Since the previous dynasty, Great Qi, the realm had esteemed rule by virtue, regarding unprovoked invasions of other states as unjust acts—unrighteous campaigns that anyone had the right to oppose.
Even though every kingdom harbored ambitions to swallow its neighbors and reunify the realm once more, they all needed a legitimate pretext to demonstrate that their military campaigns were righteous and just. Each kingdom’s covert maneuvers never ceased, yet time and again they all backed down.
The reason Yu Lingxin had been able to swiftly swallow the other four kingdoms in his previous life was precisely because he lacked virtue.
By convention, before launching a campaign, one had to find a justification, deliver a declaration of war, and announce to all other states that one was dispatching troops in response to so-and-so’s unjust actions. Yu Lingxin did none of this. By the time his enemies realized what was happening, his armies were already at their gates.
He was the only one who truly heeded the principle: speed is paramount in war.
In this life, he had already shown considerable ethical restraint—after all, Song had provoked him first.
Jiang Nong could find no fault with him, so she simply pretended not to notice.
The Xi envoy at the banquet had been visibly unsettled, not uttering a single word. After the feast, he requested an audience with Yu Lingxin.
He begged Yu Lingxin, in consideration of their two kingdoms’ marital ties, to aid Xi and suppress the Grand Commandant.
It turned out that Xi had already reached the point where the Grand Commandant was about to usurp the throne—just as in the previous life.
Yu Lingxin agreed readily, with great enthusiasm: “Of course. My father-in-law’s affairs are my affairs—how could I possibly refuse? Return and await word.”
The envoy departed in high spirits, packing his belongings for the journey home.
Yu Lingxin walked back to the bedchamber with his hands clasped behind his back, his steps unhurried.
Jiang Nong was pressing incense into a mold. He walked over, reached out, and deliberately stirred his fingers through the incense burner, disrupting her work. Jiang Nong saw him but didn’t stop him—she even laughed when he yanked his hand back, burned by the ash.
Yu Lingxin pinched her earlobe with his hot fingers and said, “Your homeland’s envoy just came to see me. Want to know what he asked?”
Jiang Nong did the math and could more or less guess. Her father the emperor, unable to cope, was asking for outside help.
“How about you beg me? I might consider helping your father. Calculating his time of death, it’s drawing near. If he dies and the throne falls to another, you’ll no longer be a princess—your status will plummet. You’d be what they call a remnant of the former dynasty? Rather pitiful, when you think about it.” Yu Lingxin clicked his tongue in mock sympathy.
In the previous life, her father had died a little over a year from now. Thanks to their marital alliance, Jiang Biao had succeeded him—but being weak-willed, control of the court had soon fallen into Grand Commandant Chen’s hands. By the third year of Jiang Biao’s reign, he too had died without leaving an heir. Grand Commandant Chen had ascended the throne on the strength of a forged edict, completely altering the dynasty.
It had been a peaceful abdication, and Jiang Biao had been given the posthumous title of “Benevolent and Wise.” Grand Commandant Chen had also outwardly treated the old imperial clan with favor, and no conflict had arisen.
Within two years, Grand Commandant Chen had become like a candle flickering in the wind—his son was dull and incompetent. Jiang Su had stepped in to control the government. Before Jiang Nong’s death, Xi had already been conquered by Yu Lingxin.
In this life, none of the princes stood out. It was quite possible that Jiang Nong’s father would become the “Benevolent and Wise Emperor” of this era.
A hair’s breadth difference could lead to a thousand miles of divergence—everything in this life was different.
Jiang Nong slapped his hand away from her earlobe and unhurriedly pressed down the ash again: “Since I’m about to become a remnant of the former dynasty, you should depose me early, welcome a new noble lady into the palace, and throw me out.”
Deposed empresses rarely met good ends—most were confined until death. Yu Lingxin stared intently at her face, searching for even a flicker of panic. Just the thought of it made his heart tingle with anticipation.
But there was nothing—not even a quiver of her eyelashes. She truly didn’t seem to fear the changing of dynasties, the loss of her princess status, or her position as empress.
Did she truly not care about these titles, or did she not care about him?
Yu Lingxin found it dull. He had wanted to see her beg him, ask for his help, or show some emotional reaction to the prospect of being deposed. But he found none.
He scraped her cheek with his finger, smearing the remaining ash onto her face: “In your dreams. I won’t let you have your way. You’ll suffer beside me for life after life—even as a ghost, I won’t let you go.”
Jiang Nong frowned. This time, she was genuinely angry. She kicked him hard under the table and rushed to the mirror to wipe her face: “Your hands are filthy—don’t touch my face! What if I break out? You’ve smudged all my powder!”
At this point, all Jiang Nong cared about was the powder on her face.
She hadn’t absorbed a single word of his threats.
Yu Lingxin thought he had been too lenient with her. If he were to just lock her up like in the previous life, keeping her confined to the bed day and night, would she dare to disregard him so completely?!
Jiang Nong reapplied her powder and turned around: “Since it’s Xi’s affair, we’re too far to intervene effectively—there’s Song between us. And with our current discord with Song, war is likely. If you interfere, it probably won’t end well. Since Jiang Su is pulling the strings behind the scenes, why should we disrupt her plans?”
As she saw it, none of her brothers looked remotely fit to be sovereign. Jiang Su, on the other hand, had both courage and cunning. Years of enduring hardship and careful maneuvering put her far above the fools like Jiang Biao. The throne naturally belonged to the capable—and Jiang Su was not cruel. With her at the helm, Xi had more hope than under Jiang Biao’s rule.
