Feng Zhao stayed behind closed doors in Fengming Palace, claiming she was too grief-stricken over the emperor’s death and had fallen ill. In reality, everyone with eyes knew what was going on.
Some mocked her for being timid, while others had to admit—her methods were unexpectedly sharp.
Even if Feng Ying returned, the palace would still be Wen Mei’er’s territory.
A few days passed.
On the night before the emperor’s encoffining, Feng Zhao received news that Xiao Hongyi had been assigned to keep vigil for Emperor Lixiao.
“He is only five years old. Isn’t he too young to be keeping vigil?” Feng Zhao asked.
The eunuch delivering the message replied, “Your Majesty may not know, but this time it was decided by lottery. Just now, the Ninth Prince’s name was drawn.”
A lottery sounded fair—but in reality, everyone knew the waters ran deep.
This was Wen Mei’er’s scheme. Since she couldn’t find a flaw in Feng Zhao herself, she aimed at Xiao Hongyi instead.
No matter who got hurt in the end, the real beneficiary would always be her and her son.
【Ding~ New mission activated: ensure the target is safe tonight.】
【Reward: one treasure chest.】
【Special note: the chest may contain random rewards, including an A-rank character card you like~】
Feng Zhao: “…”
Fine. I’ll go.
She had someone call for Xiao Hongyi, but it was just a cover—she had Lianqiao take a casual walk outside and come back reporting:
“Your Majesty, something bad has happened! The Ninth Prince has caught a fever!”
“What!!” Feng Zhao immediately looked worried. She sighed and said to the eunuch, “Sir, it’s not that I refuse to let the Ninth Prince fulfill his filial duty—it’s just that if he is coughing and feverish, he may disturb the Emperor’s peace.”
“Why don’t I go in his place and keep vigil?”
The eunuch had just seen her lying on a couch, supposedly gravely ill. Now she suddenly looked full of energy.
“…Your Majesty, weren’t you also ill?”
“Who said that?” Feng Zhao replied seriously. “Just now, a dragon qi entered my body. I am completely healed.”
Without wasting another word, she strode toward the mourning hall faster than anyone else. The eunuch hurried to follow, stunned.
The mourning hall remained unchanged: the emperor’s coffin at the center, surrounded by white mourning banners.
Feng Zhao changed into a black-and-white phoenix robe for vigil duty. Several princes were also present.
Naturally, Wen Mei’er’s son was not among them.
Late at night, palace attendants came to escort everyone to a separate room for a late-night meal.
Feng Zhao immediately felt alarm bells ringing. She exchanged a look with Lianqiao—both understood.
Each person was taken to a separate dining room. Feng Zhao was placed in a remote corner room—clearly a convenient place for an “accident.”
She sat down as instructed. Several exquisite vegetarian dishes were placed in front of her.
Lianqiao subtly nodded and slipped her an antidote when no one was looking.
Clearly, the food was poisoned.
Feng Zhao took the antidote without hesitation, then picked up her chopsticks and ate a bite of greens.
The eunuch who delivered the meal watched from a distance. Seeing her eat, he left satisfied.
But he did not leave entirely.
He secretly poked a hole in a side window to confirm she had fainted before reporting success.
As for Lianqiao and the maids, they were quickly knocked out by hidden guards and taken away.
Feng Zhao allowed herself to “faint” on purpose.
Soon after, she sensed unfamiliar footsteps approaching outside.
The person walked steadily and confidently—certain the plan had succeeded.
“Empress, tonight I will serve you well.”
A greasy, vulgar voice sounded beside her.
A shadow lunged toward her face, trying to touch her.
Feng Zhao’s eyes snapped open.
“Since you’re so eager to die, don’t blame me.”
In one motion, she twisted his wrist, then kicked hard at his lower abdomen.
The man tried to scream—but she dislocated his jaw immediately.
He collapsed in agony, rolling on the floor without being able to make a sound.
Feng Zhao grabbed his collar and threw him onto the bed.
“I know you,” she said coldly, looking down at him. “You’re a guard in my palace. Your name is Wang Shan, correct?”
The man’s eyes widened in shock.
He never expected her to recognize him.
“How curious?” Feng Zhao sneered. “From two days ago, your gaze on me was disgusting—like looking at meat on a chopping board. I would’ve been blind not to notice.”
A slight observation was enough for her to identify him and even track his associations.
“Wen Mei’er sent you to frame me for immoral conduct in the harem, didn’t she?”
It was a clever plan—if successful, it would ruin Feng Zhao’s reputation and suggest she had long been involved with a guard.
But Wen Mei’er overlooked one fatal flaw.
Feng Zhao was not stupid.
“Now you have two choices,” she said. “Obey me, or die.”
Wang Shan trembled violently on the bed, looking at her like she was a demon from hell.
Meanwhile, Wen Mei’er’s maid, Yunxiang, had been secretly watching from afar. Hearing the sounds, she hurried back to report.
“Your Highness, everything is complete!”
The next morning.
Dark clouds covered the sky, and sunlight struggled through the haze.
Today was the emperor’s funeral procession.
Courtiers entered the palace early in mourning robes.
Officials aligned with the Wen family gathered around Wen Chenglin, flattering him endlessly.
Everyone knew that after today, the First Prince would be formally confirmed as the next ruler of the Cangyun Empire.
Wen Chenglin responded politely, but for some reason, his eyelid kept twitching. A bad feeling lingered.
“Come here,” he said, pulling a eunuch aside. “How is the consort’s side progressing?”
The eunuch replied, “Everything is arranged. Please rest assured, Lord Wen.”
Even so, Wen Chenglin’s unease did not fade.
“Go and tell her this,” he added. “Today is different from usual. The struggle for the throne is extremely dangerous. Tell her to be extremely careful—do not miss a single detail.”