Chapter 114: Eternal Youth

Chapter 114: Everlasting Youth

The next day, Jiang Wanrou only stirred awake by noon. The slightest movement made her body ache unbearably, her elegant brows knitting in pain.

"Your Majesty, please drink some water to soothe your throat."

Cuizhu knelt by the bed, holding a cup of warm water. As the saying goes, when one rises to power, even their followers prosper. Cuizhu and Jintao had gone from being maids in the Duke of Lu's residence to serving in the Prince of Qi's household, though they noticed little difference—after all, they were still just attending to their mistress, only in a different place. But now, with Jiang Wanrou becoming the Empress and moving into Fengyi Palace, the two had transformed from mere maids into ranked palace officials. Their monthly gratuities became formal stipends—a world of difference.

Even the usually reserved Jintao had teared up, let alone Cuizhu, who now served with meticulous care, as if tending to a deity. Jiang Wanrou took a small sip from the cup and asked softly, "Has the banquet list been prepared? Bring it here for me to review."

With the New Year approaching, this would be the first lavish palace banquet since the new Emperor’s ascension. Since the late Emperor had never established a central palace, Jiang Wanrou was the first Empress since the dynasty’s founding. This year’s banquet had to be extravagant, and she had thrown herself into the preparations, overseeing every detail.

Eager young palace maids rushed to run errands for Her Majesty, while Cuizhu helped Jiang Wanrou dress. Her fair skin bruised easily, and now it was mottled with red and purple marks, making Cuizhu blush and lower her voice. "His Majesty was... rather vigorous."

Jiang Wanrou gave her a sharp side-eye, half-amused, half-warning. "Mind your words."

Cuizhu was excellent in every way except for her loose tongue. How could she dare to comment on the Emperor? At worst, it could be considered a grave offense punishable by death.

Cuizhu froze, then pretended to slap her lips shut in repentance. As the two bantered, a maid presented the New Year banquet guest list. Jiang Wanrou’s arms were so sore she could barely lift them, and she couldn’t help muttering under her breath, "That beast!"

"Ah? Your Majesty, what did you say? This servant didn’t catch it."

Jiang Wanrou, who had just warned Cuizhu to "mind her words," gritted her teeth and snapped, "You heard wrong."

Last night had been a complete disaster. Jiang Wanrou deeply regretted that when Lu Feng had once asked her how it felt, she had lied and said, "Pleasant." Had he actually taken her at her word?

That donkey of a man knew nothing but brute force, leaving her utterly wrecked. If he never took concubines, and given his iron constitution, would she have to endure this for another thirty or forty years?

Jiang Wanrou’s vision darkened, and she nearly threw the banquet list aside.

"Your Majesty?"

Jiang Wanrou waved her off, burying her worries deep inside as she continued reviewing the guest list. Imperial relatives, noblewomen of the court... As she scanned the names, her brows knitted slightly.

Cuizhu, thinking she was in pain, quickly placed a soft pillow behind her back. After a while, Jiang Wanrou suddenly said, "There are too few."

"Ah?"

Cuizhu glanced at the list. Though she couldn’t read, the densely written names hardly seemed "few."

Jiang Wanrou shook her head and sighed. "The imperial relatives—there are too few."

The late Emperor had been fertile, with enough sons and daughters to fill half a grand hall. Add in the adult princes’ wives, concubines, and grandchildren, and palace banquets had always been lively, flaunting the dynasty’s thriving lineage with grandeur.

But now, Prince Ying, Prince of Jing, and Prince of Virtue were dead. They had sought to frame him for "treason and rebellion," only for him to turn the tables. Their wives joined them in death, and their children perished with their fathers—not a single survivor remained.

Lu Feng had always been thorough, leaving no loose ends. Having lived through that harrowing night with her children, Jiang Wanrou understood that if Lu Feng had lost, it would have been her and her children who died. The women and children were pitiable, but who would have pitied her and her own? She had no grounds to object and wouldn’t dissuade Lu Feng—such was the way of the world: the victors reigned, the losers perished.

