Everyone in the Imperial Garden could bear witness—there was no way for the Third Prince to defend himself.
The Empress looked at her youngest son's terrified expression, feeling profound sorrow. She said, "Your Majesty, the Third Prince and Xie Xun are of similar age. Disputes between children are inevitable. Xie Xun is a young general, strong and skilled, how could the Third Prince's meager martial arts fatally wound him? Perhaps Xie Xun had some lingering illness from his fall years ago that happened to flare up. Doctor Zhang, isn't that right?"
Zhang Lingzheng raised his head to look at Emperor Jianming. Draped in his bright yellow dragon robe, the Emperor's expression remained unchanged, yet his gaze carried immense pressure. Zhang Lingzheng knew full well the implication behind the Empress's words; his fists clenched tightly within his long sleeves.
The Crown Prince, warm and composed, added, "Since Mother mentioned it, this son recalls that Xie Xun experienced shortness of breath and chest tightness before his conflict with the Third Brother, and even took medication to alleviate his symptoms."
"Yes, yes… that's right… It wasn't me. He was already sick!" The Third Prince, as if grasping at a lifeline, cried out for justice.
Emperor Jianming asked calmly, "Zhang Lingzheng, did Xie Xun die of a sudden illness, or did he die from being beaten to death?"
Cold sweat soaked Zhang Lingzheng's undergarments. Being a physician inside the Imperial Court was no easy task—his father's warning when he entered the Imperial Hospital echoed in his ears. The hall was deathly quiet; one could hear a pin drop.
"Xie Xun, apart from weakness in his left leg and occasional pain on rainy days, had no other ailments." Standing at the door curtain, Consort Xie's eyes were red, yet her voice was unnervingly calm. "Empress, Crown Prince, do you mean to attribute my brother's death to some unfounded illness? After the incident, I immediately sent word back to the Marquis Mansion. Every son of the Xie Family has bled and fought on the battlefield, earning merits and guarding the Yanyang Dynasty's people, yet the Third Prince beat him to death in the Imperial Court. If there's no resolution to this matter…"
The Emperor's expression changed drastically. The inner attendants had sent word to the Yangxin Palace; he had already locked the palace gates to prevent the news from spreading. But still, the Noble Consort managed to send word to the Marquis Mansion.
This situation would not end peacefully.
"My Xie Family will not rest!" A single tear slid down Consort Xie's face—defiant, proud, yet unfathomably sorrowful. Her pale blue, gold-embroidered palace gown fluttered with the breeze, tragic and exquisite.
The Empress slammed the table in fury, shouting, "Noble Consort, watch your words! Under heaven, all lands belong to the emperor. When the ruler commands subjects to die, they must obey without question. What does your Xie Family mean by 'will not rest'? Do you intend to raise flags of rebellion, charge into the palace, and take my son's life?"
Everyone knelt abruptly, none daring to look at Emperor Jianming's face.
The Xie Family's towering achievements overshadowed the throne. With military power at their disposal, and the late Emperor's bloodline wiped out in the palace coup, only the orphaned Crown Prince remained missing. The Xie Family quelled the rebellion, restored the emperor, and brought Emperor Jianming—then a vassal king—back to the palace against all opposition, declaring him Crown Prince.
This throne of Emperor Jianming's still owed its existence to the Xie Family.
"When a prince breaks the law, he is punished the same as a commoner!" Consort Xie did not yield an inch. Her restraint was steely, her tone commanding. "Is the Empress attempting to shield the Third Prince?"
The atmosphere in the hall was taut, as if the slightest spark would ignite an explosion.
Emperor Jianming's chest heaved as he turned his glare toward the Third Prince, who was slumped on the floor. In a fury, he roared, "Men, drag this scoundrel to the Marquis Mansion and leave him to the Xie Family for their judgment!"
"Father!"
"Your Majesty, if the Third Prince is sent to the Marquis Mansion, will he even survive?"
The Empress fell to her knees alongside the Crown Prince and Second Prince, all begging for leniency. Tears streamed down Consort Xie's face as her legs weakened. The sharp-witted head palace maid, Qiu Ru, rushed forward to support her. As Consort Xie leaned limply against Qiu Ru, her face soaked with tears, she muttered, "What good is killing him? Zhixu cannot come back."
