Chapter 506
Pfft! Gan Sheng was so enraged that a mouthful of blood sprayed out, staining the brocade quilt crimson, especially the golden dragon embroidered with gold thread on the quilt, now marked with splotches of blood all over its body.
Prince Cheng merely glanced sideways at him, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable—'Do you dare test me?'
Seeing that Gan Sheng hadn't been infuriated to death outright, he made no effort to hide his disappointment.
He continued, "Furthermore, I hereby bestow upon him the title of Marquis of Anguo, with a fief of a thousand households, hereditary in perpetuity. As for Your Majesty..." He paused. "Your Majesty may move to Yong'an Palace to spend your remaining years in comfort, with all provisions maintained as before."
Spending his remaining years in comfort? Anyone with eyes could see that even if Prince Cheng didn't lift a finger, the Emperor didn't have many days left.
But the unspoken threat in Prince Cheng's words was also clear: write the abdication edict obediently, and your son will live a life of wealth and honor.
If you refuse... Gan Sheng clutched the bedding beneath him, his knuckles turning white from the force.
He suddenly thought of the late Crown Prince, his elder brother, and thought that if his only son had grown up safely, he would be thirteen years old by now.
Unfortunately, the Late Empress had not been able to protect her grandson, nor had she been able to protect her own life.
He abruptly lifted his head to look at the Empress seated at the foot of the bed. This woman had not spoken a single word from beginning to end, nor had her expression changed even once. She just sat there quietly, as if everything happening in this hall had nothing to do with her.
She should have been one of the most alarmed people. If the Son of Heaven were deposed, her position as Empress would vanish into thin air as well.
But she didn't care.
Gan Sheng thought of when she had changed, and his heart sank. It seemed he suddenly understood the reason—she must hate him!
He and the Empress had never shared much affection. Their marriage was a political alliance; the Empress's father was the patriarch of the Chen clan, a great family in the south, and she had been made Empress solely to win over the southern gentry.
And Gan Sheng, like his own father, truly doted not on his Empress but on others. The late Emperor had favored his mother, Consort Jiang, while he himself favored Consort Shu the most.
Chen Yuli, who had not known what palace life would be like before entering it, had tried to win the Emperor's heart after she did. In her twelve years within the palace, her relationship with Gan Sheng had gone from mutual respect to mutual indifference—and it wasn't just because of Consort Shu and the other concubines.
Chen Yuli had performed her duties as Empress flawlessly.
Unfortunately, she and Consort Shu had been pregnant at the same time. Consort Shu gave birth to the eldest prince safely and was promoted to Noble Consort, while the Empress miscarried at five months—and it had been a prince.
Two years later, the Empress became pregnant again and gave birth to a son, but the child was frail and sickly, it was said that he had been poisoned while still in the womb.
The Fourth Prince died before reaching his first birthday.
The Empress lost two of her own flesh and blood in succession, yet Gan Sheng only punished a few palace maids and called it done.
The Empress had once treated Gan Sheng sincerely, but she was clever and had long seen that she shared the same fate as the Late Empress. After that, she merely played the part of a bodhisattva, letting the others scheme as they pleased.
Now, looking at the bodhisattva-like Empress, Gan Sheng felt uneasy. He suspected that she might have learned the truth about the loss of her two sons!
"Empress," Gan Sheng suddenly spoke, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible. "Do you... have nothing to say?"
The gazes of everyone in the hall turned to the Empress.
The Empress slowly raised her eyes, glanced at Gan Sheng, then at Prince Cheng. A faint smile curved at the corners of her lips, carrying a meaning that was hard to decipher.
She stood up, smoothed her sleeves, and spoke unhurriedly, "This concubine is but a woman; matters of state are not for me to meddle in."
After a pause, she added another sentence, her voice as soft as if she were mentioning something utterly trivial. "It's just that... Yong'an Palace is stifling and airless in the summer. His Majesty dislikes the heat. I would ask the Imperial Uncle to add more ice braziers." The moment these words were spoken, everyone in the hall was stunned.
No plea for mercy. No angry rebuke. No tearful complaint. Just a request for more ice braziers.
Gan Sheng stared at her blankly, then suddenly laughed. "Empress, Minghao and the others are also your children. You..."
Empress Xu suddenly smiled—a beautiful smile, yet tinged with bitterness, and a thick, unshakeable sorrow spread through her eyes. "Has Your Majesty forgotten? This concubine lost one son ten years ago, and another eight years ago!"
Her gaze swept over Gan Sheng's detestable face before landing on Consort Shu, who was as radiant as a flower but now pale as paper. "You may all have forgotten, but this concubine has not!"
"My sons are gone. What do the children of others have to do with me?"
If killing members of the royal family wouldn't have brought disaster upon her mother's clan, she would have taken action a month ago to send this pair of faithless man and wicked woman down to meet her two wrongfully killed children!
Even if Prince Cheng took the throne, what of it? In this game of chess, she had already prepared an escape route for herself.
The Chen clan's power lay in the south, and no matter who became Emperor, they would need the Chen family's support. Perhaps that was also the reason her two sons hadn't survived.
On the surface, it seemed Consort Shu had done the deed, but behind it all, there must have been the Emperor's tacit approval, even his support. The fact that she had managed to erase all traces, leaving her unable to find evidence for so many years despite her investigations, made that clear.
If Gan Sheng hadn't fallen so ill that he couldn't get out of bed, she truly might never have uncovered the truth. So she hated Consort Shu, who had done the deed, but she hated Gan Sheng even more—the one who had tacitly approved, even encouraged it. He was her true debtor!
"Like they say, even a fierce tiger won't eat its own cubs. But an emperor is different!" Having watched plenty of dramas and movies, Yue Fuguang saw the situation even more clearly than Chen Yuli herself.
[So that's why emperors call themselves 'the lonely one.' No matter how much they scheme and calculate, life is but a few short decades.]
They weren't truly immortals, but in terms of lifespan, they also enjoyed a kind of extended existence. Each mission world was a performance with no rehearsals and no retakes. Though they lived what seemed to be another's life, they were truly alive.
As long as one was alive, there were infinite possibilities.
That was what the system thought, and it was what Gan Sheng thought too. He knew he didn't have long to live, but his children still had a chance, so they had to live well.
Prince Cheng naturally noticed the rift between the Emperor and Empress. He glanced at Empress Chen, a glimmer of satisfaction passing through his eyes, appreciating her intelligence and her sense of timing.
Prince Cheng nodded slightly. "Rest assured, Empress. Yong'an Palace's ice and charcoal will not run out as long as my dear nephew is still there." Of course, whether he would live long enough to use the charcoal was another question.
The Empress performed a graceful bow, then sat back down. Picking up the bowl of herbal medicine that had long gone cold, she resumed swirling it slowly with a silver spoon, as if everything happening in this hall truly had nothing to do with her.
Just then, from outside the hall came an old but authoritative shout of fury, "Prince Cheng! How dare you!"
The curtains were thrown open violently, and Empress Dowager Jiang, supported by an elderly palace maid, strode quickly into the hall, followed by guards who had tried but failed to stop her.
The Empress Dowager was a woman nearing fifty, with only a few threads of white in her hair, showing how well she usually maintained herself.
Her gaze swept sharply across the assembled people in the bedchamber like a hawk's, emanating the imposing aura of one who had long held a position of supreme power.
She wore a deep purple robe, and though she had arrived in haste, not a single part of her appearance was out of place.