Jiang Yunshu was left utterly stunned by Zhezhi's gossip.
How could there have been no infant emperor in the swaddling clothes Xie Lin carried during such a solemn and sacred coronation ceremony?
"Did none of the civil and military officials below notice?"
Taoye and Zhezhi both shook their heads—they couldn't fathom it either. Xiazhi and Xiaoman, being younger, proved more quick-witted on this matter.
Xiazhi remarked, "The officials stood so far away they couldn’t see clearly. Even if one or two had exceptionally sharp eyesight, they’d likely doubt their own vision."
Xiaoman nodded. "Besides, during the coronation, all officials were bowing in reverence, with little chance to look up."
After a pause, Xiazhi added, "And even if someone did see the truth, who would dare expose it at the ceremony?"
Jiang Yunshu considered this and realized it made perfect sense.
Zhezhi’s gossip hadn’t even come from the coronation itself but from the little prince left behind in a side chamber of Weiyang Palace…
The attendees at the ceremony probably remained oblivious. The truth of this affair would likely circulate only among a select few within Weiyang Palace, leaving the officials outside none the wiser.
Yet Jiang Yunshu couldn’t help but gasp—Xie Lin’s audacity was staggering.
Wasn’t this just the Great Qi Dynasty’s version of The Emperor’s New Clothes?
What she had once imagined as a grand, dignified coronation now seemed utterly… absurd.
Then she recalled the era name and the infant emperor’s name, both casually chosen by her for the ceremony’s proclamation…
Well, she should’ve realized how farcical it all was from that moment.
Xie Lin certainly had a flair for dark humor.
Sadly, few could see through it. The officials continued treating the coronation with utmost gravity.
After the ceremony came the enthronement of the empress dowager, followed by the New Year’s banquet.
In Weiyang Palace, Jiang Yunshu had her own feast, the dishes far more lavish than usual.
Using serving chopsticks, she portioned out untouched dishes to the palace maids and eunuchs. Though they dared not sit at her table—their seats were placed at a distance—she could still hear their grateful murmurs each time she bestowed a dish.
"Your Majesty’s quarters are livelier than the main hall," Xie Lin declared as he strode in.
Jiang Yunshu startled. "Grand Steward, why are you here?"
The New Year’s banquet hadn’t even concluded—how could Xie Lin have returned already?
This year’s banquet was especially significant. Fresh from the coronation and the proclamation of a new era, the officials would surely revel in the dynasty’s apparent stability.
Xie Lin had clearly been drinking. His usually jade-pale cheeks were tinged with crimson, his lips unnervingly vivid.
Alcohol slowed his speech further, lending his voice an almost languid allure.
"The fireworks are about to begin. Would Your Majesty care to watch?"
Jiang Yunshu blinked. "Where?"
Xie Lin smiled. "Fireworks are best viewed from high ground."
"Put on your cloak, take a hand warmer, and come with me."
Without preparation, Jiang Yunshu followed Xie Lin out of Weiyang Palace.
She hadn’t expected to venture out today and had styled her hair simply for the New Year. Now, she pulled her hood up to conceal it.
The palace had several towers—which would Xie Lin choose?
Her guesses all proved wrong. To her shock, he led her up the palace walls.
At the highest point, the winter wind whipped through her cloak.
Behind them sprawled the entire palace; ahead lay the mansions of the inner city’s elite.
Bang— The first firework exploded across the ink-black sky.
Below the walls, banquet attendees craned their necks. Beyond, noble households spilled into courtyards to watch.
Bang—bang—bang— A chain of bursts illuminated the ramparts, casting light on two figures atop the wall.
Xie Lin’s towering, lean frame was unmistakable.
Jiang Yunshu, cloaked and clutching a hand warmer, resembled Consort Wu—newly enthroned as empress dowager—so closely that from a distance, her posture seemed to cradle an infant.
Someone mistook her for the dowager holding the child emperor.
Like a wave, the crowds inside and outside the walls knelt, chanting—
"Long live the Emperor!"
"Long live the Empress Dowager!"
Amid the rising chorus, Jiang Yunshu instinctively stepped back—only for Xie Lin’s palm to cradle her nape.
"Wouldn’t Your Majesty like to taste what it’s like… to be empress dowager?"
His scorching touch seared her skin, his grip on her slender neck as possessive as a predator’s bite.
Every fiber of her being screamed danger. Her answer, she knew, would decide whether she left these walls alive tonight.
Into the wind, her voice—soft as ever—drifted to Xie Lin’s ears:
"No rush. I’ve yet to savor my fill… of being the Grand Steward’s woman."
