After Ah-Zhi had departed for some time, Consort Hua rose slowly from her seat. Her gaze drifted toward the entrance, as though she were awaiting the arrival of someone.
Before long, a man emerged, stepping quietly into the Yang Palace. His movements were furtive, shadowed by caution.
The man's face was grotesque—twisted and dark, with a hunched back that bent like a shrimp's.
Though his appearance lacked grace or nobility, there was something in his bearing… a subtle air that hinted at a rank far greater than it seemed.
"Minister Zheng… you have come," Consort Hua spoke his name, her voice warm with unmistakable delight.
The man who entered was none other than Grand Minister Zheng, or Zheng Shihwei—the emperor's personal advisor and most loyal confidant. Within the walls of the imperial court, it was said that apart from the emperor himself, there was no one more feared than Zheng Shihwei.
Indeed, many believed that the peace and stability the realm had enjoyed thus far was not the result of the late Emperor's rule, but owed instead to the unseen hand of Zheng Shihwei.
It was no surprise, then, that this man dared to meet alone—face to face—with Consort Hua, utterly unafraid of the consequences, unshaken even in the shadow of royal wrath.
Minister Zheng stepped forward and pulled Consort Hua into his arms. She could feel the longing in his embrace—raw and unspoken. After a moment, she gently pulled away, her posture shy and coy like that of a young maiden.
The aging minister, stirred by her bashful demeanor, could no longer restrain himself. He drew her back into his arms once more.
"Release me," she murmured. "You hold me so tightly… my body is bruised all over, don't you know?"
"No," Zheng replied firmly. "I've waited years to hold you like this. Why do you keep pushing me away?"
"The more you embrace me," Consort Hua said sadly, tears brimming in her eyes, "the more bitter I feel toward my fate. In three days' time, my body will be buried with the emperor's at the royal tomb. I am truly a woman cursed by destiny—never meant to be yours in this life."
"I will not let you die," Zheng declared, holding her even tighter. "I am soon to take the throne. Once I become Emperor, my first command will be to revoke that decree—you shall not be buried. You shall live."
Upon hearing those words, the goddess-like beauty of Consort Hua's face grew even more sorrowful. "Do you mean to say… you still do not know?"
Zheng Shihwei furrowed his brow in confusion. "Know what? What are you talking about?"
Without another word, Consort Hua retrieved a scroll from the silk chest beside her,
and handed it to the old minister.
He accepted it with a puzzled expression—only to find, to his shock, that the red wax seal bore the Imperial Signet of the late Emperor.
The seal had already been broken.
Zheng knew at once what it was—an official edict of succession, a royal decree naming the next heir to the Dragon Throne.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice tinged with alarm.
Consort Hua replied slowly, "How I came by it… is of little importance. What truly matters—is what is written within."
Minister Zheng unrolled the golden scroll and began to read. The confidence that once graced the face of the would-be heir to the Dragon Throne slowly melted away, replaced by fury as his eyes scanned the words of the late Emperor's decree:
"When I depart from this world, the Dragon Throne shall fall vacant and must be passed on. Thus, I have written this testament to name a rightful successor. At present, Empress Li Hua carries a child, though it remains unknown whether the unborn will be prince or princess. If a son is born, the throne shall rightfully pass to my heir. But if a daughter is born—then let the Dragon Throne be bestowed upon Minister Zheng, my most loyal companion through life and death."
With a growl of rage, Minister Zheng hurled the golden scroll to the floor of the palace. Consort Hua feigned surprise and fear, rushing to cling to his arm.
"The Empress… she is with child?" she asked, voice trembling.
"Very few know of Her Majesty the Empress's pregnancy," Consort Hua whispered, pressing her slender frame closer to Minister Zheng. Her beautiful eyes fixed on him with a glint of hidden intent. "And yet… I find it rather strange that no one thought to tell you."
Her words stirred something within him. Such an important matter—why had the Empress kept it secret? She acted as if revealing her condition to him would have been… a foolish move.
For a fleeting moment, a dark thought crept into Zheng Shihwei's heart: "Is the Empress afraid… that I would steal the throne from her son?"
But he quickly brushed the notion aside. No—he trusted the Empress. Their shared history, their bond from years past, assured him of her goodwill. Still… he murmured,
"So I am to wait… until Her Majesty gives birth?"
Consort Hua did not answer his question directly. Instead, she spoke with veiled meaning—words meant to stir the mind.
"What a pity... Had the Empress not conceived so soon, you would have already ascended the throne."
Her words planted a seed of thought within Minister Zheng. Yes—had the Empress not become pregnant, the Dragon Throne would now be his.
That was the truth. And now… if he were to claim the throne rightfully, there was only one path forward: to remove the obstacle that stood in his way.
And that obstacle… was the unborn child in the Empress's womb.