Yu Lingxin said nothing more. Instead, he walked over thoughtfully, pinched her chin, and examined her face closely. Jiang Nong carefully touched her cheek, asking if there was still ash left on it.
Yu Lingxin smiled faintly, found the soft spots on both her cheeks, and bit down. Jiang Nong shrieked like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on: “My face!!!”
Her rouge tasted sweet, with the fragrance of flowers. Before she could react, Yu Lingxin opened his mouth wide and bit her forehead too, then turned and strode away gracefully—just in time to avoid the slap heading for his face.
Very pleased, very smug—just a little way of getting back at Jiang Nong.
She was left alone in front of the mirror, holding her face and screeching like a cat with a broken voice.
Yu Lingxin’s saliva was all over her face. The makeup she had so carefully applied that morning was completely ruined. She didn’t even know if Yu Lingxin was toxic—whether the spots he’d bitten would swell up.
That night, Yu Lingxin shamelessly lay in the bed, patted the spot beside him, and called out: “Come here. I’ll tell you something fun.”
Jiang Nong was still angry and had no intention of giving him a pleasant look. But since Yu Lingxin was offering to tell her something interesting—probably to coax her—she went over with a cold face, pulled up the covers, lay down stiffly, and said flatly: “Go ahead, then.”
“Do you know how to make a sparrow quiet down?”
Jiang Nong replied rigidly: “Cover its mouth?”
“Wrong. You press it down. Because ‘ya que wu sheng’—when you press a sparrow, it falls silent! Hahahaha, isn’t that hilarious?”
…
…
…
Dead silence. Jiang Nong even gave him a strange, sidelong glance.
Yu Lingxin rubbed his nose: “…Then, a sheep can’t sleep after being sheared. Do you know why?”
“Because it’s self-conscious?”
“Because it’s shearly sleepless!”
“Ha, haha…” Jiang Nong let out two cold laughs and said, “So boring.” Then she turned over and went to sleep.
Yu Lingxin froze. His eager expression faded, and he pressed his lips together. After a moment, he rustled around and turned over too, pulling the covers over himself.
How was that not funny? Was it only funny when Chao Ning told jokes?
He clutched the corner of the blanket, so angry he couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.
Over and over, he replayed the mocking expression on Jiang Nong’s face just now, feeling both stifled and furious.
Jiang Nong had expected Yu Lingxin to accuse her of having no taste—that she wouldn’t laugh at such hilarious stories. But instead, there was only dead, oppressive silence.
She carefully turned her head and saw Yu Lingxin’s silhouette, lying quietly and alone, hugging a corner of the blanket. For a moment, she felt a pang of something in her heart.
It wasn’t funny at all, but Yu Lingxin had made an effort, hadn’t he? People who try should get some reward.
Jiang Nong knew she shouldn’t be soft-hearted toward a very bad person. She also knew she shouldn’t like a very bad person. But if feelings could be controlled, they wouldn’t be feelings—they’d be rationality.
Besides, she had always been someone whose emotions overflowed like the tide.
She was only a little bit pitiful toward Yu Lingxin.
“Are you asleep?” Jiang Nong leaned over and rested her chin on his shoulder from behind, asking.
Yu Lingxin moved his arm, trying to shake her off, and said with his eyes closed: “I’m asleep.”
Having lost face so badly just now, he had his dignity too—how could he still be nice to Jiang Nong?
Jiang Nong rested her chin back on him: “You’re not asleep~ I want to hear more. Tell me a few more.”
“Are you amusing yourself at my expense? Didn’t you say it was boring?” Yu Lingxin shook her off again.
“Who told you to bite all the powder off my face during the day? So if I’m angry and say it’s boring, isn’t that fair? You haven’t even apologized to me yet.” Jiang Nong rested her chin back on him again, her pointed chin poking around his shoulder and neck.
Apologize?
The word “sorry” had never existed in Yu Lingxin’s life.
But since Jiang Nong had given him an explanation, he would reluctantly, magnanimously, tell her two more.
He knew it—how could anyone find such interesting stories boring?
“Then tomorrow, I’ll personally apply your powder for you, won’t that make up for it?” He turned over and finally opened his eyes.
Jiang Nong was caught off guard and nearly face-planted into the bed, but Yu Lingxin caught her with his palm.
Yu Lingxin, apply her powder? Jiang Nong’s face scrunched up.
He couldn’t even tell if colors matched, and he wanted to do her makeup? She wouldn’t even trust Chao Ning with something like that, let alone Yu Lingxin—a man who hadn’t used a single skincare product in eighteen years and only borrowed hers. What could he possibly understand?
But Jiang Nong didn’t refuse. After all, teasing Yu Lingxin was enormously entertaining. She happily nodded in agreement.
Yu Lingxin thought for a moment—he had to find the most interesting story. He propped his head up and pondered for a long time, then asked her: “One day, an orange met a mushroom on the road, and then the orange died. Why?”
Jiang Nong shook her head: “Are oranges and mushrooms incompatible? Poisonous? I don’t know.”
“Because ‘jun’ (mushroom) wanted the orange dead, so the orange had no choice but to die.”
Yu Lingxin seemed quite satisfied with this one. He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her reaction.
Jiang Nong shuddered. Should she laugh? How could she possibly laugh? For some reason, she felt a chill—goosebumps rising all over.
“Ha, hahaha—good story. I’ve never heard such an interesting one, hahaha—”
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