Chapter 53 A Sweet Dream

Chapter 53: A Sweet Dream

Outside the palace, with its vermilion tiles reaching toward the clouds and carved roof ridges reflecting the sun, the assembled ministers stood with bowed heads, their faces expressionless.

In truth, it was because they didn't know what expression to wear.

It was the Emperor's grand birthday; those below couldn't very well wear long faces. Yet, with the Empress and a prince critically ill, they also couldn't very well look cheerful. So, one by one, they temporarily let their faces go blank, remaining silent like wooden figures holding their breath.

The Ninth Prince wasn't actually critically ill; he had already died before the imperial physicians could arrive.

Earlier in the hall, faced with the simultaneous news of the Empress and the Ninth Prince being in peril, Emperor Yonghe had chosen to go see his youngest son.

But the eunuch messenger, quaking with fear, had said, "Y-Your Majesty, the Empress... she expressed a wish to have a kinsman from her maternal family accompany her on her final journey."

Empress Jiang held no power or status in the palace now, but the words of a dying person could not well be ignored.

And the only kinsman who could be reached in time was Jiang Yanzhou.

Jiang Yanzhou betrayed no emotion.

He had publicly distanced himself from the Jiang family in the Emperor's presence; now, the decision rested entirely with the Emperor.

Emperor Yonghe's step faltered. The muscles in his cheeks twitched spasmodically, as if his agitated emotions had been physically checked.

In that brief moment, the no-longer-young monarch—who knows what thoughts crossed his mind—flicked his sleeve: "...Granted."

Jiang Yanzhou bowed. Xiao Yunlang was quick to say: "Since the Empress is critically ill, as the Crown Prince, it is only fitting that I go to attend to her."

The Prince of Jin quickly followed suit: "I, too, am a prince, and should pay my respects at the Central Palace."

Xiao Yunlang glared at him icily. The Prince of Jin, using his bow as cover, responded with a cold sneer.

His own mother, Consort Li, would undoubtedly follow the Emperor to see the Ninth Prince; this was his opportunity to go to the Empress's side.

But as soon as his lips curled, the Prince of Jin's heart sank.

Their arrangements for the birthday banquet had scarcely begun when they were completely disrupted by the two successive pieces of news, forcing a halt to everything.

If the Empress were to die now, his own mother would be in danger.

Thus, the Eldest Prince and others followed Emperor Yonghe to see the Ninth Prince, while Jiang Yanzhou, Xiao Yunlang, and the Prince of Jin headed in the opposite direction.

By the Ninth Prince's side, palace servants were kneeling all around. The child had long since stopped breathing; no imperial physician could raise the dead. Consort Li knelt on the ground, clutching the child, weeping and wailing.

The moment Emperor Yonghe heard the news of the Ninth Prince's death firsthand, his expression froze.

Even Shuang Quan, the eunuch who had served him for many years, found it difficult to say in that moment whether the Emperor was feeling anger, grief, or something else entirely.

The lifeless face of the young child was buried in Consort Li's bosom, so others could hardly see it.

Logically, Emperor Yonghe, who was confident of his own longevity and his ability to personally nurture the most satisfactory heir, might think that the death of one prince mattered little—he could always sire more.

But for some reason, upon seeing the Ninth Prince's slowly livid face, Emperor Yonghe suddenly thought of the Fourth Prince.

The son he had personally ordered to be executed.

Before his execution, the Fourth Prince had been held under house arrest in his princely manor. It was said he had cursed Emperor Yonghe to die a lonely, childless death without a peaceful end. At the time, besides furious rage, Emperor Yonghe had felt nothing but contempt, sending this unfilial son off with a cup of poisoned wine.

His sons all looked different, yet upon closer inspection, some features seemed similar. Emperor Yonghe could no longer remember what the Fourth Prince looked like as a child, but today, for some reason, the more he looked, the more the Ninth Prince seemed to resemble him.

The faces of his two sons seemed to gradually overlap.

One he had sentenced to death; the other had died on the very day of his birthday banquet, a day meant for universal celebration.

To have a life lost on such an auspicious birthday—the older one gets, the more one sometimes fears such omens. These people, these people! They wouldn't even grant him a moment of peace, determined to rob him of all tranquility!

Emperor Yonghe suddenly found it hard to breathe, his vision darkening as dizziness struck. He staggered two steps, nearly falling.

Shuang Quan, greatly alarmed, rushed to support him: "Your Majesty!"

Leaning on Shuang Quan, the aging lion stared fixedly at the swaddled bundle in Consort Li's arms, his body heaving with labored breaths.

Shuang Quan's voice choked with tears: "Your Majesty, please restrain your grief. Now, more than ever, you must preserve your health!"

Emperor Yonghe closed his eyes, taking a long moment to steady himself before raising a hand to summon the imperial physicians forward.

