Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Wen Qingyun was prepared to take her own Mother Empress along, so she naturally wouldn’t refuse Princess Herui, who had proactively volunteered.

In fact, not only did Wen Qingyun not refuse, but she also deliberately leaked the news to test whether her other sisters harbored similar ambitions.

Perhaps previous upbringing had taught the princesses to be obedient and submissive, or perhaps Wen Qingyun’s record of killing eight princes was too terrifying; the other six princesses didn’t dare to step forward and follow Herui’s lead.

This left Wen Qingyun slightly disappointed. However, remembering that their small statures were at most a match for Chu Xin in a wrestling match, she quickly pushed the disappointment aside.

Since things had come to this, she would let her Mother Empress and Princess Herui set an example for the imperial princesses and commandery princesses. With concrete goals and role models, the other six might learn to seize opportunities and make their lives more exciting.

After nightfall, Wen Qingyun went to the East Warming Pavilion to sleep as usual. Noticing that Chu Xin hadn’t appeared for a long time, she frowned slightly and turned to ask the female official.

“Your Majesty, Master Chu is at Jingren Palace. It seems she is writing a memorial; we did not dare disturb her,” the official said.

Writing a memorial? Could she be seriously thinking about how to admit her faults and comfort her?

Thinking of Chu Xin’s somewhat stubborn personality, Wen Qingyun shook her head with a smile. Instead of staying in the East Warming Pavilion, she headed straight for Jingren Palace.

Gingering the palace maids and eunuchs to be silent, Wen Qingyun stepped over the threshold and saw Chu Xin writing feverishly. She slowed her movements, appearing almost soundlessly beside Chu Xin, squinting slightly to read the contents on the rice paper.

“Your servant reflects once more… it is I who have failed the painstaking efforts Your Majesty invested in me… Your servant is terrified, and begs Your Majesty not to… because of a temporary mistake… I beg Your Majesty for punishment… Your servant has one word that must be said: the Imperial Expedition is…”

Well, it was mostly an admission of guilt, though there were still hints of admonishment within the words—it seemed she was making one last attempt.

“Chu Xin,” Wen Qingyun suddenly said.

This gave the finishing Chu Xin a start. Her hand shook, ruining a character and rendering the 90% completed memorial a waste.

“Your servant greets Your Majesty.” Realizing what happened, Chu Xin immediately put down her brush and stood up to salute.

“Chu Xin, why didn’t you come to sleep in my warming pavilion?” Wen Qingyun caught her directly, hooking her arm around Chu Xin’s waist and forcing her to press close.

“I… I feared Your Majesty would be displeased…” Chu Xin said dryly.

She had caused Her Majesty sadness and disappointment; how could she have the face to squeeze into the same bed?

“But because you didn’t come, I felt even worse.” Wen Qingyun rubbed her chin against Chu Xin’s neck. “You should be more proactive and compensate me for the heart you broke today.”

Chu Xin swallowed hard, slowly placing her hands on Her Majesty and gently patting her back. “Your Majesty, what should I do?”

“What do you think?” Wen Qingyun threw the question back.

Chu Xin thought hard. Everything she possessed was bestowed by the Empress. If she wanted to compensate her, it seemed the only thing she truly owned was… her body?

A blush slowly crept up Chu Xin’s ears and cheeks. Finally, she thought of the nighttime “pastimes” that Her Majesty enjoyed but which she herself rarely agreed to.

“I… I will listen to Your Majesty tonight…” Chu Xin’s voice was very soft.

Some things had nothing to do with whether it was the first or second time; it was simply that Chu Xin was thin-skinned. She would likely still have this blushing physiological response years from now.

“Truly?” Wen Qingyun arched an eyebrow, not expecting such an accidental harvest from a bit of teasing.

“Everything I promise Your Majesty, I will do,” Chu Xin replied seriously, suppressing her shyness.

“Good. Such compensation satisfies me greatly.” The corners of Wen Qingyun’s mouth turned up. She bit Chu Xin’s ear—which was red enough to bleed—and began to have her way with her.

…

No one could make the Empress change her mind.

Once the court officials realized this, they shifted their strategy from trying to stop the Imperial Expedition to extending the preparation time, striving to make everything foolproof.

Wen Qingyun didn’t mind. She didn’t plan on coming back anytime soon, so thorough logistics were essential.

Wang Yuejiao requested to go to battle multiple times, but Wen Qingyun rejected her every time. In the end, holding the military power of the six garrisons near the capital, she had to stay behind and guard the “home” for her Empress.

