Chapter Seventy-Five: Leaving the Palace

The following day, after the court was dismissed, Feng Yewu had only just entered the imperial study when he saw Lu Jue had been waiting for quite some time. With sword-like brows and bright, starry eyes, Lu Jue wore a gentle smile, and the dimples at the corners of his mouth made his handsome face appear almost endearing.

“Your Majesty, you’ve worked hard. I’ve specially prepared some pastries for you.”

Feng Yewu paused slightly upon seeing Lu Jue’s gentle and harmonious demeanor as soon as he entered. Han Yue, standing nearby, covered her mouth and let out a soft laugh before quickly withdrawing.

Feng Yewu sat down and tasted the pastries; they were delicious, unchanged from before. Lu Jue smiled as he poured a cup of tea and handed it over.

After Feng Yewu quietly finished one pastry and sipped the tea, Lu Jue finally spoke.

“When Your Majesty is ready, let us leave the palace in plain clothes.”

Upon hearing this, Feng Yewu’s brows furrowed, and he looked at Lu Jue with a puzzled expression, asking, “Leave the palace? Where are you taking me this time?”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Han Yue brought over a set of ordinary clothes. Clearly, Lu Jue and Han Yue had already made arrangements.

Feng Yewu’s expression grew more serious, a hint of displeasure in his heart, but he remained seated, giving Han Yue a sidelong glance.

Lu Jue, noticing his reluctance, took the clothes, signaled Han Yue to leave, then returned to Feng Yewu, bowing as he presented the attire.

“Your Majesty, time is of the essence. Please come with me for now—I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Though dissatisfied, Feng Yewu accepted the clothes from Lu Jue.

The two carefully avoided prying eyes as they made their way to the rear courtyard of the palace, where two fine horses stood ready. Mounting up, they exited through the back gate.

The palace faced south, and now Lu Jue led the way northward. Feng Yewu, noting the direction, spoke coolly.

“Now will you explain yourself?”

Lu Jue slowed his horse, replying with a smile, “The Prince of Beichang and the Prince of Changwu have joined forces, commanding elite troops. The Prince of Huainan may be a powerful vassal, but he is far from the capital and cannot intervene quickly. At this juncture, there is only one man who can provide balance.”

Feng Yewu thought for a moment, understanding Lu Jue’s implication. “You mean we’re going northwest to win over the Prince of Jiangyuan?”

The Prince of Jiangyuan ruled the mountainous northwest, rich in mineral resources—a vital region for the armament production of the Ye Dynasty.

Lu Jue nodded in confirmation.

“Absurd!”

Feng Yewu immediately reined in his horse, glaring in anger. “The capital is far from Jiangyuan’s seat—three or four days at least, even riding hard. How can the court function without its sovereign?”

He turned his horse to leave, but Lu Jue hurried forward to block his way.

“Please be at ease, Your Majesty. I’ve already arranged for Minister Wu Muxue of the Ministry of Civil Affairs to oversee the court. Han Yue has been told that Your Majesty is indisposed.”

Feng Yewu grew even more incensed at this explanation. Though Lu Jue was a trusted confidant, to orchestrate such movements within the palace and the court was highly improper. A single misstep could provoke gossip or even accusations—serious or even deadly.

Seeing Feng Yewu’s determination, Lu Jue pleaded anxiously, “Your Majesty, consider this: The Prince of Huainan is stable, but among the other three—Prince of Xiyue, Prince of Kangchuan, and Prince of Jiangyuan—any one of them would require as much time to win over. If war breaks out, the Prince of Xiyue and Prince of Kangchuan, located in the west and southwest, would serve a similar function to the Prince of Huainan. Only the Prince of Jiangyuan is truly pivotal at this moment!”

Feng Yewu pondered Lu Jue’s words and found them reasonable. He turned his horse back towards the road, tossing a curt command over his shoulder.

“Do not let this happen again.”

Lu Jue could only smile wryly and follow.

Shortly after Feng Yewu and Lu Jue departed, two young eunuchs peered furtively out from the palace’s north gate, whispering as they watched the pair ride away.

At the Prince of Pingxi’s residence, Wang Changgen sat at his desk reading.

Suddenly, he heard movement outside the window and paused, rising to investigate.

“My lord, our spies report that His Majesty and Lu Jue have left the palace, heading northwest.”

Wang Changgen’s eyes narrowed as he confirmed, “Just the two of them?”

“Exactly so.”

A faint smile played on Wang Changgen’s lips as he dismissed the messenger, then sat back at his desk, contemplating before picking up his brush to write a letter.

After a while, he summoned the steward.

“What are your orders, my lord?” the steward asked with a bow.

Wang Changgen sealed several copies of the letter and handed them to the steward with a grave expression.

“These letters are to be delivered to the key officials in the capital, just as before. Go.”

The steward accepted the command and withdrew. Wang Changgen let out a cold laugh, gazing up at the sky, a shadow passing through his eyes.

Feng Yewu, I shall see just how many hands you truly have.

Feng Yewu and Lu Jue traveled for a day and stopped at an inn for the night.

To avoid exposing their identities, Feng Yewu remained dressed as a man and shared a room with Lu Jue.

Exhausted from the day, Feng Yewu lay on the bed fully clothed, and asked in a cool tone, “How confident are you that we can persuade the Prince of Jiangyuan on this journey?”

Lu Jue sat idly at the round table, playing with his teacup. Hearing the question, he pursed his lips and smiled faintly. “About thirty percent.”

Feng Yewu sat up in shock, glaring angrily. Thirty percent? He felt Lu Jue was making a mockery of him.

Seeing Feng Yewu’s agitation, Lu Jue hurried to explain with a smile.

“Please, Your Majesty, hear my reasoning.”

He poured a cup of water, brought it to Feng Yewu, and tried to calm her.

“Think about it, Your Majesty—the Prince of Xiyue’s domain boasts ports and thriving commerce; the Prince of Kangchuan’s lands in the southwest are fertile, with abundant grain. Without some extraordinary opportunity, what chance do we have of winning them over?”

Feng Yewu took a sip, frowned, and replied, “None whatsoever.”

After all, the vassal princes governed their own lands and, in Feng Yewu’s eyes, were driven by self-interest—hard to sway.

Lu Jue smiled, took Feng Yewu’s empty cup, and confirmed, “Indeed, it’s impossible. But the Prince of Jiangyuan is different. The northwest is rich in minerals but lacks grain, and is constantly harassed by the Tidi tribes. If we strike a deal and promise him future grain supplies, isn’t that just what he needs?”

A stratagem of provisions?

Feng Yewu considered the idea; it was indeed feasible.

“But a thirty percent chance is far too low—and it’s dangerous to raise a tiger that may turn on us.”

In the previous life, the Princes of Beichang and Changwu had joined forces with the Prince of Pingyi. If now, in this life, he cultivated a strong Prince of Jiangyuan, would it not be even harder to contain him?

Lu Jue shook his head, analyzing further.

“The Prince of Beichang has always kept to the north, with his own independent supply of troops and grain. He only agreed to ally with Changwu and Pingyi because each had their own shortcomings. Two tigers cannot share one mountain—he would never allow the Prince of Jiangyuan to rise so easily.”

Just as Lu Jue finished speaking, his gaze sharpened suddenly toward the door. He whispered, “Someone’s there!”

The two exchanged a glance, drew their swords, and remained alert.

Suddenly, there was a knock, and a familiar voice called from outside.

“Master Ye, are you asleep?”