Ren Ye paused for a moment before making his way to the high platform, sitting in the right seat.
Princess Xu Qingzhao sat beside him, her face cold, her eyes indifferent. She didn't even spare a glance for her husband.
In fact, she had been living at her mother's house for more than half a year. When she returned from Kyoto three days ago, she hadn't even greeted King Huai upon entering the palace.
Inside the solemn Heart Hall, Ren Ye's eyes swept over the gathered officials, his silence deliberate and heavy.
Born within the system, he knew the routines well. While the politics of ancient and modern times may differ in form, the essence remained the same. When in doubt and unsure of the situation, it was best to remain silent and observe, waiting for others to make their move.
Sure enough, after a moment of silence, one official took the lead.
After bowing, he spoke: "Your Highness, Wang Jingzhong, the commander of the personal guard battalion, intended to plot against Wu Asi, the commander of the secret agent battalion, last night. We have both human and material evidence. We urge Your Highness to immediately interrogate him and track down his accomplices, so we can eliminate this hidden danger in Qingliang Mansion."
Ren Ye glanced at the official, recognizing him as Ji Shan from the Changshi Division—the department responsible for recording and reporting the prince's actions. This division, set up by the emperor, served as the eyes and ears of the imperial court, ensuring that even the prince's most private actions were documented.
Ren Ye, dressed in a red robe, sat up straight, trying to mimic the ancient manner of speech: "Liu Jishan, Wang Jingzhong has served as the commander of the pro-guard battalion for many years, a man who has fought alongside my father from the south to the north, earning countless merits. What reason could he have for rebellion?"
"Liu Jishan," the official interrupted, his voice sharp and cold, "Qingliang Mansion is connected to southern Xinjiang, and Wang Jingzhong's rebellion was likely collusion with the small country there. If it hadn't been uncovered early, His Highness might have been in danger. We must punish him heavily!"
The commander of the spy battalion stepped forward, his voice filled with certainty: "Your Highness, Wang Jingzhong met with me last night under the guise of drinking. After several temptations, he promised great rewards and proposed secretly colluding to take control of His Highness's palace. This is clearly rebellion, and it demands swift and severe punishment!"
Ren Ye's heart sank as he listened. His initial instinct had been to protect Wang Jingzhong. When he first assumed the role of the puppet prince, he had few allies, and someone like Wang Jingzhong—loyal, capable—was invaluable.
But now, it seemed impossible to protect him. The talk of punishment and the pursuit of accomplices made it clear: they wanted Wang Jingzhong to confess in public, to name names, to expose the plot in front of all present.
At that moment, it would not be about whether Ren Ye could maintain his position, but whether he could even survive.
Ren Ye sat back, thoughts swirling. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his gaze shifted to a middle-aged man seated among the officials.
The man was tall, with gray streaks at his temples, draped in a black python robe. His presence was imposing, yet he remained silent, like a shadow.
He was Li Yan, the chief historian of the Long History Division, tasked with overseeing the affairs of the royal palace. A loyal servant to the emperor, he was also the court's eyes and ears, the number one dog who spied on Ren Ye himself.
Liu Jishan and the others barking like mad dogs today—he was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, no doubt.
Ren Ye's gaze hardened. "Li Changshi," he began, his voice laced with subtle command, "This king has some important matters to discuss with you. Come, let us speak."
Li Changshi remained unmoved, his head bowed, eyes still fixed on the floor. "There is no rebellion here," he said coldly, "Please, Your Highness, proceed with the torture of Wang Jingzhong."
Communication failed... again.
Ren Ye's jaw clenched, but he did not let his frustration show. Instead, he swept his gaze over the assembly of officials, letting it linger, before it finally settled on the princess's delicate profile. "Do you have differing opinions?" he asked, his voice softer, but still cutting.
The princess, Xu Qingzhao, took the teacup from her maid with a languid motion, her face serene. She didn't even spare him a glance. Her eyes were focused elsewhere, indifferent to Ren Ye's probing gaze.
The hall was deathly silent, the tension so thick one could hear the faintest drop of a needle. No one came to his defense.
Liu Jishan, sensing his opportunity, stepped forward again, his voice sharp and insistent. "Please, Your Highness, impose a heavy punishment to root out Wang Jingzhong's accomplices!"
"Stampede..."
In unison, the forty or more officials lined up, their voices ringing out in cold, calculated harmony: "Please, Your Highness, punish him severely and track down the conspirators!"
Ren Ye's heart sank, despair gnawing at him. This was it. The sheer weight of the opposition was overwhelming.
Zhu Zigui was a caged bird, imprisoned within the walls of his own kingdom, and yet he was too blinded by his own incompetence to see it. How could he allow his only loyal general—the one with military power—to be framed like this? The rebellion had been orchestrated with such precision, and now they were all accusing Ren Ye himself, forcing him to clean up a mess he didn't even create.
Ren Ye's mind was a storm of fury. You are truly hopeless, Zhu Zigui. I've inherited your throne, but do you think I can save you from this mess?
In the silence, the princess took another sip of tea, her gaze drifting to the kneeling Wang Jingzhong. Her eyes, as clear as starlight, remained unreadable as she observed him.