Chapter 81: The Promise

When the new emperor ascended the throne, although the Female Emperor had requested utmost simplicity, the officials of the Ministry of Rites still ended up pulling out half their hair.

Because the true test was no longer the ascension ceremony, but the grand imperial wedding to the Empress that followed.

Right at the outset of her reign, the New Emperor had informed all the ministers of her intention to marry the Empress. Though one or two stubborn old conservatives raised concerns about the thinning imperial bloodline and suggested that Her Majesty should promptly produce heirs or the like, they were soundly berated by the Female Emperor right there in open court. The usually refined sovereign cursed them out for the first time and declared that she would emulate certain historical precedents, selecting the Heir Apparent from among the Imperial Clan’s children in the future.

Although Xiao Kun had wanted to exterminate every last member of the Zhao Kingdom’s Imperial Clan back then, that dynasty had endured for over five hundred years, with clan members scattered far and wide—how could it possibly be so easy? Some had survived by hiding under false identities. The Female Emperor summoned those imperial kin to the Capital City.

Since ancient times, emperors had invariably been hounded by their ministers into headaches over issues of heirs and successors. But astonishingly, after that thunderous outburst from the Female Emperor, not a single person in the court raised any further objections.

Just what had happened? Probably only those ministers who thereafter kept their mouths shut, tucked tail between their legs, and slunk into court knew the truth.

With the New Emperor’s ascension and the imperial wedding to the Empress, the Capital City buzzed with activity straight through to year’s end.

The Empress did not hail from exalted stock, yet she was a descendant of Zhao Kingdom loyalists and martyrs, from a family of scholars to boot—gentle and obedient, virtuous and gracious. Most crucially, she could soothe the Female Emperor whenever she grew angry. Even ministers of the former dynasty who had offended the sovereign and been thrown into prison could secure lighter sentences through the Empress’s earnest pleas. An Empress like this perfectly matched every fantasy the ministers harbored for a wise consort!

The Female Emperor presented a refined exterior, but she was ruthless to her core.

In the first half-year, perhaps some other whispers circulated, but six months on, the ministers were ready to enshrine a longevity tablet to the Empress in their own homes, praying for her to live a hundred years—ideally outliving the Female Emperor herself.

Now and then, rumors leaked from the Female Emperor’s palace: when the Empress was in a bad mood, the Female Emperor would even don a dancer’s garb, sing, and perform to amuse her wife. Preparing soup with her own hands was an everyday occurrence.

The ministers glanced at their ruthless Female Emperor and didn’t believe a single word of it. Well, not quite—they suspected the rumor had it backwards. It must have been the Empress coaxing the Female Emperor. They had no idea which loose-lipped fool had mangled the tale so badly.

Nian Zhi’an, bearer of the “gentle, obedient, virtuous, and gracious” accolade, promptly spat out her mouthful of water.

The truth of the matter was something like this.

A wise Empress? Utterly impossible. Nian Zhi’an reserved her gentleness solely for her wife; toward outsiders, she was even more ruthless than Meng Congyun. She was keenly self-aware: if she herself became emperor, she would surely turn into a tyrant!

At the dawn of the reign, all manner of trifling affairs weighed especially heavily. Just recently, Meng Congyun had fallen ill for several days, and the imperial physicians had enjoined Her Majesty to rest more and avoid excessive emotional fluctuations.

Nian Zhi’an was already in a foul mood, and then she learned that those fossilized old men in court had driven her gentle wife to anger? Absolutely intolerable!

Meng Congyun rarely lost her temper; she was not prone to fits of rage—unless those ministers pushed her too far.

The ministers’ vision of a virtuous, gracious Empress seized her massive cleaver and charged toward the prison, hell-bent on making those fellows pay. It was their idea of a ruthless Female Emperor who held the Empress back and spared them half their worthless lives.

Nian Zhi’an had it all figured: if those ministers dropped dead in their cells, it would sully her wife’s reputation, so she would certainly leave them one last gasping breath.

Even so, Her Majesty the Female Emperor had to expend considerable sweet talk to coax her back and wrest the blade from her grasp—but that evening, their own Empress bit her a couple extra times.

