Chapter 3: Little Cat Kneels to Receive Grace.

The initial attempt yielded unexpectedly good results. In truth, there was still some time before the heat toxin would fully manifest, but Zhao Rongzhang did not want to wait until the last moment to act out of desperation. So, upon feeling that familiar restlessness, she made a decisive move immediately.

As it turned out, this decision was excellent, correct, and perhaps even made a bit too late. However, it was only after waking that Zhao Rongzhang remembered the reward she had promised Little Cat beforehand.

Ming Luo came in and informed her about the assassination attempt on Young Master Xie. After a night of rumors spreading, the incident had already become the talk of the entire capital. Although the assassin had targeted the wrong person, the new emperor was still furious, venting his anger in court and ordering Ren Ping to capture the true culprit within fifteen days to give an account for the deaths of several prospective consorts. As for the marriage between Princess Yingrong and Young Master Xie, it was to be expedited further, with the wedding to take place within the month.

After Ming Luo helped Zhao Rongzhang rinse her mouth, she strolled to the courtyard to admire the flowers that were gradually blooming. These were all old plants from previous roots, and a few had died over the past months due to poor care. The empty patches of soil where they had been removed remained unfilled with new offerings.

In the past, flowers from the inner palace were prioritized for delivery to her mother’s Lingxiao Palace and her own Princess’s Mansion. But after her mother’s death and her father’s illness, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse. Now, with the Princess’s Mansion sealed off by Zhao Jue, even daily necessities like clothing and food had to be obtained at the mercy of others, let alone the luxury of fresh flowers to adorn the splendor.

Breakfast was served—a plain lacquered food box containing only a plate of milk pastry rolls, two plates of seasonal vegetables, and a bowl of rice porridge. Although it was appropriate to have simple meals during the mourning period, such a bland spread, lacking even a bit of chicken, fish, or white meat, clearly no longer adhered to the imperial family’s mourning regulations of “restraining oneself without harming one’s health.”

Zhao Rongzhang knelt before the portrait of the late emperor. While Ming Luo was still arranging the incense, she picked up her chopsticks. Her father had doted on her so much during his lifetime that he certainly wouldn’t mind this slight act of “disrespect.” He knew well that little Yingrong had always been a child who understood propriety but did not always abide by it.

The young girl listlessly stirred the porridge in her bowl. “I want to eat meat, Father.”

Once he died, they wouldn’t even let her have meat. Was this what it meant to be the most esteemed princess of Great Zhou? It was no different from being a pet whose owner had passed away. While the owner was alive, everyone bowed and paid homage to her. Once the owner was gone, the new master could kick over her food bowl at will. So, in truth, she had never been his child—his only child was Zhao Jue, the one who had received the imperial edict of succession.

Should she say her mother was clever? She had lived a life of madness, yet in the end, she knew she had to risk everything to give birth to a dragon son. A dragon son at least had the right to become a master, unlike a princess. Being her mother was no different in essence from being a merchant who sold cats and dogs.

Zhao Rongzhang finished every last drop of the porridge and cleaned up all the side dishes. She believed that the worse her appetite, the more she had to force herself to eat. After finishing the meal, she had Ming Luo bring two cups of poria dew.

With no one else in the hall, Zhao Rongzhang sat lazily in the grand master’s chair, holding a cup of warm poria honey water, and called Little Cat out.

Little Cat still kept his eyes lowered, standing before her with his back to the light. Memories of the previous night and the peculiar sensations came flooding back like a rising tide. Zhao Rongzhang gazed at him for a long time without speaking.

She needed to find a way to obtain a sterilizing decoction and feed it to Little Cat. She didn’t mind becoming a mother in the future, even though she was deeply aware of the horrors and risks of childbirth, even without a consort or a marriage contract. She also didn’t care who the child’s father would be, because it didn’t matter. The womb capable of bearing a child belonged entirely to her; her child could only be hers alone, unrelated to anyone else. But for now, she herself was still a fledgling child, a favored pet who had lost its master and could be restrained at will in her movements. A child would undoubtedly become a burden, dragging her down and preventing her from reaching the future. A child could only be her aid, her continuation. She only wanted useful children.

