The Prime Minister Claims She's Pregnant - Chapter 56

“I am repaying a debt!” Gu Jinse kept brainwashing Ming Yi. She felt that since she was offering herself up, Ming Yi should simply accept it.

However, Ming Yi remained firm, insisting it was late and they should rest. Missing the morning court session was a capital offense. The civil and military officials were all waiting to catch her in a mistake. As she nagged, Gu Jinse grabbed her hand and kissed her repeatedly. “Do you not feel excited?” she teased.

Ming Yi did, but she would never admit it. Instead, she put on a cold face and said, “No.”

“Are all you reserved people this cold-blooded?”

“I… I suppose so.” Ming Yi was on the verge of being unable to refuse. Her blood was boiling, and she felt as if she were being simmered over a furnace; every breath felt like an ordeal.

Gu Jinse gave a cold snort and abruptly let go of her, but not before stepping on her foot and giving her one last kiss.

Ming Yi let out a sigh of relief. The fire had been extinguished.

The members of the Liu family were quickly transferred out of the capital. It was not just the Liu family; several other former classmates were also intercepted on their way to the capital.

Ming Yi ordered her subordinates to watch these people closely. They were not allowed to appear before Supervisor Gu; it was best to drive them away quietly. However, these methods only treated the symptoms, not the root cause. The root lay in Yuhang.

Thinking of Old Master Gu, a trace of ruthlessness flashed in Ming Yi’s clear eyes. Her subordinate, Zhaoyao, suggested, “Why don’t we just finish it once and for all? The security at the Gu estate in Yuhang is not strong.”

Ming Yi remained silent. Zhaoyao continued to push, “Think about it. This is just small trouble now, but what will we do if things escalate in the future? Supervisor Gu is alert this time, but what about the next time, or the time after that? It is too much trouble. It is better to pull them up by the roots. If we cannot kill the elders, we can kill the younger ones as a warning.”

“There is no need. You go to Yuhang personally to give them a warning.” Ming Yi did not adopt her subordinate’s suggestion. The act of slaughtering a family was too cruel; if Gu Jinse found out, she would certainly leave her.

Zhaoyao sighed. “I will make the trip to Yuhang. You just wait for the news.”

Ming Yi was alone in the study. The white smoke from the incense burner curled upward, floating toward the ceiling. She sat with her head in her hands, watching the smoke with a vacant gaze.

After sitting in silence for a long time, the incense burned out. Her gaze drifted to the floor. She wondered what kind of place this was. This was a residence bought with the Gu family’s money, and she was the mistress of the house. She lived in a Gu family house, yet her subordinate was advising her to massacre the Gu family elders to eliminate future troubles.

She pursed her lips. It was frightening; she had become a terrifying person.

After a long while, she looked at the incense burner again. The fire within had completely died out. The Gu family had become a mess because of her: the mistress of the house wanted a divorce, the only son was locked at home and forbidden from going out, and the daughter of the family was living in the capital in place of her brother, afraid to show her true face.

A once harmonious family had suddenly fallen apart.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, remembering the year her aunt found her at the villa. Her aunt had looked at her mother with a venomous gaze and screamed, “Minister Gu said you are shameless! The Zhao family’s foster daughter is unfilial! Do you know that Father died of anger? Why are you still alive? Why don’t you just die?”

She had clung to her mother’s waist while her mother covered her eyes. Her aunt’s hysterical voice still echoed in her ears: “Why don’t you die? If you die, the Zhao family can preserve its reputation! Father wouldn’t have died! Him giving birth to you and raising you was his greatest mistake! Why don’t you just die?”

At that moment, she did not know who “Minister Gu” was. She only found out later through inquiries that there was only one Minister Gu in the dynasty: Gu Zhi’s father and Gu Jinse’s grandfather.

Ming Yi opened her eyes, feeling as though she had woken from a long dream. Every plant and tree before her belonged to the Gu family. This was her first step in escaping the Emperor’s control.

She rose and pushed open the study door. It was pitch black outside, but a lantern suddenly appeared at the doorway. It was a person—Gu Jinse, wearing her flamboyant red robes.

“Chancellor, it is time to eat!” Gu Jinse hopped over with the lantern. “I changed the menu today and made several fresh dishes. They are delicious!”

The girl skipped toward her, her eyes as bright as stars. She grabbed Ming Yi’s hand and started walking, chattering away. “Today was so busy! I was so busy I wanted to curse. Is there a department for retirement? What about logistics? What kind of department is logistics anyway? I heard there is a department that is always absent—the one for astrology and divination. Transfer me there.”

“And did you see Shu Zhi’s face? He is so annoying. His brother must be even worse. No, Shu Jingyue is the most annoying of all. She went to pray for a son yesterday. I heard she has a bad record and beat a concubine’s son to death. Do you think she will do it again?”

