Chapter 57: Collapse

Moonlight filtered through the clouds, and rainwater dripped from the eaves onto the steps below.  

The doors and windows of the Eastern Palace’s sleeping chamber were tightly shut, the candlelight soaking the window paper in a soft, warm orange hue.  

The chirping of summer night insects was silent, and Zhao Yan found herself sitting on Wen Renlin’s lap at some point, her temples damp with sweat, her fair cheeks gradually flushing with a delicate rosy hue.  

Wen Renlin had no choice but to tighten his hold on the slender, soft waist in his arms, his palm resting on her heaving abdomen to steady her, his right hand hidden beneath her loose apricot-white skirt.  

He lowered his head, his expression focused as he gazed at her, unwilling to miss the slightest change in her expression.  

Zhao Yan, unable to withstand his scrutiny, lowered her head, biting her lip and closing her eyes, clutching his dark, tightly fitted robe until it wrinkled.  

Sensing her evasion, Wen Renlin reached up to grasp her chin, turning her face towards him, and leaned in to capture her tightly pressed lips.  

His thick eyebrows and dense eyelashes framed his half-lowered eyes, giving him an elegant and tender appearance, as if savoring a rare delicacy, taking his time.  

By the time Zhao Yan realized something was amiss, it was too late. Her lips and tongue were pushed back, her breath fragmented, and even her consciousness seemed to be drawn away through the tip of her tongue.  

The ice in the ice basin gradually melted, turning into a pool of water that reflected the flickering lights in the chamber.  

Zhao Yan’s lips were a vivid red, her eyes shimmering with moisture, as she pressed against Wen Renlin’s chest to steady her breathing.  

After a long while, Wen Renlin casually dipped his right hand into the ice basin, washing it with the melted cold water, then rested it on the edge of the table to dry the droplets, while his other hand leisurely stroked the young princess’s disheveled hair.  

Once her breathing had steadied, Wen Renlin wrung out a cloth and gently wiped her face, then carefully smoothed out her skirt.  

The jade belt still lay on the floor, but since it was time to sleep, there was no need to fasten it again. As the sound of the tide in her ears faded, Zhao Yan realized how quiet the chamber was—so quiet that every irregular heartbeat seemed deafening.  

Having caught her breath, she found the man’s sturdy frame uncomfortable and tried to rise, but a large hand pressed her down.  

“Don’t move yet.”  

Wen Renlin lowered his head, pressing his cheek against hers, his voice hoarse and deep. “Your Highness need not be nervous. This time, there’s no need for medicine.”  

Was this really about whether or not to take medicine?  

Zhao Yan’s face flushed crimson, and sensing something, she dared not move.  

After a long while, she stared at Wen Renlin’s slender hand, the veins prominent, and said, “Next time… don’t do this.”  

Wen Renlin looked up and asked, “Don’t like it?”  

Zhao Yan couldn’t decide whether to nod or shake her head.  

She was too shy to meet Wen Renlin’s gaze, feeling as though she was the only one lost in the moment, a sensation that was both tantalizing and strange. Upon reflection, she realized that either her memories were blurred from poisoning, or the angle was wrong—she had never truly seen Wen Renlin’s expression when he lost control.  

This felt unfair.  

Zhao Yan was startled by her own thoughts, feeling a strange unease. After a while, she murmured, “You’ve been watching me the whole time.”  

Wen Renlin paused, then understood what the young princess was shy about. A faint smile appeared in his dark, inky eyes.  

“Can’t touch, and now I can’t even look?”  

He gently pinched the soft flesh at her waist, his voice low. “So hard to please.”  

After all this, Zhao Yan was utterly exhausted. She quickly wiped her face and climbed onto the bed.

As she closed her eyes, she heard the distant toll of the second watch bell from the palace towers. The palace gates were closed, and Wen Renlin still hadn’t left.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers threading through Zhao Yan’s hair, smoothing out the strands that had been mussed by the pillow. He leaned down slowly and said, “Tomorrow is the birthday banquet. Show your face, then return to the Eastern Palace and stay there. Don’t wander around.”

Zhao Yan, half-asleep, struggled to open her eyes and mumbled, “Isn’t Prince Su attending the banquet?”

Wen Renlin rubbed the jade pendant at his waist, his eyes dark and calm. He didn’t answer.

