One autumn rain brings one cold snap. After three days of continuous rain, winter officially arrived in the capital.
Unknowingly, the palace had been under siege for nearly half a month. During this time, Feng Lezhen fully assumed the role of regent—just one step away from the throne.
Yet no matter how close that step, it did not make her the true emperor.
Throughout history, dynastic transitions in imperial power have always followed certain patterns: either rebellion and conquest or inheritance through death, abdication through pressure, or the ceremonial Three Surrenders. Peaceful transfers outside of these forms were rare. In Feng Lezhen’s eyes, Feng Ji was cowardly, foolish, incompetent, and wrathful—his flaws were glaring. And yet, in this instance, the man full of flaws was unexpectedly holding firm.
“I’ve said it already—this is my throne. I will never relinquish it,” Feng Ji shouted, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at Yu Shou, who had once again come to persuade him.
Yu Shou sighed. “Your Majesty, what’s the point of all this? The two of you are the only kin each other has left in this world. You should be supporting each other, caring for one another… Why must it come to this, with blood relatives turned against each other?”
“You really do have a way with words, Lord Yu. Why not go say all that to Feng Lezhen, and ask her to spare my empire instead?” Feng Ji sneered.
Yu Shou’s brows gradually knit together. “Is Your Majesty truly so set on being blind to reason?”
Feng Ji straightened his spine and said coldly, “Go back and tell her this—if she wants my throne, she’ll have to kill me first. Otherwise, I will never let her succeed. I may have nothing left now, but as long as I wear the dragon robe, I am still the Emperor of Great Qian! And tell her this too—good fortune doesn’t just fall into one person’s lap. If she wants the throne, then she must also bear the crime of rebellion and treason, and shoulder the scorn and condemnation of court officials and the people alike!”
“You jest, Your Majesty. With your conduct so lacking, you’re unfit to rule Great Qian. Even if Her Highness the Eldest Princess takes your place, it would be for the sake of the nation and its people. The court and the people would only praise her—they wouldn’t even have time to criticize,” Yu Shou replied calmly, hands folded at his waist, no longer showing the deference of before.
Feng Ji stared at him for a long moment, then let out a dark chuckle. “Without legitimacy, one’s words hold no weight. Even if she ascends the throne, she’ll never win true support. Feng Lezhen understands this—and so do you. Otherwise, why would you come every day to plead with a dying man you’ve already imprisoned?”
Yu Shou, the old fox he was, didn’t take offense at being exposed so directly. He merely smiled. “Come now, Your Majesty, not everyone in this world is as heartless as to murder their own kin. So long as you behave yourself, Her Highness wouldn’t do anything to her own younger brother, would she?”
“You—” Feng Ji choked on his fury, blood surging.
Yu Shou didn’t waste another word and turned on his heel to leave.
“As long as I still draw breath,” came Feng Ji’s hoarse, enraged roar from behind him, “Feng Lezhen can forget about openly and righteously ascending the throne! All of you—forget it!”
Hearing the emperor’s frenzied cries echo behind him, Yu Shou’s gaze darkened, but he continued walking without pause.
—
Half an hour later, inside the Eldest Princess’s residence.
Feng Lezhen put down the last memorial in her hand and said lightly, “It’s rare to see him so stubborn.”
“If he’s determined not to abdicate, what does Your Highness plan to do?” Yu Shou frowned. This matter was growing ever more troublesome.
To abdicate properly, the emperor had to make a show of it before all civil and military officials—refusing three times before finally handing over the imperial seal at the enthronement ceremony. Both sides were expected to play their parts for a smooth and dignified transition. But now that Feng Ji refused to cooperate at all, how were they supposed to proceed?
Feng Lezhen didn’t seem to find it an issue. “Then we’ll just force him to abdicate. He’s committed so many crimes, and the evidence is overwhelming. I was willing to let him keep some dignity, but since he doesn’t want it, there’s no need for us to preserve it for him.”
“Easy for Your Highness to say,” Yu Shou said with a headache. “Even if Feng Ji has committed grave crimes, as long as he’s on the throne, he is the emperor. Forcing him to abdicate gives others grounds to criticize, and worse—it sets a precedent. Aren’t you afraid someone will one day use the same method to force you off the throne?”
Feng Lezhen replied calmly, “That would require me to make the same mistakes Feng Ji has.”
“You ascending the throne as a woman is already a grave mistake!” Yu Shou blurted out.
The room fell into dead silence.
A moment later, Yu Shou hurriedly added, “I—I didn’t mean it like that…”
“I understand,” Feng Lezhen said gently, her tone softening. “Grandfather is just worried about my future. I know.”
