Chapter Fifteen: The Assassin's Infiltration

"Ah, your favorite osmanthus cakes. Do you like them?" Feng Qiuji cast a sidelong glance at Sakura Luo. This little girl was remarkably persistent—despite being told that Ling Zetian was married with a child, she still refused to abandon her ridiculous hopes. And then there was Anuo, already four years old yet still unable to behave appropriately, almost exposing her in public—utterly unforgivable. She would see to him properly once they returned.

"Your Majesty, this is a small yellow croaker freshly caught from Longshan River, prepared with a unique local technique. It's a famous specialty here—please try it." Sakura Luo placed a piece of fish in Ling Zetian's bowl. Ever since Ying Xuanyu had told her that Ling Zetian was the emperor, her interest in him had grown exponentially.

"Your Majesty, fish has many bones; it's better not to eat it. You might get pricked. Why not have some chicken instead?" With that, Feng Qiuji dropped a piece of chicken into Ling Zetian's bowl, glaring at Sakura Luo with undisguised hostility.

"Your Majesty, chicken is too greasy. It's healthier to eat some vegetables." Sakura Luo returned the glare and added a stalk of greens to Ling Zetian's bowl.

"Vegetables are too plain and won't fill you up. How about some tofu? It’s high in protein." Feng Qiuji picked up the green from Ling Zetian's bowl, tossed it to Sakura Luo, and then placed a piece of tofu in Ling Zetian's bowl.

The green vegetable, flung from Feng Qiuji's chopsticks, shot straight toward Sakura Luo and landed with a smack on her green dress.

Staring at the offending stalk, Sakura Luo was instantly furious. Never in her life had anyone dared treat her this way. It was outrageous! She wasn’t about to be cowed just because this woman was the empress. Picking up a piece of chicken skin, she tossed it at Feng Qiuji. "Chicken skin is good for the complexion. The Empress should have more."

"Thank you for your kindness, Miss Sakura, but your skin seems a bit dull. Perhaps you should eat more yourself." Feng Qiuji deftly flicked her chopsticks, sending the greasy chicken skin flying onto Sakura Luo's face.

For a moment, time seemed frozen—everyone was stunned. Ying Xuanyu, glancing at the now petrified Sakura Luo, quietly edged his chair away.

Sure enough, after a few seconds of silence, Sakura Luo suddenly stood up, slamming her hands on the table, eyes wide as she glared down at Feng Qiuji. Through gritted teeth, she spat, "Miss Feng, you’re so thin; you should eat more meat to supplement your health." With that, she seized a platter of braised pork and hurled it at Feng Qiuji.

Seeing where things were heading, Ling Zetian, anxious that their conflict would spill over to the innocent, swiftly scooped Anuo from Feng Qiuji's arms and pushed Feng Qiuji’s chair aside. The platter of braised pork hit the pristine white wall instead, the dish shattering on the floor and leaving an oily stain behind.

"Ahem..." Ying Xuanyu recovered his senses and cleared his throat, reminding the two women, who had lost all reason, "Shouldn’t we be eating now?"

But a glance at the table showed that what was once a neatly arranged meal was now a shambles: tofu mixed with chicken, silver ear and lotus seed soup floating with greens, the fish torn apart by chopsticks—Ling Zetian surveyed the unappetizing mess, calmly picked up his handkerchief to wipe his mouth, and lifted Anuo. "Xiao Yuzi, let's eat in the next room."

...

At dusk, Ling Zetian and Ying Xuanyu took a leisurely stroll in the rear garden.

They had been childhood friends, but as adults, it had been a long time since they’d enjoyed such a relaxed walk together.

"Time flies so quickly. In just a few short years, you've ascended the throne and taken a consort," Ying Xuanyu said, gazing at the evening clouds, his heart full of emotion.

"And you—still no plans to marry?" Ling Zetian glanced at Ying Xuanyu. With his wealth and elegant bearing, the line of women hoping to marry into the Ying family likely stretched to the end of the street.

"Haha, I was born for freedom—why would I want a wife to manage me?" Ying Xuanyu laughed. Since childhood, he’d gotten on better with Ling Zexin, both of them fond of pleasure and frequenting entertainment houses. "But your empress is rather interesting."

"Feng Qiuji?" Ling Zetian thought of that perpetually troublesome woman. Sometimes he truly doubted she was the prime minister’s daughter. Feng the Prime Minister was far from virtuous, but as a civil official from a scholarly family—having passed the imperial exams in his twenties and served in court ever since—he ought to have instilled better manners in his daughter.

"Isn’t she the prime minister’s precious daughter? She really is... unique. Quite adorable, actually." Ying Xuanyu couldn’t help but smile, recalling Sakura Luo’s discomfiture earlier. Since childhood, Luo’er had been willful and unruly, her own parents unable to control her, and she’d never met a true rival—until today, when she met Feng Qiuji, an evenly matched opponent.

