At the palace night banquet, the one seated in the most prestigious position was the Emperor.
The Empress Dowager wasn’t in the center, but her seat was just to the upper left of the Emperor, facing east.
Because in palace tradition, facing east and sitting to the left signifies honor.
By all rights, the next most honored should’ve been the Imperial Concubines, but perhaps because he was the Emperor’s full brother, and had only just returned after so many years—drawing the attention of the entire court—or maybe because none of the Concubines wanted to be seated too close to the Emperor, in the end, the Concubines were seated to the lower left of the Empress Dowager, and he was placed to the lower right of the Emperor.
Which, honestly, made him look even more distinguished.
In the palace, ranks are strictly enforced—his table and chair were slightly lower than the Emperor’s. Everyone was already seated now, except the Empress Dowager and the Emperor.
With the two most important figures still absent, the banquet couldn’t officially begin. So everyone just sat there quietly, waiting.
There were a lot of people, but the atmosphere was still and tense. Occasionally, you’d hear someone cough. It didn’t feel like a banquet—it felt like a memorial service.
Fu Ye sat there, feeling like a thousand pairs of eyes were all fixed on him. The crowd included people of all ages and genders. He looked around for a while, but couldn’t figure out which one was Xie Liangbi.
Minister Xie held a high position, so he was seated near the front. His family wouldn’t be sitting with him. The entire Qingtai Palace was filled—every woman done up in full ceremonial dress and heavy makeup, with rich perfumes and intricate hairstyles. The air practically shimmered with luxury. The men, for the most part… looked decent enough.
A few young lords, though, stood out—elegant and handsome.
Then more people entered from outside. Fu Ye glanced up. Still not the Empress Dowager. Still not the Emperor.
Were that fake mother and son seriously competing over who’d make the grandest entrance?
He thought that kind of drama only happened in celebrity circles.
Shuangfu leaned in and whispered, “Your Highness, would you like something to eat while you wait?”
Fu Ye shook his head—and just then, a wave of attendants entered.
Fu Huang had arrived.
Everyone in the palace stood at once and knelt in reverence.
No—that wasn’t even kneeling. They fully prostrated themselves, not daring to lift their heads.
Fu Huang walked past them, his gaze briefly sweeping over Fu Ye. Surrounded by attendants, he took his seat.
Fu Ye couldn’t help but think that the man’s only purpose for showing up was to make sure no one enjoyed the banquet too much.
Because once he arrived, the already subdued atmosphere of the banquet turned outright chilly. The only sound was the jingling of the palace servants’ ornaments as they moved about.
Because of Fu Huang, the palace always gave off this strange contrast—lavish, yet lifeless. Like a beautiful nightmare. A grand feast in the underworld.
Less than a minute later, the Empress Dowager finally arrived.
Sure enough, they had been competing to be the last one in.
And finally, the banquet began.
Fu Ye hated group meals the most—especially ones with such rigid hierarchies. You weren’t eating food; you were swallowing politics.
The banquet rituals were endless and fussy, but the Emperor seemed to be in a good mood today.
Fu Ye overheard Minister Xie and the others whispering at the table below the Emperor’s seat: “Don’t worry. His Majesty doesn’t seem too upset.”
Fu Ye turned and looked toward Fu Huang—and caught him, elbow on the table, watching him.
!
Fu Ye immediately stood, smiling as he raised his wine cup. “Your humble brother toasts Your Majesty.”
The Empress Dowager and the others all turned to look.
Empress Dowager Zhang immediately turned her head and shot Sun Gongzheng a glare. Hadn’t she told her to remind Fu Ye again—don’t engage with the Emperor?
At such a public occasion, Fu Huang was prone to madness. If he used Fu Ye for amusement or humiliation, wouldn’t that completely ruin the newly appointed prince’s reputation?
She had her pride—there was no way she would argue with the Emperor in front of the entire court!
Better to let Consort Dowager Ning charge the wall like an egg than get dragged into it herself.
Just as she was thinking this, Fu Huang lifted his wine cup and took a sip.
Empress Dowager Zhang quietly let out a breath of relief.
Fu Ye then spoke again, “This son also toasts the Empress Dowager.”
With Fu Ye taking the lead, the other members of the imperial clan and the high-ranking ministers followed suit, raising their cups to the Emperor and Empress Dowager and offering words of blessing and prosperity.
The Empress Dowager was deeply comforted.