Zhao Yan didn’t have the energy to press further. She blinked slowly and drifted into sleep.

When she woke, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and Wen Renlin was no longer by the bed.

Liu Ying entered the chamber with a basin and towel for washing. When Zhao Yan asked about Wen Renlin, she replied, “Prince Su stayed in the chamber until the hour of Yin before leaving.”

The hour of Yin?

Had Wen Renlin really stayed in the Eastern Palace chamber for most of the night?

Seeing Zhao Yan’s gaze, Liu Ying quickly added, “Only I was guarding outside, and the Eastern Palace guards are under the command of Gu. They won’t speak out of turn.”

That wasn’t what Zhao Yan was worried about. On the contrary, with Prince Su’s support, the Eastern Palace’s path forward might become much smoother.

Just as she was about to speak, Li Fu’s voice came from outside the chamber: “Your Highness, Vice Censor He and Vice Minister Cen of the Ministry of War have both replied.”

Zhao Yan’s eyes snapped open. She threw on her robe and stepped down from the bed, saying, “Bring them in quickly.”

Li Fu carefully inspected the letters inside and out to ensure there were no traps, then handed them to Zhao Yan with both hands.

Zhao Yan unfolded Vice Censor He’s letter and motioned for Liu Ying to bring the lamp closer.

[Your Highness is still young, like the flowing waters of the east—there is a long future ahead. This old official, in his declining years, has been occupying a position in the Censorate without merit, barely clinging to life. Fortunately, Your Highness saved my youngest son’s life at Jinyun Villa, allowing the He family line to continue. This old official can now die without regret! I am willing to submit a deathbed memorial before all, exposing the corrupt face of that demonic Daoist. Regardless of success or failure, I beg Your Highness to take care of yourself!]

Vice Minister Cen of the Ministry of War’s reply was only two lines: [I will serve as your vanguard, awaiting your orders.]

At the He residence, the oil lamp flickered dimly.  

From the inner room came the soothing hum of an elderly woman coaxing a child to sleep. Vice Censor He sat in his official robe, a memorial he had written overnight resting on the small table beside him.  

As the sky began to lighten, he finally let out a long breath, trembling as he stood up. With both hands, he solemnly placed his official hat on his head, picked up the memorial, and hobbled into the dim light of the approaching dawn.  

At the Cen residence, Cen Yu had just sneaked into the backyard to practice martial arts when her older brother caught her red-handed.  

She expected a scolding about how “young ladies should be gentle and refined,” but this time, her brother said nothing. Instead, he walked silently into the courtyard and began correcting her movements.  

Cen Yu was stunned for a moment, then asked uneasily, “Brother, you’re not mad?”  

How could Cen Meng bear to be mad?  

At Jinyun Villa, his pampered younger sister had risked her life to save a group of girls in distress. He was proud of her.  

Cen Meng studied his sister carefully and said calmly, “There’s a package on the desk in the study. If I haven’t returned by the hour of Shen, take it and go with Uncle Wang to see the mountains and rivers beyond.”  

“Really?!”  

Cen Yu couldn’t contain her joy, but then she noticed something was off and hesitated. “Brother, why are you suddenly being so nice to me? Is something wrong?”  

Cen Meng didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “Is the Crown Prince a good person?”  

“Of course! The Crown Prince may seem frail, but he’s brave and doesn’t judge people by their status. He’s a very, very good person!”  

“Then it’s settled. Your brother… is also going to do something brave.”  

A servant came with a lantern to urge him on. Cen Meng reached out and patted his sister’s head, then solemnly boarded the carriage in the breaking dawn.  

…  

The Empress’s birthday banquet was held at the Qifeng Pavilion in the North Garden.  

By the hour of Si, the covered bridges and walkways were already crowded with noblewomen, titled ladies, and princes exchanging pleasantries.  

Zhao Yan, her hair tied up with a jade hairpin and dressed in the Crown Prince’s purple robe, stepped out of the carriage and whispered to Gu Xing, “Guards and retainers aren’t allowed at the banquet. Find a way to keep watch at the Tongtian Terrace. Once the memorial is submitted, Shenguang Zhenren will surely act. Be ready to move when the time comes.”  

Gu Xing acknowledged the order.  

Liu Ying, holding the birthday gift Zhao Yan had prepared, asked worriedly, “Your Highness, should we inform Her Majesty of the plan in advance so she can prepare?”  

