The next morning, starlight filtered through the ginkgo leaves, falling onto the bluestone tabletop.
Chiron’s fingers tapped across the holographic screen, erasing the last traces of data. He switched off the screen and took a sip from the teacup beside him.
“The situation on the capital star is basically settled,” Chiron said, lifting his gaze to Jiang Lijin, who had just walked out the door. “I need to go back.”
Jiang Lijin walked over to the table and had just picked up an alien nut when she paused at his words.
“To clean up the loose ends?” She frowned slightly, her tone tinged with disapproval. “You’re a fugitive on the run with me right now. The capital star is under total martial law. Wouldn’t it be walking right into a trap?”
Chiron watched her furrowed brow, and a trace of pleasure flickered in the depths of his gray pupils. She cared about him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take a secret route,” Chiron said, his voice gentle. “Besides, what the old Empress needs most right now is a top-tier doctor who can interpret medical records and prolong her life. As long as I put the word out that I have an inhibitor that can delay the toxicity of the Bone-Eroding Herb, she won’t arrest me—she’ll send a royal envoy to respectfully escort me into the palace.”
He gazed at Jiang Lijin, his expression restrained. “If I’m not there to hold down the hospital, the researchers underneath me won’t hold up under interrogation. The camouflage of the old archives needs me there in person to smooth things over. And speaking of which… I need to keep the old Empress’s last breath going, to give you enough time to negotiate terms.”
Jiang Lijin tossed the shelled nut into her mouth, chewing with a crisp crunch.
She knew Chiron’s plan was flawless, but forging royal medical records and going deep into the tiger’s den was still far too dangerous. This man looked gentle and refined on the surface, but deep down, he was a madman willing to gamble his life.
“Watch yourself,” Jiang Lijin said as she stood up.
Chiron looked at her worried expression, and a faint warmth spread in his eyes.
Before leaving, Chiron stood at the courtyard gate and turned back to look at her.
“Contact me anytime if something comes up,” he said in a low, tender voice. “Don’t handle it alone.”
“So talkative,” Jiang Lijin said, waving him off, but the tips of her ears grew warm.
Xiao Yi muttered inside her mind: [Host, isn’t this a kind of ‘retreat to advance’ emotional ploy from Chiron? He’s literally putting his life in your hands. You should protect him a bit.]
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Jiang Lijin replied silently.
She turned around and looked at Tianyan, who was leaning against the corridor pillar watching the show. “Come on, take me to the underground communication room.”
The shielding field of the Solitary Sun Star System was too strong; ordinary optical computers couldn’t send signals. To contact Tinia and Baal, they could only go down the abandoned stone well.
The two found their way to the communication core three levels underground.
Tianyan’s fingers glided over the living metal console, and soon, an encrypted five-person communication group was established. The group name was something he typed casually: [The Black-Hearted Boss and Her Underpaid Workers].
Jiang Lijin shot Tianyan a speechless glance and initiated the group call.
Soon, two holographic projections lit up simultaneously.
Tinia’s background was a messy office, his blond hair unkempt, but his blue eyes were startlingly bright.
Baal sat in the command seat of a starship, wearing a Federal military uniform, with the roar of starship engines in the background audio.
“Sister!” Tinia spoke first, his voice echoing loudly in the room. “The starport on the capital star is completely paralyzed! Those three old relics grabbed a starship and fled, and I had all their overseas accounts frozen. They can’t take a single credit with them!”
“Well done,” Jiang Lijin praised.
Baal snorted coldly and adjusted his camera angle, leaning his face close to the screen.
“Say the word, and I’ll blow open their defenses directly and bring the Empire into the Federation’s territory,” his commanding presence as a general pressed through the screen.
“Hold your fire for now,” Jiang Lijin said, tapping her fingers on the edge of the console. “The pressure is about right. I need to have a word with the old Empress.”
A moment of silence fell over the communication channel.
Baal frowned slightly, a hint of hesitation flickering in his golden pupils. As the Federal military’s chief commander, his instinct was to act on political and military interests: since the Empire was in civil war, it would be better to attack directly and annex it once and for all.
But he did not argue. He simply watched Jiang Lijin on the screen quietly, waiting for her to continue.
Jiang Lijin could read his mind.
“Baal, I know you want to take the Empire directly. But the Federation isn’t run by you alone. There are those troublesome politicians in the council above us,” she analyzed the situation clearly as she looked at him. “If the Federation annexes the Empire, that cake will be carved up by the council members. When credit is passed out later, the real power won’t necessarily fall into our hands.”
She paused, her voice steady and resolute: “Besides, a single, dominant power has always been quick to fall throughout history. We need the Empire as a buffer zone, to hold the real power firmly in our own hands—not to serve as a wedding dress for the Federal Council.”
When Baal heard the words “our own hands,” his expression instantly softened.
She had included him in her camp. They were on the same boat. That feeling of being trusted and accepted gave Baal an unprecedented sense of comfort.
