Chapter 16: The Emperor’s Passing

After leaving the palace, Wang Chen stepped out of Jianzhang Hall. Behind him, the heavy doors shut with a dull thud. The guards at the entrance had been replaced at some unknown time. He paused and asked, “You look unfamiliar.”

The guard bowed. “My surname is Huan, Huan Song. Lord Wang has been reassigned.”

Originally, the hall had been guarded by Wang Chi, but now it had quietly been replaced by members of the Huan clan.

“Why haven’t I seen the Eighth Prince lately?”

“At the end of autumn, the weather turned cold. His Highness fell ill and is now resting in Yuqing Palace.”

Wang Chen flicked his sleeve. “I’ll go visit His Highness.”

The guard hesitated. “His Highness… is not receiving visitors, for fear of spreading illness.”

Wang Chen looked at him deeply but did not insist.

As soon as he returned to the residence, Yan Ling came to him immediately, anxiously asking whether her father was happy to hear she was alive, and how her brother was doing.

Wang Chen’s expression was unreadable. Seeing this, the smile on Yan Ling’s lips slowly faded.

“What’s wrong?” she asked uneasily.

“I did not tell His Majesty,” Wang Chen said after a moment.

Yan Ling froze. “Why?”

He then recounted everything the Yonghe Emperor had said in Jianzhang Hall.

“That’s impossible! Father would never say that. No—this must be Prince Hui. He must have controlled Father!” Yan Ling was furious. She had spoken with her father at the hunting palace—how could his attitude change so drastically in just a few days?

“Even if it is Prince Hui, what then?” Wang Chen replied calmly. “Once the new emperor ascends, his maternal clan will rise with him. The Huan clan will grow stronger. My Wang clan does not get along with them. I… cannot and do not wish to oppose them.”

After much deliberation, he finally revealed his stance—cold, realistic, and tinged with regret.

Yan Ling couldn’t even enter the palace gates. And her true identity…

The Wang clan had only just recovered from the last rebellion. How could they risk everything for an “untrustworthy” prince?

Silence fell between them.

Yan Ling lowered her head, saying nothing. Wang Ke, standing nearby, felt a trace of sympathy, wondering if his father’s words had been too harsh.

“Then… what about my brother?” she asked again, eyes reddening.

“The Eighth Prince has been placed under house arrest,” Wang Chen said. “Prince Hui likely intends to use him to threaten you. I thought it best to tell you the truth so you may decide for yourself. If you surrender, perhaps Prince Hui will spare your life. Whatever the consequences… it is still better than death.”

His words carried a faint hint of mockery.

He patted her shoulder with pity. “Think it over carefully.” Then he turned and left.

Yan Ling slowly crouched down, hugging herself.

Soft footsteps approached. Fu Li quietly sat beside her, keeping her company in silence.

She felt miserable. She had been so close to entering the palace. Her uncle had almost agreed to help her—yet she was still one step too late.

Fu Li looked at her dejected expression and said softly, “Your Highness can do whatever you wish.”

“I just… feel unwilling to accept this,” she murmured. “I wanted to return with my head held high. But now even my uncle won’t help me.”

Without the Wang clan’s support, the secret edict hidden in her sleeve might become useless. She had disappointed her father. Her grand ambitions hadn’t even ignited before being extinguished.

She hesitated, conflicted… even beginning to retreat.

After a pause, Fu Li leaned close and whispered, “Your Highness… would you like to see Gongsun Zhi?”

Yan Ling’s eyes snapped up in surprise.

They went to see him.

Gongsun Zhi had recovered somewhat—his wounds had scabbed over, and he had regained consciousness, though he was still terribly thin.

When he saw her, he froze.

Yan Ling bowed solemnly. “I’m sorry. It was my fault you ended up like this.”

She had deceived him—that was the truth. But her gratitude and guilt were both sincere.

“It’s already come to this. I have nothing to say,” Gongsun Zhi replied weakly.

“If I am ever granted a fief in the future, would you be willing to follow me?” she asked directly. “I will ensure you live in wealth and security for the rest of your life.”

He hesitated. “Truly?”

Yan Ling removed her jade pendant. “This will serve as proof.”

He clenched his teeth and nodded.

