Everyone Wants To Harm Me - Chapter 70

There were always unexpected turns in life.

I had spoken properly with Prince Xin, but early the next morning, something went wrong—after falling into the pool the previous day, my whole body had been drenched and then exposed to the cold wind. Even with ginger soup and hot water, the chill hadn’t been fully driven out. I had woken up with a sore, swollen throat and couldn’t speak. I had also started coughing.

Not being able to speak could be handled with writing, but what about the coughing? The next night I still needed to hide behind the curtain to observe the court officials—what if I couldn’t hold back and made a sound? Wouldn’t I be discovered?

The Emperor had heard I caught a cold saving the Third Prince from falling into the water, so he couldn’t really blame me. He had only punished the personal attendant by the Third Prince’s side and ordered the imperial physicians to treat me as best they could.

The Third Prince, on the other hand, was perfectly fine. In fact, he looked even more spirited than the day before. With two eunuchs in tow and arms full of gifts, he came to visit me: “Father told me to come… to thank you.” He immediately added, “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you! One thing has nothing to do with another! Father forced me to come!”

And in his mind, he added, I don’t want to marry you either! You’re too old!

This was the first time anyone had ever rejected me for being too old. I had been furious, though I suddenly remembered I’d said similarly rude things to Yu Chongrui before. I was only five years older than the Third Prince—Yu Chongrui had been ten years older than me.

I had been drinking medicine at the time. I set the bowl down and dismissed the others before hoarsely asking, “Does your father know you and I were struggling when we fell in?”

He shook his head but looked uncertain and hesitant.

“Don’t let him know,” I told him. “And don’t let him see that you’re still upset over your mother.”

“Uncle said the same thing, and he won’t even let me mourn her…” the Third Prince muttered. “But my mother went through so much to give birth to me and raise me. Her kindness is greater than the heavens. How can I just forget her?”

I had wanted to talk him through it, but my throat had hurt so much that even one more word was difficult. I could only wave him off. “Go think it over yourself.”

“Then I’m leaving. If Father asks, tell him I’ve already visited you.” The little brat raised his chin and turned to leave. Before going, he couldn’t help glancing at the medicine bowl on the table. “You better not avoid the medicine just because it’s bitter!”

You think I’m a kid who’s scared of bitter medicine?

Then again, there were adults who refused medicine because of the taste too.

The Princess had said Yu Chongrui was on sick leave because of an injury, so it must have been serious. He’d probably have to drink bitter medicine every day for a while. I doubted he’d be able to attend the Zhongyuan Festival the next night either.

The Emperor had great trust in and regard for Yu Chongrui. I had once heard him inwardly berating his court: “If everyone could be like Chongrui and focus on real affairs instead of struggling for power, forming factions and attacking rivals, I wouldn’t have to worry so much!”

If judged solely by whether he wished to govern diligently and care for the people, the Emperor might not have been a tyrant or a fool. But being emperor was too complex, too difficult. Just wanting to be good at it didn’t mean you would be.

The imperial physicians had prescribed a stronger cough suppressant—three times a day in large doses. After two days, the coughing was finally suppressed. I could speak softly again. Just in case, I changed into a palace maid’s clothing and hid behind the curtain, covering only my face.

The fifteenth of the seventh month—Zhongyuan Festival. The Night of Wandering Ghosts. The undercurrents of struggle within the court were no less intense.

Last time, the Emperor had invited old ministers with honorary titles—men of high reputation and exemplary conduct. There hadn’t been many of them, and while some had harbored selfish motives, the scene had remained relatively restrained.

But today, those present wielded real power, their interests deeply entangled, divided into numerous factions. It was hard to tell friend from foe—this was nothing short of a battleground.

For the first time, I truly understood what it meant when people said the officialdom was like a battlefield.

To me, this was a field where flesh and blood flew freely. What others called Shura hell in a crowded marketplace was even crueler here. Petty villains might only seek to harm one or two people, but here, they were capable of wiping out entire families, uprooting allies and subordinates, leaving hundreds lying dead.

By comparison, those who struck out openly—who slapped their opponents in the face or challenged them one-on-one—seemed almost honest, even refreshing.

I saw my grandfather, a man who wasn’t particularly malicious by this court’s standards. He was merely complacent. One granddaughter had married Prince Xin, another was about to marry the Third Prince. No matter who ascended the throne, his position as Duke would be secure, and the He family would enjoy endless wealth. If conflicts arose later, he could simply stand by and watch, remaining uninvolved.