Aside from those three, there was also Prince Min, who had been too cowardly to join them that day. The late Emperor’s edict had urged Lu Feng to show mercy to his kin, so he had no intention of harming Prince Min. With his elder brothers gone, Prince Min, being slightly older, was granted land outside the capital. But Prince Min, paranoid with guilt, feared the Emperor would send assassins despite the outward favor. He had collapsed in fright and remained bedridden, too afraid to leave his residence.

Thus, the imperial family had shrunk drastically. And then there was Prince Gong, who had been confined in Jin... Wait—

Prince Gong?

Jiang Wanrou jolted, finally remembering what she had forgotten last night—Consort Li!

Yesterday, while receiving noblewomen and accepting their obeisances, she had unexpectedly seen Lady Qin among them.

By tradition, the Empress’s family should be elevated to "Duke Who Receives Grace" to demonstrate imperial favor. But the Emperor had remained indifferent to the Marquis of Ning'an’s household. The Marquis had repeatedly submitted petitions to the palace, all of which had gone unanswered, receiving no response whatsoever.

The Emperor personally took the Empress's hand to worship at the ancestral temple. The Emperor has two sons and one daughter, all born to the Empress. Since their marriage, she has enjoyed the Emperor's exclusive favor for years, her position as Empress as solid as Mount Tai. Yet, the Empress's natal family remains unennobled. Does this not imply that the Empress harbors grievances against her family, leading the Emperor to also disdain the Marquis of Ning'an's household?

The Marquis of Ning'an schemed his entire life, never imagining his household would produce a golden phoenix. Yet Jiang Wanrou showed no closeness to her family, leaving them empty-handed. Her two good-for-nothing brothers remain imprisoned in the Forbidden Dragon Bureau's cells—it was Lu Feng himself who ordered their detention. Without his decree, who would dare release them? Even a general amnesty would exclude those two.

Since the Marquis resigned his post, the household's fortunes plummeted. The funds spent trying to secure their release further drained their resources—life in the marquisate must be struggling. Madame Qin, always so meticulous about appearances, kept her half-gray hair impeccably smoothed back but wore worn-out satin robes, her jade bracelet's luster had faded. Jiang Wanrou cast a fleeting glance, initially unwilling to engage. Yet after the palace banquet concluded, Madame Qin stayed behind.

When they were alone, she silently knelt and presented a thin sheet of paper. Jiang Wanrou unfolded it—it was precisely what she needed: a "Letter of Release for a Concubine."

The marquisate may not have given Jiang Wanrou life, but they raised her. With this letter, all debts were settled. From then on, Aunt Li would have no ties to the household. In exchange, the Empress was to spare the marquisate and her three children.

Jiang Wanrou agreed.

Those two "brothers" had no real history of conflict with her. As for Jiang Wanxue... she pondered. Since giving birth to her younger children, she hadn't sought news of Jiang Wanxue. Where was she now? Prince Gong's residence?

Rubbing her sore waist, Jiang Wanrou called for assistance and departed for the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

Each new reign brings new ministers, and the court seethed with undercurrents—yet Pei Zhang remained firm as Mount Tai. His efforts in reducing taxes in Luoyun Town brought prosperity to its people. His achievements in Jiaozhou, his role in dismantling Chen Fu's stronghold in the south, his aid to Lu Feng against the Turkic in the north, his maneuvering during Lu Feng's confinement in the princely residence, and his being the first to kneel and hail the Emperor amid others' hesitation—all these were steps in his steady rise.

***

Despite his youth and the lack of triennial evaluations that typically justified promotions, Pei Zhang entered the Grand Secretariat. Even elders with half-white beards listened attentively to Vice Minister Pei's insights—his influence far exceeded his nominal rank.

Thus, when he stood outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation and announced, "Your subject Pei Zhang seeks an audience with His Majesty," and received no response, he repeated his request. A strange sound came from within.

On his third attempt, he declared, "This subject has urgent matters to present. I request an audience."

Silence followed.

After a moment's consideration, Pei Zhang pushed the door open and entered. Lu Feng was not an emperor who stood on ceremony, and the matter at hand brooked no delay.

Inside, Lu Feng sat astride the dragon throne, a broad desk before him. Pei Zhang remained composed, performing the customary bow. "May Your Majesty live ten thousand years. This subject has a memorial to present."

