Accidentally Having a Baby with the Future Emperor - Chapter 102 Part 1

From the teahouse across the street, a man stumbled into a private room inside a tavern.

“Clan Head, it’s bad! The Crown Prince has arrived with his men. Ours are all dead!”

Behind the table sat two men: Feng Zhong and Mu Yin.

Feng Zhong had been waiting anxiously for news and at those words, his face changed, shooting to his feet. “How could the Crown Prince suddenly appear…?” The men he’d sent out today were all elite. This operation should have been foolproof. Panicking, Feng Zhong turned to Mu Yin. “Young Master Mu, you must help me! If the Crown Prince finds out I was behind it, I’m done for! I was only following your orders!”

Mu Yin frowned. “Calm yourself. You were acting on behalf of His Highness the Prince of Wei. Even if the Eastern Palace finds out, what can they do? It’s just one lowly strategist from the Crown Prince’s staff. If he’s dead, he’s dead. Even if the case reaches the Court of Judicial Review, no one will bother digging further.”

Feng Zhong’s breathing steadied a little at that. “Then what do we do now?” He was a shrewd man. He knew Mu Yin had failed earlier today with the Ten-Days Gathering and couldn’t face the Prince of Wei. To redeem himself, Mu Yin had wanted to seize the original painting of Winter Plum and had drawn Feng Zhong into the plan.

Feng Zhong had known it was risky but as Mu Yin said, killing an Eastern Palace aide meant nothing. Even if the man truly died, no one would investigate. And if this earned him the Prince of Wei’s favor, it would be a deal of immense profit.

However, that was if it succeeded. If it failed, knowing the ways of the capital’s powerful clans, he’d be the first scapegoat thrown to the wolves.

The only comfort was that it had been just an Eastern Palace aide.

Mu Yin stood by the window, glancing toward the teahouse across the street. “Set it on fire. Burn everything.”

Feng Zhong agreed.

That night’s operation had failed and Feng Zhong remained uneasy. He followed Mu Yin back to the residence on Vermilion Bird Avenue to discuss their next move. As the two entered the courtyard, they both stopped short. By the well near the moon gate stood a man with his arms loosely crossed, while a guard drew up a bucket of water.

The one standing was Xiao Rong. He had removed his veil, dressed in an ordinary wide-sleeved robe with a fruit in hand. There was no sign he had just survived an ambush.

Feng Zhong, already on edge, felt his heart jolt violently at the sight of the pair. He instinctively took a step back.

Xiao Rong’s eyes curved in amusement. “Clan Head Feng looks rather frightened of me. Why? Have you done something you shouldn’t?”

“Y–You’re talking nonsense.” Feng Zhong quickly steadied his tone. “I simply didn’t expect anyone to be here, that’s all. By the way, without Young Master Mu’s permission, who allowed you to draw water here?”

Mo Dong had already hauled up a full bucket. At those words, he dropped it heavily to the ground with a thud. Water splashed onto Feng Zhong’s shoes.

Feng Zhong fell silent at once.

Xiao Rong’s gaze turned toward Mu Yin and he smiled with a courteous bow. “My thanks to Young Master Mu for his kind assistance today. I’ve truly learned a great deal.”

Mu Yin’s lips curved faintly. “My eyes must be poor, not to see that the young master carries such a treasure and such talent. I have fine tea inside. Would you join me for a cup?”

“Gladly. But since Clan Head Feng is here today, I wouldn’t want to intrude. Another day, I’ll be sure to pay my respects.” Still smiling, Xiao Rong gave another polite bow, and he and Mo Dong departed with their water, as calm as if nothing had happened.

Feng Zhong craned his neck and asked suspiciously, “What did he mean by that? Did he find out something or does he really not know…?”

The smile vanished from Mu Yin’s lips. “Whether he knows or not, he can’t be allowed to live. With someone like him in the Eastern Palace, he’ll one day become a grave threat to His Highness the Prince of Wei.”

Of course, Mu Yin didn’t voice his deeper concern before Feng Zhong. If the Prince of Wei learned that the Eastern Palace harbored such a brilliant man, would he not try to lure him away?

Mu Yin had earned the Prince of Wei’s favor largely thanks to his face. Although he managed the Ten-Days Gathering on the Prince of Wei’s behalf, he wasn’t irreplaceable. If he were, he wouldn’t have to rent a private residence out of his own pocket.

Knowing the Prince of Wei’s temperament, if he really managed to snatch the man from the Eastern Palace, he would surely be exalted to the skies just to spite the Crown Prince. And by then, where would Mu Yin have any place left?

“How many men can you still command?” Mu Yin asked.

Feng Zhong instantly caught his meaning. He knew that once aboard a pirate ship, there was no easy way to disembark. Better to go all in and fight for a chance to survive. After a moment’s hesitation, he said in a low voice, “I can still mobilize at least a hundred men within the capital.”

“Good. Bring them all here.”

***

“Young Prince, the people next door are quietly gathering men. I fear they’re coming for us,” Mo Dong reported as he entered.

Xiao Rong sat cross-legged on the bed, a book resting on his knees, flipping through it with an unreadable expression. At the words, he didn’t even look up. “How many?”

“It’s hard to say, but judging by the movement, there are quite a few. Perhaps I should escort you somewhere safer,” Mo Dong suggested. “This place is too exposed.”

Xiao Rong propped his forehead on one hand, casually turning a page. “What, can’t even handle a few men like that?”

Mo Dong shook his head, replying seriously, “If it were only me, no matter how many came, I would not be afraid. But in chaos, I might not be able to keep you safe, Young Prince.”

