Jiang Nong had anticipated that Lü Chengcheng and his ilk would seize the opportunity to make trouble for her, suppress her, humiliate her—that was the extent of what she had imagined. But she never expected men’s hearts could be so venomous.
She had also forgotten that Lü Chengcheng was a minister capable of executing an entire group of princes, and had once planned to install a puppet to control the court—backed by the Lü family and wielding immense influence among the scholarly elite.
Lü Chengcheng and Han Wen knocked on the palace gates at night, requesting an audience with the Empress on the grounds of an urgent personal letter from His Majesty.
The gate guards naturally let them through.
When Jiang Nong was roused by Tongye and the others, she was still groggy—it was not yet the Hour of the Ox. Her heart lurched, thinking something had happened to Yu Lingxin, and she quickly rose to dress.
It wasn’t until she reached the study at Xuan Shi Hall and saw Lü Chengcheng and the others that she sensed something was deeply, subtly wrong.
Even the guards had been dismissed, heads bowed. The atmosphere was cold, oppressive, and strange—heavy as a storm brewing before it breaks.
Lü Chengcheng’s face was grim, his gaze contemptuous as he stroked his graying beard. He read aloud from a letter bearing the imperial seal, sent by eight-hundred-li relay—and Jiang Nong learned that it was a decree from Yu Lingxin ordering her to take her own life, to preserve her dignity and honor.
“His Majesty once deigned to welcome you as Empress because of your royal bloodline and the support of your mother kingdom. Now that Xi has changed dynasties and the former imperial clan has been removed from the registry, you are no longer a princess—how can you presume to remain on the throne? His Majesty is merciful and does not wish to strip you of your dignity as Empress. He asks you to end your own life, and be buried in the imperial mausoleum with full rites.”
Jiang Nong snatched the letter from Lü Chengcheng’s hands. The brushwork was indeed Yu Lingxin’s, and the vermilion seal at the end was his personal seal as well.
“Forging the imperial seal is a crime punishable by the execution of nine clans. This old minister would not take such a reckless risk. The contents of this letter have already been verified by the Langzhong Guard themselves. I urge Your Highness to take your leave peacefully, without further struggle.”
Lü Chengcheng waved his hand, signaling the Langzhong Guard to present three choices: white silk, poisoned wine, or a dagger—for Jiang Nong to choose.
The palace maids at Xuan Shi Hall, the moment the imperial letter was revealed, had been placed under guard by the Langzhong Guard. Once the Empress died, they too would be buried with her.
The Langzhong Guard was tasked with protecting the safety of Xuan Shi Hall. That night, Qin Zhen was on duty. Lü Chengcheng had shown him the letter, and he had already dismissed the others. Now, only he, Lü, Han, and a few other ministers remained in the hall. The matter was not to be publicized—only those present knew the contents of the secret letter. Though Qin Zhen was loyal to Yu Lingxin, he hesitated and dared not step forward: “This is a grave matter, Minister. Why not wait for His Majesty’s return before deciding?”
Lü Chengcheng shot him a glance: “Do you mean to defy the imperial decree? His Majesty has ordered the immediate execution of the Jiang woman—do you wish to be buried with her?”
Qin Zhen immediately lowered his head, saying he dared not.
But on one side was His Majesty’s own handwriting, on the other was the Empress. He was torn. The Captain of the Palace Attendants commanded two forces—the Yulin Guard and the Langzhong Guard—which had been integrated into one unit after reorganization. Wei Xiao was his superior, and he had always been stationed at the palace gates while Wei Xiao had gone to the front with His Majesty. He did not serve the Emperor personally, and at this moment, he could not decide.
Before leaving, Minister Wei had instructed him to protect the Empress well—he remembered that clearly. But now the Grand Chancellor had produced His Majesty’s secret letter…
He tried to stall, hoping for Eunuch Xunliang’s arrival—after all, Xunliang had grown up with His Majesty and knew his heart best.
In eight hundred years of history, it was common to see empresses deposed, confined, driven to suicide by shame, or dying of illness once their maternal families lost power. After Jiang Nong’s death, history would likely record it in a single line: Empress Jiang, feeling unworthy of her station, fraught with anxiety day and night, and having borne no children, died of grief and indignation.
History repeated itself in cycles—Jiang Nong could even discern a certain logic in it.
Perhaps under a different emperor, she too would have believed the contents of the letter without question. A ruler’s heart was always fickle and hard as iron, always prioritizing profit. Her status could no longer offer him any benefit—with the change of dynasty, she had become an embarrassment and a burden. Why keep her, when he could choose a noble lady from a prestigious family instead?
But if the one ordering her death was Yu Lingxin—even though she knew her thoughts might be presumptuous—Jiang Nong still felt that Yu Lingxin, even with ten times the courage, wouldn’t dare write such a thing.
This wasn’t bad news at all. Jiang Nong was, in fact, relieved. She casually tore the letter to pieces and threw them back in Lü Chengcheng’s face: “Minister Lü has carried out plenty of executions of nine clans—surely one more wouldn’t make a difference?”
“The Empress has gone mad! To tear up His Majesty’s own handwriting!”
Yes, the handwriting was Yu Lingxin’s, and the seal was his too. The reason no one dared forge them was precisely because if discovered, it meant execution for nine clans. But that very fact was both the strength and weakness of this scheme.
No one dared forge—which meant if someone did forge, they wouldn’t be suspected. Copying handwriting and seals was hardly difficult, especially since Lü Chengcheng had plenty of Yu Lingxin’s letters in his possession. He had so openly circulated the letter because he knew that the more secretive he was, the more suspicion he’d draw.
No one would think Lü Chengcheng would risk his entire clan just to force the Empress to die.
And that was precisely the feasibility of the plan. This was a royal secret—only three or four people in the room knew the truth. Once she died, all the palace attendants would be buried with her. Even if this Langzhong Guard realized he had been deceived by Lü Chengcheng, to save his own life, he would still have to side with them and give a unified account that she had committed suicide.
They had enough time to arrange everything before Yu Lingxin returned.
Using a forged letter to force her death, then fabricating a scene of her taking her own life out of anxiety and depression over her father’s death and the loss of her status—all to answer to Yu Lingxin. Even if he suspected something, without evidence, he couldn’t touch them.
The plan was crude, direct, and extremely risky—but it had a high chance of success. The most effective schemes often use the simplest methods.
Jiang Nong couldn’t even be bothered with more words. She raised her hand: “Minister Lü, guess what this is?”
“The Empress has truly gone mad…” Before he could finish, Jiang Nong’s palm came down hard across his face—sending the old man’s head snapping to the side, his cheek swollen and red, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, his head tilted in utter disbelief.
Jiang Nong shook out her hand—she had slapped Yu Lingxin so many times that she’d long since figured out how to hit hardest without hurting herself: “It’s a slap, Minister Lü. You’re old and muddled—since you don’t even recognize that, this Empress will help you sober up.”
“In consideration of your contributions in assisting His Majesty’s ascension, this Empress will give you one chance. Take your forged decree and get out of the palace!”
“Your Highness, this truly is His Majesty’s own handwriting! Tearing up the imperial decree is a capital offense!” Qin Zhen frowned.
It took a long moment for Lü Chengcheng to recover. Trembling, he pointed at Jiang Nong: “It seems the Empress refuses a toast only to drink a forfeit. Then this old minister will have to see you off himself! As Empress, you should have stayed content in the harem, borne heirs, kept to your place, been a humble and virtuous empress—not meddled in court affairs like a hen crowing at dawn! You have repeatedly interfered with His Majesty and bewitched his heart. His Majesty’s mercy has kept you alive until today—he should have had you executed long ago!”
It was only then that Jiang Nong understood the true source of Lü Chengcheng’s hostility toward her.
First, she was a foreign woman, so her heart must be different. Second, he had never respected her as a woman. Third, Yu Lingxin listened to her—and he was genuinely jealous. Fourth, his desire to control Yu Lingxin was too strong—though he submitted to him, he still wanted to manipulate him.
“Minister Lü, if you want to execute me, then let Yu Lingxin return and stand before me and say he wants Jiang Nong dead. Otherwise, I will not die!”
“Vicious empress! You dare to speak His Majesty’s name directly!” Lü Chengcheng glared at Qin Zhen. “The Empress has gone mad! Send her on her way now!”
Qin Zhen finally made up his mind.
Such a familiar address—Jiang Nong suddenly recalled the previous life, when Lü Chengcheng and the others had called her the “vicious consort.” Back then, they had clamored for Yu Lingxin to execute her and Xiaoman.
They claimed Xiaoman, born before full term, was of questionable bloodline—that she might have polluted the royal lineage of Tan.
Jiang Nong now realized that if not for Yu Lingxin having suppressed them so ruthlessly in the previous life, with such overwhelming deterrence, this old wretch Lü Chengcheng would truly have dared to forge an edict and come into the palace to strangle her and her child.
“Minister Lü, have you not stopped to think—why am I so certain this letter is fake? Why am I so sure His Majesty would never do this to me? We have been husband and wife for years—am I not more qualified to judge than you, an outsider?
Minister Lü, though you come bearing His Majesty’s order to execute me—and such things are common in history—history is dead, but people are living. Do you think that if I die and His Majesty has no evidence, he will simply let you off?”
Jiang Nong wondered if spending too much time with Yu Lingxin had made her think he was too lenient in this life—that he required evidence for everything, which emboldened these people to such audacity.
When Yu Lingxin wanted to kill someone, since when did he care about evidence or innocence?
“Naturally, because you’ve gone mad!” Lü Chengcheng knew that this was do or die. If he failed, nine clans would be lost. But he had weathered countless storms in his life—far more perilous than this—and had survived them all. Would he fall here? He turned to the Langzhong Guard: “Pour the wine down her throat! Do you want to wait for His Majesty to return and have you punished?”
Qin Zhen’s eyes flickered. He hesitantly held out the poisoned wine to Jiang Nong: “Your Highness, please do not make things difficult for this humble servant. I am merely following orders.”
Tonight was his watch. The familiar leading officers of the Langzhong Guard and Yulin Guard were all absent—likely Lü Chengcheng had deliberately chosen tonight. Jiang Nong didn’t recognize his face and didn’t want to make things hard for him.
“Hold her down!” Han Yuncheng, following orders, stepped forward with his men to restrain Jiang Nong.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded from outside the study, accompanied by a blaze of torchlight. The door burst open from the outside—and all eyes turned.
It was Xunliang, arriving with his men.
He had been sent away earlier, but sensing something wrong, had rushed back.
Lü Chengcheng’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t flinch. He disdained even giving the eunuch a glance, only saying flatly: “Eunuch Xunliang has arrived. Since you’re here, take a look at His Majesty’s decree and see Empress Jiang on her way.”
Xunliang didn’t even lift his eyes. He strode into the hall with Rong Mian, who was panting and carrying a box—stepping right over what was supposedly Yu Lingxin’s personal letter.
Lü Chengcheng’s eyes nearly split open: “Do you mean to defy the decree as well?”
Xunliang didn’t grow angry—instead, he laughed. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a vicious scar on his arm: “This servant has served His Majesty since the age of seven, weathering every storm with him. At thirteen, I accompanied him to Xi as a hostage prince. At seventeen, I returned to the kingdom and received His Majesty’s favor, serving as a Central Attendant.
His Majesty had set his heart on the Empress since he was fourteen. He went to great lengths to marry her—she is one he would protect with his life. Yet Minister Lü would have us believe His Majesty has cast her aside like an old shoe and ordered her death! I don’t believe a single word written on that paper. As Her Majesty said—if His Majesty truly wishes to have the Empress killed, let him return to the palace and issue the decree himself. I will gladly bear the charge of defying the decree and die alongside her!”
“This Empress dares to say Minister Lü has forged the imperial decree—and I have my reasons.” Jiang Nong took out the token from the box and raised it for all to see—a sharp intake of breath rippled through the hall.
“Before His Majesty left, he split the military tally in two—half he gave to me, granting authority to mobilize all troops in Fengye for my protection. He must have foreseen rebellious ministers in the court. If he truly wanted me dead, why entrust me with this token of protection?”
Military authority was the most direct proof of all. The moment the ministers and guards outside saw the tally, they all dropped to their knees in unison, shouting long live His Majesty.
The color drained from Lü Chengcheng’s face. He collapsed to the ground, his eyes closing deeply—knowing everything was over.
Jiang had been right about one thing: history was dead, but people were living.
He had always taken history as his guide—never imagining that Yu Lingxin would not only let her govern, but would even entrust her with half the military tally.
Such a precious thing—Jiang Nong had kept it safely stored all along, never using it, never expecting that one day she truly would need it.
She had been stalling for time all along. Xunliang and Tongye were both clever—though they had been sent away, they could quickly sense something wrong and return.
“Minister Lü and his cohort have committed treason. Take them to the Supreme Court prison—they will await His Majesty’s return for judgment.”
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