"As you saw for yourself, she’s hardly fit to be an empress."

"But I do think she cares about you. The moment Luo’er showed you the slightest affection, she started guarding her territory."

Does she care? Ling Zetian was taken aback. Remembering the earlier battle between Feng Qiuji and Sakura Luo, he was suddenly in good spirits, a faint smile curving his lips for reasons he couldn’t name.

"Brother—" Just then, a young woman in a light pink gauze dress bounced over. Though she called out to her brother, her eyes were fixed on Ling Zetian. "It’s so hot today, so I made some sweet soup. Would you like to try it?" At her signal, a maid handed over a bowl of mung bean soup, thick and sweet.

Ying Xuanyu glanced at Ling Zetian, then at Sakura Luo, feigning heartbreak, "You heartless girl, after all these years you’ve already forgotten your brother for someone else."

Ling Zetian looked at the attentive young lady and smiled faintly. In summer, he did enjoy mung bean soup after meals—she must have asked the maids and made this to please him.

At that moment, a sudden noise came from the rooftop. Instantly alert, Ling Zetian sprang into action. "Who goes there?"

Meanwhile, Feng Qiuji was soaking in her bath. The skirmish with Sakura Luo had left her clothes and body covered in oil stains, so tonight she was determined to wash thoroughly. As she thought of that little sister, Feng Qiuji couldn’t help but grumble inwardly. Though she and Ling Zetian were not a true husband and wife, she was still his empress, yet Sakura Luo dared to disregard her completely—flirting and exchanging glances with him right under her nose. Where did that leave her? This was simply intolerable!

After soaking for a while, Feng Qiuji surfaced, sending ripples through the calm water. She’d bathed long enough; time to change into her nightgown, take a little stroll, and then return to her chambers for a peaceful night—it was, after all, a quiet evening.

"Assassin! There’s an assassin—catch the assassin!" Shouts faintly echoed from afar, accompanied by the heavy rush of footsteps. Feng Qiuji tensed, instantly alert. What was happening?

She was about to rise when the door suddenly banged open; a gust of wind blew in, snuffing out the candles and plunging the palace into darkness.

Feng Qiuji’s heart leapt. Before she could react, the door slammed shut again, as if nothing had happened. She was still puzzling over it when a hand clamped onto her arm, and something cold pressed against her neck—a dagger, gleaming faintly in the dark.

"Don’t move." A low, ghostly voice hissed in her ear.

Holding her breath, body rigid, she dared not move. Outside, the frantic footsteps drew closer. Though this was the imperial residence, renowned for its security, how had an assassin managed to break in—and right into her room, of all places? And she was bathing! Could he not have chosen a better time?

"Chief Yu, we’ve searched the area but found no sign of the assassin."

"Keep searching!"

"Yes, sir."

Yu Fan scanned the surroundings, finding nothing. His gaze landed on the chamber ahead—the empress’s residence. In recent days, he’d witnessed her unconventional ways and formed a favorable impression. He knocked politely, but there was no reply. Testing the door, he found it unlocked, only lightly closed.

"Your servant Yu Fan pays respects to Her Majesty. I apologize for disturbing you at night."

Hearing Yu Fan’s voice, Feng Qiuji turned to the assassin, awaiting his cue.

"Answer him," the man in black ordered, tightening his grip—clearly surprised to have seized the empress herself.

Startled, Feng Qiuji shifted her neck, fearful that a slip of his hand might end her life.

"What is it?" She steadied her voice and replied calmly.

"There’s been an intruder tonight; we chased him here, but he vanished. May I ask if Your Majesty has seen anyone suspicious?"

"I’ve been here all along and seen no one. Chief Yu, you should search elsewhere quickly—don’t let the assassin hurt anyone."

"This..." Yu Fan hesitated. It wasn’t that he doubted her, but his men had already scoured the area—only this room remained. "For Your Majesty’s safety, may I ask permission to search your chambers?"

"Chief Yu, it's not that I refuse you, but I am bathing—it's most inconvenient." She didn’t know Yu Fan well, but knew him to be a diligent and responsible steward. She didn’t wish to make things difficult for him.

"In that case, I’ll continue the search elsewhere." Yu Fan, somewhat embarrassed, signaled his men to withdraw.

As their footsteps faded, silence returned to the night. Feng Qiuji turned to the masked assassin. "You can let me go now, can’t you? I saw nothing, so there’s no need to kill me." Perhaps from reading too many novels and dramas, Feng Qiuji found herself remarkably composed in the face of being held hostage—entirely unperturbed.

---A digression: Assassins, assassins—Remnant Sun has always been fond of ancient assassins—la la la.