Chapter Fifty-Five: Empress Wu's Response

“Little girl, be good, little girl, so pretty, little girl, go to sleep…”

Within the Phoenix Pavilion of Luoyang Palace, a gentle lullaby drifted softly through the hall. Had any court official been present, their jaw would surely have dropped in shock, for the singer was none other than Empress Wu herself, famed for her iron will and ruthless heart. Draped in a gown of watery blue, Wu Meiniang sat before the daybed on an embroidered cushion, bending over the couch. In one hand she held a round fan, which she waved gently; with the other, she patted the frail little body of Princess Taiping, softly singing a Shanxi folk tune, her face aglow with maternal tenderness—a living portrait of motherly love.

Perhaps the child truly was sleepy, or perhaps it was the soothing effect of Wu’s gentle song, for little Taiping’s bright eyes slowly closed. Her rosy lips pursed a few times, her delicate nostrils fluttered slightly, her breathing deepened, and just like that, she slipped into a peaceful slumber. The sight of her adorable sleeping face captivated Wu, who gazed at her for a long while, unable to look away.

“Your Majesty.”

Just as Empress Wu was immersed in her maternal affection, a low call sounded from behind her.

“Hm?”

Disturbed, Wu turned with a hint of displeasure. Seeing that it was Gao Hesheng, the chief attendant, she frowned slightly but said nothing more, merely giving a soft grunt from her nose.

“Your Majesty, a report from the capital has arrived for your review.”

Seeing the Empress’s displeasure, Gao Hesheng dared not be slow. He quickly raised the memorial he held above his head and reported in a low voice.

“Very well.”

The Empress gave no further reply, nor did she take the memorial from Gao Hesheng’s hands. Instead, she turned back, gazed lovingly at Princess Taiping, then rose gracefully to her feet and walked lightly out of the chamber, heading straight toward the front hall. Gao Hesheng, seeing this, followed closely, not daring to utter another word.

“Your Majesty, about the memorial…”

When they reached the front hall, Empress Wu leaned indifferently against the padded couch, silent for a long while. Gao Hesheng waited, but when she showed no sign of speaking, he finally ventured to prompt her in a low voice.

“Hand it over.”

She glanced at Gao Hesheng, her tone cold and indifferent. This was unsurprising—Wu had long since received intelligence on the contents of the memorial; there was no need to read it again. Still, since Gao Hesheng had asked, she did not persist, but took the memorial, skimmed it briefly, then tossed it onto the table before her without comment. In an even voice, she asked, “Where is His Majesty?”

“Your Majesty, His Majesty has spent these past few days with Lady Wei.” Gao Hesheng shivered slightly as he spoke, but dared not hide the truth and answered quickly.

A cold glint flashed in the Empress’s eyes, but she said nothing more, merely giving an ambiguous grunt from her nose.

“Lady Han is there as well.” Gao Hesheng paused, glanced furtively at the Empress’s expression, then added, “This servant heard that Lady Wei has petitioned for a title, and His Majesty seems to have granted it—she is to be named Consort Wei.”

“Consort Wei? Ha.” The Empress let out a sudden laugh at this, but the murderous intent in her gaze was undisguised. She said nothing further, only gestured at the memorial and said coolly, “Eunuch Gao, let Minister Xu handle this memorial. You may go.”

“Yes, this servant takes his leave.”

Though Gao Hesheng was close to the Empress, the gravity of the matter made him wary of speaking out. With the Empress’s order, he breathed a silent sigh of relief, hurried forward to retrieve the memorial, and left respectfully in search of Xu Jingzong, unaware of the storm of fury and murderous intent raging in Wu Meiniang’s eyes behind him…

“Your Majesty, come, let me peel a grape for you to taste.”

While anger raged in the Phoenix Pavilion, it was a scene of revelry in the Hall of Reflection. Lady Wei, Helan Minyue, draped in a low-cut red gown, nestled in the emperor’s arms, her delicate hand holding a peeled grape to his lips, her voice coy and sweet.

“All right, all right, I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it,” the emperor replied, his large hands roaming over her body as he spoke with a muffled laugh. He took the grape into his mouth but did not swallow it, instead leaning down with a lascivious grin toward Helan Minyue’s lips, waggling his brows in mischief. Helan Minyue feigned shyness, letting out a soft sound, twisting her slender waist like a water snake, teasingly refusing to comply. Only when the emperor pretended to be angry did she part her lips, meeting his mouth, both of them eating half the grape.

“Your Majesty is so naughty, always bullying your poor concubine,” Helan Minyue murmured shyly, leaning her head on his chest and playfully pounding it with her fist.

