CHAPTER 67 — THE EMPRESS AND THE BURIED TRUTH
"This servant is not entirely certain," Imperial Concubine Ning murmured, her brows knitting as she tried to recall the details. "At the time, Imperial Physician Liu seemed to imply that His Majesty had been injured for quite some time. Yet… since the Empress entered the palace, this servant has never heard of the Emperor suffering any grave wound."
She spoke only in earnest speculation, but the Empress's face had already drained of all colour. Her posture stiffened, her entire body turning rigid—as though she had been carved from stone.
"Truthfully, this servant did not believe it at first," Ning continued, unaware of the Empress's growing distress. "After all, His Majesty already has four princes. But when one thinks carefully… how many years has it been since the Fourth Prince was born? And in all that time, not a single concubine has conceived. Not even by accident."
She lowered her head, still analysing the matter aloud.
"If it were not His Majesty's problem, then even with the medicine given to prevent conception, surely one concubine would have attempted to bear a child. Yet none have."
The Empress's nails dug deeper into her palm. Blood welled silently beneath her sleeve, but she felt nothing.
"However," Ning went on, "after the Empress entered the palace, she bore the Fourth Prince. So at that time, His Majesty must not have been injured. The injury must have occurred afterwards."
The Empress's eyes flickered violently. Her rigid back trembled ever so slightly.
"Esteemed Empress… what is wrong?"
Only now did Imperial Concubine Ning notice the Empress's pallor and trembling.
"It is nothing," the Empress said, forcing her voice into steadiness. "You may return first. I am merely a little tired and wish to rest."
Ning hesitated, then bowed. "Yes. This servant will take her leave."
The moment she departed, the Empress's body began to shake uncontrollably. She had intended to walk to her inner chambers, but her legs felt weak, as though they no longer belonged to her. Even taking a single step was difficult.
The Emperor… injured? Unable to allow a woman to conceive?
The revelation was too shocking, too heavy.
But what tormented her most was a single question:
When had the Emperor been injured?
She could not ask Imperial Physician Liu—he would never speak.
And aside from him, no one else would know.
No one… except—
"Your Majesty, what is wrong?"
Aunt Xi entered just then, startled by the Empress's expression.
"I am fine," the Empress replied quickly. "My head merely ached for a moment."
Aunt Xi was loyal, but this was not a matter she could share with anyone—not even her.
"Shall this servant summon the imperial physician?" Aunt Xi asked anxiously.
The Empress shook her head. "No. It is nothing. I am already much better."
Seeking to steady herself, she changed the subject. "Have you brought back the items?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I collected everything. On the way, I even encountered Chun'er from Wan He Garden."
"Wan He Garden?"
The Empress's voice rose before she could stop herself. Realising her slip, she forced a small smile. "Is Wan Yi in good health?"
Wan Yi—once the Emperor's wet nurse—had entered the palace after losing her own child. She had raised the Emperor from infancy, cared for him through childhood, and later moved to the Crown Prince's residence when he came of age. After the Emperor ascended the throne, he arranged a quiet courtyard for her within the palace.
Wan Yi had tended to the Emperor's body for decades.
If anyone knew of an old injury… it would be her.
The Empress's heart tightened.
She had to know the truth.
"I shall go to the Buddhist Hall," she said abruptly. "There is no need for anyone to accompany me."
Aunt Xi blinked in surprise but bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The Empress left alone. She sat in the quiet hall for a long while, breathing deeply, forcing her thoughts into order. Only when she felt steady enough did she rise and make her way to Wan He Garden.
---
"Chun'er greets the Empress."
Chun'er looked startled by the Empress's sudden arrival but bowed respectfully.
"I have come to see Wan Yi," the Empress said, already walking toward the inner room.
"Wan Yi said she was tired and went to rest," Chun'er replied quickly. "Shall this servant wake her?"
Before the Empress could answer, Wan Yi herself stepped out.
"This servant greets the Empress."
She did not look as though she had just risen from sleep. Her clothes were neat, her hair perfectly arranged.
"Chun'er said you were resting," the Empress said, puzzled.
"This servant happened to rise just as Your Majesty entered," Wan Yi replied smoothly. "Upon hearing your voice, this servant came out to greet you."
