Chapter 111: Have a Drink with Me

Chapter 111: Keep Me Company for a Drink

A carriage slowly exited the palace gates and came to a halt before the prison. Jintao held a golden token and said coldly, "By order of the palace nobility, summon the prisoner Zhao."

This was a place for holding death-row prisoners—unlike ordinary prisons, it wasn’t bloody or filthy, but it was sinisterly oppressive. The thick stone walls enclosed a long, dark passage with no end in sight. No light penetrated, day or night, save for the flickering shadows cast by torches.

Jiang Wanrou walked inside and stopped before the cell holding Lady Zhao. She adjusted her cloak and called softly, "Mother."

Here, there was no distinction between day and night. At this moment, Zhao Sue was feigning sleep with her eyes closed. Startled by the noise, she bolted upright.

"You?"

Peering through the dim candlelight, it took her a long moment to recognize Jiang Wanrou.

Sitting on the stone bed, she eyed her coldly and said, "Who sent you? Qi Zhenyue? Or Lu Feng?"

Jiang Wanrou’s appearance was no longer familiar to her. Her figure had matured, her waist and hips fuller. From the Duchess of Lu to the Qi Consort and now the Empress—even silent, she commanded presence, a world apart from the timid, whispering girl of the past.

Jiang Wanrou said gently, "I came of my own will. It has been years since I last attended to you, Mother. Your daughter-in-law is deeply troubled."

This was none of her concern. Lu Feng was the one burdened with it—she only needed to sit securely upon the throne. Such a lose-lose situation was something her cautious nature would never have voluntarily touched.

But her heart ached for Lu Feng.

These past days, the fate of the Duke of Lu’s household remained unresolved. She watched helplessly as he grew increasingly somber, pressed by his court and his own guilt.

Lu Feng was not one to yield to coercion, but ruling an empire was different from leading troops into battle. On the battlefield, he could strike decisively, cutting down enemies with a single slash. But as a newly ascended emperor during a time of rebuilding, he couldn’t simply execute his entire court. Moreover, their demands weren’t unreasonable—the regicide was a grave matter in any dynasty, one that history would demand an accounting for.

Beyond the deluge of petitions, the conflict between avenging the late emperor’s death and the dying wish of the old Duke of Lu tore Lu Feng apart. Who was right, who was wrong? This tangled mess had no clear answer.

Lu Feng hadn’t confided any of this to Jiang Wanrou, but she understood. He had a high tolerance for alcohol but rarely indulged—normally, he preferred tea. Yet these past few nights, he couldn’t sleep without turning to drink.

For a man like Lu Feng to resort to such measures—how desperate had he become?

Jiang Wanrou’s heart ached fiercely. She had been closely following the matter, and the solution was right before her eyes. The simplest principle: debts must be repaid, and killers must pay with their lives.

Offering up the old lady’s life in exchange for the survival of the Duke of Lu’s household. If he couldn’t make the decision, she would make it for him.

Jintao had once cautiously advised her that the inner court should not interfere in governance. With the Emperor newly enthroned, if the Empress rushed to meddle in state affairs, it might displease him.

Jiang Wanrou had smiled and replied, "If such a trivial matter could topple me from the throne, then I shouldn’t be sitting on it in the first place. I might as well abdicate."

Lu Feng had given her absolute trust. He had named her Empress the moment he ascended the throne, their son was the Crown Prince, and they had survived every trial together. He loved her, protected her, and treated her with utmost devotion.

And so, she too would protect her man.

...

Jiang Wanrou opened the cell door. Kneeling, she lifted the vermilion food box in her arms, and the aroma of a meal wafted out. A plate of vinegar-glazed cabbage, a dish of steamed fish with pickled bamboo shoots, a serving of pickled celery, along with several other delicacies—both meat and vegetables—plus a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup, all prepared by the finest imperial chefs, enough to stir the appetite.

She arranged each dish carefully, then looked at Lady Zhao and said, "It’s been years. I wonder if these still suit your taste?"

Zhao Sue glanced at the spread of food, then back at Jiang Wanrou, sneering, "What, have you come to mock me or to humiliate me?"

The cell had no table or chairs, so Zhao Sue naturally assumed Jiang Wanrou had come to settle old scores.

With a cold laugh, she scoffed, "Even Qi Zhenyue wouldn’t dare face me. What gives you the right to kick me while I’m down?"