Yu Shou breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing she hadn’t taken offense. “That’s good, then. So perhaps forcing him to abdicate… isn’t the best—”
“Does Grandfather have another method?” Feng Lezhen cut him off.
Yu Shou paused and fell silent.
Feng Lezhen let out a quiet laugh. “Seems that if Feng Ji refuses to cooperate, this is the only path left.”
Yu Shou opened his mouth, then hesitated again. Feng Lezhen, however, waved it off and continued, “All your concerns stem from the fact that I’m not a man. I understand that too—but I can’t agree. You know, before I went to Yingguan, the customs there weren’t any better than in the capital. Even Qi Zhen’s daughter, that brave general who went deep into the desert and brought back the Moli King’s head—she was still being pressured to marry and produce a male heir.”
Yu Shou had heard much about Yingguan, but this was the first time he’d learned that even someone like Qi Jingren had been pushed toward marriage. He used to think she was naturally gifted and well-raised, but clearly, it was her own making.
“They talk about heirs like it’s noble,” Feng Lezhen scoffed. “But all they really want is a son. Not to boast, but if you ever get the chance, Grandfather, you must visit Yingguan now. Look at the streets—how many women are doing business openly? How many young girls are in school, aspiring to serve the state and achieve greatness? Compare that to four years ago, when even the daughter of a zhenbian marquis had no freedom.”
Her eyes grew cold. “If I could change Yingguan in four years, I can change all of Great Qian with more time. Grandfather, you may worry if I prove foolish or incapable—but you shouldn’t fear just because I’m a woman.”
Yu Shou looked blankly at the woman seated above, words forming but never spoken.
She had known what she wanted for a long, long time.
After a long silence, Yu Shou finally spoke. “Have you truly made up your mind?”
“I have.”
“Forcing him to abdicate will stir up much unrest. Are you truly prepared to handle it?”
Feng Lezhen smiled faintly. “No matter how big the storm, I can weather it.”
Yu Shou gazed at her deeply, then gave a respectful bow. “Then… this humble servant will assist you with all his strength.”
Feng Lezhen’s smile deepened.
She had always been someone who acted as soon as she decided—and after speaking with Yu Shou, she resolved to raise the matter in the following morning’s imperial court session.
That night was destined to be sleepless. Feng Lezhen tossed and turned in bed, only managing to sleep after midnight—but she hadn’t slept more than two hours before Qin Wan came to wake her.
“Your Highness, it’s time for court,” Qin Wan said softly.
Feng Lezhen responded and let the maids attend to her, dressing and grooming her from head to toe. She was still drowsy even as she prepared to leave.
“Your Highness, allow this humble one to carry you to the carriage.”
A familiar voice rang out. Feng Lezhen, who was nearly dozing off in front of the vanity, opened her eyes and saw a clean-cut, handsome face reflected in the bronze mirror.
She let out a laugh, then quickly put on a stern face. “Shouldn’t you be resting properly in your general’s manor? What are you doing here?”
“I heard Your Highness has something important to announce at court today. I’ve come to accompany you,” Chen Jinan replied, dressed in full armor, tall and upright.
Feng Lezhen frowned. “Morning court will last long today. Is your body up to it?”
“I’ll manage,” Chen Jinan answered, eyes serious.
Since that was the case, there was nothing more to say. Feng Lezhen waved him over like calling a puppy. The imposing general immediately broke into a smile and trotted over to kneel in front of her.
Feng Lezhen shifted her injured right foot and carefully climbed onto his back.
Once inside the carriage, she leaned against the cushioned couch and told Chen Jinan, “I’m going to rest. Wake me when we arrive.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied in a low voice.
Feng Lezhen gave him one last glance before closing her eyes.
The carriage swayed as it moved forward, the sound of wheels grinding over the road cutting through the quiet dawn, only to vanish again into the darkness.
Though her eyes were closed, Feng Lezhen never truly fell asleep. Even though she’d spoken boldly to her grandfather, she didn’t feel entirely certain. After all, nothing in this world was ever fully within one’s control. The world was unpredictable, human hearts even more so. Until the end, nothing was guaranteed—unless…
“Your Highness,” Chen Jinan called to her quietly.
Feng Lezhen slowly opened her eyes to see him kneeling on one knee before her with great care.
She paused for a moment, then asked, “What is it?”
“N-nothing really… this humble servant just wanted to say—whatever Your Highness wishes to do, please do it boldly. I will always support you.” He had long seen her unease, and after much hesitation, finally spoke such earnest words.
