Becoming the Queen by Serving as Prime Minister | Chapter 52 | The Emperor's Gambit | Novela.app

Chapter 53 - The Emperor's Gambit Yin Zhuli’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as she cut him off, her eyes sparkling with a dangerous mirth. "Your Majesty," she began, her voice dropping to a silken whisper that seemed to vibrate in the still air of the chamber, "are you suggesting that Consort Dowager He and Grand Tutor Fu might hesitate to commit their forces?" She leaned closer to Shen Tingjiao, the scent of her perfume—a subtle, heady mix of sandalwood and winter plum—wafting around him. Her voice was so tender it felt as though it could dissolve into droplets of water, yet the words she spoke carried the weight of iron. "Do you truly believe, Your Majesty, that I was merely spinning tales to deceive General Qu regarding the treasure of Jincheng County?" The color drained from Shen Tingjiao’s face, his expression shifting from irritation to a sudden, sharp realization. Yin Zhuli remained draped against him, her posture languid and unbothered, as if they were merely discussing the trivialities of the court rather than the foundations of his reign. She took his hand in hers, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles. "Qu Lu might not discover it immediately," she continued, her eyes locked onto his, "but with over a thousand men scouring Mount Qiyun, it is only a matter of time. You have already broken your word to him once. Do you honestly think that once the Great General has that hoard in his possession, he will ever trust you again? Or, more importantly, that he would ever accept another offer of amnesty?" Shen Tingjiao bolted upright, his movements jerky with agitation. He made to head for the door, his mind racing through the strategic nightmare she had just laid out. But Yin Zhuli didn't move; she remained reclined against the carved back of the chair, the picture of effortless grace. "I previously arranged for two hundred thousand dan of grain to be sent to the Great General," she added, her tone conversational. "That grain was diverted directly from Jincheng’s own stores. Jincheng is hardly a land of plenty; how much surplus could it possibly have? Even if the General unearths the treasure now, the city’s granaries are already running dry. He will have the gold, yes, but he will be forced to procure provisions from other towns in Longxi. That, Your Majesty, is your window of opportunity. If you strike now, the odds are overwhelmingly in your favor. But if you wait..." Fury, hot and sudden, erupted within Shen Tingjiao. He spun around, his strides long and predatory as he returned to her side. He grabbed her shoulders, pinning her back against the chair with a force that rattled the wood. "You absolute scoundrel!" he hissed, his breath hot against her skin. "Every waking moment, you are calculating, plotting, weaving webs around everyone! You foresaw this, didn't you? You knew the moment I took the throne, I might try to bring Qu Tianji back into the fold, and you set this trap months ago!" Yin Zhuli didn't struggle. She leaned into his touch, watching his face redden with a mixture of rage and desperation. To her eyes, he looked more like the spirited man she had first known than the burdened monarch he was becoming. A playful glint danced in her eyes. "Ninth Lord," she teased, her voice a low purr, "you really should start referring to yourself as 'We' now." Shen Tingjiao loathed that look—that unbothered, heartless composure that made him feel like a pawn in her grand design. He raised his hand, his palm itching to strike the smug smile from her face, but his fingers trembled and ultimately fell limp. Instead of the blow he intended, a different kind of heat flared in the pit of his stomach—a dark, possessive fire that burned away his desire to leave. The door could wait. The empire could wait. "Guards!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the opulent hall. "Take Yin Zhuli and bind her to the Dragon Bed!" *** The wheels of war, once set in motion by Yin Zhuli’s invisible hand, turned with ruthless efficiency. By the sixteenth day of the eleventh month, the fruits of her machinations were laid bare. Of Qu Tianji’s fifteen thousand soldiers, nearly seventy percent had fallen victim to a mysterious ailment. It was not a lethal toxin, but one that left them utterly drained of strength. Their limbs felt like lead, and though they lived, the ability to draw a bow or wield a blade had been stripped from them. Seizing the moment, Shen Tingjiao issued the command. Grand Tutor Fu Chaoying led the imperial forces in a relentless assault on Tianshui City. The defense crumbled, and the imperial army seized countless horses and armaments. Qu Tianji, ever the resilient lion, managed to retreat to Jincheng with a remnant of forty thousand men. But the numbers were too few, and the spirit of his troops was broken. On the thirtieth day of the eleventh month, Jincheng finally fell. Yin Zhuli stood atop the city walls that day, the biting winter wind whipping her hair across her face. Below, the streets ran red with the blood of soldiers, and the air was thick with the deafening roar of battle and the cries of the dying. Shen Tingjiao stood beside her, his silhouette sharp against the smoke-filled sky. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took hers. "Zhuli," he whispered, his voice weary. "Let this be the last time, alright?" The wind howled along the battlements. Yin Zhuli did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached out and untied her own heavy cloak, carefully draping it over his shoulders. She leaned in, her fingers nimble as she secured the silk ties at his neck. "Congratulations, Your Majesty," she said softly, her eyes reflecting the fires burning in the city below. "The realm is finally unified." A moment later, Fu Chaoying ascended the wall, his expression grave. He approached the imperial couple and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, Qu Tianji has been cornered. He... he requests to see the Princess Consort one last time." Shen Tingjiao’s grip on Yin Zhuli’s hand tightened instantly. His voice turned cold, sharp as a blade. "His martial arts are unfathomable. Now that he is trapped, he asks to see my consort? What sort of trickery is he planning?" Yin Zhuli patted the back of his hand soothingly, her expression calm. "Your Majesty, there will not be a next time. Let me be the one to see him off." Seeing the lingering doubt and worry in his eyes, she offered a small, reassuring smile. "Where is he now? Have the Grand Tutor station eight hundred elite archers to surround him. Even if he intends to fight like a cornered beast, your consort has no reason to fear him." A strange light flickered in Fu Chaoying’s eyes, a momentary lapse that Yin Zhuli caught instantly. Her mind, ever suspicious, immediately began to calculate. If the Grand Tutor harbored any ulterior motives, those eight hundred archers might not be there to see Qu Tianji off—they might be there to ensure she shared his grave. If he succeeded, Qu Tianji would surely spend eternity laughing at her foolishness on the road to the Yellow Springs.