Even Mojin Gu couldn’t endure the overwhelming waves of malice in the air. It had thrashed and churned inside my chest. My blood surged; the coughing, which I’d barely suppressed, started to stir again.

I closed my eyes and covered my mouth, forcing myself to rest a moment and refocus. I had to distinguish whose the chaotic and bloody scenes before me belonged to, to remember their faces, their official ranks, and the tangled, layered relationships between them.

Suddenly, the chaotic scene froze, as though time had stopped. Some thoughts were silently erased and disappeared; others stood frozen, weapons raised mid-air.

I turned my head in the direction they were all looking.

Yu Chongrui had walked in from the door.

His injuries hadn’t yet fully healed. He held his left elbow with his right hand, and his gait was slow and stiff. Yet when he entered, it was as if an invisible shield surrounded him, parting a path through the sea of blood and blades.

He was untouched inside—everywhere else was hell, but where he stood was pure.

And in that moment, I understood why my aunt had lost the will to live after Chang Yu died. If one day Yu Chongrui were no longer in this world, I would have had no reason to stay, either.

The still image had lasted a moment. The next instant, all those suspended weapons turned and aimed at him.

Yu Chongrui had once said that many had wanted to kill him when he was in Yuanzhou, and even more did now.

But I hadn’t expected this many. From the door to the head of the table—a distance of just a few dozen steps—he “died” thousands of times.

A wave of malice stronger than before surged toward him, and Mojin Gu had stirred violently in response, leaping and writhing in my chest. I couldn’t hold it back—I coughed, but just managed to cover my mouth in time.

Something seemed to splash into my palm. It had been too dark to see clearly.

The sound was soft and muffled, just a few steps away, but Yu Chongrui seemed to hear it. He looked up, staring toward the front right—toward me.

I didn’t know whether he had noticed the suspicious bamboo curtain hidden in the dark, but he kept looking in this direction.

Don’t look at me here! The Emperor will notice!

Even after the Emperor had taken his seat, the officials all knelt down, and he stood up again—Yu Chongrui was still looking my way, unmoving.

My throat filled with that metallic taste of blood. I could no longer suppress it. A cough stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t hold it back. Clutching my chest, I coughed uncontrollably.

I could taste the blood in my mouth.
Everyone in the hall turned to look toward me. My hiding spot was about to be exposed.

The Emperor asked sternly, “Who is being disrespectful before the Emperor?”

I stepped out from behind the curtain into the lamplight, knelt down, and said, “I deserve death. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness!”

The Emperor said with displeasure, “How can you attend the banquet while ill? Leave at once! Li Minghai, what are you doing?”

Li Minghai had kowtowed in apology. I bowed my head low and retreated from the outer edge to the doorway.

My voice had gone hoarse. Has Yu Chongrui recognized me? His eyes had followed me the whole way. Even when I reached the palace entrance, he turned around to look again. I didn’t dare meet his gaze and quickly turned to leave.

My palm was sticky and fishy. In the lamplight, I saw it was blood.

Deng Zishe had said my body was prone to bleeding. I’d probably damaged my trachea or lungs again with that violent coughing, just like the last nosebleed.

Back at Yanning Palace, I coughed up more blood. The maids were terrified and quickly brought a bowl of medicine boiled in the small kitchen. After catching my breath and lying down for a while, I finally began to feel better.

My throat was filled with blood and the bitter taste of medicine. The internal wound wouldn’t heal easily, but I had no time to dwell on it.

I told the maids, “Today is the Zhongyuan Festival. Are the incense and candles ready? I want to go to the Buddhist temple to pay respects to my aunt.”

The maid replied, “They’re ready, but the master invited by the Dowager Consort is currently performing a ritual, and the young miss’s health…”

“It’s fine. Just give me the offerings—I’ll be back soon.”

The master had set up an altar inside and outside the Buddhist hall. Prince Xin sat cross-legged on a cushion at the end of the monks, chanting along. I walked around them and entered. The late Empress’s spirit tablet had taken the central spot, while my aunt’s had been moved to the side.

I lit incense and candles in front of her spirit, bowing repeatedly. I asked my aunt to bless me—to help me complete my work, to help me one day leave this imperial city and see the famous mountains and rivers of the world; to help me find the remains of Ningning and Chang Yu, to clear the injustices done to Ningning and Zhenniang, and to return Chang Yu’s ashes to his hometown in Jinling, where he could rest with his family.

When I walked out of the hall, Prince Xin was already waiting in the courtyard. Hearing my hoarse voice, he asked, “Sister Yao, you’re unwell? Shall we do this another day…”

“There’s no time.” I waved him over to the side hall to prepare candles, paper, and ink.

