after coming out of the bridal room, Zhao Yan was accompanied by some guards. Oncehe reached his chambers, he dismissed them before getting in.
He walked to the study and pushed the door open with a sharp flick of his wrist.
The air inside was heavy with anticipation, and the two figures waiting for him straightened immediately.
Wei Ling and Deng Mi were already standing by the large wooden table, their faces grim.
"Report," Zhao Yan said curtly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Wei Ling was the first to speak.
"Your Highness, I have located Prime Minister Gu's secret army," he said without preamble.
Zhao Yan's brows knitted together as he leaned forward, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table.
"Where is it?"
This time, Deng Mi answered, his voice steady and calm.
"It's in the southwest, near the hills," he said.
"There's an abandoned military base there—hidden but still functional. That's where they're gathering."
Zhao Yan's hand slammed down on the table with a loud crack!
"The audacity!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Does he think I won't find out? Does he think he can win this game?"
Wei Ling nodded gravely.
"It seems he does, Your Highness," he said.
"But we have the upper hand now that we know where his forces are."
Zhao Yan's lips curled into a cold smile, his gaze dark and calculating.
"Prime Minister Gu has grown too bold," he said quietly, though his voice carried the weight of a storm.
"He forgets whose empire this is."
Deng Mi cleared his throat, his expression hesitant.
"There's something else, Your Highness," he said cautiously.
Zhao Yan's sharp gaze shifted to him.
"What is it?"
Deng Mi glanced briefly at Wei Ling before speaking.
"I've received intelligence that the Prime Minister has a son."
"A son?" Zhao Yan repeated, his tone laced with disbelief.
Wei Ling nodded.
"Yes. An illegitimate son, hidden from the public. He's kept the boy a secret all these years."
Zhao Yan's jaw tightened as he processed the information.
"And this son… is he being groomed as a pawn for Gu's schemes?"
Deng Mi nodded grimly.
"It appears so. There are whispers that he intends to place the boy on the throne once the coup is successful."
Zhao Yan's fist clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"The arrogance of that man," he growled.
"To think he could replace me with some illegitimate brat."
Wei Ling stepped forward, his expression determined.
"What are your orders, Your Highness?"
Zhao Yan's eyes glinted with a murderous edge as he straightened.
"Keep a close watch on their movements," he ordered.
"I want to know everything—when they plan to strike, how many men they have, and who their allies are. Leave no stone unturned."
Both Wei Ling and Deng Mi bowed their heads in unison.
"Yes, Your Highness," they said firmly.
Zhao Yan's gaze swept over them, his mind already calculating the next moves.
But just as he opened his mouth to speak again, a sharp knock echoed through the room.
The three men froze.
The air in the study grew thick, the tension palpable.
All eyes turned toward the door, their expressions darkening.
The knock came again, louder this time.
Wei Ling's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, while Deng Mi's eyes narrowed, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to strike.
Zhao Yan's gaze was fixed on the door, his features carved from stone.
"Who dares disturb me at this hour?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
No one answered from the other side.
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of the lanterns in the room.
Another knock sounded, slow and deliberate, sending a ripple of unease through the air.
The three men exchanged wary glances, their unspoken thoughts hanging heavy between them.
The silence was broken by a small, impatient voice from the other side of the door.
"Open the damn door! I'm freezing out here!"
Zhao Yan froze.
That voice was unmistakable.
Hua Jing.
His mind immediately raced. Why is she here? She's supposed to be recovering in her room!
Only he knew that her so-called "recovery" was an act. But if Wei Ling and Deng Mi saw her outside at this hour, what would they think?
He glanced at Wei Ling and gave a curt nod.
Wei Ling hesitated briefly before obeying, striding towards the door and pulling it open.
There she was.
Hua Jing stood bundled in a large blanket that nearly swallowed her whole, her face peeking out like a small, puffed moon.
The winter snow clung to her robes, and her cheeks were flushed a rosy red from the cold.
Wei Ling blinked in surprise, completely unprepared for the sight before him.
Zhao Yan's sharp gaze softened for just a moment.
She looked... cute. Madly cute.
He immediately shoved the thought aside. Ridiculous.
"What do you want?" Zhao Yan asked coldly, masking any trace of his earlier thoughts.
Hua Jing didn't answer right away. Instead, she walked in without so much as a bow or acknowledgment, brushing past Wei Ling and Deng Mi as if they weren't there.
Her boldness left both men frozen in shock.
She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the two men.
"I need to speak to you in private," she said, her tone brisk.
Then, with a whistle and a flick of her head, she motioned for Wei Ling and Deng Mi to leave.
Zhao Yan pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming.
The audacity of this woman.
Wei Ling's jaw tightened.
It had been amusing at first—her antics, her lack of etiquette.
But now?
Now, it felt blatantly disrespectful.
Zhao Yan noticed Wei Ling's displeasure but waved his hand, signaling for him and Deng Mi to leave.
Reluctantly, they obeyed. Wei Ling shot Hua Jing a look as he passed, but she didn't even seem to notice.
As the door shut behind them, Zhao Yan turned to Hua Jing, his expression a mix of exasperation and curiosity.
"What the hell do you want?"