Grand Ancestor had just been enjoying the spectacle, never expecting the fire to suddenly turn on him. He hurriedly explained to this little granddaughter he couldn’t afford to offend:
“No, no, this… I…”
Grand Princess had no patience for his rambling explanations. Puffing up with anger, she said:
“Grandpa, get up. I want to sit. I have something to say.”
Even when angry, the eight-year-old girl was utterly adorable. Grand Ancestor quickly rose from the dragon throne.
Grand Princess slung her bow and arrows over her back and tried her best to climb up, but the dragon throne was too high. How could an eight-year-old child manage it? Her short little legs kicked wildly in mid-air, but she simply couldn’t get up.
The kneeling ministers watched Grand Princess’s rebellious act with trepidation, only to see Grand Ancestor standing by, both worried and struggling to hold back laughter.
After a while, Grand Princess still hadn’t managed to climb up. Finally, Grand Ancestor could no longer contain himself:
“Pfft! Hahahahaha!”
Then Grand Ancestor gave his little granddaughter a hand, lifting Su Fengyi onto the dragon throne.
The tiny Grand Princess sat on the towering dragon throne, staring down at the injured and terrified Liu Ci lying on the ground. With stern composure, she delivered the following speech:
“My father and mother are happy together, a harmonious couple. What business is it of you outsiders? Who are you to gossip and meddle here?
Liu Ci, I ask you: can you simply not bear to see others happy? How can your heart be so dark? Are you so idle from doing nothing worthwhile all day that you’ve gone mad from eating too much?
You insist my father should be with someone else, that he should take a concubine before you’re satisfied. Do you want to marry my father yourself?
Why don’t you look in the mirror? With a face like yours—neither human nor ghost—you dare dream of becoming my father’s concubine? You’re not even worthy!
How can there be someone as utterly wicked as you in this world? Someone as despicable as you still has the nerve to be an official? Go search the whole world and see if you can find anyone more shameless than you, Liu Ci!
Don’t let this princess see you again. If I ever lay eyes on you again, I will surely kill you.
All of you here, listen well: from now on, anyone who dares bully my mother or shamelessly pushes to become my father’s concubine—this princess will slaughter their entire family!”
Minister Song was also present at the time. When his eyes met those of the eight-year-old Grand Princess, a shiver ran through his entire body.
Grand Princess’s gaze was a murderous one. Such a look on an eight-year-old child was truly chilling.
Criticizing others was originally the censor’s bread and butter, but Censor Liu Ci was utterly lambasted by an eight-year-old child and couldn’t retort at all.
Because truly, their styles were too different.
When censors criticized, they emphasized sarcasm and the art of quoting classics—cursing without using foul language. Where had anyone seen a method as raw, wild, and fierce as Grand Princess’s? It was simply impossible to withstand.
The dignified Censor Liu Ci truly had a wretched fate: first nearly shot to death, then subjected to a torrent of abuse, and even becoming the laughingstock of rumors about wanting to become the Crown Prince’s concubine.
On the way home from the palace to treat his injuries, Liu Ci’s horse was startled and bolted, causing him to fall from the carriage and break his neck, thus meeting his end.
Later, the Liu family appealed to Grand Ancestor, claiming the horse’s fright was deliberate and that Grand Princess had recklessly taken a life, demanding Grand Ancestor uphold justice.
The Emperor summoned Grand Princess for a direct confrontation. Grand Princess sneered coldly:
“Do you think I’m giving you face? If this princess wanted to kill him, I would have done it on the spot. Why would I need to resort to tricks? Was he even worthy?”
“This princess thinks he’s done too many wicked deeds and is now reaping what he sowed!”
The Liu family wailed and howled, furious enough to spit blood, while Grand Ancestor was still trying to smooth things over:
“She’s just a child, only eight years old. Could she possibly kill someone? Let’s not bring this up again.”
A court-appointed official was thus hastily dismissed, leaving people sighing in dismay.
A major court struggle aimed at attacking the Late Emperor and Empress Xie had just begun, not even having time to fully unfold, when it was disrupted and dissolved by an eight-year-old child. It was truly chilling to think deeply about, sending shivers down one’s spine.
