Chapter 71: The Chosen Candidate

Jiang Yuyan then recounted in detail to Zhu Yu everything she had witnessed at the Prince Duan’s manor. When her words finally faded, a heavy silence descended upon the imperial study.

Though silence can sometimes be equated with calm, this was evidently not such a moment—Zhu Yu’s expression visibly darkened, even more so than it had when he’d first heard of Consort Li’s death that morning.

He had always believed that, aside from Zhu Wushi—the only unpredictable element—everything else within the Jing Kingdom was firmly within his grasp.

Who could have imagined that not only was his uncle, Zhu Wushi, constantly plotting his demise, but even his two younger brothers were now scheming to kill him as well?

True, Zhu Yu and the Princes Duan and Yu were not born of the same mother, but they shared the same father. In an era such as this, unlike the modern age, such a relationship was as close as kin could be.

This realization moved Zhu Yu to lament the infamous ruthlessness of imperial families—a saying passed down through the ages that seemed, in this moment, to be indisputably true.

To be honest, Zhu Yu had never felt any real affection for the Princes Duan and Yu. Still, to suddenly learn of their long-harbored intent to murder him, especially when they were, in name, his own brothers, filled his heart with a confusion and complexity he could scarcely describe.

Now that he was aware of their intentions, waiting passively for death was out of the question. Yet, when he considered taking action, he found himself at a loss as to where to even begin.

Whatever he sought to do, the first thing required was manpower. But since neither Prince Duan nor Prince Yu had openly raised a rebel banner, he could not so easily deploy the Imperial Guards—the quickest and most direct method.

Moreover, if they dared to dream of the throne, they would certainly have elite protectors at their sides. He could not gauge the true extent of their strength, but if chaos erupted, they could at least escape.

Thus, Zhu Yu dismissed the Imperial Guards as an option outright. To mobilize the army, he would need an impeccable pretext—and he had no evidence whatsoever. He couldn’t possibly stand before the court’s civil and military officials and claim that his concubine had secretly left the palace and overheard their treasonous plot—who would believe such a tale?

The Imperial Guards and the army were thus completely out of the question under the current circumstances, leaving him to turn his attention to matters of intelligence.

The Jing Kingdom had no shortage of intelligence networks, but upon careful reflection, Zhu Yu realized he could not truly rely on any of them.

First, there was the Dragon Guard Villa, which had to be discounted immediately because of Zhu Wushi. Never mind the supposed loyalty of the rest—Zhu Wushi’s close relationship with his adopted sons and daughters made secrecy impossible, and this was not the sort of problem a handful of individuals could resolve.

As for the Six Doors, they were even less reliable. Their primary responsibility was solving crimes; intelligence gathering was merely a sideline. While they boasted numbers on par with the Eastern Depot and were the largest of the four main agencies, they were constantly overburdened with tasks.

There was no hope of transferring manpower from the Six Doors. Zhuge Zhengwo, their chief, was forever coming to him with complaints—short of money, short of people, short of everything.

That left only the Eastern Depot and the Western Depot. Though sworn rivals, Zhu Yu trusted Cao Zhengchun and Rainy Field. But trust was useless here.

As previously noted, this was not a matter that could be handled by one or two trusted agents, and what of the rest of their men?

It was foolish to forget that his enemies would surely infiltrate these agencies. In fact, Prince Duan had already succeeded in recruiting Liu Xi, and who could say how many more had been compromised?

To openly mobilize agents from the Eastern or Western Depot would be to announce to Princes Duan and Yu that their secret was exposed and their doom imminent.

At this thought, Zhu Yu’s brow furrowed deeper in frustration.

Just then, he felt a cooling, soothing sensation on his forehead.

Unbeknownst to him, Jiang Yuyan had stepped behind him and begun to massage his temples with delicate hands. The tension in his brow slowly eased.

As he felt the gentle yet firm pressure of her slender fingers, it was as if she had, quite by accident, unlocked a knot in his mind.

How could he have forgotten Black Stone?

Because his opponents were royal and foreign powers might be involved, Zhu Yu had instinctively confined his thinking to the structures of the court, forgetting that he could simply act outside them.

Rules? What rules? He was the maker of rules!

Once his mind broke free, inspiration flowed unimpeded.

Jiang Yuyan paired with Black Stone? An excellent combination. He could even add Flowerless to the mix. Such a lineup would be formidable anywhere—surely enough to deal with Princes Duan and Yu.

If they had secret aces up their sleeves, Zhu Yu could always send in Cao Zhengchun and Rainy Field as reinforcements.

Of course, this concerned the highest echelons of martial prowess. At the middle and lower levels, Zhu Yu was even less concerned—what assassin organization with eyes and ears in every corner of the martial world would ever lack manpower?

Besides, Zhu Yu had no intention of sending Black Stone to clash head-on with Princes Duan and Yu. Rather, he meant to use Black Stone’s unique intelligence network—so different from official agencies—to secure concrete evidence of their treasonous ambitions.

Once he had that evidence, what more was needed? He would simply give the order to arrest them. If they dared resist, all the better—wherever they fled, the imperial army would pursue them.

If they surrendered quietly, they might live a few days longer; should they resist, Zhu Yu would be only too glad to see it.

Furthermore, unless absolutely necessary, Zhu Yu did not want Cao Zhengchun or Rainy Field to discover Black Stone’s existence too soon. He knew Black Stone’s presence would eventually be revealed, but the longer it remained hidden, the better.

Having reasoned everything through, Zhu Yu was about to issue instructions to Jiang Yuyan, but as he luxuriated in her massage, he found himself at a loss for words.

It was simply too comfortable. He decided to let her continue a while longer.

He meant to indulge a little, but before he knew it, Jiang Yuyan looked down to see Zhu Yu fast asleep in her arms, eyes closed in utter repose. She smiled softly and carefully let his head rest more comfortably against her, doing her best to ensure his peace.

Who could say how much time had passed? When Zhu Yu finally opened his eyes again, dusk had already fallen outside.

He stretched his stiff neck and felt a gentle softness at the back of his head. Turning, he saw Jiang Yuyan still standing behind him, unmoved from her spot.

The sight stung Zhu Yu’s eyes with emotion, and Jiang Yuyan’s place in his heart grew ever heavier.

“How foolish you are,” Zhu Yu gently chided her before they dined together.

After supper, with night deepened and contrary to palace custom, Zhu Yu did not go to the Palace of Radiant Grace. Instead, he brought Jiang Yuyan back to his own residence.

Sated with food and wine and in high spirits, what followed needs no elaboration—their night was one of passion and intimacy.