Chapter Forty-Six: Old Jiang Is Betrayed

After the imperial physician prescribed the antidote, Zhu Yu warned him to keep silent about it, then secretly returned to his study. This poison was rather peculiar, arousing Zhu Yu’s curiosity—he wanted to see just what sort of tricks would be played out in the end.

With a plan forming in his mind, Zhu Yu found a palace maid skilled in cosmetics and arranged for her to stay by his side. He instructed her to make him appear listless and haggard, reminding her to touch up his makeup whenever no one else was around.

Two days passed in this fashion, and unexpectedly, the palace remained perfectly calm, without the slightest disturbance. This struck Zhu Yu as odd. Casually, he asked the eunuch beside him, Eunuch Wu, “Eunuch Wu, how do I seem lately? Physically, I feel my complexion looks a bit off.”

At his words, Eunuch Wu peered closely at Zhu Yu’s face, pale from the cosmetics, and replied cautiously, “Your Majesty, your body is quite well. Perhaps you’ve been… a bit too active in the bedchamber lately, but if you eat more nourishing foods in the coming days, your complexion will soon be as rosy as before.”

Hearing this, Zhu Yu’s face darkened and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

After composing himself, Zhu Yu pressed on, unwilling to give up. He asked indirectly, “Eunuch Wu, what do you think would happen to someone who couldn’t eat, drink, or sleep well for a long time?”

“At first, they’d become irritable and quick-tempered. But if it continued, they’d grow weak, fall ill easily, and if nothing changed, they would eventually die in pain,” Eunuch Wu replied after a moment’s thought.

Zhu Yu shivered at this answer. Was the mastermind behind all this simply playing games, or did they truly hate him enough to torment him to death?

For now, Zhu Yu couldn’t guess the true motive, but he’d already decided—he’d go along with this charade for five more days. If nothing changed, he would flip the table himself, and hoped the culprit was well hidden.

With this in mind, Zhu Yu cast a suspicious glance over the eunuchs and maids serving him, making everyone anxious and introspective, wondering if they’d somehow offended the emperor.

Of course, he spared Eunuch Wu—after all, the man had served through three reigns, his loyalty beyond question. Besides, with his age and frailty, what could he possibly do?

And so, with these thoughts, Zhu Yu saw out another day.

On the second day, a rumor swept through the palace: for reasons unknown, the emperor was in a foul temper, punishing three eunuchs and two maids before noon.

On the third day, the rumor changed again—it was said that with just a few extra words, Chief Cao of the Eastern Depot had been thoroughly scolded by the emperor.

By the fourth day, all eunuchs and maids started to avoid the emperor as much as possible, fearful that a single misstep would cost them their heads.

On the fifth night, Zhu Yu had grown tired of acting. The next morning, he would summon Zhu Wushi, Zhuge Zhengwo, Cao Zhengchun, and Yu Huadian to the palace. With the power of the four great agencies combined, Zhu Yu was determined to uncover the poisoner. Even if one of the agencies was involved, the other three would tear them apart without mercy.

But just as he thought it would end, the situation changed on this last night.

To be prepared for anything, Zhu Yu had been staying in his side palace these past days, meeting all changes with calm. He didn’t even bother to keep up the act—he meant to sleep soundly. Yet, just as he drifted between wakefulness and slumber, a peculiar scent reached his nose, wholly different from the incense he usually used.

The fragrance soothed his recent irritability, but even in that calm, Zhu Yu’s senses sharpened, his body tensing, ready to strike at any moment.

With a soft creak, his door was pushed open.

The sound set his nerves on edge—was he about to be attacked, or would he capture the assassin himself?

What happened next, however, was far beyond Zhu Yu’s imagination.

No assassin wielding weapons appeared. Instead, a stunningly beautiful woman of mixed heritage, clad in gauzy garments, began to dance seductively before him!

Zhu Yu was utterly stupefied.

Mouth agape, at a loss for words, he considered seizing the woman, yet the dance was so mesmerizing that he decided to wait a little longer.

But as he waited, the fragrance in the room changed again. Within three breaths, Zhu Yu collapsed onto the bed, fast asleep.

At that moment, the Rama Divine Skill within him began to operate on its own, purifying the toxin. In no time, Zhu Yu awoke.

But when he opened his eyes, the mixed-blood beauty had already vanished without a trace.

Standing alone in the empty palace, Zhu Yu couldn’t help but laugh and cry. What was the meaning of this? If you want to present a consort, just say so. With the exception of a few, I’m hardly one to refuse beautiful women—don’t think I’m so virtuous; I’m quite the lecher.

Now Zhu Yu truly wished he could summon the mastermind and scold them thoroughly.

If you want to present a beauty, do it properly. As long as I like her, there’s no reward I wouldn’t give. Why play such tricks? The beauty is mine for certain, and as for you—your fate is sealed.

He had been so sleepy before, but who could rest after someone barged in to perform a seductive dance and then left? As emperor, he certainly couldn’t act himself—time for the old routine: the selection of a favored consort.

The next day, feeling refreshed, Zhu Yu summoned the palace’s top painter and, based on his description, had the artist create a lifelike portrait of the mixed-race beauty from the night before.

Once the portrait was done, Zhu Yu showed it to the surrounding eunuchs and maids, declaring, “Last night, I dreamed of this woman, and now my heart is utterly captivated. Anyone who knows her, or someone similar, come forward—there will be a great reward.”

With that, Zhu Yu went about his affairs, confident that if the mastermind’s intent was truly to offer a beauty, they would soon reveal themselves.

Sure enough, within a quarter of an hour, Hong Gonggong, a steward under Eunuch Wu, came to see him.

The first thing he said was, “Your Majesty, this servant recognizes this woman.”

“Oh? Speak quickly, whose daughter is she?” Zhu Yu feigned impatience.

Hong Gonggong didn’t hesitate. “This servant met her once—she’s the eldest daughter of Jiang Biehe, a figure from the Jianghu of Weicheng. Her name is Jiang Yufeng.”

At this, Zhu Yu forgot all about punishing Hong Gonggong. His first reaction was: Jiang Biehe and his wife Jiang Liu were both proper Han Chinese, weren’t they? How was their eldest daughter a mixed-blood beauty?

In the end, Zhu Yu came to a bizarre conclusion: Old Jiang had been cuckolded.