Chapter Two: The Empress Dowager’s Secret

By the time the investiture ceremony concluded, midnight was nearly upon them. Feng Qiuji, who had fasted the entire day, was already restless after enduring the elaborate proceedings. She rubbed her flattened stomach, unable to resist the urge to seek food.

Just as she stood, Xiao Hui, who was waiting nearby, blocked her path. "Your Majesty, the Emperor hasn't arrived yet. Where are you going?"

"Xiao Hui, I'm starving..." Feng Qiuji clung to her, her face mournful. This Xiao Hui, rumored to be the original Feng Qiuji’s attendant sent as part of her dowry, was someone Feng Qiuji had already investigated. She found her trustworthy, having accompanied Miss Feng for many years. As for whom she questioned—well, that was a matter for another time.

"Miss, please endure a little longer." Xiao Hui relaxed, glancing around to ensure no one else was present. The palace was nothing like the Prime Minister’s residence; vigilance was required at all times.

"But..." Feng Qiuji’s face contorted in pain. "Ah, I can’t. My stomach hurts. I must eat..." Saying this, she tore off the heavy ornaments from her head, instructed Xiao Hui to keep them safe, then strode to the bronze mirror and haphazardly smeared the rouge and powder from the table across her face.

By the time Feng Qiuji turned back, Xiao Hui no longer recognized her.

"Miss..." Before Xiao Hui could stop her, Feng Qiuji darted out of Chao Yun Palace, leaving Xiao Hui staring after her in disbelief. Was this really her mistress? Miss Feng usually walked in tiny, measured steps—what had changed today?

After several rounds of wine, the banquet had become unruly. The Empress Dowager claimed ill health and did not attend; the princess took the younger princes to play elsewhere, and even Ling Mingxin was off somewhere courting a noble lady.

Ling Zetian sat alone, brooding over his wine. The Ling Dynasty, after centuries of development, was powerful and prosperous. When his father passed, the treasury was full and the realm at peace, suggesting his reign would be carefree, requiring only the duties of a sovereign. Yet the throne was never so easy—countless eyes coveted it from the shadows, denying him any comfort.

Take, for example, the assassins who kidnapped Feng Qiuji. He had already sent men to investigate and expected results in a few days. The fact that they could spirit her away from the palace, unnoticed, and sell her to a brothel, suggested motives far from simple and a strength not to be underestimated. Perhaps behind it all lurked some hidden organization...

As Ling Zetian’s mind churned with these chaotic worries, his gaze fell upon a woman with heavy makeup. She wore a maid’s uniform, her face so thickly powdered as to be unrecognizable. Most irritating was her behavior—carrying a wine cup from table to table, eating in a most vulgar manner, utterly lacking decorum.

His brow twitched. Ling Zetian beckoned to Eunuch Sun, who stood by.

"Your Majesty, what are your orders?"

"Find out which palace that maid belongs to. Take her away and discipline her properly." Ling Zetian pressed his hand to his forehead, unwilling to watch further. How could the palace tolerate such servants?

"Yes." Eunuch Sun obeyed, approaching her. "Hey, which palace are you from?" He put on his stern face, ready to educate this unruly maid. But she ignored him, focused solely on shoveling food.

"Hey," he knocked the table angrily. "I’m speaking to you!"

Feng Qiuji looked up, staring blankly at him. She had always felt sympathy for eunuchs—after all, their work forced them to live as neither man nor woman. Seeing Eunuch Sun’s round face, his skin softer and paler than a woman’s, she felt a sudden sadness and sighed heavily.

"Why do you sigh when I’m speaking to you?" Eunuch Sun demanded.

"Sorry, I just pity you," Feng Qiuji replied mournfully, setting down her chopsticks. She, so kind-hearted, could not eat when confronted by a eunuch whose inner turmoil was so evident. She picked up a boiled corn cob, held it out to Eunuch Sun, and asked, "May I interview you? When you feel lonely, how do you dispel your melancholy?"

"Hmm?" Eunuch Sun’s eyes widened, his pale finger trembling as he pointed at her. "You dare speak to me like that? Guards, drag her out and give her forty lashes!" As chief eunuch, he was respected by all palace staff—this maid’s disrespect was an outrage.

"Huh?" Feng Qiuji stared in shock. Was he talking about her? Before she could react, two junior eunuchs had already seized her, pulling her away from the table. "Hey—what are you doing?"

As she was about to be dragged out, Feng Qiuji felt a surge of desperation. She shouted, "You can’t treat me this way—I am the Empress!" Her cry echoed through the hall, stunning everyone; all eyes fixed upon her. Even Ling Zetian squinted, scrutinizing her.

Realizing the silence, Feng Qiuji knew she had said the wrong thing. After a few seconds, she added loudly, "…’s maid!"

Everyone scoffed and returned to their own affairs—drinking, eating, laughing.

"Hurry up, drag her out!" Eunuch Sun impatiently shoved her away.

Feng Qiuji managed to escape the two junior eunuchs by claiming she needed the latrine, only to find herself lost in the labyrinthine palace.

The night was deep, every corridor identical, direction impossible to discern. Feng Qiuji silently cursed the architect. As she agonized over her predicament, a bright candlelight suddenly glowed from a chamber ahead.

Whatever might happen, she thought, asking for directions was better than wandering aimlessly. She approached the door, ready to knock, when she heard suspicious sounds.

