“Prime Minister Gu?”

Meng Yang immediately turned to look at Yan Zheng, who scoffed and pressed a hand to his forehead, saying, “Send him before His Majesty.”

The officer acknowledged the order, and Meng Yang lowered his voice to ask, “Young Master, was this orchestrated by Chancellor Gu? But wouldn’t this be too blatant?”

It was common knowledge that the Emperor had recently appointed Cao Yang to the Grand Secretariat to counterbalance Chancellor Gu and dilute his power.

Their rivalry was inevitable, but at such a critical moment, for Chancellor Gu to send his own coachman to run someone over—wasn’t that practically announcing to the world that he was behind it?

Wasn’t that too foolish?

Yan Zheng cast him a cool glance. “If even you can think of it, do you think Gu Yu wouldn’t?”

“But the coachman is from his household…” Meng Yang suddenly realized. “You mean he was framed? Then who would do it?”

“Whoever stands to gain the most—”

Before he could finish, Gong Shang approached with a smile. “Young Master, Her Highness requests your presence.”

At the Princess’s residence, An Sheng was unusually not tending to her garden but brewing a pot of fine tea. Hearing footsteps, she beckoned, “Zheng’er, you’ve arrived? Come, try this year’s newly-tributed Snow Mountain Mist tea.”

Yan Zheng didn’t move, silently watching her.

An Sheng waved a hand. “All of you, leave us.”

Gong Shang and Yu Hui bowed and withdrew, while Yan Zheng motioned for Meng Yang to do the same.

Once alone, Yan Zheng said, “You seem in high spirits.”

An Sheng lifted a crystal teacup and blew lightly on it. “Indeed. With two formidable rivals eliminated in one stroke, shouldn’t you be happy for your mother?”

Yan Zheng gave a faint nod. “So it was you—killing Cao Yang and framing Gu Sun, effortlessly dismantling the Grand Secretariat. Should I praise your cunning or condemn your ruthlessness?”

An Sheng burst into laughter. Though time had stolen her youth, traces of her former beauty lingered. “Zheng’er, Zheng’er, you’ve grown so composed. Last time, when I merely targeted the second daughter of the Chu family, you stormed in demanding answers. Now that I’ve killed her uncle-in-law, why aren’t you angry?”

A flash of killing intent flickered in Yan Zheng’s eyes, though his expression remained unreadable. “You’re mistaken. That Cao Yang wasn’t just her uncle-in-law—he was also your elder brother-in-law. If even your own in-laws aren’t spared, what use is my anger?”

Though Imperial Son-in-law Cao deserved death, he had, after all, died for An Sheng’s sake.

Yet this woman had coldly orchestrated her own brother-in-law’s demise—utterly devoid of humanity!

An Sheng arched a brow. “So what? In the struggle for the throne, even parents and siblings are fair game, let alone a mere brother-in-law. Zheng’er, I’ve indulged you long enough. The time is ripe—it’s your turn to return and aid your mother.”

Yan Zheng’s brow twitched. After waiting so long, the moment had finally arrived.

He feigned indifference. “What help could I possibly offer?”

An Sheng smirked. “Don’t play coy. You know what I want, Zheng’er. With Gu Sun and Cao Yang gone, the position of Chief Grand Secretary lies vacant. This is your golden opportunity!”

“You want me to become Chief Grand Secretary?” Yan Zheng’s lips curled. “Can you even control the court?”

“Why not? The Emperor has few cards left. Yan Xu is dead, Chu Huaishan must remain to oversee the Ministry of Personnel, and Grand Tutor Rong has long wished to resign. Who else can he entrust with the position?” An Sheng declared. “Moreover, we have allies in the Six Ministries. With your achievements in investigating corruption cases and being the sole surviving heir of the Great General, when the officials petition for your appointment, who could oppose you?”

Yan Zheng remained silent.

An Sheng leaned back lazily. “Zheng’er, don’t forget that girl from the Chu family…”

His expression darkened instantly, a storm brewing in his eyes. “If you dare touch her, I’ll kill you.”

Unfazed, An Sheng chuckled. “See? You’re still too young, Zheng’er. One’s weaknesses should be hidden, not flaunted so carelessly. Exposing them makes you vulnerable.”

Yan Zheng glared coldly before suddenly asking, “Was my father your weakness too?”

An Sheng’s face twisted violently. “Don’t speak of him!”

As if struck at her core, her composure shattered briefly before she forced it back. “Yan Xu was the shame of my life. Never mention him again!”

With that, she summoned Gong Shang to expel him—proof that the wound still festered.

Once outside, Yan Zheng’s expression turned icy.

Meng Yang whispered, “Young Master, the Ministry of Justice just reported that after the coachman was sent to the palace, the Emperor… the Emperor has stripped Chancellor Gu of his position and thrown him into prison!”

Yan Zheng’s hands trembled as he shut his eyes.

An Sheng had acted too swiftly!

Earlier, when he’d discussed the Grand Secretariat with A-Yan, he’d suspected she would strike—but in less than half a day, she’d succeeded, even anticipating the Emperor’s thoughts and sealing Gu Sun’s fate!

He’d planned to unearth her faction and crush them in one sweep.

But now…

Yan Zheng took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.

Dusk had fallen, the dying sunlight casting long shadows.

Catching a fading ray in his palm, he murmured, “We can’t wait any longer.”

Meng Yang didn’t catch it. “What did you say, Young Master?”

Yan Zheng shook his head. “Nothing. To the Duke of Chu’s Mansion.”

“What? At this hour? The Duke will surely be home by now!” Meng Yang protested in alarm.

Yan Zheng cut him off. “We go now!”

The night was cool as water.

Exhausted, Chu Ruoyan returned to the mansion. Her father had summoned her to inquire about Cao Yang’s condition, and she’d relayed the truth—the old miracle doctor could only preserve her uncle-in-law’s life, but whether he’d wake, or ever wake again, no one could say.

Chu Huaishan massaged his temples and dismissed her. Back in the Bodhi Courtyard, Nanny Zhou and Yulu, aware of the Cao family’s tragedy, took care not to mention it.

Their caution only deepened her unease, until a reckless thought clawed its way out: “If only Yan Zheng were here—”

Before she could finish, a face as striking as a painting materialized before her.

Dazed, she reached out. “Am I dreaming?”

The next instant, her fingers were enveloped in his grasp as he abruptly stood, pulling her into his arms.

“!!!”

Chu Ruoyan’s eyes widened in shock. “Your legs? You can stand?!”

Yan Zheng didn’t answer, only tightened his hold, his chin resting atop her head as if trying to fuse her into his very bones.

“Yan Zheng?”

She squirmed slightly, and a flicker of pain crossed his brow before he sank back into the wheelchair.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She dropped to her knees, inspecting his legs, but he yanked her back into an even fiercer embrace.

Sensing something amiss, she pressed, “What’s happened? Tell me!”

Still silent, Yan Zheng tilted her chin up and kissed her.

His lips were cool and thin, moving over hers with deliberate tenderness—a stark contrast to his usual fierceness.

Only when he finally released her did Chu Ruoyan panic. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!”

Her vivid, lively eyes mirrored the night of their wedding, when she’d softly called him “husband” with a smile.

Yan Zheng couldn’t resist touching her face once more, craving that tangible warmth.

Yet in the end, his fingers hovered midair, his gaze dark and unfathomable as the ocean. He simply watched her in silence: “A-Yan, you must forgive me.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep