The elderly woman with a limp inside the house heard the commotion and hobbled out.
Seeing Shen Wei blocked at the door by Prince Yan, the old woman sighed helplessly, "Oh, my dear concubine, I’ve told you before—His Highness will be fine. If you run into the city, you’ll only distract him."
Everyone assud Shen Wei had rushed out to find Prince Yan.
Prince Yan’s heart ached as he grasped Shen Wei’s delicate hand, his voice low and firm, "Listen to . I will stabilize the situation."
Shen Wei’s nose stung, and tears instantly spilled down her cheeks.
If not for the rose thorns snagging her skirt, she might have already slipped away unnoticed.
But what had truly ensnared her was far more than just the thorns.
"I understand," Shen Wei murmured, lowering her head. "The chaos is overwhelming, and I feared for Your Highness..."
Prince Yan wrapped his long arms around her once more, pulling her close. The faint fragrance of her hair soothed his restless heart, bringing him an unexpected calm.
Yanjing City was in turmoil, and Prince Yan was stretched thin. Yet, for reasons unknown, that morning he had been seized by an uncontrollable urge to see Shen Wei. Defying the dangers, he had ridden back to her.
After sending Cai Lian, Cai Ping, Ji Xiang, De Shun, and others to her side, along with four elite guards to secure the courtyard, Prince Yan lingered only a mont. His gaze deepened as he looked at Shen Wei. "Wait for my return."
With that, he led his n away at a gallop.
Shen Wei stood at the gate, watching until Prince Yan and his retinue vanished beyond the horizon. She exhaled deeply, resigning herself to the uncertain fate ahead.
Her original plans had gone awry, but this was no dead end. There was still ti to forge a new path.
No hardship can crush soaring ambition; as long as one lives, hope remains.
Cai Lian and Cai Ping attended to Shen Wei with their usual ticulous care.
Cai Ping reassured her with a smile, "Don’t worry, my lady. The three young masters are under the Empress’s protection, guarded by the imperial army. Nothing will happen to them."
After a pause, she added wistfully, "His Highness truly cherishes you. Despite the chaos in Yanjing, he risked everything to see you. Such devotion is rare."
Shen Wei smiled faintly, her heart unmoved.
True feelings are the cheapest currency. She refused to stake her future on a man’s fleeting affection or live at another’s rcy.
Love burns bright at its peak, but once it fades, it can turn to ashes—and blades.
Life was long. Who could guarantee Prince Yan’s love would endure?
Relying on others was futile. Her destiny was hers to carve.
"Cai Lian, fetch ink, brush, paper, and inkstone," Shen Wei said, turning toward the house. Her gaze flicked to the lush roses in the courtyard. "And have those roses cut down. They’re an eyesore."
The writing tools were soon brought in.
While Cai Ping busied herself brewing a restorative tonic in the kitchen, De Shun and Ji Xiang tidied the rooms, and the guards patrolled outside. Shen Wei sat at her pearwood desk, spreading out paper to draft a new survival strategy for the palace.
Once Prince Yan ascended the throne, she would inevitably enter the palace as his consort. But the imperial court was a far more treacherous battlefield than the prince’s manor—a gilded cage where no one could escape. Behind its towering walls, n and won sched for power, every corner stained with blood and deceit.
Her mind raced as she listed her challenges:
First, a flood of noblewon would enter the palace, each with their own tactics to win the emperor’s favor. Prince Yan’s heart might be divided.
Second, as the most favored in the manor, Shen Wei would beco the pri target of both new and old rivals.
Third, her children were young and vulnerable, and her own health had yet to recover from childbirth. Without strength, how could she fight?
Fourth, the Princess Consort would beco Empress, the nation’s mother. To maintain stability and public favor, the new emperor couldn’t neglect her. With the Empress ascendant, Shen Wei would face imdiate suppression.
Fifth, the struggle for the throne among princes would be fierce. She had to ensure her son’s succession.
The road ahead was fraught with peril. But Shen Wei wasn’t alone—she had the Empress as an ally.
The Empress had always undermined the Princess Consort while elevating Shen Wei. This ant the Empress was on her side, willing to support her.
