The date for the Empress’s conferral ceremony was calculated; it would take place in exactly one month.
As a grand event of state, the installation of an Empress naturally required solemn preparation. This one-month window was quite appropriate neither too rushed nor overly generous.
Simultaneously, the news that the Prince of Xian’s heir was to be made Empress spread from the imperial palace. In a mere half-day, it permeated the entire capital. Setting aside the reactions of the common people, the various dignitaries and nobles were momentarily stunned upon hearing the news. Subsequently, they heard of the dismissal of over a dozen court officials, and they instantly became as silent as cicadas in winter.
When even the opposition of high-ranking ministers had been suppressed by the Emperor to the point of using an iron fist to directly strip them of their offices, what power did the rest have to impeach him? They feared that at the slightest movement, soldiers would be knocking at their doors.
Even though establishing a male Empress was shockingly unconventional, the heads of the great noble houses were all old schemers. Seeing Emperor Qian’s decisiveness and ruthlessness, they knew it was time to change their mindset.
However, unlike those cautious types, in the eyes of the straightforward and frank commoners, learning that the Empress to be crowned was a man something unprecedented in history was one thing to find appalling, but to find it improper and a sign of a fatuous ruler was another.
As time passed, the matter continued to ferment. Just as Yan Lin had predicted, the title of “Malevolent Consort” was likely pinned firmly to his head, never to be removed.
A few days later, the news of the Empress’s installation spread throughout the Great Qian. Even the Prince of Xian, located in his distant fiefdom, received the news. His first reaction was one of utter disbelief.
But after checking the intelligence report repeatedly several times, he finally confirmed that he was not hallucinating. He fell silent for a moment.
Princess Xian, having heard there was news of her “Lin-er,” hurried in. Upon entering, she saw her husband’s brow furrowed deep in worry. Anxiety filled her heart; thinking Lin-er had met with some misfortune, she grabbed the report from the Prince’s hand without a second thought and read it.
After a long while, the Xuan paper silently slipped from her hand.
Princess Xian, her eyes filled with disbelief, turned to look at the Prince.
“This…”
In response to her question, the Prince of Xian nodded heavily.
Who could have imagined such a preposterous thing?
It was one thing for Emperor Qian to be interested in Yan Lin and brave the taboo of summoning him into the palace as a consort, but now he actually intended to crown him as Empress; it was beyond anyone’s imagination.
Moreover, the Prince of Xian naturally knew his son’s innate pride; it was impossible that he would willingly submit to Emperor Qian. He feared the old rogue had used force, leaving his son with no choice but to yield.
The more he brooded, the more the Prince’s heart filled with heavy sorrow, and his fists clenched involuntarily.
After a while, a flash of ruthlessness crossed the Prince’s eyes. He closed them, and when he opened them again, he had already made a certain decision.
Princess Xian naturally understood her husband well. Seeing this, her heart trembled, her fine brows knit together, and a look of grief appeared on her face.
“Husband, are you planning to…”
Long ago, when the Prince of Xian was courting King Kang and Zhang Ying, the Princess—who was supposed to be kept in the dark — had sensed something. Now, she was very clear about the treasonous path her husband was about to take.
But thinking of her son being bullied in the palace, the Princess naturally understood. She could only support him in silence, pressing all her anxieties into the depths of her heart.
However, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how much her husband’s power had grown, she knew that a year or so of foundation-building was certainly not enough to go against the entire Great Qian Dynasty.
The Prince of Xian took her hand, his expression softening.
“I know your concerns. But that old rogue of an Emperor is truly hateful. Could you bear to see Lin-er suffer his insults while also being pointed at by a thousand fingers?”
He sighed, his gaze drifting toward the window as he said gloomily: “We have endured enough.”
One step back, then another; when there is no path left to retreat, what else is there to do?
…
Regardless of the Prince of Xian being provoked into preparing for a rebellion, about ten days later, Yan Lin, who had received the message from the Prince, was covered in black lines (exasperated).
The rebel army hasn’t even finished “leveling up” yet; are they planning to strike a stone with an egg and come straight here to die?
But from the wording in the letter, it wasn’t hard to see the Prince’s worry for him—or rather, he was excessively worried.
In the eyes of the Prince of Xian, Yan Lin was a poor little victim suffering persecution, enduring humiliation, swallowing his breath, compromising for the sake of the big picture, and “tasting gall while sleeping on brushwood”… Er, according to the normal plot, that did indeed seem to be the case.