Of the five Grand Secretaries of the Inner Cabinet, Wen Qingyun took none. However, before she departed, she adjusted several official positions.

Chu Xin’s rank was moved up, from Deputy Right Censor-in-Chief to Left Censor-in-Chief, leading the entire Censorate.

Si Wen remained the Transmission Commissioner, but like her sister Si Yu, she was granted the additional honorary rank of Grand Master for Splendid Happiness (Ronglu Dafu), ensuring she could legitimately suppress other civil officials with her rank.

Bai Siyang was promoted to Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial and concurrent Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief. This was clearly meant to coordinate with Chu Xin; if an official was found problematic, they could be sent directly to the Dali Temple prison in one smooth process.

Weiyu and Choumu were left behind as planned. They remained Commanders of the Northern Jinyiwei, but their rank was raised to the 5th Grade, with the authority to mobilize the Yulin and Huben Guards.

As for the authority over the Jinwu Guard, Wen Qingyun handed it to Chu Xin to ensure her safety within the Imperial Palace.

Once everything was ready, Wen Qingyun dropped one last bombshell the day before departure: she was taking the Empress Dowager with her on the Northern Expedition.

Because the matter was settled and the officials knew even cracking their heads open wouldn’t change it, they simply gave up and cooperated fully.

…

The person with the strongest “withdrawal symptoms” from Wen Qingyun’s departure was Chu Xin.

Despite having spent over twenty years of her life sleeping alone, she found she could no longer adapt to it. After Her Majesty left, Chu Xin couldn’t sleep well for many days.

Half of it was worry—wondering if there would be accidents on the road or if the Tatars would be cunning enough to set an ambush. The other half was the loneliness of a solitary room.

Closing her eyes, Chu Xin felt fortunate. At least during the time food and logistics were being prepared, Her Majesty had stayed at Jingren Palace; she could still hold the bedding Her Majesty had used to ease her longing. If they had stayed at Qianqing Palace, she probably would have had to rely on the same dragon-ambergris incense Her Majesty used to comfort herself.

When news of the Imperial Expedition reached the northern border, the soldiers were invigorated. They increased their training intensity, and even the dangerous positions in the vanguard became highly sought after.

Everyone knew their Empress recognized and used talent. If one’s bravery was seen by Her Majesty, they could be promoted six ranks at once, jumping from a common soldier to a minor general!

No one could resist such temptation, regardless of gender. Both male and female soldiers worked their hardest. This was exactly what Wen Qingyun wanted to see; the boost to morale was immense. Only with brave soldiers could they pacify the north with minimal losses.

Since ancient times, the vast grasslands belonged to the people of the Great Qian!

The Tatars didn’t expect to be invaded while they were being “well-behaved.” Even though they had heard rumors, the ruling nobles used their usual logic to speculate. They thought the female emperor was just putting on a show for fame—much like the emperor of a previous dynasty who had led an expedition only to lose 200,000 elite troops and become a “Gate-Calling Emperor” of a fallen nation.

The Tatars’ complacency delighted Wen Qingyun. Far from being upset at being underestimated, she hoped they would look down on her even more.

As a result, the price of the Tatars’ negligence was Wen Qingyun leading three thousand cavalry directly into the base of one of their tribes.

The sudden attack left the Tatar soldiers no time to react before their throats were slit or their bodies pierced by spears.

The charisma of a monarch leading the charge was too powerful. Even if their armor was dented by strikes, the frontline soldiers held their breath and hacked through the enemy. Even if they took a blade to the leg, they rushed forward, unafraid of death. To them, dying in battle was not scary, especially when fighting alongside the Empress; dying for the sovereign was the ultimate glory!

The Tatars hadn’t expected the defensive Great Qian soldiers to be so fierce. Once the front lines collapsed, they retreated, leaving behind livestock and supplies, fleeing on horseback in scattered groups.

In just half a month, the defensive line was pushed forward a hundred miles. It wasn’t until they captured Yidu that they temporarily halted for rest.

The elite units from the Capital Camp and the Northern Army’s elite cavalry followed Wen Qingyun like a sharp knife, tearing through the Tatar defenses.

The Empress Dowager, relishing the chance to fight alongside her sisters, operated near the main camp, pushing the line forward thirty miles to Shajing. They set up camp along the Xiao Huang River, clearing out remaining forces while serving as the frontline for logistical supplies.

The younger Princess Herui continued north, crossing the Greater Khingan Mountains and Lake Buir. Eventually, she merged with the Onon River Guard of the Nurgan Regional Military Commission, preparing to head west to cut off the Tatars’ retreat from behind.