“If the Empress wants military power, why doesn’t she have her daughter marry your father’s son?”

Ming Yi snapped back to reality. “The Emperor would never allow it,” she said. The Emperor had been suppressed by the Empress Dowager for years and had endured too much from the Empress; he would never allow the Empress’s faction to grow too powerful.

The fire in the lantern lit their path. Gu Jinse walked with light steps. As a workplace rookie, she did not understand many things, but she somehow managed to turn her luck around every time. She liked her life here. One must live—live for oneself, and live for certain people.

They lay on the bed, and Ming Yi took the initiative to hold Gu Jinse’s hand, her fingertips sliding across Gu Jinse’s palm. Finally, Gu Jinse rolled over and pressed against the lips that were actively tempting her, biting down hard.

Ming Yi trembled. As her lips parted, Gu Jinse was already pressing against her, tracing her features. “You are a bit different tonight,” Gu Jinse whispered. “Psychology says that people with a guilty conscience act differently. Did you do something behind my back?”

“Is that so?” Ming Yi laughed, her chest rising and falling slightly, but her heart was warm. She was alive, not a walking corpse like her mother had been.

Gu Jinse gave a low huff and let go of her. “I won’t eat someone who is feeling guilty.”

Ming Yi: “…”

Zhaoyao went to Yuhang, while Tuntun continued to follow Gu Jinse. With the Emperor’s daughter getting married, every department was hectically busy. Even the Ministry of Rites, which Gu Jinse had once envied, was overwhelmed. She heard the Minister of Rites had not gone home for days until his wife came to the office and forcibly took him home to rest.

By comparison, Gu Jinse, who only worked a little late each day, seemed quite relaxed.

For the marriage of a legitimate princess, the Emperor provided a massive dowry. The Empress practically moved the contents of the entire Central Palace out, and the Eastern Palace contributed half of its assets. Gu Jinse sighed, thinking that having a reliable brother was truly a good thing.

The wedding was set for one month later. Although the time seemed tight, everything was moving in an orderly fashion. It seemed this had been planned long ago. Gu Jinse noticed a few things and suddenly did not find the Third Princess so annoying anymore. Leaving her parents and her homeland to marry into a place where she knew no one—a woman truly was like drifting duckweed.

During this time, the Empress met with Ming Yi, hoping she would help select a girl from the imperial family to take the Third Princess’s place.

Ming Yi looked at her for a moment and asked, “That time the Crown Prince brought fruit to see my mother—that was your idea, wasn’t it?”

The Empress’s expression changed drastically. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing. I cannot help you. You should be clear that the reason the Emperor has kept the Third Princess unmarried until now is specifically for this political marriage. I am merely following orders. I can do nothing else.” Ming Yi looked up into the Empress’s grief-stricken eyes.

Was it grief? Was it pain? A smile curled on Ming Yi’s lips.

The Empress struggled to restrain her sorrow. She did not take offense at Ming Yi’s words but said seriously, “I know what you want to do. I can help you. Keep the Third Princess here, and the Yongping Marquis Manor will be at your disposal.”

“The current Yongping Marquis Manor is just an empty shell. As for the one far away at the border, I have never regarded him as a threat.” Ming Yi’s smile did not fade. “I might as well tell you—I was the one who pushed for this marriage. If I cared…” She paused, her throat feeling tight and bitter. “I never cared.”

The Empress covered her face. “You knew all along, didn’t you? The Emperor’s affection is just a trick to deceive people. ‘Legitimate daughters are noble’—it is all a joke! Every time I tried to suggest a marriage, he would say our daughter was still young and he couldn’t bear to let her go. Bah! He simply hates my aunt, and now he is venting that hatred on us. Ming Yi, Ming Yi, do you still intend to give your heart and soul to such a monarch? When you were pregnant, he showed none of the joy of a foster father; instead, he forced you to abort. Do you not hate him?”

By the time she finished, she had stood up. Her gaze was fierce, but her body was swaying, clearly pushed to the limit of her rage. Ming Yi remained calm. Even though her inner hatred was being stirred, she did not show even a hint of indignation.

“Ming Yi, Ming Yi, have you even forgotten your own name?” The Empress tried to provoke the pain and hatred in her heart. “You and the Third Princess are both innocent! Why should you two be the ones to pay for his mistakes? That unborn child—do you not feel the pain?”

Ming Yi drifted into thought. The pain?

She no longer felt it. She was numb, and perhaps even felt a sense of satisfaction. She pursed her lips and smiled faintly. “Your Majesty, there is no need to provoke me. I remember everything that happened back then. I even remember who took the lead in hounding my grandfather to death. I was eight years old when my mother passed away. Even the six-year-old Crown Prince would bring fruit for my mother and call her ‘Aunt’ with a smile.”