While there were still physicians attending to the Ninth Prince, there were none at the Empress's palace.

If she were critically ill, everyone understood the underlying reasons, and there was no need for superficial formalities.

When Jiang Yanzhou, Xiao Yunlang, and the others arrived outside the palace hall, the soldiers and palace servants guarding the doors hurriedly bowed.

Emperor Yonghe had confined the Empress, posting soldiers at the doors and having servants patrol, yet he had deliberately left gaps—for the convenience of certain parties who might wish to act against the Empress.

But who could have anticipated such an unexpected outcome on the Emperor's own birthday?

A palace servant, head bowed, whispered softly: "Reporting to Your Highnesses, Her Majesty the Empress said... she said she only wishes to see members of her maternal family. For others... it would only trouble her in her final moments."

Though palace intrigues were rife, unless there was deep-seated hatred, people generally did not trouble the dying, as most ancients were superstitious.

Thus, though the servant felt awkward, he mustered the courage to relay the message.

The Prince of Jin frowned. Xiao Yunlang, however, glanced around and asked, "Are there any other unrelated individuals inside the hall?"

The servant quickly shook his head, adding, "Her Majesty's grooming was also done by us servants. Your Highness can rest assured, everything was done with utmost care."

This was a hint that the Empress had not been left with any dangerous items either.

Xiao Yunlang then said, "I will not see her. I will wait in the outer chamber."

He and Jiang Yanzhou exchanged a subtle glance: he would be right outside; if there was any commotion, he could rush in immediately.

The servant hurriedly acknowledged with an "Aye" and lifted the hanging curtain for Jiang Yanzhou.

The Empress's palace was vast, with both inner and outer chambers being spacious. If someone spoke softly in the inner chamber, only muffled sounds could be heard from the outer chamber, the content indistinct.

Upon entering, the first thing Jiang Yanzhou saw was a matron slumped over a table, her body motionless, clearly devoid of life.

On the way here, Jiang Yanzhou had indeed anticipated something, but the sudden sight still drained the color from his face.

Though he had witnessed more gruesome deaths on the frontier, experiencing it again did not make him accustomed to seeing the dead.

He clutched his sleeve, stepped around the body, and took a few more steps forward, finally seeing Empress Jiang seated upright on a pearwood couch.

Though said to be critically ill, the Empress was now dressed in full regalia. She wore a gold crown with nine dragons and nine phoenixes, over a yellow great robe with a red-edged collar, adorned with gold and jade, appearing radiant and breathtakingly beautiful, the epitome of extreme elegance and nobility.

The Jiang family produced beauties, and Empress Jiang had once been a renowned peerless beauty in the capital. Over the years, her looks had faded, but today she seemed exceptionally radiant, as if she had returned to the peak of her youth.

However, the powder on her face was applied too heavily, seemingly to completely conceal her complexion. Her lips were a vivid, unnatural crimson. Looking at her, Jiang Yanzhou felt as if he were seeing a gilded statue coated in powder.

She remained seated, yet no longer appeared among the living.

Empress Jiang’s gaze drifted from Jiang Yanzhou’s phoenix-embroidered ceremonial robes to the bandage around his neck. The statue spoke, her voice laced with laughter: “Confined by illness within the palace, I am severed from court affairs. Fortunately, I still retain a few capable individuals at my command. I have heard of your meritorious service on the frontier—well done.”

Jiang Yanzhou raised his hands in salute.

Empress Jiang drawled, “The Wei family likely had some scheme prepared for today as well. I wonder whether it has already begun. A pity—I shall not live to witness it.”

Jiang Yanzhou noted the shift from her formal “This Palace” to the personal “I.” Just as he lowered his hands, he heard Empress Jiang suppress a few coughs. She covered her mouth with a handkerchief; when she withdrew it, the cloth was unmistakably stained with blood.

After coughing, her expression unchanged, Empress Jiang crumpled the handkerchief tightly in her fist: “Ever since His Majesty kept me as Empress without deposing me, I knew he was preserving me solely so that Wei Wanying would kill me—thereby enabling him to eliminate her as well. Even if Wei Wanying refrained, the Emperor would eventually do it for her.”

Empress Jiang understood this perfectly—and Imperial Concubine Wei understood it equally well, a realization that filled her with anxiety and dread. To save herself, Wei had no choice but to devise a plan. The Wei family had originally arranged something else for today’s birthday banquet—but now all those plans had collapsed.

A faint smile touched Empress Jiang’s lips: “Alas, what choice did I have? I wished neither to benefit the Emperor nor the Wei family. So, I had no alternative… *cough*… but to present each with a parting gift.”

Jiang Yanzhou understood in silence: the Ninth Prince’s death was inextricably tied to Empress Jiang.