This time, Li Minghai had managed the staffing of Ganlu Hall. Prince Xin had already obtained the seating chart in advance and drawn it out. I only recognized a few who had dealings with my grandfather, but Prince Xin knew them all by name, face, and position. Clearly, he had studied them carefully.

I asked first, “Which of these people are yours?”

Prince Xin sat across the table but didn’t answer right away.

“Your Highness doesn’t trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust Sister Yao. I’ve told you everything—I’m placing my life and future in your hands.” Prince Xin continued, “But these people have staked their lives for me. I swore never to expose them, not even to you.”

“Your Highness’s promise is worth more than gold. Those who serve you will be loyal as long as you keep faith.” I picked up the pen and circled a few names. “Are these your people?”

Prince Xin looked up, slightly surprised. “How did you know?” Inside, he was startled: Did someone leak it?

“No need to ask how I know. These men are loyal to the Emperor of Fengtian and to you. You needn’t doubt them.” I paused. “But there are only a few. Among them, only Minister Pei from the Ministry of War is a third-rank official. Your base is rather weak.”

Prince Xin took the pen and added five more names. “These too.”

I changed the circles he drew into triangles and crossed out two.

“Cui Qiao, Director in the Ministry of War,” I said, confirming his name and seat with Prince Xin. “He has that little goatee, right?”

Prince Xin nodded.

“Cui Qiao is Minister Pei’s close subordinate and follows only him. Minister Pei owes his promotion to Emperor Fengtian, and Cui Qiao benefited from that. While loyal, Cui Qiao is starting to waver. He won’t betray Minister Pei, but Your Highness shouldn’t rely on him in critical moments.”

“Censor Cen Fuyuan—thick eyebrows, hooked nose, right? This one’s fond of women and wine. He accepted a beautiful concubine from Consort Chu’s cousin, so he’s already been bought by the Chu faction. The Chu family doesn’t know he once served Your Highness. After their recent setbacks, he’s also fallen. You’ll need to plan how to handle the aftermath.”

I pointed to three triangles. “These three no longer have ambition. They’re just going through the motions. Good for boosting numbers, but not to be counted on.”

Prince Xin studied the chart in silence.

I picked up a new pen, dipped it in cinnabar, and marked over twenty red crosses. “These are loyal to the Third Prince.”

Then a dozen red circles. “These follow the Emperor. Whoever he names, they will support.”

A few scattered names had the numbers ‘six’ and ‘seven’ next to them. “They favor the Sixth and Seventh Princes, but they’re all tied to the Empress’s family. They won’t make waves.”

The picture was flooded with red. Prince Xin’s black circles looked pitiful in comparison.

“But don’t be disheartened, Your Highness. The enemy of your enemy is your friend.” I switched back to the black brush and added more check marks. “Take the same cousin of Concubine Chu—the one who’s good at recruiting people in brothels. He fought with the Grand Commandant’s grandson over a courtesan and was injured. Since it was the Grand Commandant’s grandson who started it, the Grand Commandant sent him to the county court to show integrity. Unfortunately, he caught an infectious disease in prison and died. The Chu family spread rumors that he died of a venereal disease, shaming the Grand Commandant, who had to swallow his anger. In truth, he doted on that grandson dearly and was so angry his hair turned white. Now he saw the Chu family as a thorn in his side. He wouldn’t want the Third Prince on the throne. Oh—and the Sixth Prince’s maternal grandfather was also trying to win your favor. You must act quickly.”

“Then there was Wei Jie, secretary in the Central Secretariat—pale face, no beard, quite handsome. He loathed the Chu family. He even sent assassins after Prefect Chu when he was demoted, though the attempt failed. The reason was unknown, but it must have been a deep grudge. Wei Jie didn’t hold high office, but his father had been a prime minister under the previous emperor and had great prestige. Wei Jie also had a wide network of connections. If you could win him over, he would bring many others with him. And although the Third Prince had many supporters, they weren’t a united faction. They operated independently, and there were internal conflicts. If you played it right, you could split them apart, turn them against one another—you would benefit from the chaos.”

As I spoke, I kept drawing, covering the page. My throat grew dry and painful. When I finally looked up, Prince Xin wasn’t looking at the chart—he was staring at me.

I frowned. “Did Your Highness hear all that? Did you remember it?”

“I finally understand now,” Prince Xin smiles, and the look in his eyes is completely different from before. “Why the Dowager Consort insisted I must marry a daughter of the He family.”