Zhao Yan had already considered this question countless times the day before.  

“No need,” she said. Her mother would never agree.  

Liu Ying seemed to have anticipated this answer and said nothing more.  

As they entered the North Garden gate, Zhao Yan spotted a familiar figure standing by the covered bridge with arms crossed, waiting.  

“Liu…”  

Zhao Yan called out, walking forward. “I don’t even know what to call you now.”  

“Your Highness can call me ‘Liu Baiwei.’ That’s the only name I acknowledge.”  

Liu Baiwei lowered his arms and scoffed, “The old man is in such a hurry to bring me to the banquet, as if he wants the whole world to know that the Yingchuan Prince’s estate has an heir. If it weren’t for the chance to see Your Highness, I wouldn’t have bothered coming.”  

“Isn’t it also for the fine wine and pastries at the banquet?”  

Zhao Yan teased him, then noticed his robe was disheveled, with one of the ties broken. She asked, “Did you get into a fight? Why is your robe like this?”  

The mention of it made Liu Baiwei grimace. He flicked his robe and said, “It’s all thanks to Zhao Yan’s little sweetheart.”  

“Huo Zhenzhen?”  

“Exactly. Just now at the palace gate, I ran into the Changle Princess. She pointed at me and called me ‘Liu the Fox.’ Of course, I denied it, but that little lady actually tried to tear off my robe, saying she wanted to see if I was a man or a woman underneath.”  

If it hadn’t been for Princess Shoukang’s timely intervention, his dignity might have been lost.  

Zhao Yan couldn’t help but laugh, her tension over the impending events easing somewhat.  

“Your Highness is still laughing?” Liu Baiwei raised an eyebrow, looking as if he were about to explode.

“Sorry, I just found it amusing.”

Zhao Yan, clutching her stomach from laughing too hard, said with a smile in her eyes, “Your usually domineering personality rarely meets someone who can make you eat humble pie.”

“What else could I do? Back when I was Lady Liu, I could at least argue with the Princess of Changle using my identity as a woman. But now that I’ve returned to my true identity, how can I, a grown man, bully a young girl?”

As he spoke, Liu Baiwei recalled something.

“Back then, Zhao Yan faced a lot of pressure to bring me back to the Eastern Palace. A big reason was to make the Princess of Changle, who was just starting to develop feelings, give up. He said he had already dragged his own sister into trouble and couldn’t harm another girl.”

He glanced around to ensure no outsiders were present, then asked in a low voice, “I’ve always been curious, why was the Empress so furious back then, insisting on sending you to Huayang?”

Seeing Zhao Yan’s stunned expression, Liu Baiwei realized he had spoken out of turn and quickly added, “I’ve said too much. Please don’t mind, Your Highness.”

Zhao Yan smiled, resting her chin on her hand as she pondered, “Even I’ve almost forgotten the reason. It was just some childhood mischief that caused trouble.”

The North Garden had a corridor bridge connecting to the Qifeng Pavilion. From the bridge, one could see the towering skeleton of the Star Observation Tower in the northwest corner.

Zhao Yan stopped walking, feeling the cool, gentle breeze after the rain, and said softly but firmly, “The nanmu wood used in the Star Observation Tower has issues. This is my only chance.”

Between the two of them, there was no need to spell everything out.

A flicker of surprise passed through Liu Baiwei’s eyes, but he quickly calmed down. There were only two possible outcomes if this matter came to light: either the Emperor would thoroughly investigate and deal with the Shenguang Sect, or he would cover up the truth to save face and silence the whistleblower.

To uproot this deeply entrenched issue, it had to be exposed in public, leaving no room for maneuvering. This was essentially forcing the Emperor to make a choice.

No matter how you looked at it, the second outcome seemed more likely. But even if there was only a sliver of hope, they had to seize it.

“Remember, the Eastern Palace cannot take the lead on this,” Liu Baiwei said gravely. “I’ll find a way to help you.”

Zhao Yan felt a subtle stir in her heart.

The letter she had sent out the previous night was deliberately vague, merely testing the attitudes of He and Cen regarding the nanmu issue. She hadn’t even mentioned the plan to bring it up at the banquet. Yet, both Censor He and Minister Cen, as well as Liu Baiwei, had all chosen to step forward without hesitation.