With the Empress’s backing and Prince Yan’s affection, her life in the palace might not be unbearable.
Shen Wei allowed herself a brief sigh of relief before refocusing on her new plans.
She would keep striving, keep fighting!
As always, those who do not contend gain nothing. Fate lies in one’s own hands; the future is earned through struggle.
For the next three months, Prince Yan did not return to Shen Wei’s courtyard. Dark clouds lood over the Great Qing Kingdom, and unrest gripped Yanjing City.
Sumr faded into autumn, then winter.
As early winter arrived, a new sun slowly rose over the Great Qing Kingdom.
Winter ca harsh and early that year, freezing the land. After the funeral rites for the emperor and crown prince, craftsn dispatched by the Ministry of Works repaired the damaged streets of Yanjing, scrubbing away the bloodstains.
Prince Heng’s rebels had fled beyond the borders, and the new emperor’s ascension approached. Yanjing City healed gradually, inching back toward its forr prosperity.
On the frigid streets, soldiers marched a line of prisoners out of the city gates. The condemned wore thin rags against the cold—n burdened with wooden cangues, won shackled in icy chains. So faces were numb; others wept bitterly.
"Who are these exiles?"
"Traitors from the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion. They conspired with Prince Heng. The adults are banished to Lingnan for hard labor; the children are enslaved for life."
"Ah, wasn’t the marquis married to so county princess? Where is she?"
"She fled with Prince Heng’s faction. The Qing State has issued a warrant—capture ans execution."
Spectators buzzed with gossip. Prince Heng’s faction had been purged—exiled or executed.
Shangguan Xuan bore the weight of the cangue, his expression hollow.
Behind him, the wails of female relatives pierced the air. The loudest was Shangguan Qian, raised in luxury, now facing exile.
Sobbing, she begged, "Brother, I don’t want to go to Lingnan! I’ve never even married... Damn Zhao Qing! She ruined our family!"
Shangguan Xuan remained silent, a shell of a man.
For ten thousand taels, he had dood the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion. Knowing his defeat was inevitable, Prince Heng had fled beyond the frontier, leaving Shangguan’s household to bear Prince Yan’s wrath as a warning to others.
How had it co to this?
Shangguan Xuan stared blankly at the leaden sky. If only he hadn’t married Zhao Qing, if only he’d treated Sun Qingi better—her generous dowry could have steadied him. He wouldn’t have fallen for Prince Heng’s bribes.
But regret was worthless now. The South Garrison Marquis's Mansion had crumbled, its glory lost forever.
As for Sun Qingi... Shangguan Xuan thought disdainfully, her departure from Yanjing City might seem like a lucky escape from exile. But how could a fragile woman survive in such a cruel world?
No doubt, Sun Qingi wouldn’t be faring well.
...
anwhile, Zhao Qing, who had narrowly avoided exile, now lay with her hands bound by ropes, her body covered in wounds, and only two of her ten delicate fingers remaining.
Clad in armor, the guards tied her to the back of a horse as the small troop made their way beyond the frontier.
As night fell, the group halted to rest.
A bonfire flickered in the wilderness, the mountains of Southern Chu visible in the distance, while crows circled overhead. The guards patrolled vigilantly, their vigilance unrelenting.
Zhao Qing collapsed beside the fire, the warmth of the flas driving away the chill that clung to her. She was seizing every mont to soak in the heat when the sound of unhurried footsteps reached her ears. Trembling, she lifted her head in terror.
Her gaze landed first on a pair of black boots embroidered with gold, then traveled upward to the wide crimson robes fluttering in the night breeze. The man held a white jade fan, his dark hair loosely cascading over his shoulders. Prince Heng, Li Yuanli, had always favored red—his deanor seemingly frivolous, yet no one dared underestimate his ruthlessness.
In these past days, Zhao Qing had learned firsthand just how terrifying this prince could be. Even the demons of hell would flee at the sight of him.
Li Yuanli crouched by the fire, his sharp, upturned eyes glinting with amusent as he spoke in a voice like a siren’s lure: "Was the 'Taihua Notes' truly burned?"
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