Chapter 110

Chapter 110

Perhaps sensing the emperor's prolonged absence from the palace was unusual, gatherings among noble families dwindled. For a time, an air of serenity pervaded Phoenix Ridge, so tranquil it hardly seemed a hunting ground—more like a picturesque retreat for leisure. The prominent families from the capital gathered here not by imperial decree, but by a spontaneous desire to reside there for a spell.

Those close to the imperial family, privy to some details, grew uneasy, while those completely in the dark harbored suspicions. The princes, for instance, upon hearing the news, swiftly petitioned to attend the emperor’s sickbed. Initially, no one held much hope, but surprisingly, the emperor consented, allowing them to take turns serving at the palace.

Once the emperor’s illness was confirmed, even the occasional small gatherings among friends and relatives ceased by unspoken agreement. Families retreated to their villas, doors shut tight, wary of entanglement in any trouble at such a critical juncture. Only the animals—usually destined for the hunt—returned to their undisturbed routines, busily stockpiling food and fattening up for winter.

Given the atmosphere, the Pei family naturally chose to pass their mornings in their villa. Thankfully, though a secondary residence, it was spacious, with scenic views nearby to stave off monotony.

Days passed, and since the emperor allowed his sons to tend to him, making no effort to conceal his condition, details of his health gradually spread. Rumor had it the emperor, after hunting all day, had overindulged in greasy fare that night and caught a chill, coming down with a slight cold. A few days’ rest, and he was now steadily recovering.

As the news spread, the emperor called a halt to the attendance duties. Whether people believed it or not, the tense atmosphere eased considerably. After all, they were outside the capital. A minor ailment was manageable, but if the emperor had suddenly fallen seriously ill, who knew what chaos might have ensued? The previous winter, when the emperor had fallen ill within the capital, it had already stirred up no small amount of unrest, leaving many uneasy.

Now, with the threat of another disturbance looming, some privately grumbled that while the emperor was excellent in many ways, his refusal to name a crown prince at his age only bred uncertainty and unnecessary complications.

Thankfully, this time it was a false alarm. If he’d taken seriously ill in this remote area, with the current Jinwu Guard Commander utterly out of his depth and all the princes present, rivers of blood would’ve been just the start. Those who had lived through the turbulent final days of the previous emperor silently prayed that, no matter how the princes might scheme, a peaceful resolution was paramount.

Some even found themselves missing Pei Yue. It was a pity that the Heir to the Duke of Dingguo, a man of high status who had always steered clear of such intrigues, had been shunted off to Shaanxi by those meddling ministers just when he had proven his ability to maintain order during the emperor’s illness the previous year. Though he was now at Phoenix Ridge, he held no official position, leaving him unable to intervene in matters concerning the emperor.

Pei Yue had no idea his ‘retirement’ from the Jinwu Guard had already sparked nostalgia. Had he known, he would likely have dismissed it with a smile. After many days, the Pei family villa finally received a visit from a palace eunuch with a summons from the emperor.

This was Pei Yue’s first opportunity to see the emperor since learning of his illness, and he prepared himself carefully before following the eunuch into the palace.

The Phoenix Ridge palace, built into the mountains, was a far cry from the imperial palace or the Cold Spring Villa, with its intricate, tiered layout. Old military habits had Pei Yue, as he followed the eunuch to the emperor’s quarters, his eyes automatically gauging every spot for defensibility, and whether someone could easily hide there.

These wandering musings carried him to the emperor’s presence. Pei Yue glanced up discreetly and confirmed that the rumors were true—the emperor had indeed been ill but was now recovering. Though still somewhat weak, it was nothing serious.

What passed between the emperor and Pei Yue remained unknown, as the chamber was empty. However, with all eyes on the palace, while gathering detailed information had become difficult, tracking who entered and exited was easy. Many noticed that Pei Yue was frequently summoned by the emperor.

Given that he had been the Commander of the Jinwu Guard before his sudden deployment, and now seemed even more favored by the emperor, speculation arose: Was Pei Yue about to reclaim his former position?

No matter the rumors, Pei Yue remained unshakable, offering no response to the probing questions. Yet after he spent a night on duty in the palace, the consensus solidified that he would soon be reinstated.

With no imperial consorts accompanying the emperor, Pei Yue’s night watch was relatively straightforward, though the unplanned duty left him somewhat unsettled. Moreover, without an official decree, the emperor had merely assigned him tasks, leaving Pei Yue feeling odd as he directed the guards on their patrols.

