Everyone Wants To Harm Me - Chapter 66

I stayed in Lan Garden for one night and returned the next day.

In the morning, the maid came to ask me, “Miss, there was a lot of blood on your clothes yesterday. I’m afraid it can’t be washed out. Do you still want them?”

I lay on the couch, closed my eyes, and waved my hand. “No, throw them away.”

Throw away everything from the past. Don’t think about it anymore—only then could I be free of worry.

I returned to the Duke’s Mansion in the afternoon. The place was quiet. Nothing had happened.

From the glances and whispers of the servants, I gathered that early this morning, Grandfather dressed in full ceremonial attire and waited in the main hall. But by midday, not a single person showed up, and he stormed off in a huff to clock in at the imperial offices.

The Emperor gave me another day to breathe—I should be grateful.

Another day passed, and still no decree. Then another—and still nothing.

My grandfather and Madam Zhou grew anxious. The servants glanced at me with subtle, uneasy expressions.

While everything remained still within the mansion, a major event occurred outside.

The Emperor directly promoted the Third Prince from Commandery Duke to Prince, which was practically a public declaration that he chose the Third Prince as his heir. Soon after, word spread that Noble Consort Chu was sentenced to death a few days ago. The charges: “slandering the empress and concubines, causing unrest in the palace, acting recklessly, and scheming for power.” Her brother was also demoted from Chief Censor to a minor official outside the capital.

“Slandering the empress and concubines” likely referred to the rumors Noble Consort Chu spread about my aunt and Chang Yu having an affair. But no one knew better than the Emperor what truly led to my aunt’s death. Did he believe punishing Noble Consort Chu—the one who spread the rumors—would ease his conscience?

As for “scheming for power,” it was clear she vied for favor, trying to become Empress. What truly enraged the Emperor wasn’t her ambition alone—it was that she dared to dream of becoming Empress Dowager while he was still alive.

Rumor said that the eunuchs close to Noble Consort Chu testified she often spoke of the Chu Empress Dowager of the former Ying dynasty, once saying privately, “Our Chu family had an Empress mother a hundred years ago—why can’t we have another?” That was likely the origin of the so-called “arrogant and rebellious remarks.”

The Third Prince, still young, was moved to a different palace and assigned a new tutor.

The Chu family remained silent, quietly retrieved Noble Consort Chu’s body, and held a discreet funeral. Court officials claimed the Emperor was following the example of Emperor Wu of Han—killing the mother to establish the son, to prevent the future chaos of female rulers and the dominance of in-laws.

(Translator’s Notes: Emperor Wu of Han (漢武帝), personal name Liu Che (劉徹), was born in 156 BCE and ruled as emperor from 141 BCE to 87 BCE. He was the seventh emperor of the Western Han Dynasty and is widely considered one of the greatest emperors in Chinese history)

But Emperor Wu was nearly seventy when he executed Lady Gouyi. He knew death was near, that a child would succeed him, and a strong mother could create imbalance. The Emperor, however, was only thirty-seven—in his prime. Why would he kill the mother and establish the son now?

(Translator’s Notes: Lady Gouyi (勾弋夫人), also known as Consort Gouyi, was a concubine of Emperor Wu of Han and the mother of Emperor Zhao of Han (Liu Fuling). Fearing that Lady Gouyi might become a power-hungry Empress Dowager and threaten his son’s future, Emperor Wu ordered her death before his own passing. This is considered a calculated move to protect the empire’s stability.)

That unspoken but widely acknowledged rumor—that no emperor of this dynasty lived past forty—only had three years left.

I didn’t believe the Emperor killed Noble Consort Chu simply to secure the succession. He just couldn’t tolerate someone coveting his power—someone disloyal, even if she was his consort and the future Empress Dowager.

I didn’t expect that when he summoned her for questioning, he would actually sentence her to death.

“Granting death” again. When the Emperor suspected you and wanted you dead, even death became a merciful favor.

I stayed hidden in my own little courtyard, and everything I heard came directly or indirectly from Brother Zhongshu.

On the third day, he rushed over and asked, “The Duke asked me to inquire at the Hanlin Academy why the decree hasn’t come. Does the Emperor really plan to make you a concubine? When is it supposed to happen?”

