Consort Hua offered a gentle smile and lifted her gaze to meet Minister Zheng's eyes.
"I want you to take the throne as regent, to rule in place of the heir still within the Empress's womb. When the child is born, if it is a girl, then you shall be Emperor in your own right, and the state will carry on without disruption. But if it is a boy, you need only relinquish the throne and aid the young Emperor in governing the realm. Tell me, do you not see the wisdom in this?"
Deep down, Minister Zheng agreed with her plan—but a shadow of doubt clouded his mind.
"Mu Ying... wouldn't the people say I was scheming to steal the throne from the rightful heir?"
"Of course, some will think so," Consort Hua replied, feigning tenderness. She rose from her seat and stepped closer to his twisted frame.
"But remember, such a thing has happened before. When the former Emperor Taizong passed away, the crown prince was still a child. The realm fell into chaos. Armies from minor states attacked, hoping to seize the throne. Emperor Taixuan, younger brother of Taizong, took the throne in the prince's stead. At first, the people cursed his name. But when he defeated the invaders and returned the throne to the rightful heir, the people praised him as a paragon of loyalty and virtue. Even now, he is remembered as a hero of the empire."
Her words soothed Minister Zheng's troubled heart. Every phrase from her lips—so gentle, so full of conviction—brought him closer to a decision. Yes, this was the best course: take the regency, defeat the Song threat, and return the throne if the child proved to be a boy. No one would accuse him of treason.
"And besides," Consort Hua added with a delicate smile, "You were once hailed as the statesman who saved the realm from the tyrant Chang Zhou. The people remember that. They will understand."
Minister Zheng pulled her into an embrace. "Mu Ying… you are truly the one who sees into my heart."
Consort Hua smiled inwardly. Her plan had taken root.
She knew that Zheng, once he tasted power, would never surrender it. Power was intoxicating; one sip was enough to bind even the strongest to its chains. And she knew his heart well—far better than he knew himself. Beneath his silence was bitterness: had he not been crippled, he would have claimed the Dragon Throne long ago. He would not have spent his life mocked behind his back, called a "Hunchback Minister."
Now, all she had to do was give him a taste—and let his own desire consume the rest.
"I must inform the ministers," he said urgently.
But Consort Hua caught his sleeve. "Wait. There is one more thing I must tell you."
"What is it, Mu Ying?"
"I want you to announce the regency only after I've been taken to the royal tomb."
"What are you saying, Mu Ying? I won't be Emperor by then. Once you are taken to be buried, I won't be able to stop it."
"You needn't worry," she whispered in his ear. "I already have a plan to survive."
Zheng's eyes shifted toward the ornate chest of garments near her throne. "You're really going to do that...? Mu Ying?"
She smiled and nodded—saying nothing.
"Then I'll do as you say." He embraced her again, tighter than before. "Take care. I couldn't live if anything were to happen to you."
"I promise," she whispered back.
And so they stood, wrapped in silence, in the Yang Palace.
Neither of them noticed the pair of eyes watching from the shadows outside. The observer smiled triumphantly, then turned and walked silently toward the palace gate.
There, a group of soldiers stood guard, ensuring that neither Consort Hua nor her servants could escape before the burial ceremony in three days' time.
The watcher lifted a wooden token and held it toward the guards.
"Open the gate," she said.
One of the guards turned at the sound of her voice.
Within moments, the doors—sealed until the appointed day—creaked open.
"Ah-Zhi? What happened to your forehead?" Indeed, the observer was none other than Ah-Zhi, Consort Hua's trusted maid.
She said nothing.
The guard, annoyed by her silence, began to mutter complaints.
Without a word, Ah-Zhi drew a small pouch of silver and dropped it into his hand. The weight silenced him instantly.
She lifted her chin, eyes filled with cold hatred as she turned to look at the Yang Palace. Then she spat on the threshold and cursed:
"Consort Hua… you greedy, vile woman. You won't die peacefully."
With that, Ah-Zhi walked away, her destination clear:
The Empress Li Hua's Palace.