Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As the words fell, a palace attendant immediately presented a seal engraved with the characters "Li Min," the courtesy name of Cheng Zheng. This was the emperor's private seal.

The surroundings fell into a deathly silence. On the raised bed, the ailing emperor looked at his eldest sister with eyes full of hope, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the quilt. All the palace attendants held their breath in unison.

Since childhood, it had always been this way. Whenever Cheng Zheng encountered some thorny trouble, he would implore Cheng Muning to step in and manage the aftermath. This time was no exception.

But this time, the trouble he stirred up was somewhat grave.

Under Cheng Muning’s watchful gaze, a flush of embarrassment crept across Cheng Zheng’s face.

At first, he had relied on the Xu family to briefly quell the upheaval following his accession to the throne. But after Cheng Muning left, he began to grow wary of the Xu family’s rising influence. After an assassination attempt during the spring hunt, his anxiety deepened. He then secretly started to support Pei Shao, who had come alone to the capital and seemed weak and isolated. To help Pei Shao quickly gain strength, Cheng Zheng handed over the entire Hall Front Division to him.

Cheng Zheng’s plan did work to an extent—the Xu and Pei factions checked each other’s power. Yet imperial politics were not as easily manipulated as he had imagined. While the two factions contended, they also gnawed away at what little authority Cheng Zheng still held. He became a victim caught between two tigers, hemmed in both at court and in his daily life, his every move closely monitored.

To protect himself over the years, he had no choice but to rely on both sides, turning a blind eye to many court affairs. When Xu Jingqing demanded funds, he complied; when Pei Shao requested troops, he provided them. As a result, when the Yin Prince’s rebellion erupted, the Ministry of Revenue was stretched thin, unable to even cover military expenses. The emperor himself was a failure, unable to muster a single soldier.

Meanwhile, those best positioned to quickly gather funds and troops all shirked responsibility. Seeing this, many ministers retreated, indifferent, making it nearly impossible to extract even the smallest concession from them.

Cheng Zheng was restless over this matter. Fortunately, the empress’s reminder made him recall that far away, there was still an elder sister capable of cleaning up his messes.

So he decided to feign illness and have Cheng Muning act on his behalf.

He couldn’t persuade Xu Jingqing himself, so he thought it better to have Cheng Muning try to convince Pei Shao. They said heroes find it hard to resist a beauty’s charm; with Pei Shao’s connection, perhaps the task wouldn’t be so difficult. If Pei Shao agreed to lend grain, the problem would be half solved; if not, then she could find another way.

Whatever the means, as long as it solved the immediate crisis.

Of course, the premise was that Cheng Muning was willing to accept his private seal. Taking the seal meant having the authority to act on the emperor’s behalf and agreeing to handle this troublesome affair, just as she had done before.

Only, if this had been before, Cheng Zheng was certain she would never have refused his help. But with the past leaving its mark on both their hearts, he couldn’t be sure if she still bore resentment. His heart was uneasy, and his words lacked confidence. “Sister, you see, my health is truly poor now, and I cannot trust anyone else. This matter can only be entrusted to you.”

Perhaps true siblings share a certain bond of understanding; with just a slight movement of his eyes, Cheng Muning could grasp his unspoken thoughts. She gave a resigned smile.

Three years on, he had truly made little progress.

Cheng Muning remained silent until Cheng Zheng grew anxious, sweat covering his brow, then reluctantly spoke, “I... will do my best. But time is short, and this matter is fraught with difficulty. I may not be able to handle it properly.”

Cheng Zheng was momentarily stunned, then his face brightened with joy. “With you here, sister, it will surely be resolved.”

But immediately, a shadow of doubt crossed his face—Cheng Muning’s response was unexpectedly swift.

In his memory, Cheng Muning was never one to easily concede on important matters.

---

Cheng Muning knew what he was suspicious of but merely raised her hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, her tone gentle: “Ah Zheng, my surname is also Cheng. No matter what, you and I are the closest siblings.”

...

After leaving the Political Affairs Hall, the sun had fully set, the red clouds swallowed by dusk. A faint crescent moon hung on the branches. Cheng Muning gazed at the distant rolling mountains for a long while. Behind her, Ji Fang, carrying a pile of ledgers freshly delivered from the Ministry of Revenue, joined her.

He licked his lips with a smile and said, “Since the princess just returned to the palace, most of the maids and eunuchs are newly assigned. To avoid offending the princess, I was asked to stay nearby and attend her.”

Though he said so, Cheng Muning knew it was because Cheng Zheng did not trust her and had someone watch her closely.

She said nothing, tacitly agreeing. Taking a ledger from Ji Fang, she climbed into the sedan chair and asked, “What is Pei Shao’s stance on the grain and troops?”

After days of travel, Ji Fang was heavy-footed and slow to react, then realized the question was directed at him. He straightened his neck and replied, “The commander is not yet appointed. This matter has not been assigned to the hall marshal. The Ministries of Revenue and War are still at odds. The hall marshal seems unwilling to get involved.”

Cheng Muning pondered silently, flipping through the ledgers, then almost instinctively said, “Have Shen Wenjie come tomorrow.”

Shen Wenjie, a scholar in the Hanlin Academy, had advised Cheng Muning many times before. When she needed to discuss matters, he was the first person she thought of. Ji Fang readily agreed, but after a few steps, he slapped his head and said, “Ah! The memory of a servant is poor. Lord Shen will likely not be able to come tomorrow.”