Surely Heaven itself had shown favor by returning the Prince of Huan to them!
At last, this New Year’s Eve palace banquet felt like a real celebration.
At that moment, Consort Dowager Li rose to her feet. She gestured for her attendant to pour wine and offered it respectfully to the Empress Dowager. “This humble consort also offers a toast to Her Majesty. Your kindness and virtue bless both palace and court; your grace shines far and wide. I pray for your continued health and longevity, may you live as long as the pine and the crane.”
The Empress Dowager accepted the cup and drank.
Fu Ye felt it was time to offer his own toast to the various consorts. Holding his wine cup, he stood up with a warm smile and turned toward Consort Dowager Li.
But unexpectedly, she picked up another cup of wine and walked over to Fu Huang.
As an elder of the Emperor, she didn’t technically need to approach the throne directly, but she did so with proper decorum. “Your Majesty’s virtue rivals Heaven and Earth. This humble consort also toasts Your Majesty.”
At the words “virtue rivals Heaven and Earth,” Fu Ye’s temples began to throb. But the palace wine had all been poured by attendants—there shouldn’t be any poison.
Fu Huang, however, made no move to take the cup.
Fu Ye stepped in quickly to ease the situation. “My brother is slightly inebriated. If I may, I will drink on his behalf.”
He smiled at Consort Dowager Li. But when she turned her gaze toward him, her eyes were ice-cold. A chill shot through Fu Ye—he knew something was wrong. He hurried forward, but Consort Dowager Li had already pulled the silver hairpin from her bun and lunged straight at Fu Huang.
It all happened in a flash.
Fu Ye tackled her to the ground. Dishes and cups shattered on impact. He rolled over broken shards, and though weak from illness, she fought with desperate strength. He couldn’t subdue her in one move. Consort Dowager Li, resolved to die, gripped the silver hairpin and drove it toward his throat.
But just then, someone caught her wrist.
She looked up—and saw the blank, emotionless face of Eunuch Qin. With a twist of his hand, the hairpin was turned inward, and her own hand drove it into her neck.
The hairpin had been coated in a potent poison; half of it was already blackened.
Fu Ye was yanked to his feet by his collar. He saw Consort Dowager Li staggering back, clutching the embedded pin, blood gushing through her fingers.
Gasps rang out across the hall.
Eunuch Qin stepped forward and barked, “Consort Dowager Li has committed treason—seize her!”
The black-armored guards drew their swords and surrounded her.
Fu Ye was still shaking, hands trembling from the shock.
Fu Huang looked at her with grim eyes. “I hadn’t expected you to be involved.”
Knowing her end was near, Consort Li’s expression turned wild. “We shared a common enemy—it was only right to help her.”
The poison took hold quickly. Her face turned a sickly gray as she collapsed to her knees. With a twisted grimace she spat out, “Don’t bother interrogating the palace staff—they know nothing. It was my own impulse. No one else knew. Heaven may not have helped me, but I will join my son as a vengeful ghost in Qingtai Palace, and curse you—bastard child, patricidal monster!!”
As soon as she finished speaking, she collapsed to the ground—dead on the spot.
Fu Ye felt his whole body trembling. He was terrified that her final words had triggered the Emperor’s wrath. Whatever Shuangfu was saying next to him, he couldn’t register any of it. After a while, he finally turned his head and vaguely heard Shuangfu say, “Your Highness, you’re bleeding.”
Fu Ye looked down. Only then did he notice blood seeping through his robes. Because he was wearing red, it hadn’t been obvious until now. A sudden wave of searing pain crashed through his body, and his legs turned to jelly.
He raised his hand to inspect the wound—a long gash, faintly turning blue. His heart sank. It must’ve been from the silver hairpin.
Eunuch Qin immediately summoned the imperial physicians. Fu Ye staggered backward and fell into someone’s arms. Turning his head, he saw—it was Fu Huang.
Still shaken, Fu Ye murmured, “…It should be nothing.”
And with that, he collapsed into Fu Huang’s embrace.
If I die like this, Fu Ye thought bitterly, what a ridiculous end that would be.
Xiao Ai: “Relax. You’re not dead. The poison was minimal and the wound isn’t deep.”
Fu Ye: “Did you forget about Consort Dowager Li?!”