As a subject, he could only think the disrespectful thoughts in his heart: The Emperor is more than twice Yaoyao’s age—old enough to be her father—and he already has so many concubines. Even if Yaoyao has to marry, she shouldn’t marry a middle-aged man. Yu Yan or Shao Dongting would be better than the Emperor! the Emperor already has heirs—if Yaoyao enters the palace now, is she just supposed to entertain him? And if the Emperor really doesn’t live past forty, she’ll be widowed at a young age, like the forgotten concubines of the previous emperor, left childless, guarding tombs and living out her life in Buddhist temples. I can’t accept this!

Yu Chongrui was right. Zhongshu truly cared for me. But it was best he didn’t get involved in my affairs.

I asked him, “Why hasn’t the imperial decree come yet?”

“You…” He looked shocked but couldn’t bring himself to scold me. “The Hanlin Academy already drafted the edict to confer you a title. But several upright ministers objected, saying it was unethical for the Emperor to marry both an aunt and her niece. It seems Princess Yongjia was also involved.”

It wasn’t unheard of for emperors to marry both aunt and niece. In the previous dynasty, even elderly emperors in their seventies took nieces of their wives into the harem. The emperors of this dynasty simply didn’t live long enough to get to that stage—so it was always sisters, not nieces. If this was unethical, then what about the Tang Emperor, who even took his son’s wife, Yang Guifei, into the palace—what good did the censors’ scolding do?

(Translator’s Notes: Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (reign 712–756 CE) became deeply infatuated with Yang Yuhuan—later known as Yang Guifei—who was originally the wife of his son, Prince Li Mao. At the time of their entanglement, Xuanzong was in his mid-50s, and Yang Guifei around 19–22 years old)

Censors could shout all they wanted, but it wouldn’t stop an emperor.

The only one who could really influence the Emperor was Princess Yongjia. She couldn’t accept that the couple she admired most would end up with her brother marrying his wife’s niece—bearing the same title and replacing her.

But even if the princess could change the form, she couldn’t change the essence. The Emperor wouldn’t let go of such a rare “prize” just for her sake.

“Why did the Emperor suddenly want you to enter the palace, and make you a concubine immediately…” Zhongshu asked, both furious and worried. “Did he… Did he take advantage of you when you stayed in the palace that night?”

Others said I’d been jealous of Lan Yue, angry she was going to marry Prince Xin, and so I shamelessly seduced the Emperor. Only Zhongshu believed in me—and feared I was forced.

“No, I stayed in the princess’s Zhaoyang Palace that night.” I shook my head, not wanting him to ruin himself by clashing with the Emperor. “Perhaps the Emperor was moved by Aunt’s memory and wanted to honor our family this way. But once the Princess and the senior officials opposed it, he changed his mind.”

I didn’t know if Zhongshu believed me.

But two days later, the Emperor issued an order: he claimed he missed the Imperial Consort so deeply that he couldn’t sleep. He ordered the side hall of Yanning Palace to be converted into a Buddhist temple to house her memorial tablet and receive offerings. Because she died without children, he said he would treat me as his own daughter. He named me Princess of Liangxi County and summoned me to the palace to perform filial rites and observe mourning.

I felt a bit more at ease. Being made a county princess was better than becoming a concubine—even if it was just a title. At least on the surface, the Emperor still honored his old affection for my aunt.

Liangxi was under the jurisdiction of Suzhou Prefecture, bordering Piling in the north—not far from Yu Chongrui’s hometown. I wondered if I would ever get the chance to visit my fief and see the land where he grew up.

The suspicious looks of the past few days turned into joy and flattery. Grandfather and Madam Zhou smiled as they escorted me to the carriage sent by the palace.

Madam Zhou hadn’t been granted a title yet, so she now had to bow to me. Within the family, aside from my grandfather the Duke, I now held the highest rank.

I saw Lan Yue in the crowd, standing beside my third aunt. It was too far to read her expression clearly, but judging by her face, it couldn’t have been anything good.

After entering Chunming Gate, I caught sight of the eaves of Zhaoyang Palace on the way to Yanning Palace. I thought I should visit Princess Yongjia to thank her for her help, so I said to Li Minghai, who was leading me, “Can we go to Zhaoyang Palace first?”

Li Minghai replied, “The Emperor will host a banquet for you this evening. Until then, the county princess may walk freely.”

I turned and entered Zhaoyang Palace. A palace maid led me inside, and I saw the princess sitting in the northwest corner of the courtyard under the shade of a tree. With her was… Yu Chongrui.

