Chapter Twenty-Four: Traces and Clues

Feng Yewu’s words were like a stone thrown into a still lake, stirring up waves that rippled through the once silent hall. Conversation erupted almost instantly. After all, Feng Yewu’s actions appeared to assist the Prince of Pingyi in governing his domain, but anyone with discernment could see the truth: this was the harbinger of curbing the power of the feudal lords.

If Feng Yewu truly dispatched an imperial commissioner, and after a time declared the management to be satisfactory, it would mean that she would send agents to the other feudal princes’ lands as well. Eventually, each prince’s seat would be shadowed by an imperial commissioner, gradually eroding their authority. At that point, would they not be little more than meat on the chopping block, awaiting the knife?

Realizing this, the ministers could no longer remain calm. Glances were exchanged, calculations quietly made. They had always believed that Feng Yewu’s reign—being a woman on the throne—would not last long. For this reason, they had frequently visited the homes of the feudal princes and nobles, investing deeply in those relationships. The princes, eager to win favor, had promised them much.

If the princes were stripped of power, those promises would become hollow words. The ministers’ murmurs faded into silence as the gravity of the situation dawned on them, each plotting his own course.

As they pondered, every movement was watched keenly by Feng Yewu. A cold smile played at her lips, as if everything was unfolding according to her plan.

“Well then, does anyone have any opinion on my decision?” Feng Yewu did not allow them further time for contemplation, her voice crisp and resolute.

“We agree with Your Majesty. Your Majesty is wise,” the ministers chorused, bowing in unison. They knew their place. However reluctant, none would dare contradict the Empress in the hall.

They were mere ministers; besides, Feng Yewu’s conduct in this life was entirely different from before. Such decisiveness and vigor—if the princes prevailed, perhaps the ministers might benefit. But for now, Feng Yewu was sovereign; to offend her was to risk losing one’s head.

Those who survived in court understood this principle well. For now, as long as they delivered news to the feudal princes so they could act themselves, even if trouble arose, the blame would not be theirs.

“Since you all find my decision acceptable, let it be so. Dismissed.” Feng Yewu rose and departed, indifferent to whatever words stirred beneath the throne.

After the court dispersed, Feng Yewu summoned her trusted followers in a side chamber, assigning them their tasks before turning her attention to official documents. These confidants were those she had brought from her own household, and they had long provided her with invaluable intelligence.

This time, their mission was to investigate those ministers who had aroused Feng Yewu’s suspicion during the morning court.

Among them was the newly appointed Minister of Revenue. A spy followed him as he left the palace, noting his anxious demeanor. After tracking him for some distance, a carrier pigeon was seen flying from the minister’s residence. The spy, experienced in such matters, brought the pigeon down with a stone, and found a secret letter tied to its leg. He hurried to deliver it to Feng Yewu.

Upon reading it, Feng Yewu discovered that the letter was intended for the agents of the Pavilion of Penglai, instructing them to prepare an ambush and assassinate the imperial commissioner.

With this revelation, Feng Yewu understood the situation.

“Your Majesty, the snake has emerged from its lair—we must make further preparations,” said Lu Jue, who had also seen the secret letter.

After discussing the matter, Feng Yewu dispatched several trusted followers, disguised, to the Minister of Revenue’s residence, waiting patiently. The letter from the pigeon was released again, to lure the Pavilion of Penglai’s agents.

For several days, the minister’s gates remained shut, and nothing suspicious was observed. Until one night, a group of women, musicians by the look of them, passed by the courtyard, as if surveying the area. Finding nothing amiss, they knocked and entered.

Feng Yewu’s confidants, who had been concealed among merchants for days, were not noticed. Seeing the women’s suspicious behavior, one slipped through the back gate to follow them inside.

“Sir, is the matter you mentioned in the pigeon letter truly genuine?”

The leader of the women was strikingly beautiful, her peach-hued dress and dark hair lending her an ethereal grace.

“Rest assured, miss. I heard it myself, with many ministers present. There is no possibility of falsehood,” replied the Minister of Revenue, treating her with unusual respect and caution.

Some confidants reported back to Feng Yewu, while another continued surveillance. The women left the minister’s residence at midnight. The spy followed, but soon realized they were adept at concealing themselves—true experts. To avoid alerting them, he simply memorized their appearances and attire and ceased pursuit.

“Women?” Feng Yewu’s eyes flickered with doubt upon hearing the report.

“It is not unusual, Your Majesty. The Pavilion of Penglai has always been populated mostly by women. They are self-reliant and believe men are of little use. Judging by the description, I think it highly probable,” Lu Jue replied.

“Were you able to discover the origins of these women?” Feng Yewu pressed further.

“Yes, Your Majesty. They are from a renowned music house in the capital.”

“A music house?” Feng Yewu’s expression softened, marveling at the cleverness. “Indeed, with so many women, only such a place would avoid suspicion.”

“Your Majesty, while keeping watch at the Minister of Revenue’s residence, we also encountered several other officials. Here is their list,” said the confidant, handing Feng Yewu a letter that clearly identified other officials allied with the Prince of Pingyi.