Xiao Ai: “In the original story, she lives into the later stages. She even tries to ally with the protagonist during the assault on Jiantai—you forgot? Maybe the timeline’s already changed. She herself said it—when plotting regicide, the longer you plan, the more people find out, and the easier it is to slip up. She probably really did act on impulse.”
Fu Ye’s entire body throbbed with pain—there were injuries everywhere. When he opened his eyes, he saw Sun Gongzheng watching him.
“His Highness is awake,” she said over her shoulder.
Before long, Empress Dowager Zhang hurried in. But Fu Ye was too weak to stay conscious. He drifted back into sleep.
When he woke again, Shuangfu and a few others were tending to him.
As soon as he opened his eyes, Shuangfu stepped out to report. Not long after, Eunuch Qin entered.
He looked as benevolent as ever—rosy-cheeked and slightly plump. Despite his age and whitening hair, he barely had a wrinkle on his face. One would never believe he was the same man who had just coldly and efficiently killed a consort at last night’s banquet.
“Your Highness is awake,” Eunuch Qin said gently. “Please don’t move around—you’ll reopen the wound.”
Just as he finished speaking, Fu Huang walked in.
He was still wearing the same clothes from the banquet, but his expression was grim.
Eunuch Qin and the others quietly withdrew. Fu Huang stood at the bedside, staring at him.
“You don’t need to worry,” Fu Huang said at last. “Whatever you suffered—they’ll suffer far worse.”
Fu Ye asked, “Who will?”
“There are times when mercy is a mistake,” Fu Huang said. “If I had wiped out the roots back then, we wouldn’t be in this mess now.”
Fu Ye understood—Fu Huang didn’t intend to stop with Consort Dowager Li.
Dark clouds loomed again over the capital. It looked like the entire court would spend this New Year’s in fearful unease.
Fu Huang sat down beside him. “You really didn’t have to throw yourself into harm’s way. If a palace woman could assassinate me, I’d be long dead by now.”
Fu Ye replied, “So you do know that plenty of people want you dead. Their sons died in Qingtai Palace, and you went back there for a night banquet—clearly to torment them.”
“They were not innocent.”
“Maybe not,” Fu Ye said. “But isn’t that still putting yourself in danger?”
Fu Huang gave a cold laugh. “Life and death are up to Heaven.”
“Then was I hurt for nothing?” Fu Ye tried to sit up in frustration, but the movement pulled at his wound and sent a jolt of pain through him. He immediately collapsed again.
Fu Huang pressed him down. “Imperial Physician!”
The physician stepped forward and gently lifted Fu Ye’s robe. The bandages were already soaked through—fresh blood stained everything beneath. Fu Huang’s eyes narrowed at the sight, and his chest tightened. He had killed countless people in his life, but never before had he felt this kind of headache.
He turned and left the room.
Outside, the wind howled. He shivered despite himself.
A servant carried out a basin of bloodied water.
Back inside, Eunuch Qin personally stayed to tend to Fu Ye.
“Ye” means bright and radiant.
In this generation of imperial princes, most bore names with similar auspicious meanings. But in Eunuch Qin’s eyes, only Fu Ye truly lived up to his name—both in appearance and spirit.
Fu Ye said, “Shuangfu and the others can take care of me. That’s enough.”
Eunuch Qin replied, “Your Highness was wounded protecting His Majesty. I’m here in the Emperor’s stead, to personally look after you.”
Outside, the northern wind howled.
Eunuch Qin dismissed the others, then knelt beside the bed and said, “Your Highness has been away from the palace for many years. You likely don’t know much about His Majesty’s past, do you?”
Fu Ye lay prone on the couch, watching him.
Eunuch Qin shifted closer, studying Fu Ye’s features in the flickering candlelight. Then, in a low voice, he began:
“His Majesty was originally second among the imperial princes. There was once an elder prince above him, but that prince died young. That left His Majesty as the eldest surviving son.
“He was brilliant from a young age, and raised by Empress Zhang. Back then, he was credited with holding the capital during a siege, so he was long considered the most fitting choice for Crown Prince.
“He followed the late Emperor Wuzong on military campaigns and made his mark early, earning great merit on the battlefield while still a youth. Because Wuzong favored war, the court officials—concerned for the state—petitioned the late emperor to name him Crown Prince.
“Those were truly the most glorious years of His Majesty’s life. He was both learned and martial, peerless among the princes. The people admired him, hoping he would become a wise and enlightened ruler like Emperor Mingzong of old.”