The two had dismissed their attendants and were speaking quietly—somewhat intimately.

I paused by the screen wall, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

“Oh, we’ve come at a bad time,” Li Minghai joked behind me. “The princess is meeting the future prince consort in private.”

The princess had already seen me. She stood and called out, “Yaoyao! Come here!”

I had no choice but to walk over and bow.

Yu Chongrui stood up and gave me a polite, awkward bow without speaking.

“This is the granddaughter of Duke Peng, Princess of Liangxi County,” the princess said, affectionately taking my hand as she introduced me. “Prime Minister Yu, surely you’ve heard of her?”

Yu Chongrui kept his eyes lowered. “I’ve heard a little.”

He actually pretended not to know me in front of the princess.
To be honest, we’d only met in private, and not many people knew that we even knew each other.

If he wanted to act like he didn’t know me, fine. He could pretend—so could I.

“So this is the new prime minister.” I stared at him and said, “I’ve often heard my grandfather mention you, and I’ve long admired your reputation.”

Yu Chongrui still didn’t look at me. He turned and bowed to the princess. “Since the princess has a guest, I won’t disturb you. I’ll take my leave.”

He… he actually left just like that, without looking at me once from beginning to end.
If he didn’t want to look, then so be it. I didn’t want to see him either, so I stood with my back to the direction he left and didn’t move.

The princess said, “Prime Minister Yu is injured. Don’t worry about it—he’s been given leave to rest. No matter how important the matter, it can wait a few days.”

Ah… he was injured? When did that happen? Was it serious?

I looked back at Yu Chongrui as he walked away. His posture was indeed stiff and strange, with one shoulder slightly higher than the other, and he walked slowly. It took him quite a while to go from the courtyard to the screen wall, and then he disappeared around the corner.

I hesitated but couldn’t help asking the princess, “Isn’t the prime minister a civil official? How could he get injured?”

The princess said, “He was supervising the Yellow River works and personally involved himself. Someone caused trouble on the river, and he ended up with some external injuries. If he had taken better care of himself instead of rushing around, he would’ve recovered in four or five days.”

Four or five days… was that before or after I went to Heqing County to find him? He was already moving slowly and acting strangely that day. Was he injured back then? Is that why he stayed at the posthouse instead of returning to the city? Deng Zishe happened to be there at the time—did he call a doctor to treat his wounds? If that was the case, then I… I even pushed him down before leaving. Would that have made it worse?

This man really… why didn’t he say anything at the time? If he had told me he was hurt, I… I wouldn’t have done such a stupid thing.

“Yaoyao?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and saw the princess looking at me. She straightened her face and said, “So he’s the prince consort you once chose. He’s quite handsome, not as bad as my grandfather made him sound.”

The princess asked, “Yaoyao, do you think he’s a good man too?”

“I… I just think he matches the princess well. To be appointed prime minister at such a young age, he must be exceptional.”

“Saying he ‘matches me well’—what does that even mean?” The princess sighed. “It’s true that he has extraordinary qualities to become prime minister at his age. But those very qualities are not necessarily good for a husband.”

I didn’t quite understand.
The princess continued, “Do you know why he rejected me back then?”

I actually did want to know, but I still feigned surprise. “What? He dared to reject the princess?”

—That did sound a bit forced. The princess had always treated me well; I shouldn’t try to deceive her. But if she realized I had a personal relationship with Yu Chongrui, there was no way the Emperor wouldn’t find out. I had to start training myself now—to treat him as nothing more than the new prime minister I’d only heard of, the political rival my grandfather despised, someone I instinctively disliked.

“This man is very frank,” the princess sneered. “He told me that the reason he’s still unmarried at twenty-six isn’t because he hasn’t met suitable young ladies or beauties who admire him, but because ever since he passed the imperial examination at sixteen, he’s devoted himself to government reform. He has a cold heart and no interest in marriage between men and women. If it were an ordinary woman, she might marry him for his looks and status, not caring if he’s affectionate or compatible, and just keep him as decoration. But I’m different. I’m a princess. I suffered for so many years in Huihe—after returning to Luoyang, I absolutely refused to be wronged again. I want a husband who understands, loves, and cares for me. He’s not the one I want. If I realized this only after marriage, we’d end up resenting each other, and the entire royal family would be dragged into it. After thinking it over, I found that what he said made sense. Some people appear courteous and flawless, but they’re actually distant and unfeeling—untouchable. Their hearts are like cold stone, impossible to warm. That’s not the kind of husband I want.”