Thus, the ministers receiving lighter punishment was entirely at the Female Emperor’s discretion; she had simply invoked the Empress’s name to provide both sides a graceful way to back down. In reality, the fact that their imagined virtuous Empress hadn’t stabbed them in the back was already a blessing.

For someone as volatile as Nian Zhi’an to be recast as the paragon of a wise Empress—Meng Congyun’s contribution was indispensable, and hardly a simple feat.

Even Nian Zhi’an herself nearly choked to death on a mouthful of water upon hearing the rumor.

She went so far as to press a little palace maid on whether she’d misheard. The most frequent labels Nian Zhi’an had ever heard applied to herself were things like “psycho” or “lunatic,” which suited her self-image perfectly. But what on earth was this rumor? It sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine! Nian Zhi’an rubbed the gooseflesh prickling her arms. After receiving the maid’s firm affirmation, she went off in search of her wife.

Upon hearing the tale, the Female Emperor clenched her jaw for half a day to keep from bursting into laughter outright. “Isn’t this just fine? It keeps them from hounding you day in and day out.”

“True enough, but now I don’t even know what to do with my hands whenever I step outside…” It was the sort of overblown praise that had saddled her with an idol’s burden; she felt too self-conscious now to let loose.

“Your Highness… do you find the Imperial Palace stifling? Would you like to go out for a stroll?” Meng Congyun’s smile gradually faded, replaced by concern.

Back when Nian Zhi’an was still the Eldest Princess, she had loved wandering far and wide—even bringing gifts back from the vast deserts of the Western Regions for Meng Congyun. She could never abide staying put.

Meng Congyun knew her temperament intimately and feared deeply that the palace would bore her to tears. Now that Your Highness had become her Empress, she was confined to this narrow patch of ground.

“Stuffy? Not at all—I’ve got you here.” Nian Zhi’an leaned into her wife’s embrace and stretched lazily, the very picture of a housecat who had prowled the rooms before curling up contentedly in her person’s lap.

If the Nian Zhi’an of old had been a free-spirited wanderer who prized liberty above all, after enduring so many trials, the activities she now craved most were simply to bask in the sun, nibble on snacks, and await her wife’s return from court—day after day. To others, dozens of years might seem an eternity, but to Nian Zhi’an, with her endless lifespan, that stretch of time was but a fleeting moment.

Compared to her eternal life, whether she ventured out or not hardly mattered—what truly counted was where her Female Emperor Majesty was. As long as her wife didn’t mind her clinginess, all was well.

“Once things quiet down a bit, I’ll take you out.” Meng Congyun resolved to carve out time to let her stretch her wings.

“That works. It’ll give you a chance to rest too—fewer tedious lectures from those old codgers, lest you age before your time.” Nian Zhi’an nodded. “Did anyone give you grief at morning court today?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly still the matter of the Heir Apparent.” Meng Congyun’s health was frail, and by the standards of these ancients, she was no spring chicken. Since the Female Emperor had no interest in bearing children, it was imperative to cultivate a fitting successor with all due haste.

In plainer terms, the ministers fretted over the Female Emperor’s poor constitution. Should she suddenly pass away one day, the realm would plunge into turmoil. Were her health robust, they would not press so urgently.

“Those blasted old fossils—they’re terrified you’ll… phooey, phooey!” Nian Zhi’an smacked her own mouth and swallowed back the inauspicious words.

“Shall we choose an heir now, then?” Though Nian Zhi’an felt it premature, starting to groom a capable successor early had its merits—at the least, it would lighten her wife’s burden of court affairs.

Meng Congyun fell silent for a moment, then asked Nian Zhi’an softly, “Does Your Highness like children?”

Nian Zhi’an’s immediate thought flew to that hellion brat from her previous world, the one she and her wife had raised. Grown up, the child had turned out decent enough—but in those early years…

“I don’t dislike them, but if it’s a mischievous little terror, you’ll have to raise it.” Nian Zhi’an feared she might do the child some harm under her watch. “Are you thinking of taking in a young one?”

“Mm… yes. Easier to rear from infancy and forge a true bond.” Nian Zhi’an thought it feasible.