That sense of dread, even now, remains vivid and fresh in Minister Song’s memory.
A cool breeze blew across the lake. Though it was early summer, Minister Song felt this wind was even more biting than the icy gusts of winter, chilling him to the bone and making him shiver uncontrollably.
Minister Song’s teeth chattered, but he stubbornly insisted:
“I, I am loyal to the sovereign…”
So he was just a coward after all.
Su Fengyi found it utterly uninteresting. She sheathed her dagger, mounted her horse, and sneered coldly:
“Loyal to the sovereign? Which sovereign?
Who is Minister Song’s sovereign?
Is it the Late Emperor, or the current Emperor?
The Emperor has been on the throne for six years and is now eighteen. Does Minister Song still see him as the helpless young child who could be manipulated in every matter?”
Su Fengyi was isolated and weak. To stop King Pingliang’s rise and avoid the fate of losing her head, she had to find allies.
But she sought mutually beneficial partners, not a bunch of overbearing “fathers” for herself.
Thus, she would rather cooperate with someone like Commander Zhu, a fence-sitter, than get entangled with stubborn old-timers like Minister Song.
Because Minister Song and his ilk committed the great taboo of a subordinate: not treating their boss as a proper boss and even daring to try to teach the boss how to do things.
Minister Song and his kind are doomed to die.
Such fools, Su Fengyi had no intention of saving.
In the workplace, not treating your boss as the boss might at most get you fired. In the officialdom, not treating the Emperor as the Emperor—even with three heads and six arms—wouldn’t be enough to save you from execution. How could anyone rescue them?
The world Su Fengyi transmigrated into was one where imperial authority reigned supreme.
Imperial authority demands submission, not lecturing.
The Late Emperor was willing to share power with the Grand Secretariat—that was his magnanimity. But the current Emperor clearly had no such intention.
For so many years, these ministers had failed to adapt, stubbornly clinging to power and competing with the Emperor for authority. That was why the ruler and his officials grew to resent each other, drifting further and further apart.
As for veteran officials like Minister Song, who had served three reigns—stubborn, rigid, and always ready to sacrifice others for the “greater good” in their minds—Su Fengyi planned to keep them as far away as possible in the future.
Getting too close to them invites misfortune.
Like today, asking her to deliver the memorial—did Minister Song not know the dangers involved?
Did he not know that, given the Grand Princess’s current influence, openly confronting the Nine-Thousand-Year-Old would be a death sentence?
He knew, but he didn’t care. Because dying for remonstrance was the highest honor for a civil official. He was gambling on that one-in-ten-thousand chance—if the Emperor listened and the Nine-Thousand-Year-Old fell, they would win.
To win, they would spare no cost. Su Fengyi was that cost.
“Minister Song, this princess is someone who repays every slight. Today’s matter, this princess remembers.
Out of respect for the Late Emperor, I will give you a chance. If you retire and leave the capital today, I will let it go.
But if you stubbornly remain in this court, don’t blame this princess for being merciless.”
To be frank, I did not kill enough people today and am in a foul mood. I am itching for a bloodbath. Let’s see if I have what it takes tomorrow to slaughter your entire household and wipe out your whole family.
I have said all I need to say. Minister Song, you’d better watch your step.”
After Su Fengyi finished speaking, she ignored the thunderstruck, utterly stunned Minister Song, flicked the reins, and Little White Dragon carried her away with a clatter of hooves.
Sacrificing others is a minor matter, but what about sacrificing oneself?
She wanted to see whether this Minister Song, who spoke of righteousness and thirsted for power, was as tough as he claimed—whether he dared to hold out until tomorrow.
Minister Song wanted to use Su Fengyi as a stepping stone. In return, Su Fengyi naturally intended to use him as material to build her reputation.
What kind of reputation did Su Fengyi like?
Cruel, bloodthirsty, and vengeful to the last detail—excellent, excellent. The more fearsome it sounded, the more she liked it.
When out in the world, one’s persona is crafted by oneself. Su Fengyi was extremely satisfied with the persona she had created.
Let’s see which blind fool would dare cross her path in the future.