The Empress shivered violently, her lips trembling, but she could not say a word. She could only stare at the person before her who was unnervingly calm.

Ming Yi stood up and looked at the Empress. “No matter how much I hate someone, I do not wish for them to die. Take yourself, for example. Do you not find living to be more painful than death? A heart-wrenching pain, a life worse than death. But you should know that if a princess sent for a political marriage is lucky, she remains noble; if she is unlucky, she becomes as lowly as an ant. Your Majesty, you must live a long life to see whether your daughter lives like an ant or like a noble consort.”

“Ming Yi, I can tell you that the Emperor never intended to intervene back then. In fact, if he had said just one word, your mother wouldn’t have died. But he didn’t dare. He feared the Empress Dowager, he feared for his throne, and he feared the condemnation of the people. He wanted to be a ‘wise ruler,’ so he had to sacrifice your mother.”

“Ming Yi, you should hate him. Join forces with me, and we will put your biological brother on the throne. In return, you protect my daughter. What do you say?”

The Empress was speaking recklessly, pleading with the woman before her. “I can give up everything. With her personality, if she goes to a strange place, she will die.”

The Eldest Princess was humble, the Second Princess was gentle, and the Third Princess was domineering. The first two were daughters of concubines and knew how to protect themselves. But the Third Princess, when angry, would want to strike the other party dead. How could she ever learn to endure?

Ming Yi said sadly, “My mother gave up even her son. Did any of you let her go?”

No! Rumors were like sharp swords, and family ties were like the heavy blades in an executioner’s hand. No one was willing to help her, ask her what happened, or offer a single word of comfort. At that moment, the mountains had collapsed, and they were buried beneath, clinging to life by a thread.

“Ming Yi, what do you want? Do you want my life?” the Empress suddenly asked. “I can pay for your mother’s life with mine. I know that with your ability, you can make this happen, right?”

“Yes, I can make it happen,” Ming Yi said with a smile on her lips, though her gaze was somewhat distant. “But do you know what it is I truly want?”

“You…” The Empress collapsed onto her seat, staring at Ming Yi’s face. For a fleeting second, tears streamed down her face. “Fine. My life is yours as well. But remember your words today.”

With that, Ming Yi turned and walked out of the hall into the autumn sun, a faint smile touching her lips. The sunlight was beautiful.

Dinner was also pleasant. Afterward, Ming Yi led Gu Jinse to admire the moon. They sat beneath the night sky, sipping clear tea. Ming Yi shared many stories—tales of the young ladies at the summer palace, the Crown Prince’s simple-mindedness, Tuntun’s outspoken hatred for evil, Chi Mei’s gentleness, and Wang Liang’s greed.

Leaning against Gu Jinse, she was in high spirits. Gu Jinse held her hand, sharing her own amusing stories in return.

By midnight, as the moon reached its zenith, Ming Yi told her, “Mother often said that contentment brings constant joy. I think she was wrong. How can a person ever be truly content? I, for one, am not. I want too much—too much to even count. I admire Madam Gu’s temperament: knowing when to endure and when to let go. She is a truly wonderful mother.”

They both had wonderful mothers. Because of their mothers, they lived well. At that moment, their hearts were perfectly aligned.

As the autumn days grew colder, they retired to bed. Rising early the next morning, they both added a thick layer of clothing. Before they could even step out, the sky broke into a sudden downpour. Ming Yi hurried out under an umbrella, and Gu Jinse sent along two sets of fresh clothes for her, from inner robes to outer layers.

The autumn rain intensified, lasting all day without pause. Water accumulated on the roads; pedestrians struggled to cross the rising currents, and even carriages could no longer pass. Ming Yi did not return that night, staying instead in the palace. Gu Jinse took the opportunity to handle her shop business at home, though she mostly just skimmed the ledgers, leaving the heavy lifting to the managers.

By the next morning, the rain had dwindled to a light drizzle. Before she could even get out of bed, Tuntun burst into the room. “Supervisor, the Empress has passed away!”

Gu Jinse threw back the quilt and walked over barefoot. “How did she die?”

“They say a chronic illness flared up. She passed in the middle of the night. Ming Yi stayed in the palace to handle the arrangements; for now, the Noble Consort is in charge of the inner palace.” Tuntun was panting, her hair soaked with rain.

Gu Jinse sighed. Her intuition told her this was anything but simple. The Empress had been in perfect health; she looked capable of wrestling a tiger, so how could she suddenly die? An involuntary shiver ran down Gu Jinse’s spine.

She swallowed hard and grabbed her clothes to dress. “Can I enter the palace?”