The light in Eunuch Qin’s eyes dimmed.
“But all of that… collapsed when His Majesty turned sixteen.
“That year, a mysterious song began circulating in the palace:
‘Back then the Eastern Palace swallows nested,
This spring they build a new nest.
The old palace grass not yet thick,
Already young birds cry.’
“It was a veiled song about His Majesty’s birth. It pointed to Lady Zang, the widow of Crown Prince Mingyi—later titled Lady of Chu. The song claimed that His Majesty was actually her son.
“Such a scandal—incestuous and unacknowledged—was unspeakable. The late emperor supposedly gave him to Lady Zhaoyang to raise.”
Eunuch Qin bowed his head.
“Pure bloodline is the foundation of any prince’s legitimacy. This kind of rumor was shocking. The late emperor was furious and executed many palace women. But the more he tried to suppress it, the more it spread.
“When they compared the dates… it turned catastrophic.”
Fu Ye clutched at the edge of his quilt.
“In the sixth month of the first year of Tianyun, Crown Prince Mingyi died, and the late emperor ascended the throne. His Majesty was born during the Flower Festival of the following year—on the twelfth day of the second lunar month.”
Fu Ye did a quick calculation—and felt a chill run through his bones.
“There was no way to conclusively prove or disprove the rumors. In the end, the late emperor stripped His Majesty of his title as Crown Prince and sent him far from the capital to lead military campaigns.
“Everyone thought this was to distance him from court politics and give him a chance to earn redemption through service. But deep down, they all knew—His Majesty’s hope of ascending the throne was dead.”
Eunuch Qin’s voice grew softer:
“Even so, His Majesty had grown up in the army since he was a child. He became the most decorated general among the imperial princes. Though the rumors destroyed his political future, His Majesty was resolute and did not sink into despair.
“For years, he campaigned in the north, witnessing firsthand how the northern provinces suffered under the barbarians. His lifelong ambition became to serve as a loyal border lord—and reclaim the three provinces and seven commanderies lost to the Hu.”
—How admirable! (Fu Ye’s internal reaction)
“At the time, His Majesty was constantly on campaign and never returned to the capital. Then, in the eighteenth year of Tianyun, while stationed in Zouzhou, he was suddenly poisoned. The army doctors diagnosed it as dian gu—a type of incurable venom that causes madness…
“And so began his descent into hell. Each attack felt like his skull was splitting open. He’d lose all reason, especially in the early days—day and night, wracked by episodes—he grew gaunt and unrecognizable. When he came to and saw his attendants torn to pieces, he nearly destroyed himself.
“It was then… that he received a secret letter in his command tent.”
Fu Ye sat up straight at this.
“That letter was like a blade to the heart. It claimed that His Majesty was indeed the posthumous son of Crown Prince Mingyi. That the late emperor not only killed Mingyi, but also violated Lady Zang, and imprisoned her in Chonghua Temple.
“The man His Majesty revered as a father—was actually his mother’s murderer and rapist. And now, to erase the evidence, the late emperor had ordered him killed. The poison wasn’t sudden—it had been administered slowly, over time… by none other than the commander he trusted most—Yang Maozhi—whom he had called uncle since childhood.
“Yang’s family had offered his life in exchange for favor, believing the prince would not survive.
“To make it worse, someone then slandered His Majesty at court—saying the war was won, and the empire no longer needed a mad former Crown Prince.”
Fu Ye’s lips were nearly bloodless from how tightly he bit them.
“After reading that letter, His Majesty finally saw things clearly. He investigated and found that those attendants hadn’t died by his own hand. From the start, the rumors, the madness, the poisoning—none of it had been accidental. Someone had been orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. Perhaps more than one someone.
“The late emperor had feared him. But there were also those looking to use the chaos to destroy him.”
“In the twentieth year of Tianyun, His Majesty forged an alliance with the Hu tribes in Wangzhou. The Hu withdrew north. For the first time since Emperor Mingzong’s reign, our empire reclaimed its old borders. Peace was restored.
“The late emperor summoned His Majesty back to the capital, and held a family banquet at Qingtai Palace. There, he ordered all the imperial princes to pour wine for His Majesty.”
Fu Ye’s eyes widened in realization.
Dian gu poison is most easily triggered by alcohol.
“His Majesty declined the wine out of caution. Among the princes, only the Third Prince—who had always been closest to His Majesty—knelt and personally offered him a cup…”
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