The Princess took a sip and said calmly, “Kill the Xie family’s child tonight. Don’t get exposed.”

Little Cat nodded.

But the Princess was somewhat uneasy. Zhao Jue would not let the matter rest, Ren Ping would not allow himself to suffer repeated setbacks, and Little Cat—last night was the first time he had ever failed in his life. To her, this was a very bad sign, like seeing a breach appear in a dam that had always been stable. She asked him, “What if you fail again?”

Little Cat made a simple gesture: “Won’t.”

The Princess couldn’t be bothered to look.

If he failed again, of course, he would go again and kill again. If he were caught, he would bite through the poison capsule under his tongue and end his own life. As for her, if she were defeated, she would temporarily compromise, marry if she had to—it would merely mean being placed under house arrest in a place with more eyes and ears. She would never give up. As long as she lived, there would be a future.

However, she hadn’t yet figured out how to cultivate a successor better than him if she lost such a useful weapon. He was a product of perfect timing and favorable conditions. Back then, her imperial favor was at its peak, and her father granted her whatever she wanted. She built the Shadow Pavilion, gathered unusual bone structures from across the land, nourished vessels with blood… It took seven years, with three hundred candidates dying, and only he was successfully raised.

There would never be anyone better than him. He’d better not lose.

Zhao Rongzhang pointed to the small table beside her. “A reward for you.”

Another bowl of poria dew.

Little Cat knelt to receive the favor, taking the bowl in his hands.

Zhao Rongzhang sipped her own drink intermittently, occasionally glancing at him. The hall hung with white banners was silent and still. Sunlight filtered through the pillars, casting his shadow at her feet.

This was likely the most humble thing Zhao Rongzhang had ever bestowed as a reward. In the past, when she casually scattered rewards to palace servants, it was at least golden peanuts or silver ingots, things like bear paws, venison, tiger livers, leopard gallbladders, lychees, longans… She could reward such things several times a month. As for Little Cat, she had never treated him poorly either, but external things like gold, silver, and treasures were nothing but burdens to him. He couldn’t wear them on his person and had nowhere to store them, so most of his rewards came in the form of food and medicine. Anything that could strengthen his physique or replenish his vitality—if she had it, she would save a portion for him.

Poria dew was just ordinary sweet water.

The cat was looking at his own reflection in the bowl. Zhao Rongzhang took another sip, and when she looked up again, she saw the cat had lifted his mask to the bridge of his nose and was drinking from the bowl.

He placed the clean jade bowl back in its original spot, pulled his mask back down, and the hideous fangs once again concealed those moist, red lips. Only those unusually bright, round eyes remained visible on his face.

“Do you know why I rewarded you?”

The round eyes lifted to look at her, like two exquisitely beautiful jewels. Jewels were lifeless things, incapable of shining on their own, but when light fell upon them, they emitted a beautiful luster even he himself was unaware of. He gestured, “Last night, the Princess was satisfied with me.”

Zhao Rongzhang felt an itch in her heart. No wonder rulers throughout history often indulged in the pleasures of the bedchamber—being pleasured by a beauty on the bed was an ecstasy few could resist becoming addicted to. She somewhat regretted ending things too early last night. But aside from stopping, she didn’t know how to prolong the pleasure.

In this regard, she still had much to study.

“Tonight, I’ll have someone prepare water for you. Don’t get yourself too dirty,” the Princess instructed before waving him off to attend to his duties.

After Guan Xuan left, Zhao Rongzhang summoned Ming Luo. Ming Luo had already compiled a list of spies planted in the residence by various factions, along with secret reports from their own cultivated informants in the palaces and noble households.

The Grand Empress Dowager still claimed illness and refused to appear. Zhao Jue had attempted to pay his respects several times, but she refused to see him. The young imperial brother, Zhao Zhu, was being raised under her care and remained safe.