While watching the Empress and Crown Prince plead, their united familial bond pierced her heart with hatred and sorrow. Zhixu couldn't return, but someone had to pay with their life.
Two Jinyi Guards entered the hall. In utter despair, the Third Prince questioned, "Father! For the sake of Xie Xun, will you truly kill your own son? You are the emperor over the entire Yanyang Dynasty; why fear the Xie Family so deeply?"
"Silence!" The Empress, enraged, slapped him across the face.
Emperor Jianming stood, his chest heaving violently. The thin veil of pretense had been ripped apart—his dignity, pride, and authority trampled underfoot. The fragile paper-thin pretense of royalty was shredded.
Consort Xie sneered coldly, "The Emperor is not afraid of the Xie Family; he is acting justly. The Third Prince killed Xie Xun, a meritorious general. Without reparation for this crime, tens of thousands of soldiers at the border will lose faith."
"Am I dead?" A low voice suddenly sounded from the side chamber's curtain. A young man in a green robe with a slender waist, a face sculpted like jade, and sharp brows above phoenix eyes stood there dazzlingly handsome. He leaned bonelessly against the doorpost, his phoenix eyes looking innocently at the hall's group of kneeling figures. He resembled a harmless rabbit that had accidentally wandered into a treacherous forest.
The crowd was shaken, especially Zhang Lingzheng. Xie Xun had unmistakably stopped breathing—how could he have come back to life?
"Y-you…aren't dead?" The Third Prince staggered backward repeatedly, looking at Xie Xun as though staring at a vengeful ghost, horror written all over his face.
Xie Xun's soft and gentle smile carried a hint of teasing, "Seems I didn't die completely and managed to come back to life."
Consort Xie froze briefly, her shock giving way to sheer joy. She rushed to Xie Xun's side, touching his face, his arms, and finally gripping his hand tightly. With overwhelming relief, she said, "You're warm. Zhixu, you're alive. That's great, thank heavens; this must be the Buddha's blessing."
Xie Xun stood docilely, letting Consort Xie caress his face and hands. His gentle smile remained untouched as he cautiously called out, "Sister?"
"It is me, your sister! Don't you recognize me?" Consort Xie clasped his face with both hands. "Did you hurt your head?"
Xie Xun laughed awkwardly, a rare moment of nervousness flickering across his face.
The hall fell silent; every pair of eyes lay fixated on Xie Xun. The typically arrogant and spirited Little Tyrant now carried an air of softness, his presence radiant yet tranquil. While his face remained the same, he seemed like an entirely different person.
He was Xie Xun, and yet not quite.
Zhang Lingzheng suddenly dropped to his knees, disrupting the silence of the hall. "This servant's medical skills are inadequate, misjudging life and death. I implore His Majesty to punish me!"
All the Imperial Hospital physicians knelt in terror seeking forgiveness. But Emperor Jianming's reaction surprised them—he burst into laughter. Xie Xun's revival had defused the imminent bloodbath within the Yanyang Dynasty, preventing the widening rift between the royal family and the Marquis Mansion. Why would he punish them?
"Doctor Zhang, examine Xie Xun closely for any abnormalities."
"Yes!"
Xie Xun—more accurately, Fengyu—remained outwardly calm yet deeply panicked beneath the surface. Her clothing was damp from her cold sweat, her heartbeat chaotic. This wasn't her first time exchanging souls with Xie Xun, but she had never encountered Consort Xie or stood face-to-face with the Emperor. Xie Xun loathed her and had never spoken of his family affairs. Terrified of being exposed, she had feigned death ever since she woke, listening in mounting dread as the conflict escalated between Consort Xie and the Empress. She had prayed fervently for Xie Xun's swift return.
It was only when Emperor Jianming commanded the Third Prince to be brought to the Marquis Mansion that Fengyu knew she couldn't keep pretending to be dead; otherwise, the rift would deepen irreparably between the Marquis Mansion and the royal court.
Her heartbeat was irregular, her palms cold with sweat—symptoms that Zhang Lingzheng would immediately detect upon checking her pulse. Fengyu had no means to prevent it. Consort Xie too feared something was wrong, forcing Fengyu into a chair. With no alternative, Fengyu obediently extended her wrist, allowing Zhang Lingzheng to check her pulse, all the while acutely aware that the hall's attention remained fixed upon her, intensifying her nervousness and throwing her pulse further into disorder.