Chapter 172: My Wife
This was a temple, so upon entering the hall, one would normally expect to be greeted by a gilded statue of Buddha. Yet this main hall was surprisingly empty.
There was nothing around, only a few golden pillars standing to one side. Following the carved swirling lotus patterns up the pillars to the ceiling, one could see a circular caisson in the very center, with a coiled dragon at its heart, eyes closed as if resting. Even so, it exuded an exceptionally solemn and imposing aura.
Walking further in, Lan Wu saw a prayer mat placed on the floor. Ahead was an altar, but it was concealed by curtains, making it impossible to see who was being worshipped. To the left stood a writing desk with sutras laid upon it.
Lan Wu instinctively glanced around—there was no one in sight.
She slowly knelt on the prayer mat, placed her palms together, and closed her eyes.
Outside the hall, Lian Qiao and Mujin stood together, having accompanied Lan Wu here.
Lian Qiao stole a glance inside and whispered, “Her Majesty is alone in there. Could there be any danger?”
Mujin, originally a hidden guard tasked with protecting Lan Wu, frowned slightly at her words before scanning their surroundings.
This was Wuji Temple, and the entire Changyong Mountain was royal territory, let alone the temple itself.
What kind of villain would be so foolish as to target Her Majesty here?
It would be no different from seeking death.
After all, although the area appeared deserted, several other hidden guards were actually concealed around Her Majesty.
Mujin glanced at Lian Qiao and shook her head. “Her Majesty is in no danger. Let’s wait patiently.”
They waited until the sky began to darken, with only about half an hour left before nightfall.
Lan Wu had spent one hour copying sutras in the hall, and the rest of the time kneeling on the prayer mat reciting scriptures.
She cautiously observed her surroundings for any changes, like those she had seen in her dreams, but the entire afternoon passed without incident.
When she left the temple, she suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion.
It was a common kind of fatigue, not to the point where she could fall asleep the moment she closed her eyes.
She thought it was just tiredness from copying sutras and paid it no mind.
The carriage returned to the villa just before nightfall.
After night fell, Lan Wu washed up early and went to bed, falling asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
This time, the dream came even faster. The familiar white mist gradually dissipated, and she once again saw Chu Mingheng’s figure.
This time, it was in the imperial court.
Below the steps stood civil and military officials, while above them was Chu Mingheng.
“If Your Majesty insists on this course of action, this old minister has no choice but to dash my head against the pillar of this hall to prove my loyalty—!!” With that, a somewhat thin minister, his face flushed red, eyes wide with determination, charged toward the golden pillar on the left.
!!!
Lan Wu was startled and instinctively turned her head away, taking a step back in retreat.
Yet the sound of impact never came.
The minister was blocked by eunuchs.
“Since Minister Wu is willing to die for his loyalty, I shall grant your wish,” Chu Mingheng’s voice rang out from behind, calm and unperturbed by the earlier spectacle of the attempted pillar strike. “The northern border garrison needs a loyal minister like you. Depart tomorrow.”
Hearing this, the other ministers who had been about to speak fell silent.
The northern lands were bitterly cold and barren, a place where even garrison generals struggled to endure, let alone a civil official from the court.
Meanwhile, that Minister Wu trembled all over, his face taut, and could only kowtow toward Chu Mingheng: “Your humble servant… thanks Your Majesty for your grace…”
Lan Wu watched this scene, somewhat unclear about what matter was being discussed.
What she had seen in her dream yesterday was Chu Mingheng seeking out Master Huifan, and Master Huifan telling him that in the next life he would be able to meet her again. The crucial part was that she hadn’t heard the words that followed, because she had woken up.
And now this was…
In Lan Wu’s eyes, Chu Mingheng at this moment looked much like his usual self, except he clearly hadn’t been eating properly—he appeared thinner, the red veins in his eyes were still there, and his expression held a trace of impatience.
Once again, she tried to see if she could reach out and touch Chu Mingheng.
The result was still impossible.
Lan Wu sighed softly and looked at the court officials below, wondering what had driven the ministers to threaten to dash themselves against the pillars this time.
But she soon found out.
“When have I ever needed to listen to your opinions on whom I wish to make Empress?” Chu Mingheng seemed to curl his lips mockingly as he said this, his voice low and firm. “I am merely informing you: from this day forth, until my death, there will only ever be one Empress for me.”
“If you wish to dash yourselves against the pillars, if you wish to submit memorials—go ahead.”
“I only wonder whether the cells of the Imperial Prison are sufficient or not.” Chu Mingheng’s icy voice was like a sharp blade, slicing inch by inch through blood vessels, chilling to the bone.
“Your Majesty, spare us—your humble servants dare not—”
…
It wasn’t until the court session was dismissed that Lan Wu, following behind Chu Mingheng, walked somewhat slowly, her steps hesitant.
She was already dead, yet Chu Mingheng still wanted to make her Empress—no wonder the civil and military officials were threatening to dash themselves against the pillars in the court hall.
To them, she was not only of lowly status but had also bewitched the emperor’s heart. They were probably inwardly rejoicing that she was already thoroughly dead; otherwise, who knew how she might bring disaster to the state.
Just then, there was a turn up ahead. As Lan Wu followed a few steps behind Chu Mingheng around the corner, white mist rose before her eyes again. After it dissipated, a new scene appeared before her.
Her eyes met a blaze of bright red, and the sound of bells and drums filled her ears. Only when the sounds gradually faded did Lan Wu clearly see the great hall before her.
Taichen Palace.
From the beams hung layers of crimson gauze, the curtains drawn back layer by layer to either side. On the sandalwood table were arranged peanuts and longans, with two wine cups set to the side. Behind a screen depicting mandarin ducks playing in water was a wide wedding bed, but no one sat upon it—only a magnificent phoenix crown rested at its center.
Beside the bed, Chu Mingheng stood quietly.
This grand wedding had no bride.
Lan Wu looked at his back, her eyelashes trembling slightly, and stepped forward to see his expression.
At that moment, a gentle breeze blew in through the window. This wind seemed to remind Chu Mingheng of something, and he finally stirred.
Lan Wu heard him speak.
“Ah Wu, I have married you.”
Lan Wu was stunned, watching as he gently sat down on the bed, beside the phoenix crown. His tone was unprecedentedly calm, as if he did not find this wedding in the slightest bit absurd.
Chu Mingheng marrying a dead person—wasn’t that a ghost marriage?
Lan Wu felt her mind in turmoil. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, yet no words came out.
But Chu Mingheng’s words continued unabated.
He lowered his head, turning his face slightly to look at the phoenix crown, and reached out to gently touch a dangling tassel of gold filigree and entwined flowers. “Huifan said I still have a chance to see you again, provided I do nothing to harm the nation’s fortune.”
“I originally thought being this emperor was truly meaningless, but hearing him say that, I have no choice but to continue.”
“…I married you, and now you are the Empress, Awu.”
Chu Mingheng smiled: “You’ve always been hinting to me before that your rank was too low. Now it’s high enough, isn’t it, Awu? You are my wife.”
“My wife, I have only you…”
When he spoke these words, Chu Mingheng paused for a long moment, his pupils fixedly staring in one direction, clearly lost in thought.
He murmured: “It’s all my fault… it’s me… I’m not good.”
“It was my mistake.”
Gradually, he tightened his grip, clutching the golden piece on the phoenix crown. The metal cut into his hand, and blood stained it.
Startled by that trace of blood, Chu Mingheng quickly withdrew his hand. Frantically saying sorry, he used his clean other hand to wipe away the bloodstain, while anxiously comforting himself, saying it was nothing, as if emphasizing something.