“Oh? Hahaha…” The emperor clearly enjoyed her bashfulness, laughing heartily before whispering in her ear, “Your grapes are delicious, Yue’er. Why not let me taste the other two as well?”

“Your Majesty, you’re so bad… I won’t let you,” she replied, twisting her waist in mock resistance, making the emperor laugh all the harder. His hands roamed even more boldly, on the verge of taking her right then and there.

“Your Majesty, Minister Xu requests an audience.”

At that moment, Gao Hesheng hurried in from outside, bowing low to report.

“Ah, well…”

The emperor was in high spirits and had no desire to see Xu Jingzong, but fearing offense, he hesitated, unwilling to summon him yet unable to refuse outright, mumbling indecisively.

“Your Majesty…”

Helan Minyue, who had little fondness for Gao Hesheng and Xu Jingzong, noticed his hesitation. With a flutter of her lashes, she called softly.

At the sight of Helan Minyue’s displeasure, the emperor was instantly flustered, and hurriedly bent to soothe his beauty.

“Your Majesty, the Ministry of Rites has sent a memorial from the capital requesting a posthumous title for Shangguan Yi. The ministers cannot reach a decision, so Minister Xu asks Your Majesty to make the final call,” Gao Hesheng reminded, seeing that the emperor was intent only on pleasing Helan Minyue and had no thought of summoning Xu Jingzong.

“All right, all right, I know. Let the Empress handle it. Go, quickly!” The emperor had spent long enough coaxing Helan Minyue to no avail, and had no patience left for posthumous titles. He waved Gao Hesheng away impatiently.

“Yes, your servant obeys!” With the emperor’s command, Gao Hesheng dared not delay, bowing and withdrawing from the hall, a faint smile of satisfaction on his lips…

On the small practice ground outside the Prince of Zhou’s residence, Li Xian stood quietly at the center, letting the light breeze tousle his hair without the slightest movement, standing immovable as a mountain. Only a righteous aura seemed to radiate from him. Suddenly, a falling leaf drifted down and landed on his shoulder. In that instant, Li Xian’s gathered momentum exploded. His wrist, resting on the hilt at his waist, snapped, and with a clear ring, the blade flashed from its sheath.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

With each sharp cry, Li Xian’s blade danced—each strike following the next, blades flashing like thunder, surging like a furious tide, exuding boundless force and murderous intent.

“Well done!”

“His Highness is truly formidable!”

“What exquisite swordsmanship!”

Li Xian had just completed a set of the “Seven Deadly Strikes of the Tyrant Blade,” mastering three of its essences. The watching guards could not help but cheer. This was no common military form, but the signature technique of the great general Li Jing—a blade form rarely matched. Though its moves were not complex, its power was overwhelming, emphasizing an invincible dominance. Easy to learn, near-impossible to perfect—yet Li Xian, in just three days, had achieved a level of proficiency that left no flaw in his form. More impressively, his spirit and energy aligned perfectly with the blade’s intent, as if he had practiced it for years. Such talent and understanding not only drew the guards’ admiration but even made the stern Li Boyao sigh inwardly in awe.

“General Li, I have finished my demonstration. Please correct me.”

After seven strokes, Li Xian sheathed his blade with a flourish and bowed respectfully to Li Boyao, who stood nearby.

“That is enough for today. The day after tomorrow, we practice horsemanship.”

Li Boyao made no comment on Li Xian’s technique, not even a smile, merely speaking flatly before turning and leaving the grounds.

Ha, perhaps I truly am a martial prodigy—how satisfying! Li Xian, long accustomed to Li Boyao’s ways, knew that the absence of criticism was the highest praise. Seeing his skill had finally earned Li Boyao’s approval, he could not help but feel a surge of pride.

“Your Highness, Lin Qi, the Censor, has come again.”

As Li Xian was quietly savoring his triumph, Gao Miao hurried over to report in a low voice.

“Don’t see him. Tell him I’m busy practicing and have no time!”

Since the court assembly half a month ago, Lin Qi had called many times, always diligently, but Li Xian had no wish to see him. Even when Lin claimed to bring a letter in Li Xian’s brother’s own hand, he was denied entry at every turn. Nor did Li Xian intend to change his mind now.

“Your Highness, Censor Lin says he brings urgent news from the Eastern Capital…”

Though Li Xian had refused, Gao Miao dared not omit Lin Qi’s message.

Hmm? Could it be news about the posthumous title? The mention of Luoyang made Li Xian’s heart skip a beat; he frowned, thought for a moment, then waved his hand. “Let him wait in the front hall. I’ll go after I’ve freshened up.” With that, he walked back into the residence, not even waiting for Gao Miao’s reply…