Around the hour of Mao (5-7 AM).

Those who came to buy groceries found the entire market empty—no vegetables, no vendors.

Officials from the Capital Prefecture immediately arrived to investigate.

Yet all the vendors gave the same excuse: they felt unwell and couldn’t set up their stalls.

The officers naturally didn’t believe it. What were the odds of such a coincidence?

Moreover, patrolling soldiers from the Military Patrol Division had seen many vendors transporting vegetables into the city.

But they couldn’t identify specific individuals, and skipping a market day wasn’t a crime. The investigation had to be dropped.

Still, ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‍the officials ordered the vendors to return to the market at once, threatening to revoke their curfew passes if they refused.

By the time the market bustled back to life, Ye Chutang had woken from her second sleep.

She had no plans to go out today.

After breakfast, she began embroidering a mandarin duck veil—a bridal tradition.

The original owner of this body had been skilled in needlework, and Ye Chutang finished the task in a single day.

For the next two days, she focused on stockpiling supplies.

Aside from clearing out the market, she bought as much grain, liquor, and prepared food as possible.

Naturally, she also made daily trips to the palace.

“Zero-dollar shopping.”

The palace, housing tens of thousands, was rich in resources.

Charcoal from the Xixin Office, paper from the Baochao Office, weapons from the Armory, garments from the Needlework Bureau, fruits and vegetables from the Imperial Gardens…

Not to mention the delicacies from the Imperial Kitchen, medicines from the Imperial Hospital,

and every valuable item from the Three Palaces and Six Halls.

Ye Chutang left nothing behind, nearly emptying the entire palace.

Her upgraded storage space, once sparse, now brimmed with treasures.

Pleased with her haul, she was about to leave when she noticed her long-neglected virtue points had surged by over 100,000—and were still climbing.

She quickly realized why: the plague prevention and cure prescriptions she’d shared had saved countless lives in the south.

A voice called from outside her chamber—Dan’er.

“Young Mistress, Prince Chen has sent you a letter.”

Ye Chutang emerged from her space, sat up, and drew aside the bed curtains.

“Come in.”

Dan’er handed her the letter.

“Young Mistress, the Ministry of Rites just delivered the wedding gown and headpiece. Would you like to try them on?”

“No need. Even if they don’t fit, there’s no time for alterations now.”

After speaking, Ye Chutang opened the letter.

Qi Yanzhou wanted to meet—to discuss tomorrow’s plans.

Once she finished reading, she tore the letter to shreds and dropped it into the half-drunk tea on the side table.

The ink blurred as the tea soaked the fragments.

Even if Qi Yanzhou hadn’t reached out, she’d planned to sneak into Prince Chen’s Mansion to see him.

She needed to arrange Dan’er and Jinzhi’s journey to the northwest.

“Dan’er, inform Aunt Jin to pack their belongings. I’ll release you both from the Minister’s Mansion before I leave for the wedding tomorrow.”

Dan’er knew Ye Chutang had other plans for her and Jinzhi.

“Yes, Young Mistress.”

Ye Chutang stood, stretching lazily before her daily ritual of checking her pulse.

Her heartbeat was strong; the baby was developing well.

But as she withdrew her fingers, she froze, her stunning face flashing with shock.

She focused, taking her pulse again.

Yet the earlier anomaly seemed like a fleeting illusion—it didn’t reappear.

Unwilling to dismiss it, she hurried into her space.

Inside the examination room, she performed an ultrasound.

The screen clearly showed two gestational sacs.

“Twins.”

With instruments, twins could be detected as early as six weeks.

By pulse diagnosis, it would take at least two months.

She printed the image, wiped the gel from her belly, and studied the ultrasound.

Her slender fingers traced the two sacs as a smile curved her lips.

“Genetically speaking, fraternal is more likely.”

She hoped for a boy and a girl—a perfect pair.

After storing the ultrasound in the lounge, she returned to the real world.

Changing into slightly more elegant attire, she stepped into the courtyard.

Jinzhi promptly brought her a bowl of bird’s nest soup, kept warm.

“Young Mistress, it’s just the right temperature.”

Since learning of the pregnancy, Jinzhi had tailored meals to ease nausea.

Every afternoon, she prepared nourishing soups.

The results were clear: aside from mild morning sickness, Ye Chutang hadn’t vomited again.

She drank the soup and handed back the porcelain cup.

“I’m going out. If my father asks, tell him I’ll return before dinner.”

With that, she left the festive Minister’s Mansion.

Her first stop was Xinglin Pharmacy.

Shopkeeper Lin promptly showed her the ledger.

“Miss Ye, part of the medicinal shipment has been dispatched. Here’s the record.”

Ye Chutang skimmed it before returning the ledger.

“I trust your integrity, Shopkeeper Lin. Today, I’m here to ask a favor.”

“Please, no need for formalities. How can I help?”

“My younger brother will enroll at Huating Academy tomorrow, boarding there. But his health is frail—he needs regular acupuncture. Could you send a physician to treat him?”

“A small matter. Consider it done.”

After teaching the physician the specific technique for Jun’er, she noted the treatment frequency.

“With acupuncture and medicine, he’ll recover fully within two months.”

She then handed Shopkeeper Lin a hundred taels for the services and herbs.

He reluctantly accepted after her insistence.

“Rest assured, Miss Ye. I’ll personally oversee his care.”

“Thank you.”

Next, she visited Wanbao Pavilion.

The craftsmen had completed several more sets of her custom weaponized jewelry.

Collecting them, she headed to Guangjuxuan Teahouse.

Qi Yanzhou was already waiting in the private room.

He poured her a cup of steeped red date tea.

“Ah-Tang, any changes to the emperor’s arrangements?”

Ye Chutang produced the emperor’s letter and passed it to him.

“None. It’s still weapons, letters, and the cursed doll.”

Qi Yanzhou unfolded the letter. Reading the treasonous words forged in his handwriting, his lips curled in scorn.

“Even if this isn’t destroyed, it couldn’t convict me.”

Any literate person would spot the forgery.

Ye Chutang had noticed its flaws too.

“If the old fool laid this trap, he wouldn’t leave such obvious flaws. He might be testing me.”

Tomorrow, these letters might be replaced with more convincing replicas.

Qi Yanzhou agreed, returning the letter.

“The letters are just bait to uncover the doll and weapons. Their authenticity doesn’t matter.”

“Right. The critical items are the weapons and the doll.”

“I’ll destroy some of the weapons. As for the letters—”

“Replace them with these.”

From her space, she retrieved letters proving Ye Jingchuan’s collusion with the Crown Prince and Second Prince.

Qi Yanzhou scanned them. “If these reach the emperor, Ye Jingchuan could lose his position—or worse, his freedom.”

Conspiring with princes was a grave offense.

“Everything he has came from my mother. It’s time he repaid that debt. His study’s hidden chamber also holds weapons—prepared for the Second Prince’s rebellion.”

Before her exile, Ye Chutang intended to stir the capital’s waters into chaos.

Then she recalled the weapons beneath Prince An’s stables.

Days had passed, yet there was no news of Zhao Mingxu’s house arrest or banishment.

“Ah-Zhou, when do you plan to expose the weapons in Prince An’s Mansion?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep