Chapter 20
But Guan Xuan wanted the Princess to win.
Guan Xuan did not understand the suspicion in the Princess’s eyes. He thought the Princess was too good, and she so loved his body that he genuinely wanted her to be happy. Recently, the Princess had been eating too little, which was not good for her health. Even during the great upheavals in the palace—Consort Ling’s passing, the late emperor’s death—the Princess had never neglected her meals out of worry. Yet these past few days, she had eaten so little.
There were many wicked people in the world, far too many. The methods of the wicked were often endless and more effective in achieving their goals. The Princess was not a good person, and neither were most people here. But Guan Xuan wanted the Princess to win. He wanted to see her confident, poised, strategizing with ease, and remaining unshaken no matter the circumstances—whether she was good or evil. Since she had to contend with so many wicked people, the Princess ought to become the worst of them all.
The Princess was not yet the worst. Not yet, but she was already troubled by it. He stayed by her side at all times; what the Princess saw and heard, he saw and heard. He knew her heart had been shaken by those accusations, and that was dangerous for her.
He wanted the Princess to win, and he wanted her to be happy. When she was happy, even the gods and buddhas would be moved.
Zhao Rongzhang did not take Little Mute’s haltingly expressed words too seriously. What did this foolish little cat know of good and evil, or of the schemes in her heart? In this world, the ones who could understand her were her Mother Consort, and perhaps Ming Luo as a distant second. With Mother Consort gone, there was no one left in the world who could passionately unravel her sorrows.
Nevertheless, during breakfast that day, Zhao Rongzhang ate most of the food served by the palace maid. For one, the night had been physically draining, and she needed to replenish her strength. For another, she did not want to reveal her emotional state to others, especially not through such trivial details.
Once the marriage alliance policy was finalized, the process moved swiftly under Zhao Jue’s urging. The Turkic king readily agreed and did not seem overly concerned about the deaths of the three envoys. The lavish betrothal gifts were already on their way, including rare and exquisite fox furs, wolf pelts, saddles, leather boots, and more. Among them were two prized Tianma Hanxue Baoma horses, a hunting eagle Haidongqing, and a piece of Qingluan Yu—all considered their most precious treasures.
With such generous betrothal gifts, the dowry to be sent along naturally could not be lacking. Great Zhou, as a major Central Plains power, had to demonstrate its dignity. In addition to a lifetime’s supply of silks, satins, gold, silver, and various treasures for the Princess, over a hundred skilled physicians and artisans were selected. Most importantly, the court would agree to open mutual trade between the two nations.
The dowry list was personally selected and repeatedly deliberated by the Grand Empress Dowager. It detailed the names of the palace maids to accompany the Princess and every item she would need for her daily life, down to the heat-protecting sleeves for drinking tea and the handkerchiefs for wiping sweat. At the end was a jar of soil from her homeland.
Zhao Rongzhang read the list expressionlessly.
Ming Luo said, “The Grand Empress Dowager asks if the Princess has anything to add.”
Zhao Rongzhang glanced at the now-unfamiliar Lingxiao Hall, thought of the Princess’s Mansion that had been burned down and still not repaired, and shook her head. She would take nothing with her. She was certain she would return.
The date for departure to the Turkic capital was set for a month later. In June, when the weather was at its hottest. According to secret reports, many regions of the Central Plains would suffer severe droughts this year. With one piece of bad news after another, rather than complaining, the common people had grown increasingly numb. As for the marriage alliance, only the court still cared.
Prince Su was secretly forging weapons and gathering troops, while Zhao Rongzhang held a secret route into the capital and the most detailed map of Great Zhou’s territories—things he would certainly need. Ming Luo had already arranged everything according to her wishes. Once the marriage alliance procession traveled west to Xiguandao, Prince Su’s men would “capture” them. The new emperor was unkind, struggling to provide relief to the disaster-stricken southwestern regions, and the suffering people were already discontent. Meanwhile, Prince Su used his own guard troops to aid in disaster relief and firefighting, opened granaries to distribute food, personally cooked porridge for the needy, and helped rebuild homes for the people. Through these practical deeds, he had won considerable public favor.
The Princess held no real power. She intended to use the hands of those in authority, leveraging their strength against each other, watching them tear one another apart until both sides were exhausted. The Princess had never doubted the righteousness of her actions before, because in the past, she had been sheltered under her parents’ wings, and her hands had never actively been stained with blood. In her previous life, the words of the imperial family—one character capable of mobilizing thousands of troops, one character able to move the masses—had been taken for granted.
But from the moment she sent Little Cat to kill her first betrothed, her hands were no longer clean. This could still be justified as retaliation against Zhao Jue. Yet, meddling in the relationship between Great Zhou and the northern frontier would implicate far too many people.
For instance, the young palace maids, guards, physicians, and artisans accompanying her on the journey would all become sacrifices in her scheme. If relations between the two nations collapsed and war broke out, the sacrifices would be countless. Moreover, a battle between Zhao Jue and Prince Su was inevitable. Having studied history since childhood, Zhao Rongzhang knew well that such sacrifices were merely threads woven into the robes of those in power. Her conscience was not entirely extinguished; when she thought of the secret disaster reports she had read, she would occasionally feel a flicker of doubt.
But doubt aside, she would not waver.
Just a few days after the dowry list was finalized, someone from Renshou Palace came to say that Zhao Zhu had learned to call her “sister,” and the Grand Empress Dowager wanted her to spend time with her younger brother. When Zhao Rongzhang arrived at Renshou Palace, Rui An did not come out to greet her, but as she approached the door, she could hear her voice. Rui An was standing slightly in front of the Grand Empress Dowager, reading unapproved memorials.
Zhao Rongzhang called out from behind the curtain, “Imperial Grandmother.”
The elderly figure behind the curtain raised a hand, and Rui An’s voice fell silent. Shortly after, she came over to lift the curtain. A palace maid served tea and retreated. The Grand Empress Dowager had someone bring Zhao Zhu over. The child, nourished well on milk, had grown quickly, his face and body plump and round. Zhao Rongzhang glanced sideways at him; the child looked up at her, and Rui An bent down to coax him, urging him to speak. He called out a slurred “sister.”
“Don’t be fooled by his healthy appearance. In truth, Zhu’er’s constitution is far weaker than that of an ordinary child. Your Mother Consort exhausted herself to protect him, taking too much medicine—and medicine carries its own poison. It is only by the fortune of being born into the imperial family, clothed in silk and fed with delicacies, that he has been nurtured to this state.”
“Imperial Grandmother is kind-hearted and dotes on him, granting him this fortune.”
“Your Emperor Father loved you just as dearly. Over a decade ago, whenever he heard you crying in the middle of the night, tormented by fetal poison, he would rise to pick you up and personally lull you back to sleep.”
Zhao Rongzhang remained silent. These were anecdotes that had been relished by palace servants over the years, meant to highlight the depth of Emperor Father’s favor toward her. When Zhao Zhu was born, Emperor Father had not even glanced at him. The name “Zhu” was only bestowed after repeated reminders and urgings from the Imperial Clan Court, its meaning far less profound than that of “Jue.”
“Ah. If you had been born into ordinary families, I wonder how many cries would have been heard by heaven and earth?” the Grand Empress Dowager said meaningfully. “The blessings of the imperial family are the suffering of the people.”
Zhao Rongzhang patted Zhao Zhu’s head.
“Who knows how many more times you will be able to call him ‘sister’? You have responsibilities you must bear, and you must bear them well. Otherwise, the blessings you once enjoyed will turn into ten thousandfold suffering upon you. Beyond these words, I have nothing more to give you.”
These words from the Grand Empress Dowager were a final admonition. Zhao Rongzhang returned to her quarters.
The worries in her heart lingered, surfacing from time to time. Sometimes, she wished Mother Consort would visit her dreams again, even if only to frighten her. But it never happened.
That night, she had eaten her fill at Little Cat’s place, and in the following days, her thoughts on the matter faded once more. As the planned time drew nearer, the arrangements to be made multiplied. Though Ming Luo helped manage them, the worries were no less. At dawn, she would suddenly wake early, unable to fall back asleep. This was originally a rare occurrence for her. Zhao Rongzhang’s life principle had always been to seize the day’s joys without delay. No matter how difficult, she would eat; no matter how unhappy, she would sleep. But recently, she had broken her rice bowl and collapsed her pillow, failing to uphold both principles.
It seems those who crave power cannot afford a shred of conscience. Zhao Rongzhang lay with her eyes open, gazing at the dimly lit canopy in the night, acutely aware that in this profound silence, someone else was awake just like her.
The once resplendent Lingxiao Hall, where palace maids once moved like schools of fish, had long since dimmed. Smiling faces had turned into deathly masks, liveliness into stillness. The echoes of lively laughter still reverberated in her mind, but her eyes beheld only emptiness. It wasn’t quite terrifying—Zhao Rongzhang did not deeply believe in ghosts and spirits, nor did she fear them—but it was far too lonely.
She sat up and called for Little Cat, only to realize that between her and the cat, aside from assigning assassination tasks and intimacy, there was little other communication. Propping herself on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, she tilted her head to look up at the cat’s indistinct face in the darkness, unable to recall why she had summoned him. It wasn’t for intimacy—she felt no desire.
Immediately, she thought of his words: “The Princess should be worse.” At this moment, the words felt unexpectedly reasonable, unexpectedly resonating with her heart. She should cast aside all superfluous thoughts and march toward “wickedness.” She needed to be wicked enough—wicked enough to rid herself of so much self-doubt.
She and the cat stared at each other in the dark. The cat, clad in black, blended into the night, only his face and eyes standing out in different shades, like a true Mysterious Cat. In this world, only two people had seen him: her and Ren Ping. She called him Little Cat, while Ren Ping called him Mysterious Cat. It seemed his resemblance to a cat could be a consensus among most.
Would a real cat think like him? Are they actually clever?
The cleverness of the cat is beyond imagination~ The Princess would rather suspect that all cats are clever than consider the possibility that the cat might be a human, hahaha [dog head holding a rose]
Thank you all for the nutrient solutions and thunder donations! [I beg you] There’s a chance I might not be able to update tomorrow (my brain is a mess from exhaustion after getting home). If there’s no update past midnight, then there won’t be one. But! I’ve taken a lovely day off on Saturday and plan to write a ton to my heart’s content! Wait for my big update, folks, please don’t abandon me, ahhhh I don’t want to be left alone!!! (collapses weakly.jpg)
And I forgot to mention! The Princess is young and still has a rather naive mindset, while the cat’s world is even smaller. Both babies have room for growth in their thinking, so thank you all in advance for your patience with them! [Please]