Chapter Sixty-Six: Secrets

For several days, Zhu Yu racked his brains over whether Western Xia would make further moves, yet failed to devise a perfect solution. Just as he was lost in thought, a diplomatic letter from Western Xia arrived.

The letter stated that in five days, an envoy from Western Xia would arrive to demand compensation for the alleged poisoning of their people by the Eastern Bureau on Western Xia territory.

When Zhu Yu first laid eyes on the letter, he was utterly stunned, half-convinced he must have misread it. He had been so preoccupied with defending against Western Xia’s covert schemes, never expecting they would come at him so openly.

After that, Zhu Yu washed his hands of the matter. He summoned the Minister of Rites, set forth his bottom line, and entrusted the entire affair to the Rites Ministry.

In the days that followed, though Zhu Yu feigned indifference, he secretly monitored the progress of negotiations between the two nations. He also mobilized various agencies to confirm Western Xia’s intentions—once he was certain they truly came for money and not merely to stall, he relaxed his terms somewhat.

Truth be told, he truly feared Western Xia might act in desperation.

This episode also made Zhu Yu reconsider his plans for venturing out of the palace to roam the martial world. If word of his departure ever leaked, there was no doubt Western Xia would marshal all its forces to hunt him down.

Thus, with nothing to occupy him, Zhu Yu found himself idle and confined within the imperial palace. In the blink of an eye, winter arrived.

Though it was not Zhu Yu’s first winter in this world, he still struggled to bear the cold without modern comforts. Fortunately, he was no longer the frail, powerless Zhu Yu of the past. Though he still felt the chill, it was nothing like last year, when he spent every moment outside court huddled in bed.

Meanwhile, Blackstone continued to develop in an orderly fashion. Unlike the Wheel King, Zhu Yu did not exploit it ruthlessly, and as a result, Blackstone’s assassins grew ever more efficient, securing the organization’s place at the very pinnacle of the assassin world.

Zhu Yu’s idleness was only of the mind; his body was far from languid. Before winter had ended, he had almost entirely explored the inner palace.

Though Zhu Yu darted left and right throughout the harem, savoring his unfettered freedom, there was one person growing increasingly jealous—Jiang Yuyan.

Ever since Zhu Yu had made Jiang Yuyan his favored consort, the oppression she had imagined never materialized. Rather, the other concubines sought her favor at every turn.

This gave Jiang Yuyan the illusion that the harem was a harmonious and happy family. There was even a moment when she regretted how she had once treated Ye Zhanqing.

But reality soon awakened Jiang Yuyan from her dream.

Recently, Zhu Yu’s behavior had sent a subtle signal to the harem: Jiang Yuyan had lost favor.

The concubines who once visited frequently now withdrew, whispering among themselves behind closed doors. If that were all, Jiang Yuyan could do little but silently remember their names for future reckoning.

Why was she so confident she would outlast them? First, she believed none in the harem loved the Emperor as she did. Second, Jiang Yuyan had, only the day before, once again visited the Eastern Bureau’s secret prison and emerged as the new female grandmaster.

In terms of beauty, few in the harem could rival her. What’s more, she now possessed martial prowess far beyond theirs—how could they compare? As for Zhu Yu’s behavior, Jiang Yuyan understood: an emperor must grant his favor to all.

But what should never have happened was that some believed she had fallen from grace and came to her palace simply to mock her.

This person was Consort Li—once the most eager to please her among the concubines, and, according to Yu Huataian, the main mistress of Liu Xi in the harem.

Today, as usual, Consort Li paid a visit to Yuxiu Palace, cheeks aglow. She did not bother with veiled sarcasm, but anyone could see she had come to flaunt herself.

After all, imperial movements could never be hidden in the harem. No matter their relationships, every concubine kept tabs on the Emperor’s whereabouts. That Zhu Yu had spent the previous night in Consort Li’s chambers was no secret.

Consort Li knew this well. She had come to Yuxiu Palace not only to "bring warmth," but also to stoke Jiang Yuyan’s ire.

Thus, with the moon cresting the branches and the hour late for sleep, Jiang Yuyan lay awake, fuming. Leaning against the window, she gazed at the moonlight, lost in thoughts of the Emperor.

Suddenly, a faint rustling came from the flowerbeds outside. In an instant, Jiang Yuyan snapped to attention. She thrust her arm out the window, wrist flicking outward toward the source of the sound, and in a heartbeat, drew her arm back.

But this time, her fair, jade-like hand was clenched around a writhing, hissing viper.

Upon seeing what she held, Jiang Yuyan frowned and was about to crush the snake, but then, as if struck by a sudden thought, her brow smoothed. Alone in her chambers, she let slip a cunning smile, as though for an unseen audience.

With a casual gesture, she threw on a cloak and slipped out the window, showing no fear of the harsh winter night.

She wandered leisurely through the palace grounds, but anyone watching would see the truth: though her face was composed, she moved like a phantom, swift as a wraith, heading straight for Consort Li’s quarters.

With her current abilities, aside from the palace’s true masters, few could detect Jiang Yuyan when she wished to remain unseen.

In no time, she arrived at Consort Li’s palace, tracing a path she knew well—thanks, ironically, to Consort Li’s former eagerness to host her.

Yet what surprised her was that while the rest of the palace was dark, Consort Li’s boudoir was still lit.

She recalled how Consort Li once preached the virtues of sleep to anyone who would listen, extolling the benefits of beauty rest—insisting it was a secret from the Emperor, shared only with close friends.

Now, however, she was openly violating her own advice.

Curious, Jiang Yuyan abandoned her original plan. In a flash, she appeared beneath the lit window.

“My lady, you’ve been mulling this over for more than a month. What do you intend to do? Please give me a clear answer—the Prince Duan is still waiting for my report.”

A sharp, piercing voice echoed from within.

At the very first syllable, Jiang Yuyan recognized it—Liu Xi. Was he on palace duty tonight? Why then was he in Consort Li’s chambers?

And Prince Duan—wasn’t he that idle prince who lived outside the palace, the Emperor’s own brother? What was his connection to Consort Li...

At this, Jiang Yuyan channeled her internal energy to sharpen her hearing, listening even more intently.