“As the Empress’s son-in-law, you are permitted to enter,” Tuntun said cautiously.

Gu Jinse dressed quickly and left without even stopping for breakfast. When she arrived at the palace gates, white funeral banners fluttered in the air. The death of the Mother of the Nation was a monumental event. When an ordinary concubine died, it was a quiet affair, but the death of the Empress required mourning from all officials.

Gu Jinse’s eyes felt sore. At this moment, her only thought was finding Ming Yi.

The princes and princesses were all returning to offer their condolences. Gu Jinse followed them inside. The Sixth Prince, running too fast, slipped in a puddle with a loud splash, soaking his clothes. The palace attendants cried out in alarm, and the Fourth Prince grabbed his younger brother by the collar, hauling him away.

Gu Jinse caught up with them. The Sixth Prince called out happily, “Brother-in-law!”

The Fourth Prince paused, set his brother down, and bowed to Gu Jinse. “Supervisor Gu.”

The three proceeded to the Central Palace together. Along the way, white banners hung everywhere. The palace attendants walked in total silence, hurrying with their heads bowed. The Sixth Prince, perched on his brother’s shoulder, looked back at Gu Jinse. “Brother-in-law, did the trees I planted live?”

Gu Jinse sighed. “Every tree lived except the ones you planted.”

The Sixth Prince pouted. The Fourth Prince covered the boy’s mouth. “No crying allowed.”

“But they died…”

“Then just plant another one later.”

“Oh, right!” The Sixth Prince immediately stopped his whimpering and beamed at Gu Jinse. “Brother-in-law, can I go plant more tomorrow?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Gu Jinse agreed readily.

They reached the Central Palace. At a glance, the concubines were all kneeling in the hall, everyone dressed in mourning white. The Noble Consort led the group. Kneeling near the door were younger concubines around the same age as the Third Princess.

The sound of weeping filled the air. The Empress’s maternal family had also arrived. Shu Jingyue stood to one side, looking left and right with a face devoid of grief. Gu Jinse felt like she was looking at a fool. With the Empress gone, the Yongping Marquis Manor had completely lost its favor with the Emperor, yet here she was, looking around like a child who had never seen the world.

She followed the two princes inside and caught sight of a familiar figure in white robes. The back was elegant and poised. As she stepped closer, she heard Ming Yi saying, “For now, the Empress’s funeral is the priority. The matter of the foreign envoys can be set aside.”

The Noble Consort sighed. “This was too sudden. Everything is in disarray.” She looked up and saw Gu Jinse. “Supervisor Gu.”

Ming Yi turned around. Seeing Gu Jinse’s clothes, she frowned. “Why haven’t you changed into mourning attire?”

Gu Jinse blinked, and Ming Yi quickly pulled her away, ordering someone to fetch white robes from the Eastern Palace.

“Chancellor, how did the Empress pass so suddenly?” Gu Jinse’s heart was racing with a sense of dread. Seeing a vibrant enemy suddenly vanish should have brought joy, but instead, it left her chilled. Looking at Ming Yi’s haggard face, her mind was a mess of contradictions. She suspected the Empress’s death was tied to Ming Yi, but she didn’t ask. This was Ming Yi’s secret.

She could only pretend not to know.

Ming Yi took her hand and led her to a side hall temporarily cleared for rest; she had spent the previous night there. With the Empress’s death, the Emperor suspected poison in the harem and had specifically tasked Ming Yi with the funeral arrangements.

The side hall was equally somber. All colorful items had been removed, replaced by a heavy, oppressive palette that made even speaking feel draining. Ming Yi sat on the soft couch where she had snatched a bit of sleep. She rubbed her aching temples. “The Empress took poison herself. They are still investigating. The Emperor has cancelled court for three days. Be careful at home these next few days, and do not speak to strangers.”

As she spoke, Gu Jinse stared at her, the questions at the tip of her tongue but never voiced. Instead, she said, “You need to rest. You should still come home at night. If you work yourself to death, no one will be grateful. The Emperor will only suspect your motives.”

“I know,” Ming Yi said with a small smile.

Gu Jinse let out a quiet, heavy breath. She sat beside her and took her hand. “I can’t help you with much, I can only urge you to take care of yourself. Your body is your own; nothing else is more important.”

“Gu Jinse,” Ming Yi said, her thoughts scattered and her urge to explore Gu Jinse’s mind uncontrollable. She desperately needed to know what she thought. “If the version of me you see… isn’t truly me, would you still insist on your affection?”

She felt a trace of trepidation and looked away. Her mother had once said that those with deep, calculating minds were destined to be solitary just like her, standing in a place where no one cared.

“You are you,” Gu Jinse replied. “It’s not like there’s a second Ming Yi out there, is there?”