Chapter 330: The Dust Settles, a Mouth Dipped in Poison
Ji Qingwu gave Prince Yong a long look. ’He is, after all, a carefree prince. How could he possibly understand the suffering and helplessness of women in this world?’
She lowered her gaze. ’It’s best to investigate these matters in secret,’ she mused, ’to avoid inflicting further harm on the young women involved.’
Ji Qingwu casually picked up a stack of papers and brandished them. "Prime Minister, surely you know what’s in here. All of your correspondence with Yu Wen Tianqing is right here. Do you have anything left to say?"
Su Fengyue couldn’t hide the bleak look on his face. He offered no more useless excuses.
"Since I dared to make such a risky move, I was prepared for the possibility of exposure. It has always been so: the victor is crowned king, the loser is branded a traitor. I have nothing more to say."
To the very end, Su Fengyue sought to preserve his last shred of dignity, resolved to face death with composure.
Ji Qingwu found his reaction too calm, too fearless. She wasn’t satisfied.
She picked up a scroll from beside her and untied the moon-white silk ribbon.
"I happened to find something... interesting. I invite you all to take a look."
Su Fengyue knew what it was. His mustache twitched, and the hands clenched at his sides trembled as he desperately tried to restrain himself.
As the scroll unfurled, Ji Qingwu held it by the mahogany rod at the top, and everyone got a clear view of the painting.
The woman in the portrait was refined and elegant, her brows and eyes shaped like crescent moons.
But what was truly remarkable were her eyes. They were not the azure blue of a lake, but a shade of gray-blue. They looked so full of melancholy and sorrow that a single glance made them unforgettable.
Ji Qingwu had seen eyes like these before.
Just as her finger was about to touch the eyes in the portrait, Su Fengyue’s expression twisted into something sinister.
He could no longer feign fearlessness. "Put that painting down!" he roared. "You’re not worthy of touching her!"
Zhao Mingyan took a step toward the center of the room, shielding Ji Qingwu’s body and blocking Su Fengyue’s murderous glare.
The Emperor’s gaze was bone-chillingly cold. Staring into those eyes, Su Fengyue didn’t dare make a single rash move.
The eyes in the painting were too distinctive. Prince Yong asked, "Is this woman from Xijin?"
Ji Qingwu nodded. "She is Yu Wen Tianqing’s mother, Gao Zhao Yue."
At this, everyone understood the unspoken reason behind Su Fengyue’s treasonous rebellion.
The moment Ji Qingwu saw the portrait, she understood. All the crescent moon insignias were derived from this woman’s name. Even the name of Prime Minister Su’s daughter, Dai Yue, implied she was a substitute for Gao Zhao Yue—a "substitute moon."
The family letters Su Fengyue had written had never actually been sent.
Because there was no one left to receive them.
Gao Zhao Yue had passed away more than a decade ago.
But for the sake of this woman’s last remaining flesh and blood, Su Fengyue had abandoned his years of relentless ambition, all to support her son, Yu Wen Tianqing, in his bid for the throne.
Ji Qingwu found the whole affair deeply ironic.
Su Fengyue held a pathological love for Yu Wen Tianqing’s mother, yet he trampled over other women without a second thought.
Prince Yong scoffed. "Yu Wen Tianqing’s mother was an unfavored concubine in Xijin who died of illness long ago. I wonder when she could have possibly crossed paths with Prime Minister Su. I also wonder if she would even want to be constantly on the mind of a man like you."
Zhao Minghong’s words were like venom.
"If Gao Zhao Yue knew you’ve been hoarding her portrait, she’d probably vomit in her grave out of sheer disgust. She’d regret ever wasting a single glance on a wretched old thing like you, who’s worse than a ghost."
These words drove Su Fengyue into a frenzy. Like a madman, he charged recklessly toward Ji Qingwu, so fast that even Shang Rong, who was standing beside him, couldn’t react in time.
He roared, "Give me the painting!"
