“Good! Well done!!”
Feng Ying’s applause suddenly rang out from the crowd.
He had never had a good impression of the emperor, nor of the imperial palace. He had come today to attend the coffin-sealing ceremony only because he happened to be passing through.
He had just arrived in time to hear the latter half of the conversation—and immediately applauded Feng Zhao’s handling of things.
“Daring to poison her own master? Even dismembering her wouldn’t be excessive. In my opinion, she should be executed along with her entire clan according to the law!!!”
Anyone who dared to poison the Empress of the dynasty deserved to bear the consequences. There was nothing to pity. The law stood above all—if it was not followed, what authority remained?
Fuling burst into tears, but no one showed her sympathy.
A mere palace maid had dared to poison her own mistress. People like her could not be kept. Even exterminating three clans was already lenient—by rights, exterminating nine clans would not be excessive.
In desperation, Fuling turned to Wen Mei’er for help.
“Consort… Consort please save me!!”
But Wen Mei’er was eager to distance herself. Without hesitation, she kicked Fuling away and said loudly:
“This person belongs to the Empress’s palace. Whatever the Empress says goes. In this Consort’s opinion, she is clearly framing me and spouting lies—I do not know her at all!!!”
She tried to sever all ties, but Fuling—already given a truth-dispelling pill and terrified of death—spoke everything without restraint.
“No! I am not lying! When Consort Wen gave me the arsenic (heavenly poison), she also gave me a gold hairpin. I have kept it all this time—it is in my sleeve!”
Fuling’s hands had already been cut off, so Lianqiao helped retrieve the hairpin. It was stained with blood, horrifying to look at, but otherwise intact.
The gold hairpin was not particularly exquisite, but it was absolutely not something a mere palace maid could possess.
Feng Zhao took it.
“The distribution of items to imperial consorts is strictly recorded by the Imperial Household Department. Who this hairpin belongs to can be verified with a single inquiry.”
The Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Household Department was Wen Mei’er’s man. Hearing this, she felt slightly relieved—but then grew suspicious. Why would Feng Zhao summon him when she knew he was hers? Did she have a backup plan?
Feng Zhao indeed had one.
When the Chief Eunuch was brought forward for questioning, she casually touched the silver ring on her finger—an item belonging to a family member she had placed outside the palace.
It wasn’t only Wen Chenglin who had leverage. She did too.
“Chief Eunuch,” Feng Zhao said calmly. “Is this hairpin Consort Wen’s?”
The eunuch clutched the registry book in trembling hands. He looked at Wen Mei’er, then at the silver ring on Feng Zhao’s finger.
His entire family—over a dozen lives—depended on this moment.
“Don’t worry,” Feng Zhao said lightly. “As long as you tell the truth, nothing will happen to you.”
Feng Ying also barked, “Speak honestly! If you dare conceal anything, you’ll lose everything. I mean what I say!!”
Sweating profusely, the eunuch finally pulled out a wrinkled document from his robe. It was a sealed design record.
The hairpin design drawn on it was identical to the one in Fuling’s possession.
“Items issued to consorts of rank and above exist in only one copy. Once forged, the design is archived and sealed.”
In other words—there could not possibly be another identical gold hairpin in existence.
So what did this mean?
A noble consort of the empire had tried to poison the Empress. If word got out, what face would the Cangyun Empire have left?
The ministers erupted.
“This is outrageous! Utterly outrageous!!”
“Hierarchy has existed since ancient times. The Empress is the mother of the nation—how could she be harmed like this?! Absurd!”
“To think the Wen family would do such a thing!!”
Not everyone in court supported the Wen family. Some had long held grievances but feared Wen Chenglin’s power. Now, with evidence in hand, they no longer held back.
Wen Mei’er realized she had to sacrifice something to survive this.
She turned her gaze to her maid, Yunxiang.
Yunxiang had served her since childhood—over ten years.
She understood immediately what that look meant.
Shocked, but helpless.
She was a servant. A servant’s duty was to share her master’s burdens.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward, knelt, and slapped herself.
“It was this servant’s fault! I stole the Consort’s hairpin to ease her burden and caused this disaster! I have no face to live!”
Before anyone could react, she slammed her head into the ground and died on the spot.
Blood splattered. A life vanished in an instant.
Wen Mei’er was not without regret, but someone had to take the fall—and she refused to be the one.
She turned to Feng Zhao.
“Empress, my maid was ignorant and stole my hairpin. Is this enough?”
“Not enough,” Feng Zhao replied calmly. “Although it was a servant’s wrongdoing, the arsenic came from the Hibiscus Palace. One dead maid is not enough.”
Then she looked at the ministers.
“May I ask—do I have the authority to punish the Consort?”
Feng Ying immediately stepped forward.
“The Empress governs the inner palace. She is its head. Of course she has the authority to punish a mere consort!”
Others who disliked the Wen faction also followed suit.
“Yes. The Empress is the mother of the nation. We outsiders will not interfere in palace affairs.”
Feng Zhao nodded.
“In that case, I hereby convict Consort Wen of poor discipline. She is demoted to Noble Consort Wen.”
Just like that, Feng Zhao stripped the “noble” from Wen Mei’er’s title and reduced her to an ordinary consort, equal with the other four consorts.
“You—”
Wen Mei’er almost couldn’t accept it, but Feng Zhao’s cold gaze reminded her of Yunxiang’s corpse on the ground.
In the end, she had no choice but to accept.
If Feng Zhao truly wanted, she would not have left her even this rank. This was already restraint—for now she still had bigger plans.
“Now then,” Feng Zhao said, looking at the crowd. “Today is the emperor’s coffin-sealing ceremony. According to law, one prince should preside. Who do you think it should be?”
The Wen faction remained silent. After today’s humiliation, they could not risk speaking again.
Wen Chenglin clenched his fists. Everything he had arranged had been ruined in a single misstep.
Feng Ying spoke first.
“In my opinion, bloodline comes first. The legitimate heir should preside over the ceremony and send the late emperor to his rest!”
But the Wen faction still refused to give up.
“If we speak of bloodline, the Ninth Prince is not even the Empress’s biological son.”
Feng Zhao lazily adjusted her sleeves and glanced at the minister.
“You are mistaken.”
“I adopted the Ninth Prince under my name with the Emperor’s approval. His name is already recorded in Fengming Palace’s genealogy.”
“Since that is the case—he is my legitimate son.”