Jiang Wanrou smiled faintly and replied gently, "If I had come to humiliate you, why would I go to such lengths to have these dishes prepared?"

Zhao Su'e took a closer look—more than half the dishes were sour-flavored, just as she liked. She adored sour tastes; even a simple bowl of plain noodles needed a splash of vinegar to satisfy her.

Her heart churned with mixed emotions. Since the Duke of Lu had died, she had secluded herself in the Buddhist chapel, nothing tasting good to her, hardly caring for her own appetite. During festivals, her two sons and daughters-in-law would quietly visit her—yet Jiang Wanrou had never once come. Yet it was the very daughter-in-law she had once tormented who remembered her tastes.

Zhao Su'e stood stunned for a long moment before turning her head away, her voice cold and stiff: "Is this my last meal? If you want me dead, just say it. Qi Zhenyue was once a man of honor—how has he grown so cowardly in his old age, using a woman as his pawn?"

Jiang Wanrou shook her head gently. The jailer must have been given instructions—Zhao Su'e’s clothes and hair were not filthy; she could still look presentable if seen on the streets. But she was gaunt, not the delicate kind of thin, but hollow-cheeked, with sharp cheekbones, like a rigid spine draped in skin, barely clinging to life.

Quietly, Jiang Wanrou said, "Mother, what are you afraid of?"

Three sentences, and yet she kept invoking the late emperor’s name—what was she trying to find out?

Jiang Wanrou answered generously, "The late emperor is dead. I fear he will not be able to see you."

Zhao Su'e’s pupils dilated abruptly. She stood stunned for a long moment, her pale lips trembling before she screeched, "Impossible!"

"I clearly—"

She had only wanted to avenge her poor child—she hadn’t wanted him dead!

That was the emperor Youzhou’s brothers-in-arms had once shielded with their lives! In the battle of Youzhou, soldiers had used their own bodies as shields to protect him, allowing him to escape Prince Chen’s forces. Lu Changyuan had been willing to trade his own flesh and blood for the emperor’s child—how could he have died by a mere sword stroke?

Had he really died by her hand?

Zhao Su'e lowered her head, hands shaking as she extended them. Then she suddenly glared at Jiang Wanrou, eyes red, hissing, "You’re lying!"

He had fought Prince Chen, fought the Prince of Lu—back then, against all odds, he had cheated death. She must be lying to her!

Zhao Su'e seemed unhinged. She hated Qi Zhenyue, but he couldn’t die! If he was gone, what had all those sacrifices been for?

All these years, it was her all-consuming hatred that had kept her going—Prince Chen was dead, Lu Changyuan was dead. If not for that overwhelming fury, she would have crumbled long ago.

And now… Qi Zhenyue was gone too?

Zhao Su'e collapsed to the ground, her heart hollow. She didn’t even have the strength left to hate.

Jiang Wanrou didn’t understand the web of grudges between them. She had heard that her mother-in-law had once fought on the battlefield, that she had shared wine with the late emperor and her father-in-law at the same table. Lu Feng had been certain she alone could stop the imperial procession—how had an old lady managed to assassinate the emperor under layers of imperial guards? Perhaps the late emperor had still held some old affection for her and hadn’t been on guard.

This tangled web of grudges—let them sort it out in the afterlife. Jiang Wanrou sighed and lifted the second layer of the food box, pulling out a flask of poisoned wine, a dagger, and a length of white silk.

She arranged them neatly and said, "The food isn’t poisoned. But your daughter-in-law has come today with a request."

"I beg you, Mother, for the sake of our elderly ancestors and the young children in the household, to let go of your resentment and take the journey to the afterlife."

"Your daughter-in-law bows in gratitude for your mercy."

Zhao Su'e stood numb, muttering "impossible" over and over, until Jiang Wanrou mentioned the Lu household. Then, as if waking from a dream, she turned to her. "What of the second and third sons…?"

Her eldest had died horribly. Back then, she hadn’t dared to sleep, her dreams filled with his wretched cries. She had wept, raged, gone mad—but he was gone! He hadn’t even left behind a whole corpse—not even the King of Hell would take him.

There was an old folk belief that those with incomplete bodies could not enter reincarnation. She had searched desperately, but the pieces were too shattered—she couldn’t put her child back together!

In the end, a spirit medium had told her to bear another child with Lu Changyuan—a child from the same womb, so her poor boy could be reborn within her. Whether it was true or not, she had believed it. She couldn’t let her child become a restless spirit.