Cheng Muning glanced sideways. “Why not?”

Ji Fang carefully explained, “Since the princess left the capital, Lord Shen has frequently defied the emperor, speaking rather recklessly. Fortunately, the Grand Tutor protected him from exile. But over a year ago, he submitted a memorial accusing the emperor of favoring concubines excessively, upsetting the hierarchy of the harem and endangering the court. The emperor was furious and punished him severely. That should have been the end of it, but oddly, the hall marshal sided with the Xu family that day and quickly sent Lord Shen to the Stables Office. He is no longer in the Hanlin Academy but is now tending horses at the stables.”

Cheng Muning frowned. “The Stables Office?” She had arranged for many people to keep watch in the court and palace but had never heard of this.

Yinzhu seemed to sense her thoughts and lowered her voice, “Princess, you may have forgotten, but a year ago a letter mentioned this, though it only said the emperor had demoted a Hanlin scholar, without naming him. You didn’t inquire further.”

Cheng Muning was silent for a moment, then rubbed her brow as if recalling. Cheng Zheng had made so many foolish decisions that she had not paid much attention at the time.

As for Shen Wenjie, he was a protégé of the Grand Tutor, well-learned and proud—a true scholar’s bone. As the last top-ranking scholar personally appointed by the late emperor, he could not tolerate Cheng Zheng’s inaction and had repeatedly impeached the current emperor. Strange as it sounded, it was exactly the sort of thing he would do.

But to be relegated to tend horses was indeed an insult to a grand Hanlin scholar.

What did Pei Shao have against him? Could it be because of that offhand excuse she once made?

Cheng Muning closed the ledger and shot Ji Fang a glance. “Even if he’s been sent to the stables, can’t I still summon him?”

Ji Fang gave an awkward smile. “It’s not that. It’s just unfortunate. He came to the palace today to arrange horses for the imperial guards but somehow offended the hall marshal and was reassigned to transport war horses at the front lines. He’s probably already left the city.”

Cheng Muning was silent. “Understood.”

As they spoke, the sedan chair arrived at Fuluan Palace.

Before entering, she already saw the wisteria crawling over the palace walls—wild yet orderly, clearly pruned ahead of time. The bedchamber had been tidied days ago with care. The furnishings and layout were unchanged since her departure, every corner exuding delicate feminine grace. Only the large folding screen painted with a map of the Great Zhou subdued the chamber’s powdery air, evoking a solemn spirit.

Cheng Muning stood before the screen, lost in thought.

Ji Fang observed her expression and said, “Since the princess left, aside from routine cleaning, the emperor forbade anyone from entering or leaving Fuluan Palace. All the belongings remain exactly as they were.”

Cheng Muning murmured assent, paced twice inside the chamber, then walked straight to the bookcase and opened a drawer filled with scattered trinkets—jade pendants, sword tassels, and other small items mostly left behind by Pei Shao. The young maid responsible for cleaning found these strange objects and tossed them there, gradually filling the drawer. Cheng Muning reached out to touch them before turning into the bathing room.

The large bath, soap, and flower petals were luxuries not found in Dengzhou.

Suddenly shifting from austerity to opulence, Hong Jin sighed deeply beside her. Cheng Muning, however, merely closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the tub, seemingly indifferent to these long-lost luxuries. It was as if she had fallen from the clouds years ago and felt no shock from the stark contrast; the poverty of Wanbao Temple, which even Hong Jin lamented, seemed not to touch her. She remained calm and serene.

The princess’s steadfastness was truly admirable.

Only when Yinzhu hesitated and spoke did she slowly open her eyes. “Princess, shall we send someone to inquire about Lord Shen?”

Cheng Muning knew—today’s circumstances seemed like a deliberate warning from Pei Shao. But whether or not, Shen Wenjie was no longer in the capital, so asking was pointless.

“No need. The Stables Office has its own regulations.”

Yinzhu nodded in understanding.

Night deepened; all was silent as the palace staff withdrew.

Cheng Muning feared the dark; candles flickered on either side of the bedframe, their flames trembling with a faint crackle. The shadows of trees outside the window danced lightly on the curtains, swaying gently with the breeze.

The person on the bed fixed her gaze on those movements, unable to sleep.

Travel-weary, Cheng Muning was already exhausted, yet the scent of grass and wood that wafted in seemed to invigorate her. Tossing and turning, she grew more alert.

When she left the capital three years ago, she had foreseen this day. The emperor was weak on the throne; traitorous ministers would only multiply. If not the Yin Prince, then others would rise. Cheng Zheng was easily swayed; at times like this, with a little prompting, he would surely think of her and, as in their youth, entrust everything to her.

So long as she did not perish in Dengzhou, her return to the capital was only a matter of time.

She had long prepared to clean up Cheng Zheng’s messes, yet the Ministry of Revenue’s deficit far exceeded her expectations. Coupled with frequent warfare and poor harvests over recent years, even the provinces barely had enough for themselves. Any stored grain was tightly guarded. The court’s wish to obtain resources without cost was nearly impossible.

If they forced grain requisition now, and if repayment was possible next year, that would be best. But if not, famine would ensue—a costly and exhausting disaster.

When that time came, those responsible for gathering grain would bear the blame.

Such a thankless task, yet Cheng Zheng had the audacity to expect her to use her charm to persuade Pei Shao.

Recalling Pei Shao’s attitude earlier in the day, Cheng Muning pressed the back of her hand to her eyes and sighed softly.