Feng Lezhen stared at him silently for a while, then suddenly let out a soft laugh.
There may be nothing in this world she could fully control—except Chen Jinan.
She reached out and gently touched his face, then leaned forward and kissed his lips.
Chen Jinan froze, his ears suddenly flushed bright red.
“Get better quickly,” Feng Lezhen sighed.
Get better… and then what? Chen Jinan didn’t dare ask. He just gave a soft reply and quietly returned to his seat.
The carriage continued forward, until at last it stopped before the palace gates.
After disembarking, the sedan chair was already prepared. Chen Jinan, head lowered, carried Feng Lezhen onto it and gave a calm command: “Lift.”
The chair was raised smoothly. As he was about to retreat, Feng Lezhen suddenly said, “There’s no need to step back.”
Chen Jinan paused and looked up at her.
“Walk this path with me,” she said, meeting his eyes steadily.
Chen Jinan answered softly and reached out to steady the sedan.
They weren’t particularly early. By the time they entered Wenxuan Hall, the civil and military officials were already assembled. Though they had long suspected “Yang Yueshan” was one of the eldest princess’s people, seeing him personally assist her into the hall still left them stunned.
Feng Lezhen, not yet officially enthroned, could not sit on the imperial seat. She gave the throne a glance, then turned and sat on the cushioned seat below the steps.
With the high-pitched cry of the chief eunuch, the court officials all knelt, calling out in unison for her longevity. Feng Lezhen calmly motioned for them to rise and began discussing the national matters of the day.
Outside Wenxuan Hall, a beam of sunlight pierced the darkness. Soon, the full sun rose. Palace attendants bowed their heads and began their daily sweeping.
By late morning, the day’s business was finally wrapped up. The eunuch looked eagerly toward Feng Lezhen, awaiting her sign to end the court session. But Feng Lezhen merely raised a hand and calmly looked over the officials.
“Today, I have one more matter to announce,” she said slowly.
Instantly, the entire hall fell silent, all waiting for her next words.
In that stillness, she continued, “Feng Ji has committed crimes against kin, attempted assassinations, and initiated illicit actions that caused immense suffering in the Lingnan region. Even after repeated warnings, he destroyed the imperial tombs—his crimes are beyond pardon. With such conduct, devoid of virtue and the people’s trust, he is no longer fit to be emperor of Great Qian. Yet he still refuses to abdicate. For the sake of our people, I must, with a heavy heart, personally demand Feng Ji’s abdication. What do you all think?”
All present were seasoned officials. The moment she uttered Feng Ji’s name, they had already guessed what she was about to do, so none appeared especially surprised. Now that she had voiced it outright, they quickly responded:
“Your Highness speaks rightly. We shall follow Your Highness in all things.”
“His Majesty is incompetent and unworthy of the throne. Though Your Highness’s actions may be painful, they are in the best interest of Great Qian.”
“We are all at Your Highness’s command.”
Feng Ji had completely lost the people’s support, and the Hua faction had already been mostly dealt with. That no one opposed her was within Feng Lezhen’s expectations.
She smiled faintly and was just about to continue when another voice spoke up: “But Your Highness, the nation cannot go a day without a sovereign. Since His Majesty has no heir, if he abdicates, who will inherit the throne?”
Feng Lezhen looked toward the speaker—it was a rare, independent-minded official from court, someone she had tried hard to win over before, but failed.
“Lord Sun, who do you believe is suitable?” she asked.
“In this humble one’s view, it might be best to select a candidate from the imperial clan… Marquis Boren’s great-grandson, Feng Yue, is quite promising. Though only eight years old, he already writes beautiful essays,” the man suggested carefully.
Chen Jinan glanced at him, memorizing his face.
Feng Lezhen kept her smile, not angered by the nomination. Instead, she turned to the others and asked, “What do the rest of you think?”
“Absolutely not!” Yu Shoumen was the first to object. “That Feng Yue is practically out of the five degrees of kinship*, and he’s just a collateral offshoot. If he becomes emperor, wouldn’t that throw the royal bloodline into chaos?!”
“Nonsense! Feng Yue is the legitimate great-grandson of the old Wangye, a true member of the imperial family. What do you mean by ‘throw the bloodline into chaos’?!”
“I don’t mean anything by it. I just think he’s not suitable.”
“I believe Young Shizi Feng Yue is a fine candidate, but that’s not to say there aren’t other excellent members of the imperial clan. We should still choose carefully.”
“True enough. Selecting a monarch is a matter of utmost importance—it must be handled with extreme caution.”
