Chapter 86
Chapter 86
Late that night, Empress Dowager Yan Yu received a letter and a birdcage.
An indigo-feathered bird lay inside. His plumage was filthy and matted with blood. He was so thin he lacked the strength to stand. If his small body had not faintly risen and fallen, one might have thought him dead.
Yan’s eyes nearly split.
“Dailuan?”
She lunged forward and seized the cage with crimson-tipped fingers, disbelief shaking her voice.
At the same moment, two similarly sized birds flew from nowhere. One white, one black, they landed near the cage and cried out, their high, tender calls thick with grief.
Dailuan loved freedom and yearned for nature. Unlike Qingbai and A-Xuan, whom Fusheng ordered about until they spun in circles, he frequently disappeared.
No one had worried.
Who could have imagined he would return like this?
Yan’s hands shook with fury as she opened Fusheng’s letter.
It contained only a few words, yet murderous intent seemed to surge from the page.
“The Jiang family dies.”
* * *
In the imperial palace of Zhen, a black-clad man hurried into the Eastern Palace.
A green-robed man sat straight-backed behind his desk, book in hand and expression grave.
At the table beside him sat an ordinary-looking middle-aged man, writing furiously.
When Jian Zhang entered, Weiqing glanced at him and lowered his book.
“We will stop here today. Sir may return tomorrow.”
The sentence was spoken gently, yet the middle-aged man shuddered.
“Then this commoner shall withdraw.”
He hurriedly packed his things and left with his head lowered. Passing Jian, his hands and feet tangled, scattering books and papers everywhere.
Jian kindly helped gather them.
The wet ink clearly showed names such as “Murong Yuxin” and “Ouyang Xiong.” Jian handed the pages back without looking aside or changing expression.
The expression-management class His Highness arranged had proven somewhat useful.
As long as he did not encounter Miss Shengsheng’s venerable self, he could now remain calm even if Mount Tai collapsed before him.
“Your Highness, our people report that the frontier tribes appear to be preparing a major operation,” Jian said solemnly.
Interest appeared on Weiqing’s jade-gentle face.
“It seems the little barbarians are itching for a beating.”
His voice was warm, and his clear eyes looked especially “benevolent” in the lamplight.
Jian shivered.
Come to think of it, Fusheng had coined the phrase “little barbarians.”
That reminded Weiqing of a certain queen of complaints.
He stroked the storybook beneath his hand.
“Do not tell the Noble Consort yet.”
Jian was puzzled, but kept his expression still and obeyed.
Weiqing glanced at him.
Jian froze.
Why did His Highness look as though he desperately wanted Jian to ask why?
After a pause, Jian complied. “Your Highness, why not tell the Noble Consort?”
Weiqing’s lips curved in satisfaction, wicked amusement saturating his voice.
“For news this important, naturally I must deliver it personally.”
Jian stared.
He knew it.
* * *
At that moment, Siran Ming–who had never traveled far alone–faced the greatest setback of his life.
“Elder, do you know the way to Zhu Kingdom?”
“Zhu what?” The hard-of-hearing old man grinned with the only two front teeth remaining.
Siran repeated, “Zhu Kingdom.”
He bit down hard on “kingdom.”
“What kingdom?” the old man asked.
Siran raised his voice. “Zhu! Kingdom!”
“Zhu what?”
Siran fell silent.
He glanced at the heavy bundle of branches on the man’s back and pressed his lips together.
“Elder, let me carry those home for you.”
The old man revealed his two teeth in a delighted grin.
“Thank you, young fellow.”
* * *
“Xiaoyu, what do you think the chances are that Xiao Ming and His Highness will somehow know to send marriage proposals for you?”
Shengsheng sat beside Zhiyu, who was happily gnawing a pig’s trotter. Supporting her head in one hand, she asked with a vacant stare.
“What are chances?” Zhiyu asked.
Shengsheng handed her a cloth. “How likely something is.”
Zhiyu nodded. “Then there’s no chance.”
“Why?”
“Does Shengsheng think they are idiots?”
Shengsheng stared.
“You cannot say that! Listen, Zhiyu Jiang. No matter how wonderful a man is, he does not deserve you. You are the most precious girl in the world. Even heaven loves you. Do you understand?”
Zhiyu nodded. “I understand. Since I am heaven’s beloved girl, if Shengsheng is ever bullied by her husband’s family, I’ll kill him with a lightning bolt.”
Shengsheng paused. “That works too.”
Had she not been teaching the girl confidence?
“Third Young Miss, Madam summons you.”
A stern voice sounded outside.
Shengsheng and Zhiyu’s gazes snapped together.
It had begun.
Shengsheng quickly wiped Zhiyu’s mouth clean and caught her arm.
“Do you remember what I told you? Whatever happens, don’t panic?”
Zhiyu answered smoothly, “First, apply villainess makeup.”
“Not that.”
“React like a villain: ‘Ha. Things have become interesting.'”
Shengsheng nodded reluctantly. “That will barely do.”
The door opened.
Xiujuan, Madam Jiang’s senior maid, finally saw the Third Young Miss after a long absence.
Zhiyu Jiang.
She had grown even more beautiful. Her moon-white dress and simple ornaments made her look ethereal.
Behind her followed a little maid in plain clothes, head lowered and shoulders hunched, apparently timid beyond measure.
Xiujuan curled her lips in disdain.
“This way, Third Young Miss.”
The lawful wife’s residence deserved its status. Compared with the shabby courtyard occupied by Xiyuan and her daughter, its carved beams and painted rafters were magnificent.
As they crossed winding corridors, several brightly dressed maids gathered to watch.
“Look at her clothes. Even we servants dress better.”
“Stop. What if she hears?”
“Why be afraid? What can she do?”
Shengsheng glanced sideways and memorized the speaker’s face.
The leading maid could not resist boasting.
“The General cherishes Madam. A few days ago, he paid a fortune for craftsmen from Jiangnan to renovate this courtyard. Mind your steps. Do not damage anything.”
Shengsheng nodded.
Yes, yes. Normally, one should kowtow several times before entering such a sacred place.