She laughed—a laugh echoing with the aura of imminent death, her jewel-bedecked form mirroring the Jiang family in its final convulsions—clinging fiercely to its lifelong, unyielding aristocratic dignity until the very end.

This time, her coughing lasted longer. Her eyes began to glaze over, and she murmured, “Back when the Empress Dowager still lived—and my elder brother still stood beside me—how high the Jiang family soared! We controlled both court and inner palace—we killed, we ruled. We were Heaven’s true will.”

When Emperor Yonghe was still a prince, he already had several sons. Yet after ascending the throne, the inner palace bore no new children for a long time. Only after the Empress Dowager’s death and Empress Jiang’s isolation did the inner palace finally welcome new offspring.

“When the Emperor was still an unfavored prince… he honored my aunt as his mother, knelt before her, and swore that upon inheriting the throne, he would bestow wealth and honor upon the Jiang family. He also vowed to marry me, declaring that the next emperor would surely install a Jiang daughter as empress—granting our clan the unparalleled distinction of three empresses.”

“Ha! Haha—preposterous!”

She laughed, coughing between bursts, blood spilling from her mouth—no longer bothering to wipe it away. Between laughs, she spat the word “liar,” then shed two clear tears, sighing, “Our skills were inferior.”

Her emotions surged violently; her body began to tilt slowly. When she finally stilled, her breath was reduced to a thread. She looked at Jiang Yanzhou and whispered hoarsely, “Come closer…”

Her voice had grown exceedingly faint—he would not have heard her unless he leaned in. Yet Jiang Yanzhou remained wary. Though he edged slightly nearer, he stayed poised to retreat instantly.

Empress Jiang choked on a violent cough, appearing on the verge of death itself. Yet, from somewhere, she summoned strength, struggling upright once more. She seized Jiang Yanzhou’s wrist in a grip astonishingly powerful.

Startled, Jiang Yanzhou tried to pull away—but his first attempt failed.

Empress Jiang’s eyes widened; she held Jiang Yanzhou’s hand in a death grip: “You must ensure the Crown Prince dies at the height of his glory. Then you may gather his forces—and with the Jiang clan… my Jiang clan, a prestigious family of centuries, is not fated to end!”

“Go kill the Crown Prince—then kill the Emperor! My Jiang family—”

Empress Jiang’s fierce grip suddenly slackened. Jiang Yanzhou seized the moment, wrenching his hand free. His fair skin bore an immediate red mark encircling his wrist.

Blood seeped from the corner of Empress Jiang’s mouth. Finally, she raised her hand, feebly grasping at empty air—as though trying to seize that vanished era of prosperity. But the past was like wind—long slipped through her fingers.

“Ningzhou… spring mist and rain… by the river… dreaming of the moon wheel… ah…”

Empress Jiang’s palm ultimately grasped nothing, falling limp beside the couch.

A fleeting dream—of life, revelry, drunken dance—the lofty tower, ultimately hollow.

The last ambitious schemer of the Jiang family—long feared by the Emperor—faded away deep within the palace. Emperor and Empress never saw each other again until death.

For their respective ambitions, they willingly became a resentful couple—battling and tormenting one another, sacrificing everything for power and fame, betraying all under heaven.

In their eyes, it was merely a matter of victors and vanquished. Yet within this strife, how many innocent lives were sacrificed?

Jiang Yanzhou turned his head aside, closing his eyes with difficulty. Within that magnificently beautiful palace, he felt only bone-deep cold.

The Jiang Second in history… surely lacked means and could not stir waves in Xiao Yunlang’s hands—yet he remained the very man Xiao Yunlang married.

After Xiao Yunlang ascended the throne, he never mentioned this Crown Princess, conferred no posthumous titles, nor permitted further records—a clear sign of a fractured relationship.

Surrounded by wolves and tigers on all sides—while also bearing responsibility for disaster relief in Jiangbei—forced into a detestable marriage, followed swiftly by discord—this was likely one reason Xiao Yunlang later avoided discussing marriage.

Yet imperial affections need not follow only this path.

Jiang Yanzhou turned, breathing rapidly, and hurried from the inner chamber. The curtain swayed until he caught sight of Xiao Yunlang’s figure—and the chilling sensation eased somewhat.

The palace attendant, seeing Jiang Yanzhou emerge, sensed something amiss and rushed inside. Soon, a drawn-out, tearful cry pierced the air: “The Empress has passed—”

Inside and outside the hall, attendants and guards dropped to their knees in unison. The Prince of Jin immediately wanted to rush in to verify for himself—but restrained himself, clenched his fist, and stormed off.

Xiao Yunlang said quietly, “Let’s go. I fear we won’t be able to leave the palace today.”

Jiang Yanzhou gave a slight nod.

The birthday banquet decorations were dismantled one by one. Emperor Yonghe seemed to have aged several years overnight.

Consort Li wept and screamed, demanding a thorough investigation into the Ninth Prince’s death. Panic erupted throughout the palace—everyone feared for themselves, and the inner palace descended into chaos.

As expected, the princes and their families were barred from leaving the palace. By nightfall, they were assigned quarters across various palace buildings.

At this time, the princely estate guards waiting outside the palace were permitted entry to accompany their masters. Feng Lan and Feng Yi brought changes of clothing, as well as Jiang Yanzhou’s topical and oral medicines.

After bathing, Xiao Yunlang applied medicine to Jiang Yanzhou in the room—not only to his neck but also to his hand.

The wrist seized earlier that day had already turned bluish-purple.

It looked alarming—but truly no longer hurt. Xiao Yunlang refused to believe him; Jiang Yanzhou knew his past record undermined his credibility now.

But this time, it really was due to his fair skin and constitution—a single pinch left a red mark.

Moreover, the imperial physician had just examined him and confirmed it was not serious—that the bruise would fade overnight.

Whatever they said here now, they need not fear eavesdroppers, for the patrolling Imperial Guards were also their own men.

The other imperial concubines and their closest confidantes within the palace were temporarily detained under the pretext that the case remained unresolved, that they might be suspects—and for their protection.

Naturally, Imperial Concubine Wei was under the strictest surveillance.

Emperor Yonghe did not instruct the imperial physician to publicly announce the causes of the Empress’s and Ninth Prince’s deaths. Ignoring Consort Li’s cries, he ordered her removed.

Whether the Empress and Ninth Prince died of illness or met unnatural ends depended entirely on how Emperor Yonghe chose to frame it.

The wisest course was to withhold the truth—for now—using it as leverage against Imperial Concubine Wei, for he still intended to deploy the Prince of Jin to investigate the Jiang family’s lands and grain reserves.

The Empress’s death at this juncture disrupted his plans.

Clearly, the optimal timing would have been after the Ningzhou land settlement—yet she had chosen *today*.

Emperor Yonghe ground his teeth in fury.

Empress Jiang refused to concede defeat even in death. Her move was truly ruthless—transforming a birthday celebration into a funeral. Emperor Yonghe would likely suffer nightmares for the rest of his life—and never forget this.

After applying the medicine, Xiao Yunlang said to Jiang Yanzhou, “Rest early tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll likely be summoned early.”

Having spoken, he rose—but as he turned, his sleeve suddenly caught.

Xiao Yunlang halted, turned back, and saw Jiang Yanzhou had caught hold of the hem of his sleeve, pursing his lips and looking up at him.

Xiao Yunlang glanced at the weather outside the window to confirm there'd be no sudden claps of thunder that night. He figured it was probably because witnessing death firsthand during the day had left Jiang Yanzhou unsettled.

So he reached out to hold Jiang Yanzhou's hand. "Want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

Jiang Yanzhou did want Xiao Yunlang to stay and look at him a little longer. But he wasn't ill, and there was no thunder—having the Crown Prince watch him sleep would be too presumptuous.

Jiang Yanzhou was conflicted, but Xiao Yunlang resolved his dilemma very simply.

He simply lay down to sleep beside him.

Jiang Yanzhou: "..."

So that's how he meant to watch over him.

Well, now he was facing another kind of dilemma.

Jiang Yanzhou didn't dare even look at Xiao Yunlang's face now that they were sharing a bed. Ears burning, he turned his back. Thankfully, the wound on his neck was no longer sore, or he wouldn't know what to do.

Xiao Yunlang looked at the Crown Princess's soft black hair, smiled, snuffed out the candle with a flick of his fingers, and as the quiet darkness enveloped them, he said softly, "I used to think living in the palace was very dull."

Jiang Yanzhou's slight fidgeting stilled.

Whether it was the Cold Palace in the beginning or the later palace quarters, Xiao Yunlang had found them all dull.

"But after leaving the palace, establishing a residence, and departing from what I thought was a cage, I realized there wasn't much difference."

It was merely moving from one room to another.

Xiao Yunlang: "But with you here accompanying me, this palace I never could get used to suddenly feels quite nice."

Jiang Yanzhou's fingers, resting on the quilt's edge, twitched slightly.

"So don't think about anything for now. Get some rest so you're ready for tomorrow. Sweet dreams."

After speaking, Xiao Yunlang also turned his back. He had just closed his eyes when he sensed faint, rustling movements behind him, and then... he felt Jiang Yanzhou cautiously, gently lean against his back.

A faint warmth seeped through the thin inner garment. Xiao Yunlang closed his eyes, the corners of his lips curving upward, and he also shifted back slightly, allowing them to lean against each other more closely.

The palace wasn't always just desolate. Lying within it, they entrusted their backs to each other, leaning together, blocking the capricious cold drafts, and resting in sweet dreams.