Before leaving, she left behind enough money to improve his living conditions and arranged for someone to care for him.

The next day, she watched as her uncle entered the palace in court attire. This time, Xie Chongqing’s carriage did not follow.

So, those previous days—he had indeed been deliberately opposing her.

From her residence in the Wang estate, she could overlook half the street, including the Xie residence.

She watched for a long time but did not see Xie Chongqing leave.

At noon, Wang Chen returned.

“The battle in Luoyang has been won,” he said. “The rebel Yao Chong has been captured alive. The Grand Marshal will soon return in triumph.”

Yan Ling nodded. “That’s good news…” Yet her heart sank.

“Do you still wish to enter the palace?”

“I… yes…” She was reluctant to give up, but she also understood reality. She was too weak—insignificant before absolute power.

After a moment, Wang Chen said, “You could try seeking your grandmother—the Princess Xiangcheng—at the Wang family estate outside the capital.”

Yan Ling froze.

“But even if she helps you,” he added, “she can only bring you in to see His Majesty once. If Prince Hui discovers it, you will still have no way out.”

Yan Ling still decided to try.

She and Fu Li set out in a carriage. Just as they left the Wang residence, they ran into Xie Chongqing’s carriage head-on in a narrow alley.

Only one carriage could pass.

Yan Ling lifted the curtain. “Lord Xie.”

From the opposite carriage, a hand like carved jade appeared, revealing part of his face. He said nothing.

He looked more ill than before—pale, almost as if he might die at any moment.

“Your Highness is heading to the palace?” he asked, staring at her.

“Yes. Please make way,” she replied bluntly.

A faint, mocking smile curved his lips. “Yuan Che, let Her Highness pass first.”

As their carriage moved forward, Fu Li suddenly rammed into Xie Chongqing’s carriage.

Inside, Xie Chongqing swayed slightly, then frowned.

“My lord, are you alright?” Yuan Che asked.

“What was that?”

“It was the Twelfth Prince’s carriage. That Hu s*ave deliberately struck us.”

“Shall we—”

“No need,” Xie Chongqing said coldly.

A bronze bell hanging from the carriage shook loose and fell to the ground with a sharp crack.

His expression turned icy.

Second time.

There would not be a third.

Yan Ling noticed Fu Li’s actions but chose not to scold him.

Instead, she leaned out and called, “Lord Xie, my apologies.”

Yet a smile lingered at her lips.

As their carriage moved toward the city gates, the sky suddenly darkened. Cold winds rose, scattering leaves and dust.

The bronze bell on their carriage chimed faintly.

At the same time—

A deep, mournful toll echoed across Jiankang.

Once. Twice. Again and again.

All the citizens stopped, staring toward the palace.

Fu Li frowned. “Your Highness… that sounds like the palace.”

Yan Ling heard nothing else. The tolling filled her mind, echoing endlessly.

Even Xie Chongqing’s carriage stopped.

Forty-five tolls.

Finally, someone whispered, “That is the death knell… His Majesty has passed.”

The streets erupted in shock.

Yan Ling trembled, only realizing after a moment that it was her own body shaking.

Fu Li touched her arm. “Your Highness.”

Tears fell silently.

Her chest felt tight, suffocating—like countless ants gnawing at her heart.

Soon, soldiers arrived, announcing:

“The Emperor has passed! During the mourning period, no celebrations are permitted. And if anyone sees this person—report immediately. A reward of ten thousand gold!”

Fu Li glanced at the portrait—and his pupils shrank.

Yan Ling peeked through the carriage window.

It was her face.

“This is the Twelfth Prince,” the soldiers declared. “He released a white tiger that gravely injured His Majesty and then fled. His Majesty, overcome with rage, fell ill and has now passed away. He is to be captured.”

The crowd erupted in outrage.

Yan Ling clenched her fists.

This was Prince Hui’s doing.

Then, outside—

“Lord Xie,” a soldier called.

Yan Ling cautiously looked out—

—and met a pair of deep, distant eyes.

Her heart sank.

Xie Chongqing’s cold voice rang out:

“The s*ave driving that carriage just offended me and damaged my carriage. Shouldn’t you give me an explanation?”

Yan Ling could picture his contemptuous and arrogant face.