Chapter Seven

Today, the sovereign was not in the palace but at Mount Genyue. He intended to meet a very important minister here—not the minister coming to the palace to see him, but the sovereign himself making a special trip outside the palace to meet this minister.

A figure of immense stature stood firmly at the center of the pond in Mount Genyue. This towering presence immediately drew a wave of admiration.

Such a loyal subject, devoted day and night, stationed among the ten-thousand stones of Mount Genyue, working tirelessly for the welfare of the Great Song and the peace of its people—how could anyone doubt? People said, no wonder the sovereign was so fond of him, awarding him the noble title of Marquis Panggu. A faithful minister so endearing deserved every honor!

The sovereign narrowed his eyes, examining carefully, occasionally reaching out to touch and pat the figure, then withdrawing his hand to stroke his beard and smile softly.

“Upright and imposing, truly a divine official,” the sovereign praised. “Bai Letian’s words ring true—majestic and awe-inspiring, is it not so?”

“A true immortal has descended to this world, and only then does the divine stone follow. Otherwise, such a stone would belong only in a fairy mountain. How could it endure hardship and appear before a true immortal?”

The immortal’s brows curved in pleasure at the compliment.

“You all have exerted yourselves for the matter of Marquis Panggu,” the immortal sighed. “I have observed everything clearly.”

Suddenly, Li Yan’s throat choked with a few sobs.

“As long as the immortal obtains the celestial fruit, what are a little hardship for us servants?” he said. Then, stealing a glance at the sovereign, he studied his expression carefully before sighing quietly in turn.

The sovereign was no dullard—skilled in painting, calligraphy, and wielding power, he was exceptionally clever and sensitive. The moment Li Yan sighed, the sovereign immediately noticed.

“What troubles you?” he asked.

Li Yan cautiously displayed a troubled expression, glancing anxiously backward. “The Celestial Maiden’s investiture…”

The Celestial Maiden’s investiture, but how was it to be conducted?

Should a new Taoist temple be built for her? Should the Baolu Palace be bestowed upon her? Or perhaps some other gifts—lands? Servants?

Of course, Li Yan had ample wealth. He amassed money and land everywhere, clutching gold and silver mountains with both hands. Preparing gifts for Imperial Princess Chaozhen was but a trifle to him, insignificant in the least.

What mattered was that when Li Yan mentioned the Celestial Maiden, the sovereign naturally recalled the unresolved matters concerning her.

The sovereign’s slender eyebrows knitted slightly as he looked back.

Surrounded by a crowd like blooming flowers, the Celestial Maiden was too short to push her way forward.

“Has she caused any trouble these past two days?”

Li Yan bowed. “The Zishan Hall reports that the Celestial Maiden has been diligent in her studies and amiable with her sisters these two days—quite excellent. Yet she seems to be preoccupied with thoughts of Yuwen Zandu, though she has said nothing.”

The sovereign was silent for a long while, then snorted coldly. “He is well-versed and resourceful, but far too headstrong. He should not remain near the princes.”

With this statement, Li Yan felt half reassured.

But only half; in his heart, he knew the matter was far from over.

Yuwen Shizhong was headstrong and taught recklessly—not a grave offense. The sovereign might simply transfer him or expel him from the capital, and that would be the end of it.

But what if Yuwen Shizhong acted under the Crown Prince’s instructions, deliberately teaching the Imperial Princess in this way?

Though the princess spent much time in Baolu Palace, if the Crown Prince’s reach extended far enough, anything could be justified.

Li Yan had his own scheme; framing the Crown Prince was not difficult. Besides leveraging Yuwen Shizhong, he had several other moves ready.

However, he intended to first manipulate a less significant pawn—such as coaxing or intimidating a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl into uttering words she did not truly mean.

The Imperial Princess, known as the Celestial Maiden, had never known much care in her life.

If she were ignorant and greedy, seeing the room full of glittering treasures, she would have been overwhelmed with gratitude, ready to risk life and limb for Prince Yun.

If she were clever but timid, after casually chatting about wealth with Princess Ningfu and then suddenly acquiring this trove, she would understand the weight of these gifts and the importance of Prince Yun.

Moreover, what grand words would she need to say? It would suffice if she admitted before the sovereign that all she knew about Yanyun and Zhang Jue came from the Crown Prince and Yuwen Zandu.

Suddenly, Zhao Luming sneezed. Cao Ershiwulang instinctively took out a handkerchief, but just as he was about to offer it, he awkwardly withdrew it.

They were also at Mount Genyue. The Celestial Maiden was to follow, but the sovereign had deliberately neglected her these past days. She only needed to bow briefly behind him while he fondly touched Marquis Panggu.

The sovereign would not speak to her, nor would the others engage this troublesome little girl in conversation.

Mount Genyue was vast; once the sovereign had finished touching the stone and began chatting with others, she could slip away and wander about.

Her stroll led her to Cao Ershiwulang.