“I plan to gather the children of the Imperial Clan, select a few to your liking, and have them reside and study in the palace. We’ll observe their talents and character, then adopt the most suitable one under our own knee. How does that sound to Your Highness?”

This was evidently a decision her wife had mulled over deeply; Nian Zhi’an deemed it sound and agreed.

The Imperial Clan members, learning that the Emperor intended to adopt a child, lost no time in sending theirs over—the eldest at seven years old, the youngest barely three. Herded together, they shrieked and squabbled incessantly, one bawling after another, nearly driving Nian Zhi’an to take refuge on the rafters.

In the end, they selected five of the more biddable, quick-witted ones to raise in the palace. Meng Congyun subjected them to exacting scrutiny, and over the course of several years, they fell away one by one until only the youngest of those five remained.

Truth be told, in Nian Zhi’an’s eyes, this child was not the sharpest among the lot. Her studies hovered squarely middling, and she was rather timid to boot. While the others clamored desperately to ingratiate themselves, she alone peeked out shyly from behind a tree.

If there was one shining virtue, it was her perfect quietude. If Nian Zhi’an wanted company for sunbathing, this child could truly sit hugging a book beside her for an entire afternoon.

The child was exceedingly well-behaved—fine daughter material—but as Heir Apparent stock? She still seemed a bit wanting.

But her own wife placed great value on her. Nian Zhi’an felt a bit puzzled by this until the other four children had all left the Imperial Palace. Meng Congyun pulled that child aside for a talk, and afterward, the girl’s performance skyrocketed. Every teacher hailed the Little County Princess as a once-in-a-lifetime genius. Nian Zhi’an nearly dropped the melon seeds from her hand in shock.

To hide her true abilities at such a young age? And to keep it hidden for so many years? Wow, she had really misjudged the girl! Her wife was the impressive one!

However, after hearing Nian Zhi’an’s praise for herself, Meng Congyun said that even if the child’s talent was mediocre, if she had to pick one from those five children, she would still choose this one.

Because only that child’s expression showed a child’s longing and affection toward Nian Zhi’an. Perhaps it was because the child’s parents had been killed shortly after her birth, and she had entered the palace at such a young age. Seeing how good and caring Nian Zhi’an was toward her, the child subconsciously cast her in the role of a mother, even though Nian Zhi’an was utterly oblivious to it.

Meng Congyun believed this child would remain filial to Nian Zhi’an even after her own death, so she valued her more.

Ever since that winter a year ago when Meng Congyun suffered a prolonged illness, her health had never been the same. As a result, the Female Emperor was always concerned about what would happen after her own passing.

She knew her frail constitution meant she probably wouldn’t outlive her wife, so her greatest fear was raising an ungrateful wretch who would make Her Highness’s later years restless.

After hearing her wife’s assessment of the child, Nian Zhi’an understood the deeper meaning behind her words.

She took a deep breath and forced a more relaxed expression on her face. Then, in a carefree tone, she said, “I could punch ten of those little brats with one fist! What kind of trouble could she stir up? Don’t forget, I’m a ghost soul who came back to life by possessing a corpse—the omnipotent kind!”

“Moreover, if you go before me… don’t worry, I will definitely find you again.” Nian Zhi’an said this to Meng Congyun, and she said it to herself as well.

If this wasn’t mere coincidence, then in the next world, the one after that… she would keep searching, no matter what.

Meng Congyun could tell there was more to Her Highness’s words, but she didn’t ask. She knew Her Highness had things she couldn’t speak of aloud. Still, hearing such a promise from Her Highness filled her with joy.

“I will wait for Your Highness.”

“Mm.” Nian Zhi’an hugged her wife tightly, keeping her own slightly reddened eyes hidden from view. She couldn’t be certain, for she still didn’t know the Main System’s true purpose. That thing wasn’t the charitable type; she only hoped the price it demanded would be something she could bear.

Once she saw her wife through this world, she would have a proper chat with the Main System. It had played its cards brilliantly this time, hitting her dead center on her Achilles’ heel and leaving her no choice but to bow her head.