It was now September. In another month, the severe cold would make operations difficult. Following the principle of “speed is the soul of war,” Wen Qingyun continued north with her cavalry, heading straight for the Tatars’ Haramanglai.

At the same time, Herui led the Onon River soldiers south and west, perfectly cutting off the enemy’s supplies and leading her merit-hungry troops to slaughter the small fleeing groups.

In October, Haramanglai was renamed Guangwu Town. Wen Qingyun ordered the establishment of the Guangwu Guard to station troops and farm the land, treating all the local mixed-race residents as subjects of the Great Qian.

Most of those left behind were women and children who struggled to find food during poor harvests. Learning they could become subjects of Great Qian and live a life of warmth and satiety, they felt no urge to resist. With full bellies and a place to survive the winter, their hearts turned to Great Qian; they provided intelligence that scouts couldn’t find and even volunteered for the vanguard.

Since they were already here, they might as well push the line a bit further.

Wen Qingyun hunkered down in Guangwu Town for the winter. To motivate the troops, she distributed rewards based on merit, turning many ordinary soldiers into Platoon Commanders, Centurions, and even Chiliarchs.

Not wanting to be biased, Wen Qingyun granted her Mother Empress the title of Grand Master for Splendid Happiness, letting her enjoy the prestige of a first-rank official.

As for Princess Herui, the reward couldn’t be so casual. After serious thought, Wen Qingyun gave her two choices:

Become Prince Herui, a title hereditary for three generations. Once the Tatars were driven out, the conquered land would be her fief. If the Tatars returned, Prince Herui would be responsible for defending the territory.

Become a second-rank General of Agile Cavalry (Piaoqi Jiangjun). She would remain Princess Herui, and after the expedition, she could return to her palace in the capital and be permitted to participate in court politics.

Truthfully, both were massive rewards. As Prince Herui with a fief, she would secure her name in history. If she managed the grasslands well, she might even earn her own dedicated biography in the records. The second-rank general position was equivalent to a Minister of the Six Ministries, meaning she could advance even further. Life in the capital would certainly be more comfortable than guarding a border.

But for the current Herui, she was tired of “comfortable” days. Becoming a prince defending the border was far more challenging. After seven days of thought, she chose to become the first female Prince and received the Empress’s promise: “The more land you take, the larger your fief.”

There could be many Generals of the Agile Cavalry, but only one Prince Herui guarding the frontier!

…

In late December, the capital was bustling. When news arrived that the Empress had successfully repelled the Tatars and expanded the empire’s borders, everyone cheered.

Wang Yuejiao’s eyes turned red with envy; she wished she could resign her post as Grand Secretary and join her Majesty on the front lines.

Hearing the constant reports of victory and the news that the Empress would not return for the New Year, Chu Xin felt both happy and sad—proud of the Empress’s might, but heartbroken at her absence. Chu Xin couldn’t follow her to the battlefield, so she worked diligently on government affairs, guarding the capital base for the Empress to prevent anyone from causing trouble in her absence.

While many cheered, others lurked in the shadows, gritting their teeth and cursing the Tatars to raid Guangwu Town or wishing for an “accident” to befall the Empress.

Prince Rong held the deepest resentment. Through various medicines, he had finally succeeded in getting his princess-consort pregnant. Calculating the time, she was due to give birth in the first month of the new year. Whether it was a boy or a girl, Prince Rong would finally have an heir.

He hoped for a son. That way, he could gain more support from the imperial clan and, at the right time, have his child inherit the throne. Prince Rong’s physical weakness was real, and he would never recover to a normal level, so he placed all his ambitious hopes on his offspring.

In Prince Rong’s eyes, Wen Qingyun shared the same preference as the late Emperor—she liked women. Two women could never have an heir. When Wen Qingyun grew old, his child would be the most legitimate successor.

What? The princesses? Don’t be ridiculous. Once a princess marries out, she is an outsider. Her children are only commandery princesses. Blood proximity matters!

“Prince! Your Highness, something is wrong! The Consort accidentally fell, and she’s bleeding!” the household manager rushed in to report.

“What were the servants doing?! I told them many times to take extra care of her!” Prince Rong’s dream was interrupted. His blood pressure spiked, and he began to cough.

“Quickly! The Imperial Physician! Have him treat her. No matter the means, the child in her womb must be safe!” Prince Rong covered his mouth, his expression contorted. If the Consort died, he could replace her, but the child he had worked so hard for must not be lost.