Lu Feng, as expected, ignored the breach of protocol. "Speak," he said, lifting his chin.

Pei Zhang replied, "Recently, certain individuals in the markets have been privately selling elixirs they call 'Pills of Bliss'—claimed to induce euphoric transcendence, as if rising above the mortal world."

Lu Feng arched a brow, his expression cool. "There are no immortals in this world. This is undoubtedly human trickery."

Pei Zhang smiled faintly. "Precisely."

"These so-called divine pills conceal deadly poison. Blending cinnabar and poppy, prolonged use wastes body and mind, erodes reason, and disrupts vital energies—their harm is boundless."

Lu Feng tapped the desk with his knuckles, chuckling low. "The usual tricks of fraudulent monks and priests. Nothing new. Raise their dens and execute them."

Countless memorials piled daily on the imperial desk—matters demanding the Emperor's judgment: winter stipends for the troops, additional civil service examinations next year, the Ministry of Works' proposal for seagoing vessels, the Ministry of Revenue's refusal to release funds, disputes brought before the throne... A minor matter such as this would never reach the Emperor's ears had Pei Zhang not come personally.

Assuming Pei Zhang had weightier concerns, Lu Feng was amused to learn it was merely about a tiny "Pill of Bliss." He scoffed. "I always knew Minister Pei aimed high. Today I see his discernment extends even to the trivial."

Pei Zhang offered no explanation, nor did he kneel in trepidation like other officials. In a measured tone, he said, "Your Majesty stated: 'There are no immortals in this world.'"

"Suppose a Daoist priest advised Your Majesty that an ancient clan in the northern deserts possesses divine pills—consuming them grants eternal life, agelessness, and immortality."

He looked up at Lu Feng and asked quietly, "What would Your Majesty do?"

Their gazes locked. Lu Feng's expression darkened abruptly. "Are you questioning me?" he retorted.

He was the Emperor, the Son of Heaven, sovereign and father to the realm. No one dared speak to him thus! After just three months on the throne, Lu Feng had already internalized the emperor's absolute authority. Pei Zhang observed him and caught a faint glimpse of Emperor Wu's shadow.

Pei Zhang lowered his gaze. "I wouldn't presume."

"I was merely curious. The prospect of immortality tempts even me."

He had chosen to support him, attempting to avert his death and alter the original course, sparing Great Qi from those twenty-plus years of turmoil.

Lu Feng was different from Emperor Wu. His legs had healed, his temperament lacked the tyranny of Emperor Wu, and the war against the Turkic was vastly different from the previous lifetime. In that past life, Emperor Wu had personally led the campaign, storming the Turkic royal court, beheading the royal family and mounting their heads on the city gates, slaughtering hundreds of thousands. After Emperor Wu’s death, the enraged Turkic people retaliated, wreaking havoc along the Qi Dynasty's borders for years.

He had thought he succeeded. Yet Lu Feng, too, had ascended by killing his brothers. Since taking the throne, he had become ever more dictatorial, turning the court into his personal domain where ministers merely followed orders without offering counsel.

If one supported him, Lu Feng despised sycophantic flattery—once, a subordinate was caned for submitting an overly elaborate greeting memorial. If one opposed him, Lu Feng turned a deaf ear, acting solely on his own whims.

Pei Zhang sank into deep perplexity. Had he truly altered Great Qi’s fate? He had secretly tracked the sorcerer who advised Emperor Wu in the past life, only to capture his disciples while the man himself escaped.

This growing unease had led to today’s audience.

After a long silence, Lu Feng snorted coldly. "Nonsense! If such a Taoist or immortal truly existed, I’d first cut off his head, then chop his body. If he still spoke, then I might show some interest."

"Others might fall for this, but Pei Zhang, you’ve always been wise. How could you be fooled by such crude tricks? Have you grown too idle? The imperial stipend isn't meant to sustain idlers!"

Though Lu Feng’s words were harsh, Pei Zhang, being naturally composed and philosophical, bore no resentment. Though the emperor showed glimpses of Emperor Wu's nature, they were not the same man, and he would never seek the illusory promise of immortality.

Just as he was about to speak, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse beneath the bright yellow table drape—a glimpse of rosy silk edged in gold.