The midsummer heat was stifling, but the Qifeng Pavilion, open on three sides, was cool and breezy, offering a wide, unobstructed view.

By the end of the morning, guests began to arrive.

Censor He and Minister Cen entered the hall one after another and took their seats, never exchanging more than a glance with the Crown Prince on the dais. Everything appeared normal.

With a long, sharp announcement, the Emperor and Empress Wei entered the hall, and the birthday banquet officially began.

Each family took turns kneeling to offer their congratulations to the Empress. As expected, Marquis Ningyang, Wei Yan, presented a hand-painted “Hundred Longevity Characters” scroll. The hundred characters for “longevity” were written in different styles, including regular, cursive, and clerical scripts, each reflecting the essence of ancient and modern calligraphers. These characters, varying in size, formed a larger character for “longevity.”

Every stroke was a masterpiece, drawing admiration from the guests.

Although Zhao Yan had always known her uncle was a man of great learning, she was still slightly awed by the display. In comparison, the birthday gift she had prepared seemed rather modest.

When it was the Crown Prince’s turn, Zhao Yan stood up and presented a brocade box, kneeling respectfully as she said, “Your unworthy son has personally carved a pair of jade pendants for you, Mother Empress, wishing you a thousand years of longevity and eternal spring in the Xuan Pavilion!”

The female attendant took the brocade box from Zhao Yan’s hands and presented it to Empress Wei.

Empress Wei opened the box and couldn’t help but pause.

Inside the box lay a pair of lotus-patterned jade pendants. One of them had an old tassel and slight cracks on the jade surface. She recognized it almost immediately as the pendant her son, Zhao Yan, had once worn.

The other piece was made of new jade. Although its pattern matched the old one, it was clear that it had been painstakingly carved by a novice, meticulously polished to a shine.

The two jade pieces lay side by side, one representing her deceased child and the other representing the child standing before her. This was the filial piety of her children.

Empress Wei’s eyes flickered with emotion, a wave of sorrow spreading through her heart before sinking into an endless abyss. But she couldn’t show it, couldn’t reveal even a hint of weakness or vulnerability.

She closed the box and looked at her thriving daughter kneeling in the hall, nodding gently. “The Crown Prince is thoughtful. Rise.”

“Thank you, Mother Empress.” Zhao Yan performed another deep bow, her forehead touching the ground.

Having fulfilled her duty to Zhao Yan, she felt no more guilt.

She returned to her seat and lightly picked up her wine cup. Her gaze met that of Censor He across the hall, and in the eyes of this elderly official nearing sixty, she saw resolve.

But how could Zhao Yan, knowing full well the danger of this act, let someone else step forward and sacrifice themselves for her?

No matter what, her father now had only this one “son.” No matter how angry he might be, he couldn’t truly punish her.

Zhao Yan set down her wine cup and stood up, calmly looking toward the supreme Emperor seated on the high throne.

Just as she was about to speak, Liu Baiwei, seated beside her, suddenly stood up and declared loudly, “Your Majesty, I have something to report!”

Zhao Yan stared at him in shock.

The banquet hall fell silent as all eyes turned to this young prince who had suddenly spoken up. The atmosphere instantly grew tense.

Realizing what Liu Baiwei was about to do, Zhao Yan felt a surge of anger, her lungs burning as she gritted her teeth. “Liu…”

At that moment, the ground began to shake violently.

A thunderous roar erupted from the northwest, like the collapse of a mountain or the splitting of boulders, resonating like the roar of thunder.

The hall was thrown into chaos, with panicked screams filling the air. The imperial guards rushed in, drawing their swords and shouting, “Protect His Majesty!”

Amid the chaos, someone let out a shrill, trembling cry: “The Star Observation Tower… it’s collapsed!”

Zhao Yan followed the horrified gazes of the crowd and couldn’t help but widen her eyes.

Outside the window, birds scattered in fear. Under the sunlight, the massive skeleton of the Star Observation Tower crumbled and shrank, the rising dust blotting out the sky like the final sigh of a dying beast.

Its collapse was irreversible. No one could save it.

The Qifeng Pavilion was as silent as a grave, a deathly stillness hanging in the air.

Zhao Yan looked at Censor He and Cen Meng, seeing the same shock reflected in their eyes.

This wasn’t the work of her people.

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