Xiao Rong arched a brow. “So you mean I’d just be a burden to you?”

Mo Dong immediately denied it. “I dare not, that’s not what I meant.”

Xiao Rong finally looked up. “Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself. I can protect myself.” He paused. “What’s the condition of the man we captured?”

Mo Dong replied, “He’s awake. As you ordered, I gagged him and locked him in the cellar of the outer house. I interrogated him briefly and he said the assassins were all Feng Zhong’s death soldiers, brought from Songzhou. The attack was planned jointly by Feng Zhong and that Mu Yin. The Prince of Wei himself seems unaware.”

Xiao Rong nodded. “I see. You may go. The antidote is on the table. Take one pill for yourself.”

Mo Dong acknowledged the order. On the table sat a small wooden box; inside was a single white pill. Without asking what it was, he took it and left, closing the door behind him.

The room fell silent once more.

Xiao Rong set aside his book, got up, and walked to the corner. From the bottom of a wooden chest, he retrieved a small black jar and placed it on the table. The oil lamp cast a dim yellow glow.

Seating himself, Xiao Rong picked up a dagger and drew a thin cut across his fingertip.

Bright red drops welled from the wound, falling one by one into the jar. Inside lived the most venomous of the four Gus he kept, Blood-Killing.

And Xiao Rong had always fed it with his own blood.

When he was still in the mountains, only a few drops of blood were enough each time. Xiao Rong would pierce his finger with a golden needle to feed it. But a few days ago, the Gu had devoured the King of Gu from the Western Regions, a creature he had bought at great expense, and its appetite had grown far greater than before. So now, Xiao Rong had to use a dagger to let his blood flow freely.

Although it lived on blood, the Gu’s body was still translucent and pure white, as innocent-looking as a silkworm. Only a single blood-red line ran across its back. After each feeding, that crimson line always shone brighter than before.

So it was again today.

Xiao Rong lightly bound his wound, admired his work for a while, and then returned the Gu to its black jar and placed the jar back into the chest.

Nothing happened that night.

At dawn the next morning, Mo Dong heard a peddler’s call outside. Opening the door, he saw an old man walking the street with a pole across his shoulders, selling wontons from his baskets. Mo Dong stood in the doorway for a moment, thinking, then turned back inside. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw Xiao Rong pacing slowly beneath the eaves, hands clasped behind his back.

“Why didn’t you buy any?” Xiao Rong asked, stopping.

Mo Dong replied, “That old man hasn’t been around the last few days. I thought something might be off.”

Xiao Rong only smiled. “It’s fine. Go buy two bowls.”

Since his master had spoken, Mo Dong dared not refuse. He first tested the food with a silver needle for poison. Once certain it was safe, he brought the wontons to Xiao Rong.

“Sit and eat with me,” Xiao Rong said.

Mo Dong, who had planned to eat standing in the courtyard, froze. “That’s against proper manners.”

“In my house,” Xiao Rong replied lightly, “my rules are the only rules.”

So Mo Dong obeyed and sat down.

When they had finished eating, Xiao Rong said, “Go and handle something for me.”

***

Among Crown Prince Xi Rong’s trusted inner circle, Song Yang had his own courtyard within the Eastern Palace and servants to attend him. Although it was still early, the Crown Prince’s diligence meant none of his aides dared to sleep late. Song Yang had already finished breakfast and was still thinking about yesterday’s matter with the Winter Plum painting when a guard entered holding an object.

“Sir, someone outside said he was an old friend of yours and brought this for you.”

Surprised, Song Yang took it and unrolled it, only to find it was indeed a painting scroll. His face instantly changed. “Where is the messenger?” he demanded.

Seeing his alarm, the guard quickly replied, “He already left. Shall I send someone to follow?”

Song Yang held the scroll in trembling hands. It felt as heavy as a thousand catties. At last, he shook his head. “Never mind. Has His Highness finished court?”

“His Highness has just returned. He’s in the council hall.”

***

The council hall was silent.

Xi Rong sat behind his desk in dark ceremonial robes, his face unreadable as his hand traced the surface of the painting laid before him.

Song Yang, Zhao Tao, and Chunyu Hui stood below.

Both Zhao Tao and Chunyu Hui were staring in disbelief at the true original of the Winter Plum painting now spread open before the Crown Prince.

Yesterday, Song Yang had sworn he never sent men to the Ten-Days Gathering to disrupt the Prince of Wei’s event. Yet today, this priceless masterpiece appeared in the Eastern Palace; astonishing beyond words.

“He didn’t show himself?” Xi Rong asked, his tone calm but indistinct.

Song Yang, understanding who his master referred to, truthfully explained what had happened.

Xi Rong’s hand tightened on the scroll. He rose slowly to his feet.

Song Yang dared not utter another word.

Zhao Tao and Chunyu Hui exchanged uneasy looks. They had already obtained the Winter Plum painting, so why did His Highness’s eyes still hold a glint of anger?

“Your Highness.” Jiang Cheng’s voice came from outside. “A man calling himself Qi Qiuyu has arrived. He brought several of his students and asked for an audience.”

At this, all three men besides Xi Rong were startled.

“Qi Qiuyu?! The head of White Deer Academy, Master Qi himself!”

“Yes, that Qi Qiuyu!”

Song Yang stepped forward solemnly. “Your Highness, Qi Qiuyu is one of the most renowned scholars of our dynasty. He was once an advisor for the late emperor, but was dismissed for speaking too frankly. His influence among scholars is immense. He’s also someone the Prince of Wei has long sought to win over. If Qi Qiuyu has come here in person, it must be for the Winter Plum. Your Highness, this is a chance that must not be missed!”