This elderly woman was willing to protect Zhao Zhu but refused to uphold the principle of “no marriages during the mourning period” to rebuke Zhao Jue’s repeated attempts to arrange a marriage for her. It was clear she ultimately sided with Zhao Jue. She feared that Zhao Rongzhang might indeed act as Zhao Jue suspected—supporting her younger brother in the future, assassinating her elder brother, and seizing the throne. Marrying her off, into the grasp of one of Zhao Jue’s allies, would keep her firmly under control, unable to turn her fate around for the rest of her life. Everyone thought this way.

Zhao Rongzhang tossed the list into the charcoal brazier and burned it, then moved on to the next document. This one contained secret intelligence from the borders. The northern deserts had encountered another white disaster this year, with snow lingering past its season, pastures withering, and livestock perishing in droves. The Turks, while petitioning for the reopening of border markets, repeatedly raided southward. It was said that a newly enthroned and ambitious Turkic king in their royal tent had declared that if new grass did not grow by April and Great Zhou did not open trade routes, he would raise an army to plunder the Central Plains for grain and women.

Many regions of Great Zhou were themselves suffering from disasters. In Liaodong, wheat had frozen to death in the snow-covered fields. In the southwest, wildfires had scorched hundreds of miles across two prefectures. Meanwhile, in Jiangnan, the unceasing spring rains made it impossible to dry mulberry leaves, and silkworms died before they could spin silk. These were all extremely dangerous omens. Within three to five months at most, the delayed but severe consequences would erupt one after another.

Then there was the Prince of Su, who had been denied entry to the capital to mourn the late emperor. He was currently in the wildfire-ravaged southwest, and his recent movements seemed less than compliant.

With internal strife and external threats, Zhao Jue should have been overwhelmed with work. How did he still find the mind to select a consort for her, time and again? It was truly laughable.

One by one, the documents in her hands were burned clean. Zhao Rongzhang stirred the ashes in the charcoal brazier and decided to look at something more amusing. Without hesitation, she flipped through the exquisite illustrated scrolls and asked Ming Luo, “Can’t we find any books that teach the rituals of Zhou?”

Merely looking at illustrations still lacked a dynamic imagination.

Ming Luo moved the charcoal brazier farther away and replied, “Even if such books existed, I doubt Your Highness would want to read them. Works like Inner Admonitions and the Classic of the Plain Girl teach the duties of husband and wife—the wife submitting to the husband, prioritizing conception and childbirth. They wouldn’t teach you how to seek pleasure.”

“When you entered the palace at sixteen, were these the things the instructing matrons taught you?”

“Of course. Serving the sovereign meant adhering to the principles of the realm. How the Noble Consort served the late emperor, Your Highness knows a thing or two.”

“Hmph.”

Zhao Rongzhang had once believed her mother was different. She was moody, willful, mad, and cunning. As a child, Zhao Rongzhang often saw her mother, grinning widely, stepping on her father’s hand, forcing him to kneel and wash her feet. It seemed her father was always the one serving her.

But in the end, this arrogant and domineering mother of mine died on a birthing bed soaked in blood. To ensure she was truly carrying a male child, the once medicine-resistant Consort Ling drank a foul, bitter concoction for a full ten months before her death.

Perhaps the truth had always been as Ming Luo said—it was never my mother who enjoyed blessings and pleasures. Her various provocations and torments toward the emperor were a form of service in their own way. Just as some among the imperial relatives delighted in raising elephants, while others cherished taming tigers, the dangers and pains were merely a flavor they savored in their enjoyment.

Zhao Rongzhang scoffed, “Playing? Everyone has a playful nature—who can’t learn to play? I’ll indulge freely; even without a teacher, I’ll master it.”

Ming Luo hesitated for a moment before asking, “Last night, Your Highness…”

The young girl propped her round, fair cheek on her hand and sighed, “It was fine, just too fast.”

Ming Luo tilted her head thoughtfully. It seemed that being physically strong and skilled in martial arts didn’t necessarily mean much in this regard. She asked again, “Then… should we choose someone else?”

The girl shook her head. “I’m quite satisfied with him. When I said ‘fast,’ I meant myself.”

Ming Luo was suddenly left speechless.

“Help me get the sterility decoction. Don’t make a mistake—I won’t be drinking it. Within two days at the latest, I need to learn how to play with him.”