How Can I Kill Wen Fenglin?

Xiao Wei quickly turned away. Even though his princess kissed the prince consort quite openly and boldly, he still clearly saw Gu Xinglang’s face flush bright red.

“If you’re tired, then sleep,” Yu Xiaoxiao said softly to Gu Xinglang. “I’m here. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Gu Xinglang yawned. “How can I sleep in the imperial palace?”

Yu Xiaoxiao leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the eyelids. “There. Now it won’t hurt. Sleep. This is my dad’s house—why can’t you sleep here?”

Gu Xinglang closed his eyes, and within moments, he drifted into a deep, steady sleep.

Hearing the silence behind him, Xiao Wei finally turned around and said, “Princess, the seventh prince is asleep too.”

Yu Xiaoxiao glanced at little Yu Ziyi. His chubby cheeks were red like apples—which only made Gu Xinglang’s pale face look even more sickly in comparison.

“Should we send the seventh prince out of the palace first?” Xiao Wei asked.

“It’s fine,” Yu Xiaoxiao said, lifting the blanket covering Yu Ziyi and tucking the little prince into Gu Xinglang’s bed.

Watching the big and little figures lying under the same quilt, Xiao Wei finally relaxed and sat on a nearby stool.

Yu Xiaoxiao looked around the room. “Didn’t they say this was the Hall of Political Affairs, where the princes study? Why don’t I see any books?”

“This is the resting chamber for the tutors,” Xiao Wei explained. “Not the actual study hall.”

“Oh,” Yu Xiaoxiao mused. Wow, teachers in this world sure have it good. They get nap rooms.

“Princess, do you want to read?” Xiao Wei asked.

“Uh…” Yu Xiaoxiao instantly felt embarrassed. What was she going to read? She was illiterate in this world’s script. “None of these books even have punctuation,” she complained to cover up the truth. “How am I supposed to read them?”

Xiao Wei blinked. Punctuation? What was that? He stared at his princess blankly. Did the books she read… come with extra symbols?

“Your Highness,” a eunuch’s voice called from outside the door.

Xiao Wei got up and opened it a crack. “What is it?”

The eunuch tried to peek inside, but Xiao Wei blocked his view, allowing him to see only the edge of a folding screen.

“I said—what is it?” Xiao Wei repeated.

The eunuch lowered his head. “His Majesty sent me to ask how the Prince Consort is doing.”

“He’s fine,” Yu Xiaoxiao called out lazily from inside. “Tell my father not to worry.”

“You may leave,” Xiao Wei added, promptly slamming the door shut.

The eunuch stared at the closed door in disbelief. The Emperor asked a question, and the princess just replied from inside—and then a bodyguard shut the door in his face? Isn’t His Majesty still the emperor?!


At that very moment, Xianzong was in his imperial study. All the ministers from the Three Departments and Six Ministries had gathered, along with Elder Gu, who was still worried sick about both his granddaughter and his grandson-in-law.

“The princess and the prince consort are fine,” Xianzong said, using his gentlest tone with the elder. “Elder Gu, you may rest assured.”

“And the seventh prince?” Elder Gu asked.

Xianzong cleared his throat awkwardly. His daughter’s overwhelming presence always made him forget he had sons. “He’s fine. All the princes are fine,” Xianzong added quickly.

“Your Majesty,” a minister spoke up, “what of the assassin?”

Xianzong’s temper flared instantly. “You’re asking me?!” He slammed his hand on the desk. “Who the hell am I supposed to ask?! An assassin got into the palace! Is this still a country? Am I still the emperor?!”

The ministers all dropped to their knees in unison, begging forgiveness.

“Investigate!” Xianzong shouted. “If we can’t find that assassin within a day, then don’t open the city gates!”

Don’t open the city gates? The officials exchanged uneasy glances. That would disrupt countless lives. Laborers who commuted in and out daily, merchants, commoners… The consequences would be immense. But no one dared speak up right now—not even the most loyal of ministers. The emperor was raging, and no one wanted to be the lightning rod.

“Your Majesty,” the Minister of War stepped forward, “there is no current war at the borders, nor any banditry near the capital. Who would dare sneak into the palace to cause such chaos?”

Xianzong froze. That’s true… who’s trying to kill me now?

He racked his brain—no wars, no internal strife—and suddenly thought of one person: Wen Fenglin.

That damned pretty-faced little monk.

Slamming the desk again, Xianzong muttered to himself: “That guy would dare kill me…”

Elder Gu studied Xianzong’s expression and asked, “Your Majesty, do you have any suspects?”

Xianzong couldn’t speak openly. He couldn’t afford to confront Yongsheng Temple directly—or he’d be facing the combined armies of five nations. So all he could say was, “I don’t know. Have the Three Judicial Offices and the Supreme Court investigate thoroughly.”

“We obey,” the ministers chorused as they accepted the imperial command.

Then, looking at Zhao Qiuming—who’d been standing like a mute statue since entering—Xianzong turned back to Elder Gu. “Elder Gu, you and your grandson must return to Wangxiang Pass as soon as possible.”

Yongsheng Temple lay just beyond that border. If Xianzong had to go to war with Wen Fenglin, he needed someone trustworthy guarding that gate. With the Gu family in charge, he could breathe easier.

Elder Gu knelt. “I accept Your Majesty’s command.”

“I will allocate another 100,000 troops to you,” Xianzong declared.

Elder Gu blinked. An extra 100,000? Just like that?

Xianzong nodded firmly. “I feel uneasy about Wangxiang Pass. We must prepare for the worst. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Shouldn’t a ruler always think like that? Elder Gu was baffled. Still, it was extra troops. He wouldn’t refuse. “I thank Your Majesty for your trust. I will not fail you.”

Meanwhile, Zhao Qiuming listened in silence. Just one sentence about “being cautious” and the Gu family gets 100,000 more soldiers? Ever since Yu Linglong married into the Gu family, they’d only climbed higher and higher. And his Zhao clan? His sister was a concubine; his son Zhao Beicheng was still rotting in prison.

Zhao Qiuming clenched his jaw. For now, he could only endure. Avoid the princess, wait out the storm—and plan his comeback.

Around them, the ministers whispered among themselves while Xianzong sat behind his desk, brooding. Clearly, just trapping Wen Fenglin in the capital won’t work. If he dares to set fires and kill my palace maids today, he might come for me tomorrow.

How can I kill Wen Fenglin… without offending Yongsheng Temple?

He racked his brains in fury.

How can I kill Wen Fenglin?!


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