The ministers actually began debating in earnest. Feng Lezhen kept a faint smile on her lips, curious to see what else they would come up with—when suddenly, someone beside her dropped to their knees.
‘Yang Yueshan’ held sway over most of the South. Though not a court official, his influence was undeniable. The moment Chen Jinan knelt, the rest of the hall fell silent.
“This humble servant believes only Her Highness is worthy of this great responsibility.” Everyone in court liked to be circuitous, even her own supporters were waiting to criticize every other candidate before finally putting forth her name. But not him. She was right here. Why should he let them spout nonsense?
“I, your humble servant, respectfully request Her Highness ascend the throne to safeguard the eternal prosperity of Great Qian.” Chen Jinan kept his head bowed, every word firm and resonant, echoing powerfully in the grand palace hall.
Feng Lezhen’s smile deepened, but before she could respond, someone exploded: “Absurd! Utter nonsense! Her Highness is a woman—how can she take the throne?!”
“Exactly! A hen crowing at dawn brings ruin! There can’t be a good end!”
The ministers who’d been proposing other royal candidates now vehemently objected. Feng Lezhen’s faction wasn’t backing down either. One woman immediately planted her hands on her hips and snapped back: “The current emperor’s a man, and look where that got us. Was his reign such a blessing?”
“Her Highness may be a woman, but she’s the late emperor’s only daughter. Her bloodline is no worse than the current emperor’s. And over the years, she’s achieved much and won the people’s love. If even an eight-year-old boy who only knows how to write poetry can ascend the throne, why can’t she?”
“In any case, it’s a no. A woman in power—how can the state survive…”
“You’re full of sh*t!”
Feng Lezhen blinked. Even she hadn’t expected things to get vulgar this quickly.
The court was split into two factions on the verge of blows. No one was paying attention to her for the moment, so she subtly nudged Chen Jinan with her foot. He paused and looked at her, puzzled.
“Get up already. What are you kneeling there for like a fool?” she said.
Chen Jinan’s ears reddened a little. Silently, he got up and stood beside her.
The court ministers kept shouting—noisy like five hundred ducks. After a while, Chen Jinan tugged lightly at her sleeve.
Feng Lezhen looked up. “What is it?”
“I’ve memorized the faces of every single one of them,” Chen Jinan leaned down and whispered, just loud enough for the two of them. “After court is over…”
He made a chopping motion with his hand—knife falling.
Feng Lezhen gave a helpless laugh. “You can’t do that. Politics isn’t black and white. You need differing opinions, otherwise the ruler falls into echo chambers. If you kill off everyone who disagrees, and only one voice is left, I’ll end up suffering in the long run.”
At that, Chen Jinan looked regretfully toward a few of the ministers.
Those few ministers suddenly felt a chill down their spines.
After nearly half an hour of shouting, they were finally parched and out of breath. Looking back at Feng Lezhen, she was sitting there comfortably watching the show—already nibbling on pastries. Many couldn’t help feeling stifled.
“This princess didn’t have breakfast this morning. Surely you gentlemen don’t mind?” she said—eating was one thing, but she just had to say it out loud too.
Everyone glanced at each other, unsure what she meant, and no one dared say anything else.
Feng Lezhen slowly took another bite of pastry, her gaze falling on the ministers who had opposed her taking the throne. They swallowed hard and dared not make a sound.
“I’ve always heard the honorable lords here were the proud backbone of court, and now I see the reputation is well-earned,” she said with a half-smile. “But what I don’t understand is—this princess has been managing the palace and asking the emperor to rest for over half a month now. Why haven’t any of you asked after His Majesty during that time?”
The ministers’ expressions turned awkward, and they all knelt immediately. “That’s because we also felt the emperor had… gone too far…”
“So you chose to stay silent and just waited for me to act, and now you show up today to reap the benefits?” Feng Lezhen smiled even more.
None of them dared lift their heads. “We wouldn’t dare. We only have Great Qian’s best interests at heart…”
“If you truly cared about Great Qian, then open your eyes and take a good look—see who actually has the ability to bring the people a better life. Don’t fixate on whether the person on the throne has two taels of meat between their legs or not.” Her gaze turned icy, and she slapped the armrest as she stood. “Let me make this clear to all of you—Great Qian’s next ruler will be me. If any royal dares to act out of line, for the sake of Great Qian’s peace, I’ll personally send them to meet Qing Wang!”
With those words, the hall fell utterly silent. Chen Jinan calmly carried her out, leaving the whole court behind.
It wasn’t until they got in the carriage that Feng Lezhen finally let out a breath. “How did I do just now?”