Many of these guards had once been his subordinates, and those familiar with him showed no resistance, even seeming to expect his return. Only Pei Yue knew this was temporary—once the emperor’s business was concluded, he would likely receive orders to return to Shaanxi.

Bound by the emperor’s secrecy, Pei Yue could only remain silent in the face of their enthusiasm. After completing his duties, he retired to his assigned quarters in the palace.

That night, after his usual rounds, he returned to his room and pushed open the door, only to find an unfamiliar eunuch seated calmly at his desk, as though he were not an uninvited guest in the room of a far more formidable warrior but a solitary figure admiring the moon by a river.

Pei Yue raised an eyebrow but did not immediately react. Instead, he silently drew his long blade and rested it against the eunuch’s neck, the cold steel casting a moonlike gleam on his skin. His hand did not waver. "Might I ask who you are and what business you have here?"

Though the eunuch knew he was treading dangerous ground, he had never faced such a situation before. His composure cracked as he swallowed nervously and drew an object from his sleeve, his voice dry. "The renowned Crown Prince Pei, valiant across three armies, need not resort to such methods to converse with me. Please, for the sake of this item, hear me out calmly."

Pei Yue’s eyes locked onto it, and he sheathed his blade, taking the exquisitely crafted hairpin. Holding it to the light, he spotted the emblem of Ming Tang’s shop on the back of the maple leaf ornament—the very piece she had commissioned but never received.

The eunuch continued, "You must recognize this. This belongs to your lady wife. Here you are alone, with none of the capital’s ironclad protections. My master wished me to inquire: Are you not concerned for your family’s safety? After all, your villa currently houses the Dowager, your young son, and your wife."

Pei Yue knew full well that this hairpin had never reached Ming Tang’s hands, meaning she was likely unharmed—for now. Had this man truly taken it from her, he would have brought more than just this. Still, the words stirred unease in him.

As the eunuch had said, this was merely a villa, not the sprawling, heavily guarded Duke of Dingguo’s estate. An intruder here would face far fewer obstacles. The wall separating their courtyard from the villa’s perimeter was thin—a determined intruder could spell real trouble for your household.

His anxiety must have shown, for the eunuch regained his composure, pressing softly, "My master seeks only a small service—just a minor reshuffling of the guard rotations, to slip him in for a word with the Emperor."

Since rising to prominence and earning the emperor’s favor, Pei Yue had been the target of countless attempts to win him over. After repeated failures, many concluded that currying favor was hopeless—striking at what he cherished worked far better.

And what Pei Yue valued most was no secret to anyone.

Feeling that he had Pei Yue in his grasp, the eunuch leisurely stood up. Seeing that Pei Yue indeed made no move, his hand still hanging motionless by his side with the long blade, the eunuch tentatively stepped toward the door, turning back to say, "Does Prince Pei still need time to consider? Time is running out. If our matter here remains unresolved, and the people waiting for your wife grow impatient, I can’t guarantee what happens next."

Pei Yue clenched the hairpin tightly, as if numb to its sharp pain, forcing himself to remain composed. He silently repeated to himself: *You Niang must be safe. These people must know how they obtained this hairpin—they’re simply counting on me not knowing that it hasn’t yet reached Ming Tang’s hands, using it to intimidate me.*

Repeating this thought over and over, as if suppressing all panic, Pei Yue followed the eunuch out the door and asked in a low voice, "How are my mother and wife right now?"

Now outside Pei Yue’s quarters, the eunuch resumed the demeanor expected of a palace attendant—humble and deferential, walking beside Pei Yue with a lantern in hand, the very picture of an ordinary servant. Softly, he replied, "Don’t worry, Prince Pei. My master knows how much you value your family and has instructed them to be treated with courtesy. If you cooperate well, you may be home by morning to see your loved ones."

Pei Yue quietly exhaled in relief, knowing that even if Ming Tang had indeed been taken hostage, she was safe, at least.

They walked slowly along the quiet paths. Palace servants who spotted Pei Yue noticed nothing amiss, thinking he was just making rounds. They bowed slightly before stepping aside.

Thus, in silence, they gradually neared the emperor’s bedchamber. Guards in full armor were in the midst of changing shifts, and Pei Yue, sharp-eared, caught the faint clinking of their armor.

At this moment, the eunuch halted and whispered, "Prince Pei, don’t think of having me seized and presented to His Majesty. If I don’t send the signal, your family won’t live to see tomorrow’s sun."

Pei Yue replied coolly, "Understood."