Her second son looked nothing like him, but it didn’t matter—she could still bear more. By the time the third was born, three years had passed, and she had come to her senses.

No one in this world could ever replace him. If even she, his own mother, forgot him, how her poor child would weep.

She could never bring herself to be close to the second and third sons. As they grew older, the bond between mother and sons grew even fainter. She was not a good mother—this was true for all three of her children.

Now, she finally remembered her other two sons. Jiang Wanrou said softly, "Second Young Master and Third Young Master are doing well. Second Young Master is fond of calligraphy and painting. Recently, he obtained a rare manuscript and has been so engrossed in studying it behind closed doors that no one can lure him out. The third branch of the family has a new addition—a boy, weighing eight pounds and six ounces, strong and auspicious."

Tears burst from Zhao Sue’s eyes as she murmured indistinctly, "Good."

Her face was frozen in madness, yet her words carried a trace of clarity. She asked, "How is Mother?"

Jiang Wanrou nodded. "Well. The Matriarch is hale and hearty. The imperial physician says she has no ailments at all and could live to ninety-nine."

Zhao Sue’s tears fell even harder. In a hoarse voice, she said, "Mother is a kind-hearted woman. She deserves a long life."

She then asked, "How is Qingling?"

Jiang Wanrou replied, "She and General Lingxiao share deep mutual devotion, and their children are bright and lively."

Zhao Sue closed her eyes. After a long silence, she whispered, "You may go."

...

Her goal achieved, Jiang Wanrou should have been elated, yet her heart sat like a stone in her chest—heavy, suffocating.

She bent forward, placing both hands on her forehead in a deep bow to the old madam, and said, "If Mother has any final wishes, please instruct this daughter-in-law."

Zhao Sue remained silent for a long time before finally uttering, "Put me in the ground somewhere distant."

Originally, her parents had intended to marry her off as a concubine to the Prince of Youzhou, but she had foolishly set her eyes on the prince’s quiet adjutant. Sneaking over the wall in the dead of night, she eloped with Lu Changyuan. The prince, though indifferent to beauties, valued talent and thus granted them his blessing. He never restrained her from wielding blades or staffs—they guarded each other’s backs without hesitation, a couple envied by all. Yet in the end, they became like strangers. He sacrificed their child, and she slew the emperor he had devoted his life to following. Such profound love and hatred—in the end, it all amounted to nothing.

Dump her in a paupers’ pit, scatter her ashes to the wind—it didn’t matter. She had spent her life trapped in the agony of losing her child. In the next life, she no longer wished to see him.

***

By the time Jiang Wanrou returned to Fengyi Palace, it was deep into the small hours. She removed her cloak and took silent seat at the writing table. The night was deep, yet she felt not the slightest hint of weariness.

That venomous dowager who had once tormented and humiliated her was finally dead. With this resolution, the grudge over that dose of safflower brew was settled, and Lu Feng no longer had to struggle between conflicting duties. Every member of the Duke’s mansion could now live well.

Yet she felt no joy at all.

Just as she was about to leave, Zhao Sue suddenly asked, "You came here without permission—aren’t you afraid he’ll be furious?"

Jiang Wanrou paused before replying, "This humble daughter has means."

Zhao Sue murmured, "True. You’ve always been clever."

Zhao Sue was dead.

She had not used the lethal arsenic Jiang Wanrou prepared, nor the blade that could split iron, nor the length of white damask. She had dashed her head against the wall.

With final determination, she left them no aftermath to deal with. Jiang Wanrou would not bear the accusation of driving her mother-in-law to death. Tomorrow, on the seventh-day memorial of the late emperor, the condemned Zhao woman would be recorded to have committed suicide out of guilt—an outcome to please all parties.

Jiang Wanrou’s heart felt stifled. At this moment, she, too, longed for a bowl of strong liquor. Rubbing her temples, she was about to summon Jintao when she noticed the candlelight had dimmed considerably. Turning toward the darkened direction, she saw Lu Feng standing at the palace entrance, wearing sleep garments, his tall figure motionless as he stared at her.

With a start, she cried, "Why are you up?"

Lu Feng walked toward her in silence and sat beside her. Jiang Wanrou, usually so eloquent, found herself at a loss for words. After a long pause, Lu Feng said, "Share a cup with me."