“Crushed them,” Chen Jinan said.
Feng Lezhen smiled. “You really know how to flatter.”
But then her mood darkened again. “Those people won’t let this go easily. Just wait and see.”
“They’re just a bunch of civil officials. What storm can they stir? If they dare rebel, I’ll take care of them for you,” Chen Jinan said confidently.
Feng Lezhen was a little worried, but hearing him speak made her want to laugh again. After a long moment of conflicted emotion, she sighed. “It’s not that easy. Civil officials don’t rebel. But they’ll pull all kinds of petty stunts—just to disgust you.”
Chen Jinan didn’t quite get what she meant—but the civil officials wasted no time showing him.
That very noon, a few ministers donned prison robes and went straight to the execution ground, loudly declaring that the Eldest Princess insisted on taking the throne, and they had failed the late emperor and ancestors—thus they would atone with death.
There were even people who went to the ruined imperial tombs, hugging shattered bricks as they sobbed uncontrollably.
Some went further—collapsing in fits and pretending to be possessed during court sessions, all to furiously denounce Feng Lezhen’s ambition to ascend the throne, in the most twisted, dramatic ways imaginable.
In short: it was utter chaos.
Because of these people, Qin Wan wore a perpetually dark expression. Ah Ye, more than once, was tempted to grab a sack and go beat someone up to vent her anger. Even Chen Jinan, who was usually the most obedient and steady, felt a strong impulse to march out with troops and flatten their households.
In contrast, Feng Lezhen remained rather composed.
But that composure had its limits. Whenever she heard about their latest foolish antics, the veins at her temple would throb—and it would take a while before she could calm herself.
The turmoil went on for over ten days. Just when it seemed things might finally settle down, the situation only escalated further. Even Qi Jingren, far away in Yingguan, wrote a letter asking if she needed help. No matter how calm Feng Lezhen was, she couldn’t help growing increasingly irritable.
And just as she was reaching the end of her rope, Fu Zhixian suddenly came knocking.
Feng Lezhen had just started eating. Seeing this man she hadn’t seen in days, she set down her chopsticks. “What brings you here, Lord Fu?”
“I’ve been waiting for Her Highness to come to me, but since she never did, I had to come myself,” Fu Zhixian said with a half-smile, his gaze drifting to the single set of bowls and chopsticks on the table. His expression softened. “I thought I’d see General Yang here—why are you alone?”
“He’s still recovering from his injuries. It’s inconvenient for him to visit the princess’s residence frequently these days.” Feng Lezhen saw that Fu Zhixian didn’t seem to be in a hurry, so she picked up her chopsticks again.
Fu Zhixian glanced at Qin Wan. Qin Wan, head bowed, brought over another set of dishes and chopsticks. Fu Zhixian calmly sat down next to Feng Lezhen. She didn’t mind and continued eating. Neither of them said another word—the meal passed in surprising harmony.
After they were both full, Feng Lezhen tilted her head to look at him. “Can you talk now?”
“What does Her Highness want me to say?” Fu Zhixian replied, puzzled.
Feng Lezhen gave a short laugh. “Don’t pretend. If there’s nothing going on, why would you suddenly show up?”
“I just missed you. Can’t I come see you?” The smile on Fu Zhixian’s face faded a little. “When did we become so distant that we only see each other when there’s something to discuss?”
Seeing him try to steer the conversation off-topic again, Feng Lezhen didn’t bother arguing—she simply stood up and walked toward the door.
Fu Zhixian watched her silently. It wasn’t until she had one foot out the door that he finally spoke, unhurried: “I can help Her Highness resolve her current predicament.”
Feng Lezhen paused, turning to look at him.
“To put it another way,” Fu Zhixian raised his teacup in a slight toast, lips curved faintly, “I can help Your Highness ascend the throne without being branded as someone who seized power—and I can shut those lunatic civil officials up for good.”
Feng Lezhen stared at him for a long time before saying, “The late emperor’s second secret edict?”
Fu Zhixian smiled but didn’t answer.
Feng Lezhen turned around and came back. “What do you want?”
“Would Her Highness give me whatever I asked for?” Fu Zhixian countered.
“Say it first,” Feng Lezhen said, arms crossed.
Fu Zhixian’s smile faded. He looked at her, more serious now: “I want to be your Emperor Consort.”
Feng Lezhen was silent for a moment, then laughed. “That’s easy. The harem has three hundred rooms. I can certainly make room for one more like you—”
“You know that’s not what I want,” Fu Zhixian cut her off calmly. “I want the position of principal consort.”
Feng Lezhen fell abruptly quiet.
