Yun Zheng’s clear voice rang out: “I ask Lord Ji to convey to His Majesty: the Yun family seeks neither fame nor profit, only the eternal stability of Great Qi. To contribute to the nation and ease our sovereign’s burdens is our honor. Therefore, please do not grant me any reward.”
Her words were lofty and magnanimous, revealing broad vision. They won the Emperor’s favor and earned her a sterling reputation. But they shattered the Marquis’s schemes, his dream broken.
Marquis Pingxi ground his teeth, forced to swallow his fury, his chest aching with suppressed rage. What a daughter of the Yun family!
Lord Ji looked deeply at Yun Zheng. Such wisdom was rare—too bad she was a woman. “Miss Yun, rest assured. I will certainly report this to His Majesty. You are a heroine who rivals men. To have a subject like you is Great Qi’s blessing.”
The words fell like cold water, chilling the Marquis household to the bone. Ye Yizhen’s face twisted in fury. That was her money! The heir had said Yun Zheng’s dowry would belong to her once it entered the household—she could spend it however she wished. She had already planned to use the dowry to buy favor, build prestige, and pave her own path. But how could Yun Zheng donate it? How dare she? Ahhh—she wanted to kill her!
Jiang Wenzhou’s eyes widened. She was insane! Who allowed her to speak like that? If she didn’t want it, the Marquis household did. How could she decide for them? What was she worth?
Yun Zheng turned to him. “Ah, the heir is glaring at me again. Is it because you can’t bear to part with it? Don’t be so petty. Wealth scattered will return again.”
She refused to suffer even the smallest loss. Whatever Jiang Wenzhou said, she returned needle for needle.
All eyes turned to Jiang Wenzhou. No matter how much his heart ached, he was forced to smile. Grinding his teeth, he squeezed out: “Of course I can part with it.”
But inwardly he swore: once Yun Zheng entered the household, he would unleash every torment upon her, until she begged for death yet could not die. Only then would his resentment ease. He tried to hide it, but the shrewd guests saw through him—and so did Yun Zheng.
“The heir just said I am a merchant’s daughter, unpresentable. I reflected on it, and indeed, that is true.”
The heir froze. Reflection? She could reflect?
But Yun Zheng continued: “So, I wish to ask His Majesty to bestow upon me two senior palace matrons to teach me proper etiquette, so that I may quickly integrate into this circle. If His Majesty grants this, it will be the greatest honor of my life. His grace is vast, blessing all under Heaven.”
A trivial request exchanged for a shining reputation—what sovereign would refuse?
Marquis Pingxi suddenly grasped the deeper meaning behind Yun Zheng’s words and drew in a sharp breath. This was a transaction: she donated half her dowry, and in return the palace would safeguard her life. Step by step, she advanced with precision—such profound cunning. For the first time, he truly regarded the young woman before him.
Lord Ji understood as well, secretly shaken. This Yun daughter was not to be underestimated.
“Miss Yun, rest assured. I will immediately petition His Majesty. I believe His Majesty, being a wise ruler, will surely grant this small request.”
For Yun Zheng, several million taels of silver in exchange for her life was a fair bargain. She bowed gracefully. “Thank you, Lord Ji.”
Then she turned her gaze on Marquis Pingxi, smiling faintly, her eyes clear yet sharp.
In this round—Yun Zheng versus the Marquis and his son—the latter were utterly defeated.
But this was only the beginning.
Not far away, within the carriage, Li Wuyang watched the scene, his lips curving into a half-smile.
Yun Zheng, sole daughter of the richest family in Great Qi, was astonishingly clever. Without a ripple, she drew others into her rhythm, keeping everything under her control. At the very moment her opponents brimmed with expectation, she shattered their hopes again and again, driving them into chaos. She was a master at playing with people’s hearts. Most importantly, her courage was extraordinary. As a merchant’s daughter, she dared to challenge the authority of the nobility, to confront her husband’s household head-on, without mercy. It had been a long time since he had seen someone so intriguing.
His attendant, seeing his smile, was startled and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Was that truly a smile? Since the incident, their master had grown dark and irritable, mercurial, never smiling again. “Your Highness, the hour grows late. The palace must be growing anxious.”
Li Wuyang replied coolly: “Let him wait.”
Him? Did he mean the Emperor? The attendant wiped away cold sweat, not daring to say another word, and retreated cautiously.
