My Lady Says She Wants to Marry Me - Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Grand Princess Shaoyang rose with a smile and walked to the Emperor’s side. “Imperial Father, I have come today to speak with you about something.”

The elderly Emperor leaned back, observing his radiant daughter. She carried a faint air of dominance that had already suppressed the various princes. Currently, those princes vying for the throne were all desperately trying to distance themselves from her.

They all knew that Shaoyang was destined to be the Princess who stabilizes the nation (Zhenguo Gongzhu). Under the Emperor’s stern warnings, none of them dared to approach their elder or younger sister recklessly.

Under his instruction, the court officials were well aware of the Emperor’s arrangements: after he “ascended on a dragon to the heavens,” the affairs of state would be handled by Shaoyang.

Everything the Emperor did was overt. From the moment he allowed Shaoyang into the court and let her grasp power, to demoting those who attempted to challenge her authority or expel her, he had made his stance clear. He had single-handedly supported his daughter, yet in her shadow, the mediocrity of the princes was exposed for all to see.

Looking at his tall daughter, the Emperor felt a pang of regret. If only Shaoyang were a man. She would surely inherit the Great Sheng Dynasty and usher in an early Golden Age. Only she had discovered the latent problems buried since the dynasty’s founding; only she was working hard to clear those issues through gradual, systemic reform. He had supported her silently, hoping only to hand over a stable court to the next successor.

“I wish to rest for a period and visit the fief you granted me. Yapeng is already ten years old; it is time for her to go out and see the world.”

The Grand Princess was happy when mentioning her eldest daughter, her eyes full of smiles. One could already see the girl’s future capability and poise. As a mother, she was very satisfied that her daughter could keep pace with her.

The Emperor also thought of his granddaughter—a clever and quick-witted girl. He nodded. “I haven’t seen Yapeng in a long time. When you have the chance, bring her to see me more often.” He paused to reflect. “Since you are going to Jinling, bring the Grand Tutor back with you as well.”

Shaoyang nodded without shock or pretense. Instead, she said, “Then your daughter might be a bit late in bringing the Grand Tutor back.”

The Emperor was momentarily stunned before becoming exasperated by her boldness. “Does this girl plan to stay out and play forever?”

Shaoyang looked slightly sheepish, holding up three fingers. “At least three months?”

The Emperor’s eyes widened, as if asking how many?

Shaoyang took a deep breath and began to bargain. She said dissatisfactedly, “It can’t be less than two months. The journey itself takes time.”

The Emperor considered it and reluctantly agreed. “Fine. Since you are going out anyway, you might as well inspect the local administration. If you find any officials breaking the law, you may deal with them directly.”

Shaoyang’s eyes went wide. “Imperial Father, you know I’m only going for two months, right?”

If she were to inspect the administration as he suggested, it would take at least six months. Traveling from one region to another was an arduous task; in years past when the Emperor went himself, it took at least three months.

“In that case, I will grant you another two months. Is that acceptable?” the Emperor said grudgingly.

“Yes, Imperial Father.” Reverting to the demeanor of a young daughter, Shaoyang happily thanked him. She was now ready to go home, pack her things, and depart.

The Emperor watched his daughter’s soaring spirits, the smile in his eyes deepening. He had sent Zhang Zhihua to approach Shaoyang just to signal that it was time for her to step away from the court temporarily. Fortunately, his daughter was not obsessed with power and still treated him as a father. By comparison, his rebellious sons felt like they existed only to collect on a debt.

The Eldest Prince, who had settled down considerably, had recently returned to his obsession with calligraphy and painting. However, the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Princes—who had been out of house arrest for over two years—had begun to fight like roosters after a brief period of peace.

“Third Brother, what do you make of Sister Shaoyang? Her momentum is at its peak, and now she’s going out to inspect the provinces on behalf of the Emperor. You don’t think the Old Man will actually give her the throne, do you?”

The Second Prince, who had the best chance at the throne, was morbidly obese and gasped for air with every movement. He was clever, but his mind was purely focused on schemes.

The Third Prince, gaunt and dressed in pale yellow, gave a yawn. “Whatever. Father can give the seat to whoever he wants. I’m tired of the struggle.”

During his period of house arrest, the Third Prince had suffered the most. His young daughter had died, and his Princess Consort had quarreled with him; they still hadn’t reconciled. His wife had told him to his face that he didn’t have the brains to fight for the throne and pleaded with him not to drag the whole family down. He had only one son and one daughter, and now the daughter was gone.

The Third Prince was heartbroken. He and his wife were childhood sweethearts with deep feelings; he didn’t even have side concubines. Reflecting on himself, compared to his brothers and his high-ranking sister, his intellect truly seemed insufficient.

The Second Prince felt a blockage in his chest upon hearing this. He knew the Third Prince well; he used to have ambitions but had since huddled with the Second Prince for protection. Now, even the brother most prone to charging forward had quit. Frustrated, the two parted ways shortly after.

“The Third is a fool, unable to even suppress a woman,” the Second Prince grumbled. His sharpest “charging blade” was now useless. “It seems I need to scout for someone else.” He began to think about which other brother was stupid enough to be useful.

Elsewhere, Prince Jian—the only one granted the rank of Prince of the First Rank—requested an Imperial Decree to depart alongside Grand Princess Shaoyang.

“Shu’er, Imperial Father intends to choose a Princess Consort for you,” the Grand Princess said to her adult “younger brother.”

Yes, Prince Jian was a girl. Because the Imperial Astronomers had calculated an anomaly in her destiny, she had to live as a man to survive. In the future, she could only marry a Princess Consort—who could not be a man—to preserve her life. The Emperor had sacrificed much for this daughter, braving all opposition to let “Little Seven” become a Prince. This was a secret of the Imperial House that no one was permitted to spread. Thus, the public and the officials believed Prince Jian was a prince, unaware she was a woman, which explained why she rarely participated in court politics.

Meanwhile, Lu Youming and Su Wanrou were already at the Shao Manor. Their heads were spinning as they listened to their maternal grandparents’ overt and covert hints about “procreating.”

Su Wanrou, in particular, was repeatedly urged by the Old Madam to take medicine and see doctors. The young couple had been married for several years without any news, which worried the old couple to death. The Eldest Uncle had even gone as far as inviting several famous doctors from other regions who specialized in infertility.

Lu Youming looked at the old doctor taking her pulse. She thought with lingering fear: Thank goodness my pulse is “unusual” due to my constitution, otherwise, a single touch would have exposed her.

Su Wanrou, who was also required to have her pulse taken, listened helplessly as the doctor spoke. “This Madam’s pulse is peaceful and regular; her health is excellent. The lack of a child may simply mean the fate has not yet arrived.”

“Grandmother, see? I told you, my husband and I have no problems at all. So please, don’t make us see any more doctors or take more medicine.”

Su Wanrou was truly at her wit’s end. This was her first time facing the full pressure of being urged to have children, and she was feeling its power. In the past, these nudges came in letters; facing them in person was much harder to endure. Yet, neither of them had any way to reject the elders’ genuine concern and love.