The princess had only met Yu Chongrui a few times, but she saw through his nature; Deng Zishe also told Feng Yuan that Yu Chongrui’s heart was like frozen stone—no amount of love could melt it.

But I only understood that now.

Maybe only someone with such a heart—harder than stone and free of distractions—could throw themselves fully into their duties and become a prime minister in their twenties.

“If that’s the case, then the princess shouldn’t waste her feelings on him. It’s not worth it,” I murmured.

I, too, needed to take back all those thoughts I shouldn’t have—both for him, and for myself.

“Yes, I think so too,” the princess agreed. “That’s why I don’t want to pay attention to him anymore.”

I glanced at the screen wall gate. “Then why did he…”

The princess said disdainfully, “He came to ask me for a favor, so now he’s suddenly all attentive.” She thought to herself, Do I seem like a petty or unreasonable person? If you use that as an excuse to avoid me, don’t blame me for letting you dig your own grave. Let’s see how you suffer for it! I’ve been waiting for a good opportunity to vent my frustration!

Was she talking about Yu Chongrui? What kind of loss did she want him to suffer? What exactly did Yu Chongrui want from her?

I didn’t know what they talked about, but judging from the princess’s words, she probably wouldn’t do anything truly harmful to him.

The princess pulled me over to sit at the round table where she had just spoken with Yu Chongrui and said, “Yaoyao, from now on you’ll be living in Yanning Palace. I won’t be leaving Zhaoyang Palace for the time being. If you run into any difficulties, remember to come find me. I don’t have much power, but the Emperor still treats me well as a sister. I can help shield you if necessary, understand?”

I nodded. “That’s why I came to thank the princess…”

The princess sighed. “The Emperor said he wanted to take care of you for the sake of the Imperial Consort, so he arranged for you to enter the palace. Your family can also continue to enjoy their current status. I think—for the sake of the Concubine and me—he won’t make things too difficult for you.”

She thought again: If the Emperor was only showing kindness for the Concubine’s sake, then he could’ve simply granted you a noble title. Why insist on bringing you into the palace for two or three years? I’m afraid… he still harbors other intentions. He’s the emperor, yes, but even an emperor shouldn’t act on lust or abuse his power. There are so many beautiful girls in the world—countless willing young ladies. Why must he choose his own niece as a wife?

The princess thinks the Emperor is attracted to me because of my appearance. Let her think so.

I told her, “Don’t worry, Princess. I came to the palace to worship Buddha and mourn my aunt. The Buddha and my ancestors will protect me.”

We chatted in Zhaoyang Palace for a long time. By late afternoon, Li Minghai came again to deliver an order—the Emperor was holding a banquet at Ganlu Palace and had summoned me.

Ganlu Palace was located in the front court.

The princess was uneasy and muttered, “Ganlu Palace has always been used for meetings with officials. The women of the harem rarely go there. Why would he hold a banquet there just to summon you?”

(Translator’s Notes: Hour of you (Rooster) 5:00 PM – 7:00 PM)

I said, “Maybe the Emperor is rewarding his ministers and simply wants to see me briefly before the banquet.”

I said, “Maybe the Emperor is rewarding his ministers and simply wants to see me briefly before the banquet.”

I was right. The banquet at Ganlu Palace wasn’t for me—it was for high-ranking court officials and wouldn’t begin until the hour of You. The servants were still busy preparing.

A bamboo curtain was set up on the west side of the hall, with no lights nearby. The Emperor asked me to sit behind the curtain and said, “Stay here for now. I want to see which of these men are secretly working together. Is the matter of appointing a concubine really so controversial that they all oppose me in unison? There must be someone stirring up trouble—otherwise, why would you be demoted from concubine to mere county princess? Even Yongjia was swayed to speak against me.”

Suddenly, I had a thought.

The princess said Yu Chongrui came to her seeking help, acting uncharacteristically attentive. That day at the courier station, Yu Chongrui pressed me to tell him whom I would marry—he said he would find a way.

So… was he the one who persuaded the princess to speak out, rallying the officials to stop the Emperor from making me a concubine?