“Whatever you say,” Baal said, leaning back in his chair, unable to suppress the smile curling at his lips. “How do you need me to cooperate?”
“Keep up the maneuvers. The louder, the better—keep the pressure on,” Jiang Lijin said. “Tinia, release the news that the Yunglan Group is preparing to pull its investments out of the Empire. I want the old Empress to see the complete mess she’s facing right now.”
“Got it!” Tinia snapped his fingers. “I guarantee I’ll make her blood pressure spike!”
After ending the three-way call and waiting a few more hours, Jiang Lijin turned to Tianyan.
“Help me patch through to the old Empress’s private channel.”
Tianyan set down his teacup, his green eyes showing unconcealed admiration. He liked how decisively she commanded the situation.
“You got it, boss.”
Tianyan’s fingers flew across the console, bypassing layers of firewalls and forcefully cutting into the royal court’s encrypted channel.
“Connected,” Tianyan said, stepping back half a step to let Jiang Lijin take the lead.
The holographic screen lit up.
The image was a little shaky, the background showing the top-tier VIP ward of the central hospital. Life-support machines emitted a monotonous beeping sound.
The old Empress lay in the hospital bed. Her once-well-maintained face was now sallow and withered, sagging loosely against the bone.
But even in such a state, she maintained her noble dignity. There was no hysterical screaming, only a pair of murky eyes, sharp with scrutiny and authority.
“Jiang Lijin,” the old Empress said, her voice weak but carrying the weight of long-held power. “I underestimated you. Graven’s incident—it was your setup.”
“Your Majesty flatters me,” Jiang Lijin said, sitting relaxed in her chair, openly admitting it. “What kind of setup is this? I simply delivered the facts to your doorstep.”
The old Empress stared at her, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “You’ve thrown the capital star into chaos, forced the cabinet into rebellion, and lured Federation starships here. Cutting into my private channel now—are you here to mock me, or to flaunt your victory?”
“Not that. I’m here to negotiate a deal.” Jiang Lijin leaned forward, blunt and direct. “I want the position of Regent. I’ll take charge of all military and political affairs of the Empire and assist the Third Prince in ascending the throne.”
The hospital room fell into dead silence for a moment.
The old emperor suddenly let out a cold laugh, her voice hoarse. “A deal? You, a fugitive wanted across the entire galaxy, what could you possibly offer in a deal with me? Even if I die, the Empire still has nobles with deep roots. There’s no way an outsider like you will ever touch imperial power.”
“Your Majesty, don’t delude yourself.” Jiang Lijin’s tone was calm, but every word struck like a blade. “Graven is dead. His old allies have rebelled. Over half of the capital’s planetary defense forces are lost, and the spaceport is crippled. Meanwhile, on the border, the Federation’s First Fleet is conducting live-fire exercises. All it takes is for Baal’s cannons to breach the line, and the galaxy will see only the Federation, not the Empire. Are you counting on those rooted nobles of yours, or on your six-year-old Third Prince, to stop the Federation’s warships?”
The old emperor stared fixedly at the screen, her withered fingers gripping the bedsheet. She was a seasoned politician—no one understood better than she did the Empire’s hopeless plight.
“I am the only 3S-class female in the entire galaxy.” Jiang Lijin played her trump card. “Tinia, the heir of the Yúnlán Group, is my partner. The wealth of the galaxy’s richest man can instantly cover the Empire’s civil war deficits. Baal, Supreme Commander of the Federation, is also my partner—one word from me and his fleet will withdraw from the border. The black market’s intelligence network, the Academy’s resources… all of it is in my hands.”
She paused, meeting the old emperor’s gaze.
“Your Majesty, you have no choice. No one but me can preserve the Empire’s territory. You can refuse me now, cling to your foolish royal pride, and take your Empire straight to hell. I’ll just go somewhere else and carry on with my life.”
The height of negotiation lies in making the other side understand: I can walk away untouched, but you can’t afford to lose.
The old emperor slumped back on her hospital bed, staring at the young, radiant female on the screen who held absolute command of the room. Perhaps this was what she herself had once been.
“Fine.” The old emperor closed her eyes, and as she spoke that word, all the fight drained out of her. “I… grant you the position of Regent. I will issue a pardon decree, clearing your criminal record. But you must swear… to keep the Third Prince alive.”
This surprised Jiang Lijin. She had expected the emperor to demand the Third Prince’s throne. But all she wanted was her youngest son’s life.
“Deal.” Jiang Lijin stood up. “I’ll arrive at the capital in one week. I trust that by then, the appointment decree will have been broadcast across the entire galaxy.”
Snap. The communication cut off.
The underground communications room fell silent once more.
“Boss, so you just took control of the Empire like that?” Tian Yan clicked his tongue in amazement, his green eyes shining as he looked at Jiang Lijin. “Pulling off a masterstroke with nothing to lose—I bow to your business acumen.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” Jiang Lijin said, turning to walk away, a hint of relieved smile curling at the corners of her mouth. “It’s because you all gave me enough capital to work with.”