However, setting aside the fact that the Protagonist almost moved the plot to assassinate Huangfu Li forward, you, the Prince of Xian, aren’t even a major supporting character—why are you jumping in early to join the chaos?
Still, thinking about it, it was understandable. The news of him becoming Empress had likely reached the Prince, and after some “brain-supplementing” (imagining), the Prince concluded that given the original host’s personality, he would never agree to Huangfu Li; therefore, Huangfu Li must be forcing him.
Once provoked like that, it is easy to do irrational things.
One could only say: a father’s love is deep.
Yan Lin shook his head helplessly and said to Shadow One beside him: “Grind some ink for me.”
Shadow One said nothing, only silently pushed him behind the writing desk, smoothed out the Xuan paper for Yan Lin, and then began grinding the ink.
Every movement was completed quietly and thoroughly before Yan Lin even had to give the order.
While Yan Lin was writing the reply telling the Prince of Xian to temporarily abandon the rebellion, he said casually:
“Is something on your mind?”
Just as Shadow One’s actions were perfectly attuned to him, Yan Lin had now grasped a bit of this shadow guard’s personality. He was certainly a “loyal dog” type; while he remained silent, all his thoughts were reflected in his efficiency. That didn’t mean he lacked emotions, only that they were rarely seen.
Now that Yan Lin had noticed it, it was quite rare for something to move Shadow One, whose emotions were usually as still as ancient water.
Hearing this, Shadow One paused and looked up slightly. His focused gaze seemed to brush past Yan Lin’s elegant profile before he lowered his head again. His voice was slightly low and raspy as he spoke:
“Subordinate simply does not understand why you must agree to that Emperor. It is not worth it.”
Yan Lin raised an eyebrow, set down the brush after finishing the letter, and said nonchalantly: “Then what do you think is ‘worth it’?”
Yan Lin thought Shadow One would analyze a long list of reasons and concerns; as his primary confidant, Shadow One’s intelligence was naturally top-tier.
Unexpectedly, the sentence Shadow One blurted out was:
“That Emperor is not worthy of My Lord.”
“…”
Between laughter and tears, and seeing Shadow One’s current, utterly serious expression, Yan Lin was speechless.
“Fine, I have my own calculations. Say no more.”
Why was everyone telling him not to be the Empress? Even Shadow One, who stayed by his side and knew his schemes, said so.
He hadn’t expected that, regardless of the plan, Shadow One simply did not wish to see him make a sacrifice.
Even if it meant delaying the rebellion, it wouldn’t matter.
Yan Lin handed the letter, once the ink had dried, to the once-again silent Shadow One. He watched as the guard took the letter and tucked it carefully into his robes. Afterward, Shadow One pushed him out of the study and into the pavilion in the courtyard.
Yan Lin waved his hand, telling him to send the message out as quickly as possible, lest a delay cause the Prince of Xian to come here to his death.
In terms of execution, Shadow One was beyond reproach. After instructing the nearby maids and servants to look after Yan Lin, he departed temporarily.
His departure wouldn’t be for long, though probably only about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.
Yan Lin sat in the pavilion, pinching some fish food and scattering it into the pond. He watched several goldfish under the lotus leaves swarm to compete for it, his expression relaxed.
Speaking of which, because of the preparations for the Empress’s ceremony, it was understandable that Huangfu Li was a bit busy doing things personally.
And the Protagonist, who used to visit constantly wishing he could come twice a day—had rarely been seen these past few days.
Or rather, this phenomenon began after the birthday banquet ended that day.
Yan Lin could only ponder: was the Protagonist’s power development facing some setbacks?
However, without the Protagonist and without Huangfu Li, his days were much quieter.
The only thing that left Yan Lin somewhat puzzled was that back when Huangfu Li was still ill and unrecovered, which was the original host’s actual birthday, the Protagonist, as an overt ally, had naturally prepared a gift for him.
A precious pearl said to have taken ten thousand years to form.
To Yan Lin, it was just a pearl slightly larger than a fist, though it was indeed quite beautiful, so he accepted it happily.
But the gift itself wasn’t important. What mattered most was that at the time, the youth had a smile in his eyes as he gazed at him leisurely, and said something rather ambiguous:
“How could a mere small gift be worthy of you, Brother Lin? After some time has passed, I will certainly present you with a truly substantial ‘great gift’.”