Suspicious sounds…

Her mind conjured a series of forbidden images…

Well, though peeping was wrong, such things happening in the palace surely demanded the Empress’s intervention. With this righteous justification, Feng Qiuji felt emboldened; mimicking scenes from television, she licked her finger, then poked a hole in the window paper.

Inside, gauzy curtains swayed, candlelight flickered gently, and the air was filled with an amorous atmosphere.

She widened her eyes, straining to see the faces of the two figures, but from her angle she could only make out their backs.

"Regarding our cooperation, what does the Empress Dowager think?" A pleasant, slightly hoarse male voice spoke slowly. Feng Qiuji surmised he had been overly passionate moments ago.

"I will consider it carefully," came the reply.

"What?!" Feng Qiuji nearly dropped her eyes in shock. The Empress Dowager?!

So old, and yet desired…

It seemed that, in every age, money and status were what mattered most. With wealth and power, even age and ugliness could be overlooked. Wu Zetian was proof enough—women must be ever self-reliant.

"Who’s there?!" The Empress Dowager heard the noise outside, swung her gaze toward the shadow at the window.

Feng Qiuji finally saw her face.

The Empress Dowager was a beauty—young and lovely. No wonder her voice was so tender...

No, no, now was not the time for such thoughts.

Caught peeping—what to do? Better to flee. Feng Qiuji spun around and ran.

"Where do you think you’re going?" A rush of wind flung open the door, and a white-clad figure floated out, blocking her path.

Feng Qiuji stared, stunned, at the exquisitely made-up woman standing barefoot, clad only in a thin robe.

The Empress Dowager knew martial arts?!

The truth was, every palace had a restless Empress Dowager, and every restless Empress Dowager would be caught by the protagonist, and then every restless Empress Dowager would try to kill said protagonist...

The Empress Dowager looked at the strange maid before her, a hint of surprise in her eyes. She had ordered the courtyard guarded—how had this maid slipped in? Though doubtful, she wasted no time, reaching out to seize Feng Qiuji by the throat.

Feng Qiuji instinctively twisted her arm, trying to break free. She had been caught peeping; even if reported to the Emperor, she would be at fault. Besides, the Empress Dowager was disrupting the harem—perhaps the Emperor would even want her silenced.

Feeling her wrist twisted back, the Empress Dowager paused, then sneered. Was this maid resisting? With a flash, she summoned her inner strength and struck.

Feng Qiuji felt a powerful blow crash into her shoulder, the pain rattling her bones. She was sent flying, landing heavily on the ground and vomiting blood.

The Empress Dowager sneered coldly, approaching to deliver the final blow.

Facing imminent destruction, Feng Qiuji was filled with indignation. No, she could not die here—not after barely twelve hours in the palace. How could she perish so ignominiously?

Summoning all her strength, she shouted, "Help! Someone! The Empress Dowager is being attacked!"

"Who’s there?" Hearing her cry, the guards outside rushed in.

Seeing them enter, the Empress Dowager instantly scooped up Feng Qiuji, gathered her internal energy, and in a flash returned to her bedchamber, slamming the door shut.

"Greetings, Your Majesty." Wei Long entered with a squad of guards. Seeing the lights still burning in the bedchamber, he knelt respectfully. "Just now…"

"Nothing happened. All of you, leave."

"Yes." Wei Long felt some doubt. Clearly someone had called for help—why did the Empress Dowager insist nothing was wrong? Still, with her command, he dared not disobey. The most important duty of a subordinate was obedience; excessive curiosity could be fatal.

As he was about to lead the guards out, one of them tugged his sleeve. Wei Long followed the gesture, noticing fresh blood on the grass, barely visible in the night.

Could it be...

Wei Long immediately turned, carefully observing the room. The candlelight flickered quietly, as if nothing were amiss.

He called out, testing, "Your Majesty, have you retired for the night? The Emperor sent me to check on your health."

"Tell the Emperor I am perfectly well."

The voice from the chamber was calm, flawless. Even so, Wei Long decided to check inside. If anything truly happened to the Empress Dowager, he could not bear the responsibility. With a subtle signal, the guards quietly surrounded the chamber, hiding by the doors and windows.

With a loud crash, Wei Long and several guards burst into the bedchamber, only to realize their error. The Empress Dowager sat upright at her desk, reading. She looked up slowly as they entered.

"Chief Wei, what is this?" Surprise flickered in her eyes, as if unaware of anything. Her acting skills were indeed formidable.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I saw fresh blood outside your chamber and thought—"

"Chief Wei, your diligence is commendable. How could I blame you? Well, if there’s nothing else, you may all leave."

"Yes." Wei Long withdrew with his men, restoring quiet to the chamber.

The Empress Dowager walked into the inner room. The man had already dressed, seated leisurely with a cup of tea, while Feng Qiuji lay motionless on the floor.

The Empress Dowager focused her internal energy in her right palm, preparing to deliver the final blow and send Feng Qiuji to the afterlife. Unexpectedly, the man stopped her. "Wait."

"What is it, Little Henzi? Don’t tell me you fancy her?" A shadow flickered in her eyes as she laughed coyly.

"Not at all. I just think we should find out who sent her..."

The Empress Dowager, unable to resist, sat beside him, sipping tea, her gaze falling upon him as she spoke in a voice so sweet it chilled the spine. "Then hurry and release her acupoints." The man smiled faintly, aware that offending her could have dire consequences. She was beautiful, but ruthless, and there was little hope for anyone caught in her grasp.