By the pond, willow trees hung down countless green silken threads. Each tree was robust, too thick for one or two people to embrace. Initially, it was surprising that such large trees had grown in Mount Genyue, recently renovated only a few years ago.

But now, no one was amazed. With the towering Marquis Panggu who could only enter the city by dismantling walls, what ancient tree could not come in?

Cao Ershiwulang had come specifically to find her, but his manner was as if Empress Guangxian Cao still lived in the harem—clear, straightforward, and open. He also seemed deliberately groomed, especially his face, which seemed heavily powdered... quite skillfully, as not a trace appeared on his nose tip or wings.

As she stared at him a few times, the handsome youth blushed.

Pale, rosy, translucent—she thought it must be some precious powder.

He seemed to cough twice, then lifted his head, regaining a gentle and amiable expression.

“I have some doubts about cultivation I wish to consult with the Imperial Princess,” he said.

Afterward, he smiled and looked at the few attendant girls by her side.

“You can watch from a distance,” she said, “so the Princess of Yun need not spend further.”

The youth’s pale, rosy face darkened.

“Is the Imperial Princess always so straightforward in Baolu Palace?” he asked.

“Are you not all forthright when praying to gods and Buddhas?” she retorted.

“The monks also recite ambiguous verses!” the youth was exasperated.

Seeing the veins bulging on his forehead, she thought perhaps it was not powder but some cold white skin care he had applied before bed.

“We have the support of Jade Pure Immortal,” she said, hands on hips, “so we need not trouble ourselves.”

“How do you know the sovereign will back you?” Cao Ershiwulang asked anxiously.

He got straight to the point.

“Do not ever mention Yuwen Zandu again.”

“And if I do?” she asked.

“You will be embroiled in a grave case,” he said.

After speaking, he felt the words were too heavy. She was only a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl—what did she understand, what storms had she weathered? She would surely pale with fright, unable to speak fully, tears welling in her eyes, utterly panicked.

He deeply regretted having spoken so bluntly. As soon as the words left his mouth, he planned gentle words to soothe her, thinking he could also ask Lady Wei to intervene. Alas, it was his own failure to choose words carefully.

Though the words came out in an instant, in that moment he had thought through much—he even considered preparing some exquisite, amusing gifts, secretly asking someone to bring them into the palace as compensation.

“Oh,” she replied softly.

Cao Ershiwulang stared blankly at the young girl in plain blue, her hair perfectly slicked into a bun, watching her black eyes spin.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked instinctively.

“No,” she said, “it’s like buying stocks.”

He blinked slowly. “‘Buying stocks’? What do you mean?”

She did not answer, only gazed at him with clear, pure eyes, and the youth suddenly realized she possessed something.

“What do you know?” he asked hurriedly. “If you know something, you must be doubly careful. Imperial Princess, do you know what will happen if you truly get involved?!”

She shook her head. “You tell me.”

“If the sovereign truly becomes angry,” he said, “he will exile you from the capital!”

Yuwen Shizhong’s demotion was already certain. Although he was merely suspended from teaching, the palace had more ears than just Prince Yun’s.

Perhaps those serving Prince Yun also served the Crown Prince, currying favor on both sides to please everyone.

On the very night the sovereign tenderly caressed Marquis Panggu, Yuwen family’s residence was brightly lit, where a group of civil officials began their counterattack.

Targeting Prince Yun directly was difficult. Setting aside the sovereign’s affection for him, believing him most like himself among his sons, Prince Yun was a prodigy who had achieved top ranks in the imperial exams. He could not be a man openly carrying a scandal.

Therefore, just as Li Yan unexpectedly struck at Yuwen Shizhong, favored by the Crown Prince, the East Palace’s counterattack had to select someone close to Prince Yun.

They discussed at length, then considered the loudest lackeys around Prince Yun—few were flawless.

Take Li Yan, for example. His ruthless money-making and land-grabbing had ruined countless families. As Liu Zongyuan wrote, “People cried to evacuate, famine and thirst struck fiercely, and on the wandering roads, the dead piled upon the living.”

So someone suggested, “Let’s target Li Yan.”

Yuwen Shizhong, lurking at home, shook his head. Writing such a memorial to the sovereign was pointless.

The sovereign would not read it, would not believe it. He thought Li Yan, a mere eunuch, was invaluable in procuring great wealth and helping him cultivate immortality in peace.

As for the people’s suffering, as for peasant uprisings—wasn’t Tong Guan sent to suppress them? Wasn’t it successful?

They needed to find something the sovereign would truly fear.

After some discussion, they reached a preliminary consensus.

But these eunuchs and ministers were cunning, not foolish. Their devious minds were all focused on the sovereign; they would not commit any taboos.

Yuwen Shizhong erred because he did not seek the sovereign’s favor at all.

Thus, the topic reached an impasse until someone suddenly spoke:

“I heard... that Imperial Princess Chaozhen is exceptionally precocious and seems to know some palace secrets.”

“But the problem is, if I am exiled from the capital,” the Imperial Princess seriously asked Cao Ershiwulang, “where would I go?”