They continued forward, but as they turned a corner, a clumsy young eunuch collided with the man, knocking over his lantern. The flame burst up suddenly, illuminating his face. Pei Yue recognized him with a start—*Wasn’t this Wang Shen’s disciple?*

The man who had been bumped into wasn’t so fortunate. The lantern burned with unexpected ferocity, flames licking at the hem of his robe.

Before he could scold, he frantically patted out the fire. Pei Yue, meanwhile, gave a slight nod as the young eunuch hurried away.

By the time the fire was extinguished, the young eunuch had vanished. The eunuch, who’d been so smug earlier, could only lament his bad luck: "How could someone so careless serve His Majesty? Truly, age must be catching up to him."

Duty called, so he muttered only briefly before watching Pei Yue approach the bedchamber, whisper something, and show an object to the guards. After a brief hesitation, the guards shifted their patrol route.

The eunuch hadn’t expected Pei Yue to wield such influence. The ease of their success unsettled him, but when Pei Yue returned and reminded him, "We’ve got less than an incense stick’s worth of time," he snapped back to attention. Hurrying to a corner, he mimicked a bird’s melodious call. Soon, a group of silent guards emerged from a secluded path. Their leader gave Pei Yue an approving nod before striding into the emperor’s bedchamber, leaving the half-open door yawning like a beast’s mouth in the night.

Seeing his master’s objective achieved, the eunuch began to smile triumphantly—only for it to freeze halfway.

Wang Shen had appeared beside Pei Yue without warning, his expression genial, as if oblivious to the situation. He bowed respectfully to Pei Yue.

The eunuch broke into a cold sweat in the late autumn night. He opened his mouth to warn his master inside but found himself voiceless.

*Had they seen this coming all along?*

Wang Shen had no interest in the doomed man’s expression. Seeing realization dawn on Pei Yue’s face—that tonight’s events had likely been the emperor’s design—he quickly interjected, "Crown Prince, do not worry. Your family’s fine. His Majesty may have further instructions for you later. Please wait at ease."

Then, with a slightly odd expression, as if nursing a toothache, he added, "Your wife... she’s something else."

Pei Yue stiffened, his mind racing to imagine what had transpired at home.

As he had feared, the villa wasn’t nearly as secure as the Duke of Dingguo’s estate in the capital. Here in Phoenix Ridge, high ground was everywhere, and the layout of the Pei family’s villa had been quietly studied by some.

While Pei Yue had been fretting over Ming Tang’s safety in his duty room, clutching her hairpin, she had already been awakened in the side courtyard by Hong Ying, who was on night watch.

Ming Tang, not yet deep in sleep, stirred at Hong Ying’s soft calls. Sensing the tension, she whispered, "What’s wrong?"

"Strangers seem to have entered the courtyard—three or four, judging by their footsteps," Hong Ying replied, forcing calm but unable to hide the fear in her eyes. Having grown up in the Duke of Dingguo’s household, she knew exactly what kind of people would dare infiltrate such a residence at night. With the Crown Prince away in the palace, her thoughts spiraled toward the worst.

Ming Tang grasped the situation instantly, her mind briefly blank before she steadied herself with deep breaths. Quickly, she rose from bed, crouching to avoid casting a shadow on the window that might betray her wakefulness. She tiptoed to a nearby chest, confirming that the crossbow had not been put away. Holding it gave her some nerve.

With the crossbow in hand, she slipped on her shoes, returned to bed, and motioned for Hong Ying to lie on the outer side. Pulling the bed curtains shut, she loaded a bolt in the near-dark, finger resting on the trigger. Together, they held their breath and listened to the sounds outside.

Ming Tang steeled herself: *You’ve hunted animals before. People are just animals too. Just aim true—one good shot is all it takes.*

In the profound silence, the faint sound of a door being pushed open echoed, then all fell quiet again. Amid the tension that could drive one mad, a long blade silently parted the bed curtains, revealing two figures on the bed—a momentary pause of shock. Was Crown Prince Pei being cheated on?

That split second of hesitation was all Ming Tang needed. Her finger pressed down hard, a cold glint flashed, followed by a soft "thud" as the arrowhead nearly buried itself entirely in his neck. Blood gushed forth, splattering the curtains with blood.

With no time to process the sensation of taking a life for the first time, Ming Tang rose silently and, with Hong Ying, hid in a corner of the inner chamber, waiting for the next intruder—or intruders—who might notice something amiss.

This was the most dangerous situation Ming Tang had ever faced, yet the crossbow in her hands and Hong Ying by her side filled her with boundless courage.

She would escape this danger, protect herself, and safeguard Mrs. Pei and Pei Ze. They would all be fine—Ming Tang was certain of it.