the contrary, he had this princess wrapped around his finger. Not long after she married in—what a willful and headstrong woman she had seemed—within a month, she had taken from her own dowry to relieve the people. He had also heard she personally attended to the Empress Dowager without complaint.
The emperor was using this princess as a shield to deflect the spies that other states were sending into the harem. By merely mentioning a Crown Prince, Xi Kingdom was already rushing to defend him. What brilliant strategy—using the enemy’s strength against them!
Yet unease gnawed at him. Was His Majesty, like the late emperor, someone who bullied the weak and feared the strong—or did he have something else planned?
He prayed silently that Yu Lingxin would make Tan Kingdom hold its head high, no longer being suppressed by other states. They had suffered this humiliation for years.
With everyone’s thoughts diverging, the banquet continued. One after another, musical performances and dances were presented, until finally the highlight arrived—the sword dance Yu Lingxin had mentioned. Over twenty men and women of varying appearances entered the hall, each holding a sword.
Their appearances varied—some beautiful, some plain, some even ugly—all without makeup, standing on the stage looking rather comical and absurd.
They didn’t look like performers; they looked like prisoners about to be executed. Their pale faces and trembling bodies betrayed that something was amiss. The sword dance was sloppy and disjointed, without musical accompaniment. The hall was so silent that even breathing could be heard.
The expressions of Tan Kingdom’s ministers were a jumble, too quick to hide—some shocked, some wondering if the emperor had lost his mind, and some whose eyes lit up.
They cautiously glanced at the envoys, expecting them to explode in rage, loudly accusing the emperor of mocking them by receiving guests with such unrefined entertainers.
But instead, they saw the envoys’ faces grow paler and paler, until cold sweat beaded on their foreheads and dripped down their temples. Then Yu Lingxin’s voice rang out like a thunderclap from clear skies.
He said, low and devoid of emotion, like a demon demanding payment: “Why aren’t you laughing? Seeing old friends from your homelands—shouldn’t you be happy?”
The men and women on stage all forced smiles that looked worse than weeping.
The envoys beneath the stage breathed lightly, even Chao Ning fell silent. They knew better than anyone that this farcical performance was meant for them. The lack of makeup was so they could more clearly see those faces.
These people were all spies sent to Tan Kingdom by their respective states.
Yu Lingxin had somehow rooted them out one by one, brought them before them to humiliate them, and then made these spies wield weapons in a dance—utterly arrogant, telling them that even armed spies could not harm him in the slightest. A show of deterrence.
Yu Lingxin was no benevolent ruler!
The Song and Jin envoys, in particular, looked especially terrible—their faces cycling through shades of green, white, and purple in a messy symphony. They dared not shout; they even began to regret their earlier provocations. Their hands, hidden beneath their wide sleeves, clenched tightly and trembled slightly. They didn’t dare wipe their sweat, keeping their heads down as it dripped onto their clothes, spreading into dark patches.
Yu Lingxin and his spineless father were entirely different people.
Yu Lingxin propped his chin on his hand and narrowed his eyes, trying to study the envoys’ expressions—but the view wasn’t clear enough. As if the chaos weren’t enough, he asked: “I personally prepared this dance for you envoys, planned it for so long. Why aren’t you laughing? It would be a waste of my sincerity.”
The envoys finally managed to squeeze out awkward smiles.
Especially prepared for you, my sincerity, I hope your anger dissipates.
Damn it!
It was indeed especially prepared for them, indeed sincere, and indeed their anger had dissipated—how could they dare to be angry now? But was that the same thing?
They had never encountered a ruler like this—you could only believe half of what he said!
The envoys’ hearts turned cold, but the Tan ministers’ hearts burned hot. With His Majesty’s words, who could still be unaware that these were spies?
What delighted them most was that His Majesty hadn’t executed them in secret, but had placed them right before the banquet. Such a firm stance made their backs straighten. As the old saying goes—even if you don’t steam the buns, you must fight for your pride. With a ruler like this, how could they ever let themselves be looked down upon again?
They rose one after another to toast and praise His Majesty. The literati, eloquent as they were, lavished Yu Lingxin with extravagant praise—even managing to include Jiang Nong, painting Yu Lingxin as a divinely appointed wise ruler who would lead Tan Kingdom into an era of peace and prosperity.
Jiang Nong had no idea when Yu Lingxin—who seemed to spend nearly every day picking fights with her—had managed to arrest all these people. She leaned over and quietly asked him.
Yu Lingxin acted as if he hadn’t heard. Jiang Nong asked again. Still no response. She realized he was deliberately playing deaf and dumb, so she stopped asking.
She pursed her lips, her expression a little awkward, embarrassed by his silence.
Yu Lingxin should have kept ignoring her, let her stew in her discomfort. But somehow, he tugged at her hand and sneered: “Guess for yourself. Since the Empress is so wise and brilliant, so magnanimous, broad-minded, great-visioned, and bold of spirit—surely you can figure it out?”
What did any of those words have to do with this matter?
Did being broad-minded mean she could guess when he’d arrested the spies?
Ridiculous.
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