Meanwhile, in the palace, the Emperor in dragon robes glanced anxiously toward the outside, his expression tense.
“Where is Prince Rui?”
The chief eunuch at his side knew the prince’s special status well. Prince Rui, Li Wuyang, was the late Emperor’s son.
The late Emperor cherished him like a treasure. At birth, he was granted the title of Prince Rui, enjoying princely privileges—treatment even the current Emperor had not received.
Before his death, the late Emperor entrusted Prince Rui to the present Emperor, making him swear to treat the boy kindly.
After the Emperor’s passing, the five‑year‑old Prince Rui was raised in the palace under the Emperor’s care. Though brothers in name, their bond was like father and son. Upon reaching adulthood, with no higher title left to bestow, the Emperor granted him the exalted rank of “Lord Qiansui (Nine Thousand Years)”—a position of supreme honor, second only to the throne itself.
T/n: a highly flattering title for a powerful courtier, signifying a status just below the Emperor. The Emperor is Wansui (Ten Thousand Years).
Such favor stirred envy among the imperial princes, who fawned over their young uncle, hoping thereby to win their father’s attention.
“Your Majesty, Prince Rui has entered the city. He will arrive at the palace within half an hour.”
Yet half an hour passed with no sign of him. The Emperor set aside his memorial, frowning. “Go and ask—why has Prince Rui not yet come?”
The eunuch left and soon returned with an Imperial Guard.
The Imperial Guard, tasked with surveillance and intelligence, was always well‑informed. The uproar at the Pingxi household had already reached their ears.
“Your Majesty, Prince Rui is watching the commotion at the Pingxi household.”
The Emperor was incredulous. Prince Rui was not one to seek amusement. “Explain. What exactly happened?”
The officer recounted the events in detail. The Emperor interrupted: “You mean the Marquis household failed to inform the bride’s family, tried to marry two wives at once, and was outmaneuvered by a daughter‑in‑law not yet through the door?”
“Yes.”
The Emperor set his brush on the rack, speaking casually: “Jiang Zhen, that old fox, always so calculating. Yet after all his scheming, he chose such a troublesome daughter‑in‑law. He deserves it.”
The officer hesitated, then ventured cautiously: “Your Majesty, since they are ill‑matched, why not dissolve the betrothal? Let them part ways and marry elsewhere.”
This Imperial Guard was a trusted confidant, favored enough to jest at times. He simply thought that, given the Marquis’s nature, the Yun girl—clever as she was—would never escape retribution—such a waste at her young age.
The Emperor’s gaze chilled, his tone indifferent: “The three letters and six rites have been completed. That makes her part of the Marquis household. I cannot interfere in a subject’s domestic affairs.”
This was the boundary. Even as Emperor, he must uphold it. To act arbitrarily would invite endless trouble. Arbitrariness was the mark of a tyrant.
“Continue.”
The officer sighed silently. “The Yun girl has pledged half her dowry to the treasury, for military provisions. She only asks that Your Majesty grant her two senior palace matrons.”
The Emperor was surprised. “Half her dowry? How much is that?”
“An estimated five hundred thousand taels of silver.”
A faint smile touched the Emperor’s lips. “So, she seeks to drag me into helping her. Still, since she shows loyalty, let the Empress send two matrons. At least it will preserve her life for a few years.”
The Emperor’s mind was unfathomable—none dared speculate too much.
“Yes.”
As they spoke, a guard hurried in, bowed, and reported: “Your Majesty, the Yun girl has donated the other half of her dowry…”
The Emperor paused, his eyes lighting with eagerness. “To the treasury as well? Excellent, excellent. I will ensure she does not die.”
The guard spoke cautiously: “No, it was given to Prince Rui.”
The atmosphere froze, as though solidified in an instant.
The Emperor’s expression grew unreadable. No one dared utter a sound; all stood silent as cicadas.
The chief eunuch’s back went cold, not daring to lift his head. Having served the Emperor for decades, he could guess at some of his hidden thoughts—Prince Rui…
After a long silence, the Emperor’s voice rang out, calm yet inscrutable: “Prince Rui is not one to seize by force. What exactly happened?”
The guard’s expression was strange, almost amused but restrained. “It was not Prince Rui himself. It was during the wedding ceremony—Miss Yun did something else… something earth‑shaking.”