The Empress let the matter drop and entered the room. Chun'er remained outside.
Once the door closed, Wan Yi spoke first.
"May I ask why the Empress has come today?"
The Empress hesitated, then said slowly, "His Majesty once suffered a serious injury… does Wan Yi recall anything of it?"
Her tone was deliberately vague, testing.
Wan Yi's expression did not change.
"Why does the Empress suddenly ask such a thing?"
"Recently, His Majesty's health seems… diminished," the Empress said carefully. "The imperial physician mentioned an old ailment. I merely wish to understand what injury His Majesty once suffered, so that I may seek a remedy."
Her words were gentle, reasonable.
Wan Yi bowed her head. "This servant is old, and my memory is poor. I truly do not recall such matters. If the Empress wishes to know, she should ask His Majesty directly. Why ask this servant?"
The Empress frowned. Wan Yi had always been gentle, composed. This evasiveness was unlike her.
"Esteemed Empress," Wan Yi said suddenly, dropping to her knees, "this servant truly cannot answer. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness."
As she knelt, she deliberately tugged at a vase on the table. It toppled and shattered. Her knees landed directly upon the broken porcelain.
The Empress gasped. "I was only asking casually. If you do not remember, then forget it. Why would I blame you?"
She reached out instinctively, but Wan Yi flinched away, bowing even lower.
"Thank you for your mercy, Your Majesty!"
The Empress stared at her, bewildered. Was she truly so frightening? She had not even raised her voice.
Chun'er rushed in, shocked by the scene.
Wan Yi continued to kowtow. "This servant truly cannot answer. I beg the Empress to forgive me."
"There is no need for this," the Empress said, shaken. "It is not a grave matter. Rise."
Wan Yi did not rise. Instead, she said, "This servant will send the Empress off."
The Empress could only sigh and leave. She assumed she had touched upon a forbidden matter—one that terrified Wan Yi into silence.
Her mind was too troubled to think further.
---
That afternoon, Tang Ke Xin and Ye Lan Chen entered the palace together. Tang Ke Xin needed a particular nourishing ingredient—one she knew the Empress kept in Peace Palace.
But just as they reached the entrance of the main hall, a palace maid burst in, breathless and pale.
"Esteemed Empress—something terrible has happened!"
Ye Lan Chen frowned. "Why such panic? Speak slowly."
He stepped into the hall, and Tang Ke Xin followed.
The palace maid steadied herself, but fear still clouded her eyes.
"Reporting to the Empress… reporting to the Fourth Prince… Wan Yi—Wan Yi has died!"
The Empress's body jolted violently. Her eyes widened in shock.
Aunt Xi gasped aloud.
Tang Ke Xin watched the Empress and Aunt Xi's reactions with growing confusion. Their faces had drained of colour, their bodies stiff with shock. She could not understand why Wan Yi's death—tragic though it was—should provoke such terror.
Ye Lan Chen, however, seemed oblivious to the deeper undercurrents.
"Why such panic?" he asked, frowning. "She died suddenly, yes, but must you be this frightened?"
The palace maid swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she tried to speak.
"Chun'er said… said that the Empress visited Wan Yi earlier today. And… and something unpleasant occurred. The Empress accidentally broke a vase, and the shards pierced Wan Yi's leg. At that time, Wan Yi seemed very frightened. She said… she said she could not answer the Empress's questions. And now… now people are suspicious. Suspicious that…"
Her voice faltered, unable to continue.
"Suspicious of what?"
The Empress's voice had steadied, but it carried a cold, sombre weight.
The maid dropped to her knees.
"They suspect… that Wan Yi's death is connected to the Empress."
A stunned silence fell.
The maid continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
"And… and the dagger found in Wan Yi's chest… it was the golden phoenix dagger bestowed upon the Empress by His Majesty. The only one of its kind in the Great Yuan Dynasty."
The words struck the hall like a thunderclap.
The Empress's composure shattered. Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.
Ye Lan Chen stared, utterly stunned, his expression frozen in disbelief.
Even Tang Ke Xin felt her heart jolt violently, a cold tremor running through her chest.
The golden phoenix dagger…
The Empress's personal blade…
Found lodged in Wan Yi's heart.
This was no mere accident.
This was a deliberate framing.
And the implications were terrifying.