Chapter 120: Fate’s Judgment

The main hall exuded a chill; as Zhuzhi entered, she felt it was scarcely warmer than outside.

Noble Consort Li sat on the main seat in brocade robes, her brows and eyes carrying a sharp, mocking edge, her gaze toward those below tinged with hidden resentment.

“This servant pays respects to Noble Consort Li. May Your Ladyship enjoy boundless fortune and peace,” Zhuzhi stepped forward and knelt in greeting.

Hearing this, Noble Consort Li sneered, “What peace do I have left now?”

“All thanks to you people.”

“What, did you come just to see my disgrace? Consort Shu’s dogs are truly loyal.”

Zhuzhi pretended not to understand her words, replying respectfully, “My mistress is concerned for Your Ladyship’s health, which is why she sent this servant here. Your Ladyship overinterprets.”

Noble Consort Li seethed with anger. Since being demoted from consort rank and stripped of her authority to assist in managing the six palaces, she had lived like a drowned dog. In the past, every palace would come to offer tribute, and Jinghua Palace was bustling daily. Now, it was desolate and cold. Because His Majesty had decreed a three-month suspension of her stipend, she even had to spend her own silver to purchase her monthly provisions—how wretched her life had become!

Consort Shu must be gloating now and had surely instructed the Inner Court Administration on how to handle deliveries to her palace.

Like the charcoal she bought a few days ago—it smoked heavily when burned, filling the entire hall and stinging the eyes until they could barely open.

She guessed at once it was Consort Shu’s doing. That shameless wretch—she’d see how long she could keep gloating.

“Concerned for me?” Noble Consort Li narrowed her eyes slightly at Zhuzhi. “Afraid I might die in Jinghua Palace someday, more like.”

Zhuzhi was taken aback by her words and quickly shook her head, saying she wouldn’t dare.

“Go back and tell your mistress that I’m doing just fine and won’t be dying anytime soon. I still have to watch all you women fall from the clouds and shatter to pieces,” Noble Consort Li said with a laugh. “Until I see that day, I won’t rest easy.”

Zhuzhi dared not respond to this, so she rose and took her leave.

She had looked around—there was no sign of Pan Xi in the hall. Was she not in Jinghua Palace, or had Noble Consort Li hidden her away?

Returning to Hanlu Palace, Zhuzhi reported to Zhaoyi Wen that she hadn’t seen Pan Xi. Zhaoyi Wen also found it strange.

A few days earlier, when His Majesty punished Noble Consort Li and Zhen Zhaorong, everyone’s attention instinctively focused on Zhen Zhaorong. After all, she was the most favored and had been reprimanded by His Majesty for the first time. Before anyone could gloat, Zhen Zhaorong fell ill, and from this illness, everyone discerned His Majesty’s true feelings.

Clearly, he still favored Zhen Zhaorong.

During this time, no one noticed that Jinghua Palace had mysteriously lost a person.

Could it be that Noble Consort Li, resentful over failing to present Pan Xi before the Imperial Presence, had simply killed her to vent her hatred?

“Go to the Inner Court Administration and ask if a palace maid named Pan Xi has been transferred somewhere these past few days.”

Zhaoyi Wen gave the order, still thinking Noble Consort Li wouldn’t have the audacity to openly kill someone in the palace—especially a palace maid who had already been presented before the Emperor.

Zhuzhi acknowledged the command and withdrew.

The door of Hanlu Palace was still open, letting in a cold gust that made one shiver.

Lan Wu had lain on the couch for half a day and already felt mostly recovered. Regarding Zhu Qing, she had told Chu Mingheng everything she knew. Last night, after Chu Mingheng came to dine with her, she also heard from him that Zhu Qing’s identity was not simple.

Zhu Qing was already of considerable age when she first entered the palace. Due to her incense-making skills, she was taken under the wing of the Empress at that time and remained in the palace for many years before finally being released. This year, she turned forty-five.

Over the years, the palace officials handling household registries had changed several times. Although Zhu Qing’s registry still existed, a glance at its contents revealed that her entry into the palace had been arranged by someone.

Last night, as Lan Wu nestled in Chu Mingheng’s embrace, listening to him recount these details, her expression grew particularly solemn. After a moment of thought, she said, “Mujin was a palace maid Your Majesty gave me to protect me. But in my previous life, when I was framed, Mujin was not by my side. So, when I saw them coming to my palace again, I became wary, fearing they might not be good people.”

“Since Zhu Qing knows how to make incense, could she have created some kind of hypnotic or poisonous incense to knock me and the palace maids unconscious, and then falsely accuse me?”

Chu Mingheng gently stroked her hair, his hand moving from the back of her head down to her waist, and nodded in agreement. “It’s entirely possible.”

“But where did her imperial edict come from?” Lan Wu frowned in confusion. “Even if it were a forged edict, if it were too obviously fake, who would believe it? In the end, the imperial concubines would still be punished. They must have believed the edict was genuine, which is why they allowed Zhu Qing…”

Nor could it have been an edict issued by Chu Mingheng.

Chu Mingheng tightened his embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. He rested his forehead gently against her chin, his sharp eyes, unseen by her, gradually filling with a hint of murderous intent.

An imperial edict.

He was not the only emperor who could issue one.

“In a few days, Master Huifan from Wuji Temple will enter the imperial city. I will have him come to see you, Ah Wu. How does that sound?” Chu Mingheng set aside his earlier thoughts and turned to Lan Wu with another matter.

Lan Wu looked down at him, her voice hesitant. “Is it Wuji Temple on Changyong Mountain?”

“Yes,” Chu Mingheng replied softly, taking Lan Wu’s hand and enclosing it in his own. “Master Huifan is a highly revered monk from Wuji Temple. I was born on Changyong Mountain, and at my birth, he performed a fate-reading for me.”

“What fate?” Lan Wu asked curiously. Given Chu Mingheng’s exalted status, she was surprised anyone dared to read his fate. She had never heard of this in either of her lifetimes.

Chu Mingheng chuckled lightly. “I don’t know. Although he performed the reading in my presence, one can hardly expect an infant to understand human speech from birth.”

“My mother knew, but she never told me. She only said the fate-reading was written down and then burned afterward. It likely wasn’t anything favorable.”

Lan Wu shook her head. “How could that be? It must have said that Your Majesty carries the mandate of heaven and would become a fine crown prince and emperor.”

Chu Mingheng looked up, seeing her unwavering gaze, and couldn’t help but pinch her cheek. “Silly Ah Wu, the Late Emperor was still alive at the time. Who would dare to make such a prediction?”

Lan Wu let out a belated “oh,” realizing the logic in his words.

“Then will he be able to tell that I am someone who has lived two lifetimes?” If he could truly discern that, it would be extraordinary.

Chu Mingheng shook his head without speaking.

Lan Wu herself had never heard of this Master Huifan, but she assumed others had.

As she pondered Chu Mingheng’s words from the previous day, a faint commotion arose outside the palace doors.

Shortly after, Mujin entered the hall and reported, “Your Highness, Yue Zhaorong and Mu Xiurong have arrived.”

Mu Xiurong?

Hadn’t she only invited Yue Zhaorong?

Lan Wu sat up, gathering her thoughts, and looked toward the direction of the palace entrance. “Please invite them in quickly.”

Yue Zhaorong, dressed in a light orange robe, entered the hall slowly, while Mu Xiurong, wearing a pale green garment, followed closely by her side.