Time passed. As the woman’s piercing screams grew weaker, the faint cry of an infant finally rang out.

“Congratulations, Your Highness! The Consort has safely given birth to a little heir! Both mother and son are safe!” the physician reported.

Hearing he had a son, the smile on Prince Rong’s face couldn’t be suppressed. “Rewards! Large rewards for everyone in the palace—an extra half-year’s salary to celebrate the birth of the little heir!”

After speaking, he rushed into the room. He didn’t spare a single glance for the pale woman lying on the bed; his eyes were only for the swaddled infant.

“What is this? Why is the child so thin and weak?” Seeing the baby looked nothing like he imagined, he frowned.

“Your Highness, the heir was born prematurely. He needs careful nursing,” the physician said.

“Are there any permanent deficiencies?” Prince Rong asked, not wanting his son to be like him.

Physician: “With good care, he can grow up healthy. Your Highness, it is winter; he must not catch a cold.”

“Good. I will appoint specialists. No accidents will happen to my son,” Prince Rong said firmly.

“Your Highness, there is one more thing,” the physician sighed. “This premature birth has severely damaged the Consort’s body. Barring a miracle, she will likely not be able to conceive again.”

Prince Rong nodded, showing no reaction to the news. He simply handed the child to a wet nurse, repeating instructions over and over.

Seeing this, the physician said no more, but as he looked at the unconscious woman on the bed, a flash of pity crossed his eyes. A truly pitiful soul; if no one cared for her, she might pass away within a short time.

Nothing that happened in the Prince Rong Mansion could hide from the eyes of the Jinyiwei. That night, reports were sent in duplicate to the Northern Jinyiwei and to the sisters Si Yu and Si Wen.

Si Wen detested Prince Rong’s behavior, but she could only hate; she couldn’t find a reason to charge him.

Si Wen: “Sister, I think Prince Rong has ill intentions. Having a son at this juncture will surely inflate his ambition.”

Si Yu didn’t disagree, but Prince Rong’s actions weren’t over the line yet. He had no military power and no reliable court faction. His only assets were his title and a child of imperial blood whose survival was uncertain.

Si Yu: “The world is at peace, and Her Majesty has expanded the borders, fulfilling the wishes of the Great Ancestor. As long as nothing happens to Her Majesty, no one can shake her throne.”

Si Wen rubbed her chin. “You don’t think he plans to give his son to Her Majesty to raise?”

“Yes, but his plan is destined to fail. Her Majesty is only twenty-five, in her prime. Even if she wants to train an heir, she can pick from the imperial clan twenty years from now.” Si Yu said. “Besides, knowing Her Majesty, she would surely prefer a sensible young girl, rather than…”

Si Yu didn’t finish the sentence, but both sisters knew: only if the successor was also an Empress would the changes Her Majesty made continue.

“Alright, since Prince Rong hasn’t done anything excessive, we will just write the memorial as it is,” Si Yu said. “Compared to us, Weiyu and Choumu probably know better how to deal with him.”

Si Wen nodded and began to write.

…

On New Year’s Eve, Wen Qingyun held a family feast in Guangwu Town. She invited her Mother Empress, aunt, uncle, and Princess Herui. They cast aside their titles for the night and drank until the New Year arrived.

That same day, a special envoy dispatched by Wen Qingyun arrived in the capital. He reached the Chu residence before sunset.

“Master Chu, Her Majesty ordered this chest to be delivered to you. There is also a personal letter from Her Majesty inside.” The envoy left immediately after completing his task.

Chu Xin looked at the perfectly-timed chest and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. After barely finishing her own family dinner, she locked herself in her room and opened the chest with a trembling heart.

Lifting the lid, she saw small pieces of tanned fur of various colors, dried meat wrapped in oil paper, jewelry she had never seen, gemstone daggers… and a personal letter.

Chu Xin read the words on the paper carefully, unwilling to miss a single character.

In the letter, Her Majesty spoke of many things: the passion of galloping across the battlefield, the thrill of slaying enemies personally, the joy of territorial expansion, and small things like winter hunting after the victory and roasting meat with the soldiers.

The furs were from prey Her Majesty had hunted herself; because transporting whole hides was difficult, she had cut small samples to send. The dried meat was also prepared and cured by Her Majesty’s own hands. The jewelry and daggers were items she had hand-picked from the spoils of the tribal king’s tent.

At the very end of the letter, Wen Qingyun wrote ten simple words that brought Chu Xin to tears:

“Chu Xin, I miss you dearly. Wait for my return.”