But before he could even touch the hem of Ji Qingwu’s robes, Zhao Mingyan sent him flying with a single kick.
Su Fengyue crashed heavily to the floor. He hunched over in agony, coughing up a mouthful of blood, his eyes still fixed on Ji Qingwu’s hands.
"Give... me back the painting..."
Ji Qingwu deftly rolled up the portrait, not bothering to look up at his pathetic state.
"Prime Minister, you will never see this woman or this painting again for the rest of your life."
*
Outside the mansion gates, a thousand elite soldiers had formed a tight circle, completely surrounding the estate.
Upon receiving the signal, Duan Mingfeng had withdrawn the Black-clothed Guards from Zhaoyang Hall during the night and rushed to the Prime Minister’s Mansion.
The entire city was under curfew, so their journey was unimpeded. But near an intersection approaching the Su Mansion, they encountered the carriage of Princess Yong.
The Black-clothed Guards stopped the carriage. Duan Mingfeng rode forward, his tone respectful enough. "Princess Consort, I must ask you to return to the Prince Mansion. You should not be out at this hour."
The cold, grim voice sent a chill through Tao Wanxin as she sat in her carriage. She lifted the curtain.
"Mr. Duan, the Prince went to Prime Minister Su’s residence. I’ll just wait for him by the gate. I won’t do anything."
Ever since returning from the Song family’s home, Tao Wanxin had felt a sense of unease she couldn’t shake, no matter what she did.
She and Prince Yong were still sleeping in separate rooms. Though her pregnancy usually made her sleep soundly, tonight in her bed at Jinmo Residence, she tossed and turned, unable to find rest.
Around midnight, she sat up and even recited a Buddhist sutra, but it did nothing to calm her. She resolved to find Prince Yong in the front courtyard, only to be told by Chang Lu that the Prince had left the mansion alone, heading for the Prime Minister’s Mansion.
Tao Wanxin’s heart plummeted, and a sudden wave of palpitations seized her.
The more she thought, the more she panicked. She immediately had Chang Lu arrange for a carriage. She never expected to be stopped just as she was approaching the gates of the Prime Minister’s Mansion.
In the moonlight, Tao Wanxin peered out toward the road ahead and saw that the Black-clothed Guards had surrounded the Prime Minister’s Mansion, forming an impenetrable perimeter.
Her voice trembled slightly. "Mr. Duan, has something happened to the Prince?"
Duan Mingfeng didn’t know what was happening inside either. For all he knew, a vicious fight could be underway.
His face was grim. "I must ask that the Princess Consort’s carriage return to the mansion immediately. Do not interfere with the official business of the Imperial City Department."
Two Black-clothed Guards obeyed, blocking the carriage and preventing it from moving forward.
A short, sharp whistle sounded. Duan Mingfeng listened intently, and a faint, relieved smile finally touched his lips. He let out a quiet sigh. The hard work of the past days had not been in vain.
Without a second thought, Tao Wanxin jumped out of the carriage, gathered her skirts, and started running toward the mansion.
She didn’t know what the whistle meant, but in her ears, it sounded like a death knell.
Duan Mingfeng gave no order, so the Black-clothed Guards did not stop Princess Yong.
Tao Wanxin didn’t dare run too fast, jogging carefully while cradling her stomach. Beads of sweat, born of fear and anxiety, formed on her forehead and the tip of her nose.
She made it into the Su Mansion unopposed.
The elite soldiers had already entered the mansion, and the courtyard was ablaze with light.
Tao Wanxin grabbed the nearest person and asked frantically, "Have you seen Prince Yong?"
The man didn’t recognize her and just shook his head before hurrying away.
Tao Wanxin continued deeper into the residence without stopping. As she approached the main hall, she saw someone being dragged out of the building.
She couldn’t make out the man’s face, but the deep purple official’s robe, the embroidered crane on the back...
It was Prime Minister Su.
She stood at the bottom of the steps and saw a court boot—edged in gold and embroidered with a coiling dragon—viciously kick the back of that crane-adorned robe.